by Fred Koehler
“Then what?” asked Captain Shift. “We go on living with a starving, angry snake in the walls?”
“Then,” said Merri, “we do what needs to be done.”
Edward the Dung harrumphed a dubious harrumph. “Even if it does work—whoever leads Colubra into this maze is going to be trapped inside the wall with a giant, angry snake! What fool would ever volunteer for such a probable, painful death?”
“I will,” said Archie.
Not even Edward could argue with that.
Chapter 30
The plans were made; the trap set. Edward the Dung would lead the fleet within sight of Colubra’s lair. They’d use catapults to pelt the door until she came out and gave chase. Then they’d race back to the island, bombarding the water from the walls and leaving an open path to Archie, who would reveal the secret door and lead Colubra through it.
Merri had been tasked with calling out orders from the air to make sure that Colubra followed the path they’d set. But she had second thoughts. “What if she doesn’t fall for it? What if she’s faster than our ships? What about Huxley?”
“I know. I know,” said Archie. “It’s a terrible plan, but it’s the only one we’ve got. Unless you’d rather follow Edward the Dung into an all-out assault on Colubra? You could probably choose whether you get to be lunch or dinner.”
“Maybe we could just get Colubra to eat Edward? I’m certain she’d die of indigestion.” Merri smiled in a way Archie hadn’t seen in quite some time.
“Take care of yourself, Merri. I’m sorry I ever got you into this mess.”
“Don’t be. You’re the only family I’ve ever known. And family is allowed to be messy. I’m sorry I called you a coward.”
Archie ran a paw under her beak, collecting a tear in the fur of his forearm.
“Archibald Shrew, you’d better come out of that wall alive.”
The fleet left through the gate, nearly a dozen rickety barges, rigged with oars, sails, and catapults. All except the Abigail. Bringing up the rear, she chugged along under Archie’s expert control. Through his looking glass, he spied Edward the Dung at the bow of the lead ship, struggling to keep his balance.
Turning his gaze upward, Archie saw Merri soaring straight along like an arrow, no longer a bird but something else. When she set her mind to battle, she was the fiercest soldier he’d ever seen, warrior and weapon in one.
At the sight of Colubra’s lair, the ships formed a wall within firing distance of the old, sunken refrigerator. Archie heard the sounds of catapults clicking into place and munitions being loaded. They knew they’d never do any damage to the refrigerator—that wasn’t the objective. The goal was to make an enormous snake really, really angry.
“FIRE!” came the voice of Edward the Dung.
As one, the ships fired. A barrage of makeshift cannonballs pelted Colubra’s lair.
They waited. Nothing. Only the sound of water lapping against the sides of the refrigerator, the boats, the floating garbage.
“FIRE AGAIN!” Once more, the munitions rained down, bouncing off the sides and front door of the flotsam fridge. Merri swooped, looking for signs of Colubra emerging. They fired till nearly all their munitions were gone, never considering that perhaps Colubra wouldn’t come out. Or wasn’t home.
Finally, the soldiers settled into a stunned silence.
Where is she? Archie asked himself. What if we missed her? What if she’s circled around us and is already at the island? What if we’ve come to trick her but she’s tricked us first? And where is Huxley?
The shrew waved for Merri and consulted with her on the top deck of the Abigail.
“What can you see from the skies?”
“Nothing nearby but some strange weather. She’s definitely not in the immediate vicinity. She could be a bit farther away. Or underwater. But—”
“She must be inside!”
“Edward the Dung is about to turn the fleet around and head for home.”
“No!”
“Well then, you’d better think of something. Quick.”
“I know. I know. Help me think.”
“We could sink the fridge,” said Merri. “She’d have to come up for air.”
“No bombs.”
“Could we smoke her out?”
“No matches.”
“What do you think we should do? Climb in there and drag her out by her tail?”
“Hmmm,” said the shrew. “Unconventional, but direct. It might work.”
Merri saw a familiar look in the shrew’s eye that she didn’t like. “Archie, no! I was only joking. It’s a terrible idea. Please don’t do anything foolish.” But it was too late.
“Tell the others to ready the trap! I’m going to climb in there and get her to chase me out.”
That’s when the spiders attacked.
Chapter 31
They dropped in from the air like a cloud of ash, hundreds of spiders on silken wings.
Merri saw them first and recognized them for what they were—an invasion force. “Look to the skies! Prepare to fight!”
Archie stopped pedaling when he heard. He glanced up, then grabbed his telescope. “Amazing. They’ve made flying machines!”
While the confused citizens scrambled into formation, Archie marveled at the spiders’ ingenuity. Each warrior hung upside down from a woven silk canvas stretched tightly across frames of balsa wood and plastic piping. They shifted their bodies to turn the gliders left and right, to climb into the sky or dive.
When the spiders let go, most of them fell gently onto the ocean. Archie noticed that the tiny hairs on their legs allowed them to scramble across the top of the water. They mounted the sides of the boats and attacked fearlessly. And like before, any spiders who landed sideways or were hit by salt spray curled up instantly and sank.
The shrew could have watched the graceful gliders for hours, studying the mechanics of their wing construction and estimating the size-to-weight ratios necessary for flight. The things he could do with that silk canvas …
Something plopped right next to Archie.
“Merri! Do you see how they release from the gliders? They let out a single strand of silk that acts a bit like a parachute. Oh! Oh my! You’re not Merri.” The spider who’d landed next to the shrew reared back to attack, claws twitching with the adrenaline of battle. Archie swung the looking glass just as the spider leapt, smacking it over the side of the ship. Three more spiders landed on the Abigail, surrounding the shrew. He unstrapped his latest arrow launcher from his back and bared his teeth. The first spider charged. Archie’s head whipped sideways. His arrow struck the attacker between its jaws.
The other boats floundered in confusion. They’d prepared for a joint offensive against a single enemy, not a dozen separate battles with hundreds of combatants. Their oversized knives and spears, designed to be effective against a monstrous snake, made clumsy weapons against the smaller, faster attackers.
“Circle the fleet!” Merri shouted from the skies. “Join the boats together and fight as one!” Zipping to and fro and amongst the raining spiders, she shouted orders to the captains and succeeded in herding the ships together.
Merri dove like a falcon, shredding spider gliders with her claws and plucking them from the air with her slashing beak. A hundred spiders fell before her. Like a tornado, she cleared the sky and then turned her wrath toward those left in the water.
Under her command, the citizens fought as one. Many abandoned their weapons, resorting to their natural defenses to fight off the attackers. Lizards snapped with flashing jaws and flung the wounded spiders into the ocean. Armored crickets impaled the arachnids on their spiky exoskeletons. Bombardier beetles sprayed burning hot acid from their hindquarters.
Even Edward the Dung got involved, using his massive strength to roll one of the ship’s cannonballs across the deck, squishing spiders under its weight. He laughed as he stormed, making small apologies to the citizens who had to dive out of the way.
A
rchie, having fought off his initial attackers, pedaled furiously from ship to ship to shoot spiders with his arrow launcher as they cast web lines across the vessels. But the spiders kept coming, fearless, attacking with abandon. Even as their numbers dwindled and defeat was imminent, they regrouped and advanced—clawing, leaping, biting, refusing to surrender.
And then, at last, there were no spiders left.
The sun glared high overhead. Exhausted, the citizens bound up bites and scratches, wiped gore from their bodies, and washed spider guts from the decks of the ships.
Archie and Merri met on the top deck of the Abigail. Merri flopped on her feathers, exhausted. Archie stared through his telescope, warily watching the skies.
“Did we get them all?” asked Archie.
“I think so.”
“Good. If even one got away to bring news back to their clan …”
“We got them all, Archie.”
The shrew shifted his looking glass. “I wouldn’t be so certain.”
Merri’s head turned skyward. “Why?”
“Look!”
If the first wave of spider gliders drifted in as a cloud, the second raged like a tempest. A swarm of shadows on the horizon, they circled and dove without order, without discipline. And they were racing toward Garbage Island.
Chapter 32
Mr. Popli expected it to be warm and damp inside Colubra’s belly, yet he shivered in the open air. The pain was also different from what he would have predicted. He’d imagined that digestive juices would burn all over like acid, but only his chest and left arm throbbed from the puncture wounds of the snakebite. Then he wondered why he was wondering about such strange details.
Careful, Popli, he said to himself. You’re starting to think like Archibald!
Something bristled against the fur on the mouse’s face, making his whiskers twitch. The effects of the venom had begun to lessen.
“Stay still,” a voice whispered. Or was it a hiss?
“Wh—what happened?”
“Mother supposed you to be my breakfast.” Huxley slithered next to the mouse. “I refused. She is … displeased.”
“I’m sorry. What about Archibald?”
“He’s gone.”
“Dead?”
“Skedaddled.”
“What’s to happen with me? With your mother?”
“She desires to speak with you. I expect you have something of significance to say.”
“I do.” Or at least, I will, thought the mouse.
“If she becomes frustrated again, I will be helpless to save you.”
Mr. Popli swallowed hard. Well then, I’d better think of something exceptionally brilliant.
“She’s coming.” Huxley slunk back into the shadows. An identical silhouette replaced his, growing larger and larger until it filled Mr. Popli’s field of vision.
Colubra flicked the air with her tongue. Neither said anything for a long time.
“What is your name?”
“I am called Mr. Popli, Mayor Popli to some.”
“And you know who I am.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Mr. Popli thought hard, aware that his life might depend on this exchange of words. If only he could say the right things. If only he could be as quick-witted and clever with the snake as he was with the citizens, he might survive.
“We—we know you as Colubra.”
“I have had many names in my lifetime, little mouse. Once I was Beloved of Kaa. Others knew me as She of Flawless Beauty. Others still named me the Striped Queen. There is power in a name, little mouse. You give yourself titles of respect. I am royalty, and yet you dishonor me with the common name you’ve ascribed to me. So perhaps I will do likewise to you. I could name you Morsel. I could name you Mouthful. I could name you Trespasser, Kidnapper, and Thief.”
Mr. Popli rolled on to his good arm and tried to sit up. “Those names are likewise dishonorable. You call me trespasser, but I was born here—not you. You call me kidnapper, but I kept your son alive so he could be returned. You say I’m a thief. But you sleep on a nest made of my clan’s possessions. I could name you Slayer of Families. I could call you Nightmare of Noble Animals. I’d dub you Bane of Hope. And, if I could, I would blot your name from the ocean.”
Colubra reared up and hissed. “You make me a villain. But I have never killed for the sake of killing—only to survive.”
“Look around you! These bones tell the truth. How long did it take you to hunt down the escaping mice? How far did you have to chase them?”
“Lies! When I came upon this lair I was near death. I was lost, far from my hunting grounds in the shallows. I expected to be killed, but instead the mice panicked and fled. I ate an old mouse, one so near death himself he would not run away. He tasted terrible. I waited for them to return. To bring warriors to take back their home. They did not. I healed. I grew stronger. I hunted and fed and filled my lair with the bones of fish and eels and, yes, the occasional islander who wandered too far. But I’ve only killed to live. I never thought to do more until you kidnapped my son.”
This news left Mr. Popli speechless. Could it be true? But then what happened to the other mice?
“How can I believe you?”
“You speak of the bones of your family. Look around! You know your species. How many of these remains belong to your clan? How much mammal hair? How many claws? These are the bones of fish too big to swallow. The shells of crabs and crustaceans.”
Mr. Popli looked more closely at the scattered animal remains and realized Colubra could be telling the truth. But if she wasn’t lying, what really happened to his own family? What would have kept them from making it back to the island? Could they still be alive?
“You never attacked my family?”
“One mouse looks the same as another to a snake. They all fled. I did not concern myself with where.”
Mr. Popli struggled with his emotions. Could she be telling the truth? Had he been wrong all of these years? Was the animosity between them based on a mistaken assumption?
“So where does this leave us? And what happens now?”
“My son refused to eat you, but I am hungry. I suppose that you will have the honor of discovering what comes after this pitiable life. I hope the lingering venom will keep you from feeling too much pain. Still, you may scream if you wish.”
Colubra slithered over to the disabled mouse. She dropped her jaw downward from the short bone at the base of her skull, opening a cavernous mouth. Her teeth, angled backward, promised no chance of escape. Once Mr. Popli started down that passage, he would never make it out. The mouse had no more ideas. No clever words or tricks up his fur. Perhaps life could go on for the islanders. Perhaps his family had made it safely to another home. He hoped Colubra was right about the venom.
He closed his eyes, waiting for the piercing pain that would signal the beginning of his end. A moment passed and nothing happened. He squinted one eye open to see that Huxley had reared up between him and Colubra.
Colubra looked more enraged than ever. She was a terror. A demon. A destroyer.
In that moment, Mr. Popli let go of all hope. Huxley would be the first to suffer her wrath. Mr. Popli would follow close behind. And then she’d attack the citizens. All would be death. All would be loss. All would be darkness.
But in this darkness, Huxley began to sing.
Seven snakes bask in the sun,
Bright scales, all strong.
Seven coils, the longest one,
Sees the nearing storm,
Moves her six to run.
Nested snug when rain is come,
Hatchlings safe and warm.
Colubra tilted her head sideways, mesmerized by the song she’d sung over each brood of her eggs. The song her mother had sung over her. Huxley swayed, and his mother swayed with him. Slowly, slowly, both snakes lowered themselves down until their heads lay on the ground next to Mr. Popli. A lifetime of rage seemed to drain from Colubra’s eyes as her ev
ery muscle relaxed and she nestled, hypnotized into a moment of peace, next to her son.
Huxley eyed the enemies each in turn. “If I suggested an alternative solution, would you both consider it?”
Chapter 33
The storm of spider gliders billowed toward the island.
Merri raced ahead of them.
She landed in time to warn the citizens, but only just. A guard sounded the bell three times, the signal for all noncombat citizens to lock themselves inside their homes. Before the echoes finished reverberating through the metal and glass and plastic, spiders began to drop from the sky.
Members of the Order who had remained on the island, expecting a snake but facing a spider invasion, panicked. They would have been overrun if not for Merri, who sprinted tirelessly from company to company, squawking orders. “You lizards! Circle up in groups of three! Crickets! Get behind the beetles! Aim for their eyes, not their legs!”
She stopped to fight only when she heard cries for help. A family of carrion beetles, cut off in their flight to get indoors, cowered on the edge of a swimming pool noodle. The mother flashed her wings menacingly at the spiders blocking their escape, able to keep only a spider width between the attackers and her infants. The spiders, sensing her panic, gathered and advanced. They lunged at the children, getting closer on one side every time the mother lashed to the other. It was a practiced tactic, one they’d used to fell many a family.
But the spiders were unprepared for Merri, and she’d only gotten better at killing them. She landed behind their lines, stabbing with her beak. She snuffed out a spider with every peck, flitting up into the sky to dodge a leaping enemy here or throw an eight-legged attacker there. The smallest, juiciest ones she gobbled up. In a minute she’d cleared a path for the beetle family. They scurried inside their home and Merri rejoined the fray.
Meanwhile, Archie attempted to murder Edward the Dung.
At the sight of the second wave of spiders, the dung beetle had lowered his head solemnly and offered condolences to the poor souls on Garbage Island. “We can only honor their memories by taking our ships in search of safer waters.” Edward was leader of the citizens’ armada, and the other boats began to follow.