Undergardeners

by Desmond Ellis

  “He has…

  …probably fallen…

  …asleep,” said Snick and Snock.

  Qwolsh laughed and said, “Thought it was a new bedroom he was digging.”

  “Digger,” Alkus called loudly into the hole. Her own voice echoing back was the only reply. “That’s odd.” She flashed a worried look at Chuck.

  “I’ll go down and see,” said the groundhog and he disappeared headfirst into the hole.

  Alkus’s tone had affected everybody. Even Snick and Snock were quiet. All waited in silence until the groundhog’s worried face popped up again. His lower jaw wobbled up and down as he stammered out, “He…he…he…” Stopping, he swallowed and tried again. “He’s g…g… gone.” He got it out finally.

  “Gone!” exclaimed Alkus. “How can he be gone?”

  “I don’t know,” said the groundhog, sounding frightened.

  “Nonsense! He can’t have just vanished,” said Podge.

  “What’s at the bottom of the hole?” Qwolsh wanted to know.

  “Nothing.” The groundhog’s voice was so low they could hardly hear him.

  “There must be something down there,” reasoned Alkus. “It can’t be just nothing!”

  The groundhog said, “He dug down so far,” he hesitated a moment, “that he fell through into a tunnel below this.”

  “We have no tunnel below this,” said Alkus sharply.

  “Exactly!” The groundhog nodded his head. “It’s not one of ours. It must be…” He stopped suddenly and listened.

  In alarm they looked toward the edge of the hole. They all heard it. It began as a dull rumble that got louder and louder until they found themselves stopping their ears against the noise. The ground around the hole shook, and Chuck scrambled from it just in time to avoid being sucked down. The irate creature below got a large dollop of earth kicked from the rim, and the Undergardeners heard a scream of anger as it clattered off, coughing and spluttering. Ashen-faced, they looked at each other as the awful realization sank in. Digger had fallen into the Creepscreech’s lair.

  Chapter 8

  In stunned silence they stood around the hole. There was a chance—it was what they all hoped for—that the mole was hiding somewhere safe. But perhaps he was lying hurt from the fall and in need of help. Or, most awful thought of all, maybe he had already been discovered by the Creepscreech and was past help. Slowly, one after another, the Undergardeners turned their heads and looked up at Mouse. With mixed emotions it dawned on him that he was the one they were turning to for help. He’d never been looked up to as a leader before. His friends at school always expected him to follow them. A warm glow ran though him. He liked this new role.

  “What do you think, Mouse?” asked Alkus.

  Mouse didn’t know anything about this Creepscreech except that the Undergardeners were terrified of it. What did it look like? Was it big, small, fat, thin? What did it do to people it caught? Imprison them? Beat them? Eat them? What? “For a start,” he said, “tell me a bit about the Creepscreech.”

  “Well, it’s very…” began Qwolsh. He shook his head, pulled off his cap and began to chew the ends of his long mustache.

  “It’s rather more than that, d’you see,” said Podge. “It’s…It’s…” Then he too faltered and turned to Alkus for help. She shook her head in consternation.

  Chuck screwed up his face in a vain attempt to produce a solution. Snick and Snock made no pretence of thought at all; they just lifted a shoulder apiece in a blended shrug.

  “Okay,” Mouse asked next, “why does it hate you so much?”

  “The truth is,” Alkus admitted, “we don’t really know much about it.”

  “But if that’s the case,” Mouse wanted to know, “how do you know it’s an enemy? Perhaps it’s friendly if you give it a chance.”

  “Ha!” snorted Qwolsh, his mustache bristling. “There are stories from the old days of those who ventured into its lair and were never seen again.”

  “You heard it yourself just now,” said Alkus. “The way it came charging at us screaming and snorting—that didn’t sound friendly, did it?”

  “Broke into its lair once m’self by accident,” said Podge. “I was digging a larder, d’you see? It must have been waitin’, because next thing, it charged on the other side of the wall. Couldn’t get to me, d’you see, hole was too small, but its foul breath came whistlin’ through that hole like a hurricane. Twisted m’quills somethin’ shockin’.”

  “Well, the first thing we should do is try to find out what happened to Digger,” said Mouse. “What’s it like down there, Chuck?”

  “The tunnel slopes down at an angle of one-in-three,” said Chuck professionally, “then suddenly goes straight down into blackness.”

  “Then we’ll need a light, for a start,” said Mouse.

  Alkus scratched her head. “Bit of a problem, that. Our lighting system doesn’t stretch to the Creepscreech’s lair.” She looked about her, a frown wrinkling her brow.

  “Wait a minute,” Mouse exclaimed. “There’s lots of the Rhymer’s papers here.”

  “Papers?” inquired Podge. “ ’Pon my… At a time like this you want us to read poems?”

  “No,” said Mouse. “But if we set fire to them, how would that be?”

  “I certainly don’t want to read a poem that’s on fire.” Podge sounded annoyed. Then he understood. “Oh, yes, I see now. You mean…”

  “Torches!” cried Alkus. “Good idea, Mouse.” She picked up several sheets of discarded paper and twisted them tightly together. Everyone followed her example and, working in hectic silence, they produced a good armful of torches in a short time. Alkus lit one and handed the blazing beacon to the groundhog. “You first, Chuck,” she said. The groundhog nodded stoically and, holding the flaming torch before him, wriggled on his stomach headfirst into the mole-sized hole in the ground. “Now you, Qwolsh. Be ready to grab his ankle so he doesn’t fall through. I’ll be ready to grab yours.”

  As Qwolsh disappeared on hands and knees on the heels of the groundhog, Alkus said to Mouse, “Obviously you won’t get much more than your arms in, but if you reach down as far as you can and hold my ankles, you can be the anchor. Podge, you get busy twisting more papers together.” So saying, she stuffed a bundle of unlit torches into her belt and crawled into the hole after Qwolsh.

  Mouse lay full length on the ground and reached an arm into the hole until he seized Alkus’s ankle. He felt something at his own ankles: Snick and Snock had grabbed a pajama leg each and were holding on for all they were worth. Initially smoke from Chuck’s torch drifted backward, irritating Mouse’s nostrils, but it stopped as the torch entered the Creepscreech’s tunnel below.

  In the distance they heard the faraway voice of the groundhog. “It’s a tunnel all right, and it’s huge,” he called. “Huge-huge-huge,” his voice came reverberating back.

  “Can you see anything?” shouted Alkus.

  “I think there’s water on the ground far below,” called the groundhog. “Below-below-below,” replied the echo. “I can’t see any walls from here; it’s very black. And it’s cold.”

  “Cold-cold-cold,” agreed the tunnel.

  “I think I can hear…Agh! Pull me up, pull me up. Quick! Quick! Hurry up! Quick! Quickquickquick!” All of this came out in such a rush that it ran together with its echoes as, from far off, the rapidly rising roar of the Creepscreech reached Mouse’s ears.

  He scrambled backward as fast as he could, pulling Alkus and knocking the deer mice flying in the process. As soon as Alkus’s feet came into view, Mouse reached past her, grabbed hold of Qwolsh and pulled. But before Qwolsh’s legs were even out of the hole, a gibbering, chattering Chuck appeared. Somehow he had managed to turn around and scamper up across Qwolsh’s back. A pained bellow from Qwolsh was drowned out by the Creepscreech’s roar. Scrambling rapidly away from the edge of the hole, they ended up in a jumbled pile, a tangle of arms and tails and legs and paws. They lay like that, hushed and ho
lding on to each other, long after the roar of the Creepscreech had subsided.

  Finally Chuck broke the silence. “It was horrible,” he sobbed. “An icy blast hit me and when I looked I could see its evil yellow eyes rushing at me. It almost… oh!” He was nearly overcome at this point but managed to go on. “It almost grabbed me. Ugh! It was big, and shiny with slime. Horrible!”

  Qwolsh cleared his throat. “No…er…sign of Digger?” he asked hesitantly. Chuck squinted at Qwolsh with sorrow-filled eyes. He blinked once and looked downward, shaking his head slowly from side to side. The blinking became more rapid, as though he had something in his eye. Which indeed he had. Mouse saw a big teardrop well up from within, tremble in the corner of the groundhog’s eye for a moment, then break free and roll down his snout to plop onto the ground below, making a small crater in the dust.

  All the Undergardeners, in fact, were close to tears. The deer mice were so heartsick that when Snick, or maybe it was Snock, said, “Poor Digger,” Snock (or Snick) didn’t join in, just gave a deep sigh.

  Mouse himself was greatly upset, but he was determined not to let down his newfound friends. Some attempt, no matter how futile, had to be made to save the mole. “We can’t just give up,” he said. “We have to get down into that tunnel.”

  “Down?” Shock was evident in the groundhog’s voice. “You want to go down into the Creepscreech’s lair?”

  “You don’t want to leave Digger down there alone, do you?” asked Mouse. “Especially if there’s still a chance to save him.”

  “No! No, we don’t, Mouse,” said Alkus firmly. “You’re right.” She collected the mole’s scattered spectacles and turned to the others. “We have to do something. We can’t just leave him. Not as long as we have breath in our bodies.”

  “Breath in our bodies,” echoed Qwolsh forcefully, and the others took it up as a rallying cry. “Breath in our bodies!” they shouted determinedly, and the tunnel about them rang with their voices.

  “Well, it will be difficult. The Creep-screech’s lair is very high,” said Chuck. “We’ll need lots of rope, and we’ll be very exposed on the climb down. Extremely dangerous!”

  “Besides,” interjected Podge, “Mouse here would never get through that tunnel Digger just made.” He sounded reluctant to go without Mouse.

  “Wait a minute,” said Mouse to Podge. “What about that larder you told us about? The one you were digging when you broke through. Could we get through that way?”

  “Plugged it, didn’t I?” said Podge.

  “Could we unplug it?” Qwolsh wanted to know.

  “Well, yes, I suppose so.” Podge nodded doubtfully.

  “Show us where it is,” said Mouse decisively. “Follow me, then.” Podge spun around and set off down the main tunnel; the others—an uneasy mix of determination and trepidation—followed his twitching quills. The farther they went, the lower the tunnel became, and Mouse had to walk bent over, but at last they got to a section of wall that was stoutly boarded over with crude planks.

  “Here we are,” said Podge, slapping the barrier.

  Alkus stood back to assess the job. “You did a good job here, Podge.” She paused and Podge smiled with pride. “I’m sorry to say,” she finished and Podge’s smile faded. “It’ll take a while to shift this. Right, let’s get to it.” They all set to with a will. Using hammers and bars and axes from their tool bags, they began to pound and pry and lever at the planks.

  Chapter 9

  After much pulling and prying and levering and grunting, Mouse and the others had cleared away the barrier that closed off Podge’s old pantry and in they went, Mouse’s head scraping the roof. A cold breeze blew from a hole in the opposite wall, the hole where Podge had broken through into the Creepscreech’s lair. They set to again, clawing and digging and scooping away sufficient earth to make the hole big enough to crawl through.

  For the journey ahead, the Under-gardeners had collected handheld lanterns and a coil of rope; some of their larger tools would come in handy as weapons. For his own protection, Mouse selected a hefty length of wood from Podge’s barricade. He hoped he wouldn’t get an opportunity to test it, but just having it made him feel safer. At intervals along the rope, Alkus made loops for each of them to put an arm through. “Don’t want anyone to get lost,” she said. “I want us linked together all the time we’re in there. Now, a quick roll call. Snick and Snock.”

  “Here,” the deer mice answered, for once in unison. Stepping smartly forward they saluted together, one with the left arm, the other with the right.

  Alkus made a mark on the clipboard and called, “Chuck!”

  “That’s me,” answered the groundhog, waddling forward.

  “Yes, I know it’s you.” Alkus sounded irritated. “Please answer in the approved fashion.”

  “Oh, pardon me,” said Chuck haughtily. “He-re!”

  “That’s better,” said Alkus. “Podge!”

  “Hummh?” mumbled Podge, pulling his head in from the opening into the Creepscreech’s lair.

  “Please answer when I call your name,” said Alkus.

  “My name? Why, Podge!” Podge sounded puzzled.

  “This is a roll call,” explained Alkus patiently. “Podge!”

  “Yes?” said Podge.

  “Here,” shouted Alkus.

  “Where?” said Podge, giving a startled jump.

  Mouse intervened. “She wants you to answer ‘Here’ when she calls your name.”

  “Does she, by gollopers?” Podge looked at Alkus. Then he looked back at Mouse. “Why didn’t she say so? Tell her—here.” He moved into the line as Alkus muttered to herself.

  “Qwolsh!” she continued.

  “Here,” said Qwolsh, taking his place.

  And “Here,” said Mouse, stepping into the line as his own name was called.

  Alkus placed herself in front of Mouse, who could see the logic in this arrangement. Snick and Snock, the smallest, were at the front; the tallest, Mouse, was at the back; the others were graded in between according to height. This way, each could see over the heads of those in front and had a clear view of whatever danger might lie ahead.

  The lanterns were lit. As though on cue, each took a deep breath at the same time. Mouse pulled his pajama top tighter around him, set his shoulders and took a firm grip on his wooden cudgel. Somebody said, quietly and determinedly, “Breath in our bodies.” All took up the call. “Breath in our bodies!” they whispered fiercely as they moved toward the dreaded hole.

  Although Snick and Snock were in front, they weren’t so much leading as being pushed. Chuck gave them a boost with an upward swing of his snout. Leaping forward with a shared “Oof,” they disappeared into the dark on the end of the taut rope.

  The tunnel was quite small, not nearly as large as the tunnel that Digger had fallen into, so they decided this was most likely a ventilation shaft—or perhaps a drain, for it seemed damp. Far off in the distance, the tiniest glimmer of bluish light showed, and with Snick and Snock reluctantly leading the way, they headed in that direction, their flickering lanterns casting madly dancing shadows in the gloom about them as they went.

  Reaching up, Mouse could just touch the curve of the roof; under his bare feet was a coating of something that felt damp and vaguely slimy, and there was a musty odor in the air. As the sickly blue light drew nearer, the deer mice became even more reluctant to lead and dawdled and drifted from side to side. “Get a move on, you two,” urged Chuck when they had got under his feet for the umpteenth time.

  “Wouldn’t you…

  …rather go…

  …first?” they wanted to know.

  “Scared, eh?” muttered Chuck.

  “Not…

  …at all,” they said. They paused briefly and looked at one another. Then they chipped in again. “Tired…

  We’re tired, that’s…

  …all!” They yawned and let their heads hang as though they were so exhausted they could no longer hold them upright.
>
  “Want me to carry you?” Mouse asked.

  “Oh, yes…

  …please, Mouse…

  …Mountain. Whee…

  …eee!” They ran back toward Mouse, all thoughts of looking tired forgotten. They also forgot that they were looped together by the rope and ran one each side of Chuck, tripping him.

  “Agh!” The sound was driven from the groundhog as he toppled to the ground. By the time he had grumbled himself back onto his feet, Snick and Snock were snugly standing in the breast pocket of Mouse’s pajamas, looking like happy passengers at a ship’s rail.

  Then they all heard it. From the direction of the light came the sullen rumble of a disturbed beast. “Let me go first,” said Mouse. No sooner had he said it than the deer mice lost all interest in their new mode of transport and were seized by a sudden urge to walk again. Scurrying down to the ground, they moved unobtrusively to the back. The lanterns were extinguished and, heart pounding and clutching the cudgel, Mouse edged slowly forward, going on hands and knees for the last few yards.

  The sound was much nearer now and getting louder every second. The odd thing was, it seemed vaguely familiar to Mouse. His head came out slowly into the Creepscreech’s lair, and right before his horrified eyes was a pool of what looked like blood. We’re too late, was the thought that flashed through his mind before the lights suddenly went out. From the darkness came a grating squeal and then… silence.

  Mouse drew back instantly. “I think,” he whispered, “we may have set off an alarm of some sort. Don’t move.” They huddled close and listened. Not a sound came from the tunnel. Cautiously Mouse eased his head out for another look. Blackness. Not total, though, because as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he saw faint light in the distance. A silvery shimmer on the ground in places suggested watery pools. Water dripped monotonously in the cavern. Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drip was followed by its ghostly echo. Dri…pip. Dri…pip. Dri…pip.

  Then there came a distinct cackle of laughter and they heard a voice say, “Ah-ha! From his tail I have taken the sting.”