The long route took him through a boggy patch that was always cast in shade by the hills and trees all around. The earth was black like peat and the only plants that grew were small, willowy weeds. There were a few hares that lived down here, which the rabbits of Roadkill Turnpike had driven out of their burrow by expanding the warren right through it, so Jack hoped he didn't run into any of them. It did mean, of course, that most rabbits avoided this side of the hill unless they were in large enough groups to fend off a hare attack, so Jack was unlikely to be seen either.

Things had just got a damn sight trickier. Jesus might not have convinced Jack that there were giant rabbits living in the clouds, but Jack was sold on the fact that the captive-bred messiah exerted a considerable influence over potentially a very large army. However, when one has convinced oneself that one is the Son of God, one doesn't like to take orders from any other. Consequently, Jesus Christ had turned out to be one uncompromising bastard not at all interested in Jack's latest plan to overthrow Morellius. He wanted a revolution and he wanted it now.

Jack got out of the bog safely, though he thought he saw a pair of lofty hare ears sticking up out of the weeds at one point. He sped up, and soon he was in the sun again. In a couple of hours it would start to set. There was a thorny briar patch ahead of him, and beyond that the woodland grove. And on the other side of that was the Writtle Bypass. He headed back into the trees once more.

Jack had repeated before Jesus the same theory he'd tried explaining to both Kurt and Casper. That within a few short months, the warrens beneath Roadkill Turnpike would be bursting beyond capacity, and then the circumstances would be ripe for rebellion. However, Jesus was nonplussed. He wasn't convinced mankind wouldn't return one day, much to Casper's alarm. The former courtier promptly leapt to Christ's side of the argument. If mankind returned whilst Morellius was still in charge, or even worse, in the middle of their rebellion, then Roadkill Turnpike would surely be doomed. Jesus didn't even have to put the words in Casper's mouth. He just sat and nodded sagely and didn't take his eyes off Jack for a second.

This Jesus could prove as dangerous an ally as a foe, Jack thought.

Jack wound his way between the tree trunks, hopping over roots that bulged out of the ground and trying to avoid any paths made through the undergrowth by rabbits that had come before. He made his way to the nearest entrance down into the warrens where the females were kept. As per usual there were two sentinels on duty, but they duly parted to let him in without a word. During the festivities, this was the unluckiest place to be, and there was obviously only one thing on their minds. Jack smiled as he went down the slope and into the dark tunnels.

This warren was, of course, rather empty. No female escaped participating in the festivities unless they were already pregnant. And that was whom Jack had come to see. He ran along the passages. He could hear their voices emerging from the dark crevices ahead. They sounded miserable in tone and their words were hopeless. These were rabbits that had nothing to live for. Initial relief at falling pregnant always turned into mounting despair before long. Those babies developing in their bellies were no more than a biological clock. When the countdown was complete, the process would start all over again. Pity the poor girl who isn't in season when the festivities come round. Eight weeks later she has to go through it all again. Pregnancy is a welcome respite. Those that don't get fertilised are always the worst off.

The ladies fell silent when Jack appeared amongst them. Many of them were very heavily pregnant. They might have been impregnated two festivities ago. They looked especially troubled. Next time it would be their turn again. All of them looked afraid of Jack, even though they had him outnumbered. Fighting back just never occurred to them. An alternative to this just didn't exist within their sphere of consciousness. These were, after all, rabbits that feared the sun - the only time they ever saw it was when they were pinned down, being raped.

Jack ran through them, counting in his head. He wanted rough numbers, and counted by the dozen. There must have been at least a dozen dozen. That was a good number, anyway. It sounded good and convincing. Yet there were still more. Jack didn't bother counting them too. He didn't need to. He headed back to the surface, where the two sentries were looking hungrily toward the hillside.

"I have a task for one of you," he said.

They both looked keen to get away from here.

"One of you must fetch the Emperor immediately."

But at this, both their faces fell graven.

"You mean... interrupt the festivities?"

"This is a matter of utmost importance," Jack explained.

"But he'll slaughter us if we interrupt him having sex!"

"As he will if one of you refuses my order," Jack snapped. "For you know that I am Jack, courtier of His Beloved Majesty, and if I tell you that I need you to bring him here this instant, then whatever I wish you to bring him here for must surely be more important than both your lives. Can't you see?"

The two sentries mumbled to themselves.

"Now, who shall go?"

In the end it was the slightly larger of the two who went. Size may well be equated with strength in the human world, but in the rabbit world the larger you are, the more captive-bred (and thus inferior) you look. The unfortunate sentry went looking gloomy and came back with Emperor Morellius and Boxer in tow looking even glummer. Morellius, on the other hand, was fuming.

"What the fuck's the matter, Jack?!" he cried.

"A crisis has arisen," Jack explained, keeping his tone level.

"I was in the middle of my nineteenth, Jack," the Emperor bellowed. "That's nineteen in one day. Just one more and I would have broken my record for consecutive deflowerings. What kind of crisis?"

"I'm sorry, sir. It couldn't wait."

"Have you ever broken in a virgin yourself, Jack?"

"Er, no," Jack stammered. "That's a privilege for yourself alone, Your Majesty." Morellius knew this. Jack knew that Morellius knew this. And Morellius probably knew Jack knew that he knew it as well.

"Oh, yes," the Emperor said, smiling with close-eyed smugness. "I'd forgotten. Now, this crisis, what the hell's going on?"

"I was just getting to that, sir."

"It better be worth interrupting me, Jack. You're not too precious to me to stop me stringing you up on a hawthorn somewhere..."

"Sir," said Jack forcefully. "If I may..."

"Yes, yes, get on with it already."

"Naturally, I would much rather be taking part in the festivities myself," Jack told the Emperor. "As of yet, I have been denied the chance to spread my seed even once. However, when a matter comes to your attention that threatens our very way of life, one must give it one's full attention, obviously."

Boxer narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"What threat?" Morellius chirped.

"It would appear, Your Majesty," Jack stated slowly - he wanted to make this sound right. "That as an adverse consequence of the disappearance of Man, our need for such purposeful procreation has diminished somewhat."

"Oh, what's this fool saying, Boxer?"

"I think, sir," Boxer said. "He's trying to suggest an end to the festivities."

Oh, shit, thought Jack. How did he know?

"What?!" the Emperor laughed.

"Why else bring us here specifically?" Boxer continued. "These are the warrens where the females are isolated. Yet the only females that remain here at this time are the pregnant ones. I do believe, Your Majesty, that our Jack here is implying that this great threat to our way of life is... babies!"

"Babies?!" Emperor Morellius reeled with laughter.

This was exactly how Jack didn't want to it to sound.

"It has been brought to my attention," Jack said, raising his voice over the sound of the Emperor's laughter. "That we just don't have the space anymore to house all the rabbits that will be the result of today's festivities."

Morellius sighed euphorically as he calmed down.

"In fact," Jack said sharply. "We don't even have the space to house all the rabbits that will be born of those maidens presently with child."

Morellius began to listen to him seriously.

"I counted at least a dozen dozen pregnant females before I lost count completely," Jack continued. "And if each of those gives birth to a litter of five or six young, then some of us will be sleeping on the surface before long..."

Morellius blinked and chewed his bottom lip.

"You have to stop any more women falling pregnant."

Morellius shook his head. "Out of the question," he said, out of hand. He started looking into the middle distance, avoiding Jack's glare altogether. "It'd be anarchy. That... that, Jack, that would destroy our way of life."

"We have no choice," Jack said in a whisper.

"Expand the warrens!" the Emperor said quickly. He looked eagerly between Jack, Boxer and the two sentries. "Yes, that's it. We start building more tunnels immediately. By the time birthing season arrives, we'll have room."

Boxer cleared his throat, but said nothing.

"What do you think of that, Boxer?" Jack asked.

Morellius glanced across. Boxer shrugged.

"See, he knows," Jack said slyly.

"Knows? What do you know, Boxer?"

"He knows that's impossible..."

"Impossible?" Boxer sneered. "No, not impossible. In fact, we already have space to house perhaps this season's offspring, and the results of this month's festivities, as well. All we need do is reallocate the burrows."

"Oh, stop talking like a human, Boxer," the Emperor snapped. "What do you mean by reallocate? Turf people out of their homes?"

"Quite," Boxer said. "The captive breds, sir. They take up too much room, anyway. Evict them out of their habitations, use it to house the newborns, and meanwhile get the captive breds to expand the warren. Of course, we'll tell them it's for their own use, but if we need room again, we can-"

"Ludicrous!" Morellius cried. "That's almost as bad as his suggestion, Boxer, that we put a ban on reproduction. Not all the captive breds are stupid. They'll rise up against me. Do you really want a rebellion in the near future?"

Boxer looked stung by the Emperor's rejection.

"No," Morellius murmured. "We need a third way."

They all sat and thought for a few minutes.

"There's no alternative, Your Majesty," Jack explained solemnly. "Don't you think I've tried to think of one? You must call an end to the festivities early."

"Oh, Boxer, what can I do?" the Emperor cried.

"Perhaps..." Boxer said slowly. "Our Jack has a point. This crisis hasn't actually reached us yet. There's still time to decide a course of action. We don't have to do that now. But if you cancel the festivities, it will give us even more time, I would imagine. Wouldn't you agree, Jack?"

Jack nodded slowly.

"You don't have to tell the public the truth right away either, Your Majesty," Boxer continued. "In fact, it's probably best you don't. Invent a different crisis. And may I suggest something that we can get everybody working behind. Foster some feelings of unity and solidarity behind their Imperial Sovereign."

Emperor Morellius' eyes lit up at the thought of it.

"Yes," he said in a drawn out way. "Yes."

Jack realised he'd been holding his breath for quite a while. He finally released the contents of his little rabbit lungs in one long, noisy sigh. Both Morellius and Boxer looked at him curiously. But he didn't care.

"We need time to think," the Emperor stated.

"Jack," Boxer said. "Go out onto the hillside and round up all the other courtiers. Bring them to His Majesty's throne before sunset. It's going to be our responsibility to bring these festivities to an end..."

"Yes, sir," Jack said quickly.

He turned round and started running through the trees toward the hillside, where the rest of the rabbits of Roadkill Turnpike were continuing unabated. Amongst them he would find the Emperor's other courtiers. Jack didn't know yet whether bringing the plan forward a few months like Jesus had demanded was working, but he was glad to get away from Morellius and Boxer.

"I'm glad he's gone," Boxer said shortly.

"Why? What is it, Boxer?" the Emperor asked.

"I think I have an idea." Boxer sniffed.

"About how to stop this crisis?"

"No. About inventing a different one."

"Ooh, what is it?" said Morellius excitedly.

Boxer looked round at the two sentries, who had been watching and listening to everything that was going on silently. "I was thinking," he explained. "Just how outraged the entire warren would be if, in the midst of the festivities, they learnt that an entire burrow full of pregnant females had been cruelly slaughtered."

"What?!" Morellius cried. "By whom?!"

"That'd be the thing," Boxer said craftily. "No one would know. Everybody would have been busy at the festivities. Then suddenly we discover several hundred dead females. Somebody's ruthlessly attacked us..."

The Emperor's eyes went wide as he realised what Boxer was implying. "You mean... Boxer... you're suggesting that... that we..."

"It's a master stroke of genius," Boxer said modestly. "Even if I do say so myself. It would solve two problems in one fell swoop. On the one hand, we have a thousand less rabbit babies to feed and house. And on the other hand, we have the entire population of Roadkill Turnpike behind you, demanding vengeance."

"We could blame it on the hares!" Morellius hissed.

"Indeed," Boxer agreed. "Nothing like a swift and brutal war of annihilation to get popular support. And who knows, the bastards might even kill off a few of our own. Even less to worry about. And if we ever run out of room again, we can just stage another hare attack. Nobody will ever know."

"Okay, Boxer, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Emperor Morellius said, his voice shaky with tremulous excitement. "Now, let's think. Who are we going to get to do this deed? Can you and your courtiers manage the task?"

Boxer shook his head vehemently. "No, I don't want to get them involved in this, Your Majesty," he said. "The less people who know about it, the better. No, I was thinking more a case of myself and... and these two."

"Us?" the two sentries cried.

"Yes," Boxer said slowly. "Which one of you two scallywags was it that interrupted His Majesty whilst he was fornicating?"

Both sentries pointed a forepaw at each other.

"Hmm, just as I thought," Boxer cooed. "The two of you, with me. And if you're very lucky, the version of events we tell the public won't make mention of the two sentries that were supposed to be guarding the women dying too..."

The pair of them looked at each other and gulped.

"Okay, let's go," Boxer snapped.

"Boxer," the Emperor called.

"Your Highness?"

"Be gentle..."

"Of course."

NOTES:
Two whole chapters without a mention of Peter Rabbit. Consider these two the interlude between the first act and the second. Peter will always be the main character of the story, but the title is "The Rabbits Of Roadkill Turnpike" for a reason. More cod political machinations in this one, which was one of my favourite talky chapters to write. As I was writing it, my vision of who the heroes and villains would end up being shifted somewhat and I think it's now pretty damn clear that Boxer is the worst of the worst.