The Revolution Kids

Jeff knew it had been a bad idea to buy those pills. Not because he thought anything bad would happen—quite the opposite. He’d been suckered in by some vague mumbo-jumbo. “They’re new,” the guy at the stall had said. But then he’d got them home and read the little leaflet—as he always did—and there it was: “homeopathic.” He’d just spent thirty quid on sugar pills. Chucked them out the window.


It was eleven thirty when he noticed the fox out on the patio, crunching the pills with its mean little teeth and licking up the crumbs. Jeff had thought it was funny at first—at least someone was getting something out of them—but then he wondered if it might not be good for the fox. What if they made its stomach swell up? Or something? He opened the door, and the fox bolted. He swept up all the little white pills with his hands and dumped them in the bin in a plastic tub.

The fox was there again the next day, licking the patio stones. Jeff tried to watch it, the lights in the room switched off, but the fox saw him anyway. It didn’t bolt, though. It pressed its paws up on the glass.

“More.” It said, throat straining to produce the noise. “Please...more.”

Jeff was fascinated. What else could he do? He opened the back door a crack and chucked a handful of the pills, salvaged from the bin. He went back to the market in the morning. Sure enough, the conman had moved on. Jeff wondered if he knew what he was selling. Probably not. Jeff had a feeling it was worth more than thirty quid.


When the fox came the third time, it was wrapped in a black bin liner. Wore it like a cloak, clutching the plastic with its front paws. That was the other thing: it walked on two legs now. “Please...” it said. “Please...” It held a tiny paw out like a hand.

Jeff scooped half a dozen pills out of the plastic tub and dropped them in front of it. Almost before they hit the floor, it was on all fours again, crunching them up.

“I...” Jeff stammered. “I...uh...” He couldn’t talk to it. The thing was hideous, somehow. Not quite human, not even animal.

It licked the last few fragments from the grimy patio. “Thank you,” it said, squeezing backwards through the fence, its eyes always on him. “Thank you.”


Two days later, the fox was gone. Jeff wondered if it knew he was running out of pills. He hadn’t liked to let on, in case it left. The fox was valuable. He’d been keeping a big canvas laundry bag just inside his back door, but it seemed he’d missed his chance. Still had some pills, though—somebody would pay handsomely for those. If he could only work out who...

But two more days and the fox was back. It had clothes this time. Garish, catwalk stuff. The sort of thing a particularly eccentric aristocrat might have worn two centuries ago. It knocked on the window.

Jeff opened the back door a crack and peered through.

“Hello.” The fox looked up sheepishly. “I do hope I didn’t embarrass myself earlier.” It stood neatly on two legs, one arm curled primly behind its back.

“Oh, no...” Jeff managed to mumble. “Not at all...no.” He ducked back inside and, without thinking, carried the whole tub of pills through. There were only about five left.

The fox gazed at him blankly.

“I’ll get you more!” he said, hurriedly. “Just got to find some, then...”

The fox waved a hand. “I don’t need anything from you anymore. You see, I came here to offer my thanks. To invite you to witness something...quite wonderful. But you’ll have to drive.” It looked down at its feet. “You understand.”

“No, I get it...sure.” Jeff fumbled for his keys.


“Just here, please.”

It was a patch of woodland without even a real road leading into it: the last half mile had been mud. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“The birth of a new world. I have big plans, you see.” The fox reached over and removed the keys from the ignition.

“Hey!” Jeff made to snatch them back, but thought better of it. He didn’t want to scare the fox. Silently, it opened the door and slipped out onto the ground.

“This way, please.” The fox followed the headlights away from the road, and Jeff could do nothing but trail behind. Thankfully, he’d had the sense to bring a torch. His peculiar companion didn’t seem to need one.

“Just here.”

Jeff shone the torch in the direction the fox indicated, and nearly threw up. It was the conman, obviously dead and hard even to look at.

“Once I found him, I...well...couldn’t risk him finding out what he had. You understand.”

“Give me my keys.” The fox was barely waist high. It was like arguing with a child. Still, Jeff’s voice trembled.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, old chum.”

“Give...”

There was a flash of gilded metal in the torchlight as the fox drew and cocked a pistol. “You’ll find a shovel down there. Get digging.”

Jeff began.

“There’s a good chap.”


As Jeff worked, the fox began tapping something into a mobile phone. The light from the screen made its eyes shine blue, the hair on its face standing out luridly.

“Alright.” It pocketed the phone once more. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Then...can I have my keys back?”

“No.  You know too much, as they say. But don’t worry: I’ll give you a sporting chance. I’m a stickler for tradition, don’t you know?”

“What?” Just then, Jeff became aware of noises in the distance. There was baying in the night, and it was accompanied by a bugle.

“Chop chop.” The fox clapped crisply, gun still in hand. “The dogs are coming.”