The Mouse Watch, Volume 1

  “After you,” said Jarvis, indicating that Bernie should go first. She hopped inside and jumped into one of the ergonomically designed seats. The interior smelled clean and new as if it had come straight off the factory floor.

  As soon as Jarvis boarded and sat down, Bernie instructed the A.I. interface to take them to New York City.

  “Which station?” asked the voice.

  Bernie and Jarvis exchanged puzzled glances. Neither one of them had thought to check the map to see where the Mouse Watch satellite headquarters might be located.

  “How about the biggest station?” suggested Bernie.

  “Grand Central Terminal,” replied the train. “Please make sure your restraints are properly fastened. Arrival time: T minus ten minutes.”

  “Ten minutes to New York?” exclaimed Jarvis. “But that’s imposs—”

  He didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence. With a sonic BOOOM!, the S.W.I.S.S. train shot off at such a speed, Bernie felt herself nearly flattened in her chair.

  “WHOOOHOOOO!” she shouted. It was like riding the fastest motorcycle ever invented!

  Jarvis appeared to feel completely different about the ride. Glancing over at the rat, Bernie noticed that his eyes were wide with terror and that his pink nose had gone completely white. His paws gripped the seat.

  The train whipped around the curves in the tunnel so fast that they could hardly be felt at all. The bricks outside the tinted windows sped by in a smeary blur. A digital map was projected at the front of their seats, and Bernie watched in amazement as the red line that indicated the train’s movement sped through all the states between California and New York faster than the quickest jet.

  If the humans had something like this, it would change the world, thought Bernie. A kid could have breakfast in New York and still make it to school on time in Los Angeles.

  Then, almost as quickly as the trip had begun, it was over. Bernie felt the train slow as it approached Grand Central Terminal and a few seconds later, the door slid open and the voice said, “Arrived. Please disembark.”

  Bernie was still vibrating with adrenaline from the speedy trip and felt on top of the world. Jarvis, on the other hand, looked to be feeling exactly the opposite.

  He was shaking so badly that it took Bernie a full five minutes to coax him out of the transport vehicle. They exited onto a platform that was positioned inside of what looked to be an old clock, festooned with giant gears and art deco detailing. The platform itself had elegant hand railings that were painted green, and the inside of the clock smelled of dust and oil.

  “Are you okay?” Bernie asked him. “Wasn’t that fun?”

  Jarvis nodded weakly, and then, after setting his paws back on the ground, promptly ran over to a huge gear and threw up next to it. Bernie couldn’t help noticing that he’d made a mess right next to a sign that said, WELCOME TO NEW YORK MOUSE WATCH HQ.

  So gross. Bernie wrinkled her nose. She’d heard that rats ate things like old pizza from dumpsters and stuff like that. She would have assumed that most rats had an iron stomach. But seeing Jarvis in such a state reminded her that this rat was different. Hadn’t he talked about the wonders of a baked cheese soufflé with Tabasco sauce?

  The dude isn’t like any rat I’ve ever heard of, that’s for sure, Bernie thought.

  Huddled next to the large clockworks, Jarvis looked absolutely miserable. In spite of her conflicting feelings, she went over and patted him on the back. Maybe it was pity or maybe it was something else. But seeing someone, anyone, in such a state brought out a bit of compassion in her.

  “Hey. You all right?” she asked.

  Jarvis didn’t reply. As he shakily stood up from where he’d been crouching, he kept his gaze downward as if he were too embarrassed to make eye contact.

  Bernie had always imagined rats to be menacing, fearsome creatures that were all claws, fangs, and bad attitude. Jarvis couldn’t be further from that image, and she wondered privately if that was why he wasn’t with his own kind. Could it be that he was seeking acceptance from the Mouse Watch because he, like her, didn’t fit in with everyone else? It was possible they had more in common than she thought.

  Maybe I should cut him a little slack, she decided.

  “How come you’re not feeling sick, too?” asked Jarvis weakly.

  “I dunno,” Bernie said with a shrug. “Good constitution, I guess.”

  “Small but mighty, right?” said Jarvis.

  Bernie paled. Those words. Why had he chosen those words? Whatever sympathy she’d felt for Jarvis instantly melted away when she thought about her brother.

  “Don’t ever say that again,” warned Bernie.

  “Say what?” asked Jarvis, confused.

  “What you just said,” said Bernie.

  “What? Small but mighty? I wasn’t trying to insult your size. I was trying to give you a compliment!”

  Bernie was too small to grab Jarvis by the collar. Instead, she leaped at him, eyes blazing, and grabbed the bottom half of his hoodie. She stared up at him, her eyes narrowed into daggers, and said in her most dangerous voice, “Only my brother can call me that. You…you don’t have the right!”

  Jarvis stared down at her with both a startled and confused expression.

  “Um, okay,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  Bernie released him. Her hands were shaking, and she felt sick to her stomach. After a moment, Jarvis hesitantly asked, “What happened to him?”

  “He died,” said Bernie quietly. “A rat killed him.”

  Jarvis’s shoulders slumped. He shoved his paws into his hoodie pockets.

  After a long moment of silence, he said softly, “I know what it’s like to lose someone, too.”

  Bernie didn’t reply.

  The clock chimed noon, interrupting the awkward moment. The station platform on which they’d arrived shook alarmingly, sending small bits of rubble down from the ceiling. Bernie covered her head and held on tightly to a nearby turnstile until the booming chime stopped.

  “The New York station sure isn’t as sturdy as the LA Union Station platform,” said Jarvis shakily.

  “You’re telling me,” said Bernie. She gazed around at the clockworks inside the Mouse Watch station. Like the Mouse Watch headquarters in Los Angeles, the entire place was deserted.

  Bernie spotted a door. Maybe it led to the New York HQ, where the mice were waiting?

  “Well, we might as well see if we can find someone. Come on,” said Bernie.

  They walked through the mouse-size door and found themselves on a balcony outside a giant golden clock. It had four faces that were arranged in a cube and was perched high in the center of a cavernous train terminal. The view from where they stood was staggering.

  Instead of a busy human train station filled with chaotic activity and people rushing this way and that trying to make their trains on time, Bernie and Jarvis were met with an unsettling sight. All of the people were moving silently into one single, eerie line. They marched slowly, like robotic soldiers. A troop of rats in white lab coats shouted commands through a tiny bullhorn, their creepy voices the only sound that echoed across the terminal.

  “It’s like what we saw on TV,” whispered Bernie. “They’re all zombies.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Jarvis. He scanned the crowd. “I don’t see any Watchers, do you?”

  Bernie studied the grim scene. There were no Watchers anywhere.

  “If they’re not here, then where did they all go?” she asked. A fluttering panic was building inside of her stomach. What if they hadn’t evacuated? What if they’d been…taken? But who or what in the world could be so powerful that it could take out all the agents in one fell swoop?

  Suddenly, a voice with a heavy Brooklyn accent interrupted them from somewhere behind them.

  “Finally! You California agents took your time! We’ve been waiting for you.”

  Bernie and Jarvis wheeled around. Standing behind them was a very tall mouse wearing a special ops jum
psuit. He had a small, pencil-thin mustache and glittering eyes. To Bernie, he seemed like the kind of mouse who had quick reflexes and an even quicker mind.

  “Sorry…we…uh…” began Jarvis. “What I mean is…”

  “We’re new recruits from the Watch in LA,” finished Bernie, offering a firm handshake. “We would have got here sooner, but we were in orientation and had to figure out how to work the S.W.I.S.S. on our own. My name’s Bernie Skampersky and this is Jarvis Slinktail.”

  The New York agent studied them critically for a moment. Then he shook their paws and said, “Director Whiskerpaw. Sorry you’re getting thrown into this mess without training. Where’s your supervisor? We’ve been trying to get in touch with the California agents for hours. No response at all. Did you bring backup?” He glanced over their shoulders as if hoping to see more mice disembark from the train.

  Bernie glanced down. “No. When we came out of the training simulation every single agent was gone. We don’t know where they went, and we came here looking for answers.”

  “Rats. Must’ve been R.A.T.S.” The agent shook his head, and Jarvis mumbled something under his breath that sounded like It’s not a bad word. Director Whiskerpaw seemed to notice Jarvis for the first time, eyes narrowing. “Hey, wait a minute…”

  Director Whiskerpaw was only a little shorter than Jarvis, which was saying a lot for a mouse. He was certainly one of the tallest mice Bernie had ever met. He looked up at the rat suspiciously.

  “He’s okay,” said Bernie quickly. “He’s…” She glanced at him. “One of us. Gadget vouches for him.”

  The director looked doubtful. But then, after a moment, he shrugged and said, “Well, you two better follow me. I’ll take you to HQ and we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

  He led the way toward an elevator shaft in the center of the clock. Like the rest of the interior, Bernie noticed that it seemed very old. But once she stepped through the doors into the elevator itself, she could tell right away that it was much more than it appeared to be.

  There were no buttons with numbers indicating floors. Instead, there was a jet-black panel on the wall. Whiskerpaw placed his palm on the sensor, and the elevator began its smooth descent. A few seconds later, the doors slid open and Bernie was greeted with the sights and sounds of the New York headquarters. Her first impression was that it was equally impressive as the California HQ but much different in design.

  Instead of gleaming white, the entire facility was gunmetal gray. Cement walls with thin, trickling waterfall treatments added to the Zen-like space. Glass-enclosed meditation gardens with stone benches were placed artfully throughout for agents working long shifts who might need a place to take a break and to recharge. Impressive technology bays were lined up against the walls, and they were all illuminated by the glow of computer screens and holo projections. Tiny drones shaped like robotic birds dove and swooped, carrying cups of coffee or data drives to any agent that summoned them. Several agents wore enhanced reality glasses and gloves that allowed them to type on the ghostly virtual keyboards that floated above their desks and to swipe the windows displayed there in the holographic screens.

  “This is it,” said Whiskerpaw. “You’ll notice that we have noise-dampening walls. They keep the city noise out so that the agents can concentrate on their various assignments. Otherwise, every strike of the clock or screaming siren would drive everyone crazy.”

  “Impressive,” said Jarvis.

  “We think so,” said Whiskerpaw.

  In the back of the room was the largest flat screen Bernie had ever seen. It was divided into several quadrants, each one depicting a different C.C. (Critter Circuit) TV camera’s view around the city. Whiskerpaw led them to the screen and pointed at a few of the live streams that were displayed there.

  “As you can see, we’re rapidly losing the entire city. R.A.T.S. is taking over.”

  Incredulity gave way to rage as Bernie saw what was happening. Vermin were everywhere, sitting in cafés drinking wine and eating truffles. They were reading newspapers and wearing tiny suits and ties. They wore yoga pants and drank rat-size cups of coffee. They had tiny cell phones, possibly stolen from Mouse Watch agents. They had replaced Broadway actors with rats. The rats had taken everything for themselves, and it looked to be just the beginning.

  They had to be stopped!

  The director studied her carefully, then turned his gaze upon Jarvis.

  “So. We have a rat in the Mouse Watch, eh? I guess it’s about as likely as rats taking over Grand Central Terminal.”

  Jarvis looked at the floor. There was an embarrassed silence.

  “Look, kid, I’m just giving you a hard time,” said the director. “If you’re okay by Gadget, you’re okay by us. But listen.” He leaned forward, suddenly serious. “The information that I’m going to share with you is for supervisor level and above. The only reason why I’m gonna let you in on it is because we’re in a rough situation. We need all the help we can get.” He sighed and wiped a paw over his eyes, looking suddenly tired. Then he smiled wearily and motioned for them to follow him.

  Bernie felt a strange mixture of fear and elation at being given an opportunity to help out with a real Mouse Watch mission on her very first day! The elation came from years of dreaming of this very moment. But the fear part came from knowing that she had had zero training. She was going to have to put her natural skills to the test.

  The director led them into a glass-enclosed conference room that had a large screen on one wall. There was a map displayed upon it. Next to the map was a digital sketch of a monster. Or a mouse. Bernie couldn’t tell which.

  Two tired-looking mice in uniform were already in the room, busily working on notes on digital tablets.

  “Jocelyn, Jennifer, meet a couple of new recruits. This here is Bernie and Jarvis.”

  The two mice stopped what they were doing and greeted the newcomers.

  “If we could have a moment? I’d like to get them up to speed,” said the director.

  “Sure, Chief,” said Jocelyn.

  “Yeah, we were just finishing up,” said Jennifer. She shot Jarvis a curious but not unkind look on the way out of the conference room.

  “Okay, where to start?” said the director, rubbing his paws together. He indicated the map. “The red lines connect all the places that are experiencing outbreaks. So far, the only common denominator is that our agents in the field identified the scent of cheddar cheese as an orange mist drifted down from the sky. Then the humans started acting strange. Moving down the sidewalks single file. Orderly. Quiet. Something’s not right. Not right at all.”

  “Cheese?” asked Bernie. “Why cheese?”

  The director shrugged. “Not sure. Maybe once the mist is inhaled, it exerts some kind of mind control on the humans? We don’t really know.” He shrugged and smiled wistfully. “Sure smells delicious, though.”

  “I’m actually kind of hungry,” admitted Jarvis.

  “How is that even possible?” asked Bernie. “Five minutes ago you were spilling your guts outside the train platform.”

  Jarvis shrugged helplessly. “That was then and this is now.”

  “There’s a human-size donut in the break room. Also, we might have some leftover cheese. Help yourself,” said the director.

  Jarvis politely thanked him, and as he rushed off to find it, he called back, “I hope there’s some Tabasco sauce!” Bernie shook her head. Jarvis and his Tabasco sauce. Ridiculous.

  Turning to the director, she said, “When I got off the train I noticed that there were rats in white lab coats at Grand Central Terminal. They were ordering the humans around with a bullhorn.”

  The director frowned and jotted something down on his tablet.

  “Do we know who is behind all this?” asked Bernie.

  “Funny you should phrase it like that,” the director said. “This is far more organized than anything R.A.T.S. has done before. Usually they are all about causing random chaos, and they tend to
work alone or in small groups. This is different. It’s large-scale and calculated.” He tapped on the monstrous-looking police sketch that Bernie had seen earlier. It depicted a horribly deformed rat—if you could call it that. “We think R.A.T.S. might have a new ringleader—someone poised to make R.A.T.S. a threat not just to mice—but to all of humanity. There have been sightings of this…thing.”

  He sighed. “We’re gonna need to get our hands on one of the machines that’s spraying the cheese mist and send it to Gadget’s secret lab. Maybe then we can figure out how it’s turning the humans into zombies. I’ve got a tactical group of ten agents ready to go, but we could use any extra help we can get. You game?”

  “You bet,” said Bernie.

  Jarvis trotted back in with a big piece of chocolate donut in each of his paws. He handed one to Bernie, who suddenly found that maybe she was a bit hungry herself.

  “Um, just how are we supposed to capture one of those machines from the R.A.T.S.?” asked Jarvis. “I really don’t know how to use any weapons.”

  Director Whiskerpaw laughed. “Weapons? We’re not going to give two new recruits weapons on their first day.”

  “Oh,” said Bernie, disappointed.

  “Cooper!” the director shouted.

  A harried-looking agent appeared at the conference room door. “Yeah, Chief?”

  “Get these two new recruits over to Major Flatpaw. They’re untrained, so I want them to assist the squad. We’re taking to the streets in ten.”

  Cooper turned his tired, baggy eyes on Bernie and Jarvis. “Well, I guess there’s no better teacher than firsthand experience.”

  “For those of you who don’t know who I am, my name is Major Flatpaw,” said the brawny mouse. Bernie noted that her hair was cut in a close bob and that her shoulders and hips were as wide as she was tall. She was a walking refrigerator of a mouse.

  “We have an important mission ahead of us: steal a cheese spray machine for analytical purposes. I don’t have to remind you of how many different ways it could fail. The odds are stacked against us, but we are agents of the Watch and we let nothing stand in our way! Am I right?”