Red Raiders

by KH Gordon

  Chapter Thirteen

  On a cold afternoon Torus lay watching Sandwich Man from the safety of the hole between the bricks in the alley wall. Fat flakes of snow fell out of a dull, white sky and melted slowly on the wet ground. Torus lay on his side and waited for something to drop, but without much hope. In recent weeks the man had become more fastidious and seldom let anything fall from his sandwich other than a few crumbs. The dog lay shivering at the man’s feet, also waiting for something to drop, also without much hope. The dog stood up briefly to shake out its wet fur, and Torus noticed the snowflakes were starting to stick to the ground, rather than melt. He curled up against the cold, but he wasn’t willing to go back into the relative warmth of the building. Not yet.

  “Hey, you,” said a voice from inside the wall.

  “Hi Nevi,” he said, without turning his head, or even raising it from the floor of his observation hole.

  “Are you here again? Is it really that fascinating?” She came out of the tunnel and sat down beside him.

  “Not really,” he replied tiredly. “It’s more like a chance to get away for a little while. Take a little break before the forage starts.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean,” she said. “It’s been a rough couple of moons, hasn’t it…”

  “Kind of…”

  In fact, Torus was exhausted. Since coming of age he had worked nearly every day on the tunnel team, working on widening and straightening the tunnel under the street to the park. The leaders had decided the tunnel should be wide enough for two rats to run abreast in each direction, and that some of the sharp turns should be rounded to allow quicker passage.

  “Isn’t the tunnel just about done now?” asked Nevi. “Won’t things quiet down then?”

  “Yeah, almost done, I guess. It’s hard to tell because they only let me haul away rubble and stuff. Arkon and I are the new pups on the team, so we just carry stuff. I don’t know anything about the plans or what comes next.” He closed his eyes. “And everyone wants a sledge now, and I keep getting called away to help with that, so I miss some of the instructions. It’s hard to keep track of what’s going on.” He opened his eyes and looked at her. “How’s the scouting?”

  Nevi paused before answering.

  “It’s alright,” she said. “Mostly it’s more like running messages. I get sent to watch out some lookout for half the day, and then I go back to report that I didn’t see anything. I’d think they were just picking on me and sending me to the boring spots, but everyone I talk to says it’s the same all over. We just sit and watch for trouble and then if anything happens we get together to take care of it. Only nothing ever happens.”

  “Well, just be patient,” said Torus. “There’s bound to be an intruder or a cat or something eventually.”

  “I hope so,” she said, without much enthusiasm.

  Torus’s stomach growled loudly and he looked out at Sandwich Man, who was just taking the last bite of his sandwich.

  Torus sighed audibly.

  “Nothing left. Typical.”

  “So how’s the foraging going?” asked Nevi. “I don’t go much because they’ve always got me scouting, and when they do send me it’s always the same human’s kitchen on the third floor. Is there as much food as they said there would be?”

  “Well, there was at first, I guess. It seemed like there was a lot, anyway, especially at the dumpster in the park. And I guess they raised the amount that goes to the Clan stockpile to prepare for the winter. But lately there’s less in all the dumpsters, including the park, and less in the kitchens, too. And they didn’t change how much goes to the Clan and now it’s like there’s no more food than there was before. Less maybe. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Where would all that food go?”

  “I don’t know, maybe there’s just fewer people in the park so they don’t make as much garbage.”

  “Are the pigeons taking it all?”

  “Maybe some of it. They sure are there all the time. They hang out at the park after our guard duty has taken over, and they sit in the trees and seem like they watch everything we take. They don’t say anything, but it makes me nervous anyway. And Arkon told me he’s started seeing them hanging around the building dumpsters, too, which they never used to do. It’s weird, but I’m too tired to think about it much.”

  Another voice came out of the wall.

  “You’re not much of a thinker even when you’re not tired!”

  “Hi Chello,” said Nevi, smiling. “Nice of you to drop by.”

  “My pleasure,” he replied, flopping down on Nevi’s other side. “Did I miss the sandwich?”

  “Yeah, but there’s nothing left,” said Torus.

  “Pity,” said Chello, casually. “Well, I’m not really hungry, anyway.”

  “What brings you down to ground level, then?” asked Nevi. “Patrolling for forage shirkers?”

  “No, I just came to get you guys for the gathering.”

  Torus sighed again and Nevi rolled her eyes.

  “Another gathering? That’s the second one this week. What’s this about, more Clan Hygiene?”

  “Maybe if Torus would clean his ears once in a while it wouldn’t be such a hot topic,” said Chello, laughing.

  Torus grumbled, “They aren’t even real gatherings anymore. They’re just announcements. Why do we have to go when we can just find out what they’re announcing later?”

  “I don’t know,” said Chello. “They just told the junior Patrol Officers to go around and ‘remind’ anyone the saw to come to this one.”

  “I don’t want to,” said Torus. “I want a nap before the forage starts.”

  “You should have gotten on Patrol, then. We have a fifty percent exemption from forage duty. That means we only have to forage every other day.”

  “I know what it means,” said Torus. “How do you get enough to eat then?”

  “They supplement our families out of the Clan stockpile. Scouts too, right Nevi?”

  Nevi nodded silently without looking at Torus.

  “Well, you guys lucked out, didn’t you,” said Torus, with just a trace of bitterness.

  “Don’t worry about it,” said Nevi. “After a while you can move up in the Tunnel Team and things get easier, right? The leader gets a half exemption, and the assistant leaders get one third. That’s one night off out of three.”

  “I know what it is,” snapped Torus. “But that doesn’t help me now, does it? All I want now is to go home and take a nap before I have to go out and restock the Clan stockpile for you.”

  “That’s not fair,” said Nevi. “It’s not our fault.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry,” said Torus. “I am tired, though. I don’t want to go to any gathering right now.”

  “Well, I have to go,” said Chello. “Dumpish is expecting his whole patrol to be there, and I don’t want him on my case. In fact, he wants us there early, so I’ve got to scamper away now. See you later!” And with that he disappeared into the wall.

  “I should go, too,” said Nevi. “The Scout leader watches everything I do really closely. I don’t want to make any waves.” She stopped and waited until Torus turned and caught her eye. “Okay? Are you coming?”

  “I might,” he said, looking away again. “I’ll see…”

  “Okay, well, I hope so.” She waved awkwardly and then turned and went the same way Chello had gone.

  Torus lay for a short time and looked out into the alley. The ground was now covered with a thin layer of snow. The snowflakes were smaller than before, but more numerous and falling more thickly. The sky had darkened a little, and the temperature had dropped. Without the others there, the hole in the wall was as cold as the outside and Torus shivered a little. Well, he told himself, at least in the meeting room it will be warm. He got up and stretched his stiff limbs.

  Maybe they’ll have snacks, he added, and turned and made his w
ay back into the tunnels in the wall.

  On the way to the meeting room he came upon Mr. Nile, shuffling along even more slowly than usual.

  “Hi, Mr. Nile,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  “What? Oh, hello, Torus. Yes, I’m fine.” Mr. Nile stopped to talk. “I’m just a little stiffer than usual. Something happened in my den. There’s a new draft from the back wall, and now the heat from my human’s oven doesn’t come into my house. So I’m much colder than I’m used to being, and it’s making all my bones stiff.”

  “Why would there be a new draft?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. This building is full of cracks and holes. Perhaps some mortar fell out from between some bricks somewhere. Or maybe a window was left open in one of the rooms the humans have abandoned. It’s just a tiny little draft – barely noticeable – but it makes the heat go the wrong way under the oven.” Mr. Nile stopped and sighed. “It’s too cold to stay there all the time, but it would be much too hard for me to find another home now.”

  “Isn’t there something we could do?”

  “I don’t think so. I think I’ll just shiver all winter and then in the summer the new draft will bring some welcome coolness.”

  “I’ll bet there’s a way…” said Torus, half to himself. He scowled at the floor, trying to remember how Mr. Nile’s home was arranged. “I can’t imagine your den in my head. Can I come over after the gathering and look around? Maybe I can think of something.”

  “Yes, that would be fine,” said Mr. Nile. “If indeed we even get to the gathering. We’ve already missed the entrance and gatherings seem to be rather shorter than normal these days.”

  “I’m not really interested, anyway. I was just going for the warmth, and maybe some snacks.”

  “Well, I can’t promise any warmth at my house, but I do have snacks. I’m sure we can find out all about the gathering later.”

  On the way to Mr. Nile’s house, they passed several rats going about their various business. Down a side passage, a pair of young females worked halfheartedly at cleaning the tunnel while they talked and giggled. Further on, another pair, male and female, stood whispering in the shadows and lowered their voices as Torus and Mr. Nile passed. An older male that Torus didn’t recognize came toward them, but ducked nervously into a side tunnel when he saw them coming.

  “Apparently we’re not the only ones with something better to do than go to gatherings,” said Mr. Nile wryly.

  “What’s this one about? Do you know?” asked Torus.

  “Food,” said Mr. Nile. “What else is there? Food and loyalty, which really means obedience.”

  Torus caught the bitter note in this statement, but before he could respond Mr. Nile called out down the tunnel.

  “Hello, Mindle!”

  A very old female rat came shuffling toward them pulling a bulging bundle of rags behind her. She didn’t respond until she was right beside them. Then she spoke without stopping and passed them.

  “H’lo, Nile. Pup.”

  Mr. Nile smiled and said, without looking back, “Nice day for a bundle of rags,”

  “Hm.”

  “Who is that?” Torus asked when she was out of sight.

  “Just an old friend,” said Mr. Nile. “One of us is older than the other, but we can never agree which.”

  They walked for a few moments in silence, and then Torus asked, “So, what about the gathering. Is it anything important?”

  “I’m not sure…none of the leaders would tell me anything about it. They just came to me yesterday with a lot of questions about the sun and how long the days and nights are. I told them, Yes, the days get shorter in the winter, and the nights get longer, but I don’t mark the sun, just the moon. There’s no need for us to mark the sun for our way of life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I mark the moon so we can keep track of the passage of time, so we can plan things, so we know how old we are and how fast our pups are growing. But we don’t live outdoors, so marking the sun doesn’t help us at all. Rats that live outdoors – “

  “Like the park rats?”

  “Like the park rats, yes, they mark the sun to know when the seasons change, and to know when the safe times of the night are. I learned to mark the sun once, but I don’t think I could do it now, nor would I want to.”

  “Why would the leaders want to know about the sun?”

  “I’m afraid to guess.”

  They arrived at the house and Mr. Nile gestured him inside. Torus could tell right away that it was much cooler in the house than before, but still not as cool as his own home. He started looking around while Mr. Nile busied himself at the back of the nest.

  For the most part, the nest was snugly tucked between the ceiling of one apartment and the floor of the apartment above. It was a cozy space with room enough to move around, but still with the close, closed-in feeling that made rats comfortable. At the back of the room, though, was the brick outer wall of the building, and there was a narrow gap along the wall where there was no floor and no ceiling, just a slender space going down into darkness below, and up into darkness above. And indeed there was a draft of cold air coming down from the space above. It was hardly noticeable, but once he was aware of it, Torus could see how chilling it would be to sit in the draft for very long.

  At the other end of the room the floor and the ceiling came together, and there was only a very small gap between them. A mouse, or a small young rat, could crawl inside that space, but it was much too small for a full-grown rat to move in comfortably. And this was the space that was warmed by the kitchen of Mr. Nile’s human. But no warmth came out now. In fact, with the space compressed, Torus could almost hear the draft whistling into the little space and carrying away the heat to unknown places on the other side of the apartment.

  Mr. Nile appeared at his side with some pretzels.

  “You see?” he said. “Troubling.”

  “Yeah…” said Torus, nibbling absently and scratching his ear. “I’ll be some rat did some tunneling or building that changed the way the air moves through.”

  He walked back over to the back of the room and stared up into the darkness, sniffing the air and listening for something he couldn’t quite hear. Then he followed the path of the draft through Mr. Nile’s den, over the floor and between the piles of collected objects, to the narrow space on the other side. He sat down heavily and took a large bite of his pretzel, staring hard into the little gap.

  Mr. Nile joined him and they sat together in silence for a while. Finally, he spoke.

  “Anything yet?” He seemed amused, but he was also shivering a little.

  Torus shook his head and took another bite of his pretzel. He was about to say something when there was a sudden pattering of feet and a jabbering of young voices outside the door.

  “Hey, Torus, are you in there?” called a voice.

  Before Torus could answer Mr. Nile called out.

  “Yes, he’s here. Come on in, Nevi.”

  Nevi came in, and behind her came Chello and Juke. Torus could hear others outside still in the tunnel.

  “Hi,” he said, not very brightly. “What’s going on? I thought there was a gathering.”

  Nevi rolled her eyes and said, “It’s over. Just an announcement, like you said.”

  “Yeah,” said Chello. “The Chief’s selling us out again. Great, huh?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Torus.

  “We were all going over to Juke’s place to talk about it. Do you want to come?”

  “I’d like to hear what happened, as well,” said Mr. Nile. “Why don’t you all come in here? I have plenty of pretzels.”

  “Okay, sure…” said Nevi uncertainly. Juke turned without a word and lumbered out into the tunnel. They heard him murmur shortly, and then he returned, followed by a small crowd of young rats. Mr. Nile greeted them all as they came in.

  “Hello, Arkon. Fl
inka, nice to see you again. Juke, hello…” He stopped and squinted at the last two to come in, twin females with identical brown fur and narrow faces. “Davin is it? And Vinda? Welcome. I haven’t seen you two in a while. Come in, all of you, you know where to sit…” He shuffled to the back of his den to retrieve the bag of pretzels.

  Nevi and Chello sat down near where Torus was still sitting. The others all found seats as well, in a rough circle. Juke had his back to the drafty wall and Flinka maneuvered herself between him and Vinda. Vinda rolled her eyes and whispered something in her twin sister’s ear that made her laugh silently.

  “Does everyone come up here?” Torus whispered to Cello. “Everyone seems pretty comfortable, and he knows everybody.”

  Chello shrugged.

  “I dunno, I guess so. Everybody’s got to go someplace, right?”

  Torus snorted.

  “That doesn’t even mean anything.”

  Flinka suddenly whined and gave an exaggerated shiver.

  “Mr. Nile your house is too cold!” She tried to scoot closer to Juke, but he didn’t notice.

  “I know, my dear,” said Mr. Nile. “It’s become quite drafty. I have a young builder working on the problem though, so perhaps things will improve.”

  Torus had in fact been occupied with the problem even though his friends were there.

  “Yeah, I actually had an idea… do you have any extra rags?”

  “The hole is too wide to stuff with rags. I already tried that.”

  “Oh, okay,” said Torus, discouraged. Then he suddenly brightened. “What about some cardboard? And some tape?”

  “That I have, over by the left wall. The tape I’m not sure of, but you can check in that coffee can over there.”

  Torus got up to look through the supplies, and Mr. Nile came back and plopped the open bag of pretzels in the middle of the circle.

  “I’m too tired to pass them out, just help yourselves.” He sat down on the floor next to Nevi and said, “Now. Whenever you’re ready you can tell this old rat all about the latest developments.”

  The young rats all avoided looking at him and avoided looking at each other. Except for Chello and Akron, Torus’s companion on the Tunnel Team, they also avoided looking at the pretzels, so mostly they all settled on looking at their toes or the tips of their tails.

  Mr. Nile looked around the circle for a moment and then snorted.

  “Well, really. I’m too old for this nonsense. At this rate I’ll go into the darkness before I even find out what joke the Chief said to start the meeting. At the very least you can start eating pretzels while someone thinks of something to say.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” said Chello, reaching into the bag. “I’d hate to insult our host, wouldn’t you, Arkon?”

  “Absolutely!” he replied. He reached for the snacks so quickly that a pretzel was already in his mouth before he finished his next sentence. “Wouldn’t think mff mffff.”

  There was a flurry of activity, and soon the silence was filled with happy crunching and rustling.

  Torus found the cardboard and pulled out three or four pieces that looked fairly sturdy. There was no tape, but he found a small sheet of stickers with pictures of bats and cats and pumpkins and humans in strange clothing. He took his supplies over to the drafty wall and started thinking, nibbling thoughtfully on a piece of cardboard to straighten out one of its edges.

  Mr. Nile helped himself to one of his own pretzels and spoke over the noise.

  “Now, will someone please tell me what work of genius was begun today?”

  “The Chief’s giving the dumpster to the pigeons,” said Chello through a mouthful.

  “No he’s not!” said Nevi, swatting him on the shoulder.

  He shrugged and took another bite.

  “Whatever,” he said.

  Nevi turned to Mr. Nile.

  “It’s more like changing the rules about sharing it,” she said. “He said something about how the pigeons came to him and said the days were getting too short and the nights were too long, and that gave us an unfair advantage, or something. Like we have too much time now, and they don’t have enough, so he agreed to let them be there for a while after dark while we’re there, and for a while early in the morning before it gets light, too.”

  “And how did that go over?” the old rat asked.

  “Well, no one seemed happy about it,” she continued, “but only one rat spoke up. Flinka, I think it was your dad. He started to say something about how the neighboring clans were already unhappy with us for claiming clan-right on the dumpster, and how this new arrangement would make it even worse, but then he got nervous and stopped in the middle.”

  Flinka rolled her eyes.

  “That was my dad alright,” she said.

  “Anyway, after that, no one said anything else and Nogolo told us it was all for the good of the clan to share with ‘our partners.’”

  “Like all of us there together, at the same time?” asked Vinda, “Like that’ll work.”

  “Yeah, I think that’s what he meant,” said Nevi. “He wasn’t very clear.”

  “Oh, he was clear,” said Arkon. “He said ‘We with our friends and partners share. Share.’ He’s even beginning to talk like them.”

  “Maybe he’ll become one and fly away and we can get a new Chief that won’t fall over like a wet rag when things get tough,” said Chello. Flinka gasped and grabbed Juke’s arm. Nevi turned to Chello in alarm.

  “Chello, stop it,” she said. “He’s still the Chief, no matter what. You promised your loyalty, remember.”

  “Oh, that’s right, I forgot,” he said. “Thank you for reminding me of my duties, your Scoutness.” He scowled and grabbed another pretzel. Half to himself he muttered, “Stupid pigscat birds. Taking over the whole clan. I’m going to go live in the park and kill every bird I see.”

  “What is it with you and birds?” said Arkon. “I agree they’re disgusting and all that, like they can barely talk, and they smell weird. But come on! Why shouldn’t we work with them if it can work out? Dumpish say’s they’re doing a pretty good job keeping cats away from the dumpster, and out of the alley, too. If they’re keeping up their part why shouldn’t we share the garbage in the park?”

  “I don’t trust them, that’s why,” said Chello. “I used to trust the Chief, but now his mind is full of pigeon-talk, and I never trusted the Advisors to begin with. Something about the whole thing stinks and that’s that.”

  Some of the rats murmured in agreement, but Flinka said “You’re dangerous! Someone should report you to…somebody!” She squeezed Juke’s arm and he looked down at her. He apparently had only just noticed her. He furrowed his brow and then carefully pulled his arm away.

  While everyone was talking, Torus had carefully shaped some long strips of cardboard so they would just fit in the space between the inner and outer wall. He worked his way along the wall, fitting one piece after another and sticking them in place with the orange and black stickers.

  There was a short silence, and then Arkon spoke up again.

  “Why are they so strange? I mean, how can they talk that way, anyway? I couldn’t put words together in that order if I tried.”

  “Their minds work differently,” said Mr. Nile, staring thoughtfully at the nearly empty pretzel bag. “All creatures have different minds, and their minds are reflected in the way they speak.”

  Torus stepped back from the wall and surveyed his work. The draft was noticeably less, but the room was still cold. He picked up a piece of cardboard and waved it in the air. It made a little gust of air the ruffled the fur on Flinka’s back.

  “Hey!” she said, turning around sharply. “Stop that!”

  Torus ignored her and took his cardboard and stickers to the other side of the room where the heat used to blow in from under the oven. He couldn’t fit all the way in, but by squirming a little he was
able to get his front half in far enough to reach back and attach the cardboard to the far edge, where it hung down like a flap.

  “Pigeon minds must be pretty mixed up,” said Arkon.

  “And I imagine ours must seem rather mixed up to them,” replied Mr. Nile. “But in some ways I think it’s to their credit that they approached us with the idea of sharing the dumpster. I don’t know that rats would ever have made the first move.”

  “No, we wouldn’t have,” said Chello hotly. “Because rats are self-sufficient and have a sense of dignity. We would never sink so low that we had to rely on them. I tell you I don’t trust them. They’re up to something and this ‘dumpster sharing’ is just the beginning.”

  Torus wriggled out of the warm crevice and found a piece of string in Mr. Nile’s supplies. He squeezed back in and tied the string to the lower edge of the hanging cardboard flap. When he pulled himself out again he gave the string an experimental pull and was delighted to feel a little puff of warm air hit his face.

  “Hey, look!” he whispered, trying to get Nevi’s attention, but she waved him to silence. He sulked a little and sat back down, still holding his string, which he began tugging rhythmically.

  “And where do they live?” said Arkon, as if he hadn’t heard Chello at all. “And how does their King become King? Since they can fly, do you think they like being on the ground or in the air better?”

  “Why do you care?” said Chello. Arkon shrugged and looked down at his feet.

  “I dunno,” he said. “Just curious I guess…”

  “‘Just curious,’” muttered Chello as he reached for another pretzel.

  “Chello, stop it,” said Nevi. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to know more.” Chello stared straight ahead without saying anything. “Anyway, we should go before we eat all Mr. Nile’s food.”

  “Yes, let’s!” said Flinka. “Let’s go on to Juke’s house like we said before. It’s warm there, right, Juke?”

  Juke looked like he had never thought about it.

  “Warm enough,” he said.

  “Oh, there’s no problem with that, Nevi,” said Mr. Nile. “There’s no shortage of pretzels here. And I do enjoy the company, after all.”

  But despite this, the crowd started to move toward the door, mumbling about having to get home, and tossing thanks over their shoulders to their host.

  Torus watched the others leave. He wasn’t sure what to do, but when Chello and Nevi moved toward the door he got up as well.

  “Thanks,” he said to Mr. Nile, handing him the string. “G’bye…I made a thing for the heat. Just pull on this a few times”

  “Wait a moment, would you, Torus, Nevi?” said Mr. Nile.

  “Okay, sure,” he said, glancing at Nevi.

  Nevi called out the door, “Chello, hang on a second,” and turned back into the room.

  There was a pause as Mr. Nile gathered up the remaining pretzels and the three young rats sat down again. When he came back from putting the bag away, Mr. Nile seemed lost in thought, and he sat experimenting with the string the controlled the fan for some time before he spoke. When he did, there was a distinct edge to his voice.

  “I agree with Chello,” he said. “I don’t know very much about pigeons, but something about the current situation makes me very uncomfortable.”

  “Told you!” said Chello, giving Nevi a little shove.

  “Whatever,” she said.

  “So, what should we do?” asked Torus.

  “I think we need to learn more about the birds,” said Mr. Nile. “In the old days, I would have just gone out to the park myself and talked to them, but now I’d have to wait for spring, and I don’t know if we have that long.”

  “What about us? Would they talk to us?”

  “I don’t know if they would, Nevi. They’re strange creatures, with a strong sense of hierarchy. I think they would recognize you as youngsters and refuse to talk to you instead of your parents or leaders.”

  “Well, what else can we do, then?” said Chello, impatiently.

  “This is really quite remarkable,” said Mr. Nile, holding up the string. “It’s much warmer now than before, don’t you think? Quite ingenious!”

  He sat pulling the string with a regular, gentle motion that brought a noticeable warm breeze into the room. It wasn’t as warm as in the past, but much better than before. The three young rats watched him for a moment, with Chello becoming increasingly agitated.

  Finally Nevi said gently, “Mr. Nile?” and he turned toward them.

  “So sorry,” he said with a wink for Nevi. “The warmth must be making me sleepy. I have a friend here in the building that may be able to help,” he continued. “It’s difficult to get to his home, even for a young healthy rat, which I am not. I think you three could go, though, and I think he would talk to you if you gave him my name. He’s quite old, and has a lot of knowledge outside the realm of rats and the clan.”

  “Who is he?” asked Nevi. “Is he a rat with another clan?”

  “No, he’s not,” he replied. “He’s not a rat at all, in fact.”

  He paused and looked at them with an expression that may have been a wry smile hiding an awkward apology, or may have simply been a myopic squint in the dim light.

  “No, in fact, you may be surprised to find out that my wise friend,” he finally said, “is a cat.”

  * * *