The Mouse Watch, Volume 1

by J. J. Gilbert

  The toy Jeep was her father’s pride and joy and he loved it about as much as her mother loved her Summertime Nancy collectibles. Unfortunately, Bernie’s cool, “special ops” image was compromised a little because of the silly suitcase her mom had given her. The closer she got to her arrival at the Mouse Watch, the more self-conscious Bernie was starting to feel about her appearance. She desperately hoped that they wouldn’t underestimate her based on her tiny size. And it really didn’t help her feel more confident when she pulled her glittery suitcase out of the backseat of the car. Why had her mom made her take that one? Wasn’t there anything less conspicuous?

  Most places in the human world had a corresponding mouse-size counterpart if one knew where to look. At the Moorpark train station, Bernie and her parents knew that the small ticket office was carefully tucked away behind a potted plant. It was made from a child’s sand bucket and was painted red with brown trim. It also had the same old-fashioned shingled roof as its counterpart. As Bernie and her family drew close to it, she noticed that sitting behind the ticket window was a very nice-looking old mouse. He wore a dark blue conductor’s cap on his head and had an impressive droopy, white-whiskered mustache.

  He was also snoring.

  “Er, excuse me? We’re looking to go to Union Station in Los Angeles,” said Clarence.

  The old man snorted, startled, and then adjusted his bifocals to peer at his customers.

  “Whoops! Dozed off there. Tends to happen this time of night,” he said with a yawn. He glanced at his pocket watch. “Whoa! You’re a bit late for the midnight special, but we got the red-eye heading out in, oh…’bout ten minutes. Tickets for three?”

  Clarence and Beatrice exchanged nervous glances.

  “Um, how much are the tickets, exactly?” asked Bernie’s mom.

  “Let’s see here,” said the old mouse, consulting a notebook. “Union Station. Round trip is twenty-three dollars per person.”

  “Twenty-three? Is that in human or rodent currency?” asked Beatrice worriedly. Rodent currency was smaller than human currency and was sometimes exchanged at different rates.

  “Same for both,” said the conductor.

  Bernie nervously bit her nail as she watched her parents whisper. Clarence checked his wallet, and Beatrice riffled through her purse. Both were shaking their heads, a bad sign.

  No, no, no, thought Bernie worriedly. Please no. We’re so close!

  Suddenly she remembered that she had a little money in her pocket. She pulled out a five-dollar bill with the image of Theodore McFurry, the first president of the Mice of the United States.

  “I can help!” she said excitedly, stuffing the bill into her dad’s paw.

  Clarence looked at it and sighed. After glancing at his wife, he handed the crumpled bill back to his daughter, gently closing her fingers around the money.

  “You might need that,” he said quietly.

  Bernie overheard her mom whispering with the conductor. Moments later she returned and handed Bernie a gleaming white ticket.

  “We only had enough for one, sweetheart,” she said.

  Bernie stared at the white slip of paper that represented all of her hopes and dreams. She glanced back up at her parents, who stared back at her with worried smiles.

  “If you don’t want to go alone—”

  “No…no, I’ll be fine,” interrupted Bernie. “I…can do this.”

  They stared at each other for a long moment.

  “Mom, Dad, I can’t thank you en—”

  But she was drowned out by the lonely, echoing blast of a diesel horn. Bernie glanced down the tracks and saw a pair of bright lights coming toward them.

  The rest of the good-bye went so fast. There were tight hugs. There were also a few tears.

  And the next thing Bernie knew, she was aboard the gigantic train. Her heart pounded as the mouse conductor escorted her to a small row of seats that had been built beneath the human-size ones. There was only one other mouse traveling on the red-eye to Union Station, fast asleep in the window seat.

  The engine started.

  The wheels started slowly turning.

  Then, as the train pulled away from the station, Bernie was able, for the first time, to let out a sigh of relief. She was actually going. Nothing had stopped her.

  Union Station, here I come!

  And whether it was from all the excitement or because it was the first time she’d been able to slow down since they’d left the house, Bernie felt her eyelids grow heavy.

  I’m doing it, Brody. Just like you said I could.

  As the human conductor made his way through the car, taking tickets from the human passengers, the mouse conductor scurried down Bernie’s row, taking tickets from the mouse passengers hidden in the shadows beneath the human seats. Bernie could hardly keep her eyes open. After handing the conductor her ticket and getting it stamped, she fell asleep before the caboose had pulled past the Moorpark ticket office.

  She was soon dreaming of becoming the best Mouse Watch agent that the world had ever seen.

  The first thing that Bernie realized when she disembarked at Los Angeles Union Station, was that she needed to get out of the way of the stampede of wing tips, loafers, tennis shoes and high heels that threatened to squash her underfoot. She dashed as quickly and calmly as she could. Her parents had taught her that anytime she was in the presence of humans, she should avoid scampering. The big people had an uncanny knack for noticing things scuttling near their feet, and it was dangerous for a mouse if spotted. Bernie had heard tales of high-pitched screams and pest exterminators being called, just because a mouse had scampered accidentally.

  Bernie moved stealthily and deliberately, making her way in the shadows to a large trash can where she could hide, unobserved.

  From her vantage point, the view was limited. But she saw the big clock in the station and it read 6:50 a.m.

  “Well, at least I’m on time,” she murmured. Her stomach rumbled, and she realized that she’d forgotten to pack anything to eat. Bernie tilted her nose into the air and sniffed, trying to determine if there was any hope of finding some nearby crumbs.

  The station smelled of highly polished wood, age, and the slight diesel-y odor of train engines. But, thankfully, there was also the scent of bacon and eggs coming from a quaint-looking food stand in a corner of the waiting area.

  Bernie’s big brown eyes scanned the distance between the trash can where she was hiding and the restaurant. She could see a few of the patrons eating stacks of syrup-drenched pancakes and breakfast sandwiches. Her eyes narrowed, focusing in on a five-year-old human girl eating a donut. Little humans were well loved by mice because they almost always dropped some of whatever they were eating.

  Bernie’s mouth watered.

  “Why do there have to be so many big people around at this time of the morning?” she mumbled. The direct route to the food stand had heavy foot traffic, and there didn’t seem to be many places to sneak that wouldn’t be out in the open. It was a bad idea to attempt a food grab.

  Bernie sighed and pressed her tiny paw to her rumbling tummy.

  What now? she wondered. Will somebody come and find me? Where am I supposed to go?

  She reminded herself not to panic. She was the farthest she’d ever been from home, and scary, nervous thoughts were trying to push their way to the front of her mind. One thing that Bernie was usually good at was being brave. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel scared sometimes. Everyone did. But Bernie was unique in that she never let panicky thoughts keep her from doing what needed to be done.

  However, she’d also never quite done anything as daring as riding a train all the way to Los Angeles by herself before, and she felt just a little bit wobbly in her knees.

  Bernie bit her thumb nervously as she watched the minute hand on the big clock finally tick to twelve.

  There was no accompanying chime or bell.

  Nobody in the station paid it a second thought.

  But Bernie’
s keen eyes spotted something. A tiny, furry face peered out from behind the number six on the clock, opening it like a door, and it scanned the crowds with a miniature pair of binoculars.

  A Watcher! Bernie thought excitedly. She decided to pull a risky move and emerge from her hiding spot so that the mouse could see her.

  Bernie was so excited that she didn’t take stock of her surroundings before darting out and waving her paws at the mouse high up on the station wall. And her impulsive decision came with a price.

  Grrroooowwl.

  Bernie stopped waving. A sudden icy chill raced down her spine. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a terror!

  Technically speaking, it was called a “terrier.” But this one was definitely a terror. Whereas most dogs were curious, friendly beasts, she could see by the look in this one’s eyes that it didn’t like mice.

  Not one bit.

  From Bernie’s small vantage point, it was huge. Its giant black eyes were riveted upon her, and the hackles on its neck bristled like a cactus.

  “Juno, shhh,” said Juno’s owner, an old woman who was oblivious to what her dog had seen. Bernie knew she only had a split second before total chaos erupted.

  “Nice doggy,” Bernie whispered.

  The dog wasn’t stupid. It knew the difference between a human command and a little mouse trying to act like it was in charge.

  “ROW! RAWR! RAWR! RAWR!” The little dog burst into a series of aggressive barks. With a bound, it leaped from the lady’s lap and raced toward Bernie.

  “Juno! Come back here!” shouted the woman.

  Bernie saw a massive white muzzle with giant pointy teeth racing straight at her.

  It was a choice between flight or fight. Most people, if faced with a dangerous furry monster, would have probably run as fast as they could. But Bernie had been practicing ways to face danger for several years now, ever since the first videos she’d uploaded to try to impress the Mouse Watch.

  Instead of running, she planted her feet and raised herself as tall as she possibly could. She stared at the oncoming beast with steely resolve in her eyes and, as it drew close, she yelled in the loudest voice a small mouse could muster, “STOP!”

  Juno the terrier wasn’t at all prepared for such a booming command to come from such a small creature. With a loud whimper, the dog scuttled back on its hind legs and then, yelping loudly, rushed to the safety and security of its owner’s lap.

  Bernie’s heart was beating fast. It had been a frightening moment. But her triumph was short-lived when she realized that in the commotion she’d broken the rule observed by intelligent mice everywhere and especially by the Mouse Watch.

  A mouse must NEVER draw attention to herself.

  And Bernie’s shrill cry of “STOP!” had, indeed, drawn the attention of the entire train station. Everyone in the waiting area froze, staring down at the tiny talking mouse wearing Jungle Jay action-figure clothes, with various expressions of amazement.

  Bernie felt the towering crowd inch closer. This time, there wasn’t an easy path for escape. Legs like massive tree trunks surrounded her, and there wasn’t even a gap of daylight to slip through. Then she heard the shrieks and squeals that were always followed by pest control.

  Oh no, what have I done?

  She thought back to all the warnings her parents had given her as a child, telling her that the delicate relationship between humans and mice depended on the mice never being spotted. Her dad had taught her all about the dangers of mousetraps. He’d even shown her one once, and the loud snap it made had given her nightmares for weeks.

  She knew also that some humans could be trusted, and there were stories of the big people being kind to mice. But even so, allowing them to know that you could speak their language was strictly forbidden by the laws of nature. It was illegal. It just wasn’t done.

  And now, she’d done it.

  A humming noise came from somewhere above her, growing louder by the second.

  Bernie glanced up and saw a gleaming white drone zip into view, hovering on four whirring propellers high above the crowd of people. A voice she recognized boomed from a speaker, a voice that belonged to the mouse she admired most in the world.

  “Humans of Union Station, if I could have your attention.” Mercifully, the crowd’s attention was diverted from Bernie as they looked around to see where the mysterious voice was coming from. “Yes, you. All of you. Look up here, please.”

  A hundred faces turned to look at the drone.

  “Thank you!” The voice echoed across the station. “And now…good night!”

  Tiny jets of purple mist shot out of the side of the drone. Bernie thought it was one of the most unusual shades of lavender that she’d ever seen. It seemed to sparkle and glow with particular intensity. Then, as the mist cloud settled over the upturned faces, the crowd of eyes glazed over, and almost as a unit, the entire human population in the station began to yawn.

  Bernie stared, amazed, as one by one all the people in Union Station decided to lie down and take a nap. If they were already sitting, they started snoring where they sat. If they were standing, they knelt down and curled up right there on the floor.

  Then, as the purple mist finally made its way down to the floor, Bernie felt her own eyes grow sleepy. The room was starting to spin.

  Two long cables fell from the drone, followed by two mice rappelling down like expert mountain climbers. As Bernie’s eyes began to flutter closed, she noticed that the mice were dressed in jet-black jumpsuits with silver piping and were wearing glowing blue goggles. They also wore portable oxygen masks, and she felt one being slipped over her nose and mouth just as she began going under.

  Seconds later, with cool, pure oxygen filling her lungs, Bernie felt the effects of the gas fade away. The oxygen she was breathing seemed to carry with it some kind of antidote to the sleeping mist because Bernie noticed it also smelled and tasted kind of minty.

  “Bernie Skampersky?”

  But Bernie was so overwhelmed, she couldn’t even remember her name. She just stared openmouthed at the two Mouse Watch agents, then back up to the hovering drone, so overcome that she couldn’t speak.

  Finally, after a long moment, she managed to squeak beneath her mask, “Is Gadget inside there?”

  The agents chuckled.

  “No. It’s a recording,” the first agent said in a clipped British accent. Bernie noticed that her fur was a tawny brown and her brightly dyed red hair was clipped into a sharp bob just below her chin. The second agent looked much older, and he had a military-style buzz cut. He indicated the sleeping humans and added, “The Sleep Spray is her invention, though. When these folks wake up, they won’t remember a thing.”

  He turned his attention back to Bernie. “You ready for a ride?”

  Bernie nodded excitedly. The red-haired mouse spoke into a walkie-talkie on her shoulder. “Leo, we have the recruit. Returning to base.” Then she added, with a nod and a wink at Bernie’s glittery suitcase, “Nice luggage.”

  And as Bernie was hooked into a harness and raised up on a cable into the gleaming white drone, she felt like she was dreaming.

  It had finally happened.

  She was on her way to the Mouse Watch headquarters.

  SHOOOM, ZRWOOOW, SHUSHHHH!

  The drone swooped and dipped, narrowly missing a flock of pigeons that had flown into the station. Bernie held on with white knuckles, trying desperately to hang on to the last meal she’d eaten (when had that been?) as the drone looped and sped at breakneck speed through the train station and hurtled toward a crack in an open window high up near the vaulted ceiling.

  As the drone sped closer, Bernie was just able to make out the tiny opening. They were going to fit through that? It looked way too small for the drone, and Bernie’s heart leaped into her throat as they drew closer…closer…CLOSER!

  “Aaaaaahhhhh!” In spite of her trying to hold it in, a scream ripped out of Bernie’s throat as the drone suddenly tilted sideways, navigating t
he narrow space with a whisker’s length to spare.

  “Ha! Made it again!” shouted the red-haired mouse. “Way to go, Leo!” Bernie, who was still shaking, noticed that she directed this comment toward the cockpit of the drone.

  “That was quite a stunt you pulled back there,” said the red-haired mouse, removing her goggles and glancing at Bernie.

  Seeing her face for the first time, Bernie noticed she had big blue eyes and long eyelashes. She also looked to be about Bernie’s age, which made Bernie’s heart sink. She remembered all the times she’d tried to make friends with the mice in her class and had failed miserably.

  “Um, thanks, I guess,” Bernie replied awkwardly as she removed the oxygen mask from her face. She wasn’t sure if the mouse was giving her a compliment or not.

  “Standing up to a Jack Russell,” said the burly, military-looking mouse. He shook his head and chuckled. “That really took guts!”

  “Hey…you hungry?” said the redhead, turning her attention to a small pack at her waist. She pulled out a plastic pouch with two large peanuts, a raisin, and a big piece of yellow-coated chocolate candy.

  “We have some trail mix. There’s better food back at the base, of course, but if you need a snack…”

  Bernie was starving but she was also feeling self-conscious. She waved off the gesture, saying, “No thank you.” But then her stomach rumbled loudly. Bernie blushed furiously. “Okay,” she said, “I guess I am kind of hungry.”

  The red-haired mouse laughed good-naturedly and handed Bernie a salty peanut and the yellow-coated candy drop. Bernie took a big bite of the candy. Her parents never let her eat dessert first, but they weren’t here. As she munched, the redhead grinned. “My name’s Alpheba. Everyone calls me Alph,” the mouse said, extending a paw.