by Kirk Watson
He built a small fire and proceeded to set up two tents, one larger than the other. While Ray set up camp, Gary watched the captives with one paw on his pistol. After the squirrels had been fed, Ray informed them they would be sleeping in the larger tent while he and Gary took turns keeping watch.
“Not that we’re concerned you’ll run off,” Gary said. “There’s nowhere for you to go. And whatever you might think of Ray and me, we’re not the worst creatures in this forest. Not by a long shot.” He snickered in his shrill, wheezy voice.
Ray shook his head at the river rat. “Shut up, Gary.”
Gary gave him an annoyed look as he climbed into the smaller tent. Ray escorted the other squirrels to the larger tent.
John lay down next to Rollie; the plump squirrel smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks. Billy lay on his other side, shivering, and didn’t smell any better. At least he’s quit vomiting, John thought. Lisa and Violet huddled together for warmth. After some time, Rollie began to snore.
As tired as he was, John couldn’t sleep. He rolled over and found Violet staring at him.
“Do you still think we’ll be all right?” she whispered, wide-eyed.
John sighed. “I don’t know, Violet. I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”
Violet cast her eyes down, and John suddenly felt like a jerk.
“I mean, I’m sure we’ll be all right,” he said. “You’ll see.”
Violet looked back up at him. “How can you be sure?”
John struggled to come up with an answer. “Because… squirrels always land on their feet.”
Violet gave a slight smile. “What do you think they want with us?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know.”
“I hope it’s nothing dirty. I don’t want to do anything dirty, you know?”
John wondered what the two sisters had already been through, and whether their current situation was actually an improvement.
“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said. “Have you smelled Rollie here? I think that’s as dirty as it gets.” Right then, Rollie let out a loud rip, and Violet giggled.
“Will you two shut up?” Lisa said.
“Don’t mind Lisa,” Violet whispered. “She’s a grouch.”
Lisa poked at her sister with her elbow. Violet smiled and rolled back over.
In the morning, Ray fed them a breakfast of boiled oats. It was another cold day, but the warmth of the food renewed John’s spirit.
“Say, Ray, how much farther?” he asked.
“None of your business,” Ray said as he broke camp.
Gary’s snout twitched as he snickered. “Yeah, you shouldn’t be in a hurry to get where we’re going.”
“Shut up, Gary,” Ray said.
He led the captives back to the barge. The river was silent except for the sound of the poles plunging into the water. Dark clouds formed in the skies overhead. Hours later, another barge appeared in the distance, heading their way.
“Everyone quiet,” Ray said.
Gary tucked his pistol into the back of his pants. He ordered the captives to lie down, and Ray covered them with a tarp. John managed to lift the edge of the tarp just enough to see outside.
A pair of otters piloted the approaching vessel towards them. One of the otters was lean and wiry, while the other was heavyset and wore a black handkerchief around his neck.
“Ahoy there,” the thin otter called out.
“Ahoy yourself,” Gary replied. “What say you?”
“Clear sailing ahead. Don’t see many folks on the river this time of year. Whatcha transporting?”
“Textiles. Cotton, mostly.”
The barges were now right next to each other.
“Textiles, eh?” the thin otter said. “Hey, Jim, check out the vocabulary on Lord River Rat. Textiles. That’s fancy talk for fabrics and such. We’ve been meaning to get into the textile business ourselves, haven’t we Jim?”
“Good money in tax tiles,” the plump otter agreed with a grin.
The otters maneuvered their boat into direct contact with Gary’s, and the two barges came together with a thump. The thin otter pulled a knife from his belt and gave a mock bow. “Permission to come aboard?”
Ray growled. “Permission to go stuff yourself.”
The thin otter scowled. Raising his knife over his head, he leapt from his barge with a cry. With astonishing speed, Ray drew his own knife and ducked down, catching the leaping otter on his blade. The otter’s eyes grew wide as he looked down at the knife buried in his chest. Ray pulled the blade out in one smooth stroke, spilling the dead otter to the deck.
“Walter!” the heavyset otter cried. He raised the rifle he had concealed behind his considerable girth, and Ray dived to the deck in front of the captives. A gunshot rang out.
The rifle dropped from the fat otter’s paws, a stunned look on his face as he fell to the deck. Gary stood behind him, smoke rising from the barrel of his pistol.
“Damn pirates,” the river rat said. “Guess you owe me one, huh, Ray?”
“Shut up, Gary,” Ray said. He crossed over to the other barge. “Let’s make this quick before anyone else comes.”
They wrapped the otters’ bodies in chains and rolled them overboard. At first, the bodies refused to stay under water, rising back to the surface as if they were still desperate for air. Gary and Ray pushed them back down with their poles, leaning on them until they remained submerged. After they had disposed of the bodies, Ray pulled the tarp from the captives.
“We heard a gunshot,” Rollie said, looking around nervously.
Gary twirled his pistol on his finger. “That’s right. Fancy another?”
“Shut up, Gary,” Ray said. He turned to the captives. “It was just some pirates. Nothing to worry about.”
“That’s a relief,” John said. “I feel much safer now.”
Ray ignored him. “Come on, Gary. We have a lot of ground to make up.”
The two plunged their poles into the water, continuing their journey north, and didn’t stop until nightfall, when they grounded the barge on the riverbank to make camp.
John and the other captives huddled around the campfire for warmth. Violet stared into the flames, looking rather despondent.
“Is she all right?” Rollie whispered.
“I think those otters gave her quite a scare,” Lisa said.
“I wasn’t scared,” Violet said. “I’ve seen a dead body before.”
“No, you haven’t,” Lisa said, giving her sister a stern look.
Violet scowled and stared back into the fire.
What was that about? John thought. He felt bad for the little squirrel and all she must have already endured to end up in such a place. “Well, I was scared, Violet.”
“You were?” Violet asked.
“You bet. It’s okay to be scared. You can’t be brave without being scared first. And I thought you were very brave today.”
Violet smiled and hugged her knees.
“Did you see what happened out there, John?” Billy asked.
“I saw enough.”
“So Gary shot them? The pirates, I mean.”
John nodded. “One of them, anyway. At point-blank range.”
“That’s one nasty river rat.”
“True, but you should have seen Ray. He killed the other otter with his knife in the blink of an eye. I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.”
Rollie harrumphed. “I’ll say. He sure hit the deck fast enough when the shooting started.”
“Maybe,” John said, “but did you notice how he threw himself between us and the shooter?”
Rollie spit into the fire. “A coincidence at best. He was probably just protecting his investment.”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, please,” Rollie said. “They must be making a fortune off us.”
“Off you, Rollie?” Lisa asked. “Only if they’re paying by the pound.”
Rollie patted his considerable belly. “They don’t g
row squirrels like this on trees, you know.”
“No,” Lisa said, “only in bars and buffets.”
“Those are some holy places you’re talking about, missy. Try to show a little respect.” He let out a belch, and the others laughed.
“Keep it down out there!” Gary called from his tent in his shrill voice. “I’m trying to sleep!”
“What a grouch,” Violet whispered.
“He needs his beauty sleep,” Lisa said.
“Great,” John said, “we’ll be here all winter.” The others chuckled again, but quietly this time.
Lisa stretched her legs out and stared into the fire. She grew mesmerized by the flames and crackling wood. Her eyes were getting heavy.
A few minutes later, Rollie broke the silence: “I see you’re getting your appetite back, Billy.”
Lisa looked up and caught Billy staring at her outstretched legs.
“Billy!” she exclaimed, quickly gathering her knees to her chest and attempting to cover her legs with her short skirt.
Billy blushed and looked away, pretending to stare up at the stars. Lisa scowled at him as he tried desperately to avoid her gaze. He fiddled with his shirt buttons and pulled at his collar, trying anything to avoid her evil eye, but she continued to stare him down. He took a sudden interest in the condition of his nails, then began to whistle Gary’s river tune. He looked so pathetic that Lisa’s scowl eventually turned to a slight smile. She turned away, hugging her knees to her chest and staring back into the fire.
John watched the awkward exchange in amusement. Billy looked as if he could die from embarrassment. John wondered how the shy teenager’s life had turned out like this, how any of them had come to such a low point in their lives. As a reporter, he had written dozens of articles on the plight of Langley’s less fortunate, winning many awards and accolades in the process, but he had never spent any more time with them than absolutely necessary. Nor had he really gotten to know them at a personal level. They were just characters in a story, so easily forgotten once the next assignment crossed his desk. He had felt bad for them, but he had his own problems, his own dreams to pursue. And if he had used their troubles to progress his own career, well, he couldn’t help it if they had made such poor life decisions.
But now he was one of them, a character in his own story of woe. He looked over the faces of his accompanying cast as they stared blankly into the fire.
They’re not just statistics, he thought, they’re real people, not all that different from myself. And what’s more, I rather like them.
Rollie let out a long, rolling belch.
Well, most of them, anyway.
John stood and stretched. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m calling it a night.”
The others agreed and headed for the tent. They all slept a little easier that night, though Billy made sure to stay as far away from Lisa as the tent would allow.
The next morning, Ray allowed the captives to spread out a little more on the barge. Violet lay on the edge of the vessel, dipping her fingers into the river. The water was icy-cold but clear; she could see the riverbed not far below.
“Good idea,” Gary said. “Squirrel fingers make excellent bait.”
“Nuh-uh,” Violet said, pulling her paw from the water. “Do they?”
“Oh, sure. River monsters love squirrel fingers,” Gary replied, kissing his fingertips. “Slightly tangy, with an oaky undertone.”
“Stop trying to scare her,” Lisa said.
Gary turned to face her. “Maybe we should drag you behind the barge on a line instead. We’ll watch your head, and if we see it bobbing, we’ll know we have a bite. Mm-mm, we’ll eat good tonight!”
“Shut up, Gary,” Ray said. He turned to Violet. “There are no monsters in the river, little one.”
“No, maybe not in the river,” Gary said with a snicker. “But there are definitely monsters about. You’ll see.”
“No, there aren’t,” Violet said. “You’re just trying to scare me. Tell him, Ray.”
Ray said nothing as he continued to propel the barge forward.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Violet,” John said. He glared at his two captors. But there are monsters amongst us.
“What do you think he meant by monsters?” Lisa whispered to the other squirrels.
“I bet they intend to feed us to dragons,” Rollie said.
“Dragons!” Violet shrieked.
“How old are you, Rollie?” John asked. “Violet, there are no such things as dragons.”
“Could be giants, then,” Rollie offered.
“Oh, come off it, Rollie,” John said. “There are no giants, either. And before you start up again, there are no gremlins, no zombies, no witches, nor any other of your superstitions. Those are all just myths and ghost stories to scare children.”
“Says you.”
“Tell me, Rollie, in all your time in Woodland, have you ever seen a dragon?”
“I saw a dragon once,” Billy said. The others turned to him as he lay under the tarp, shivering despite the bright sun overhead.
“You did?” Lisa asked.
“Yep, at a pinecone match, when the Drysdale Dragons came to play Langley High.”
“That was just their mascot,” John said. “A mouse in a dragon costume doesn’t count.”
“No, I guess he was kinda small for a dragon.”
Lisa smiled at him. He looked so miserable curled up in a ball under the tarp. She brought him some water in a tin cup. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than yesterday,” Billy said with a forced smile. He took a sip from the cup. “All the same, I wish I was back home on the pitch.”
“The pitch?” John asked. “Do you play pinecone, Billy?”
Billy’s eyes lit up at the mention of sports. “Oh, yes. Or I did. Before I… got sick.”
“What position?”
“Dodger,” Billy said proudly. “First team.” John could tell he was probably a fine athlete at some point in his life, tall and lean, but now he wasn’t much more than fur and bones. “Do you play, John?”
“Who, me? No, I was never very good at sports. But when I was about your age, I tried out for the school team.”
“You did?” Violet asked.
“Hey, don’t act so surprised. Truth be told, I was just trying to impress a girl. She was dating the captain of the team, and I guess he didn’t care too much for me. My first turn at the line, he hurled the pinecone at my head so fast I couldn’t duck in time. It hit me square in the nose. I was smelling pine for a week. I stuck to the library after that, but I still like to follow the club.”
“Which club is that?” Billy asked.
“PC Langley, of course. You?”
“I grew up watching PC Langley,” Billy said. “My dad used to take me to all the matches. At least he did, before I got sick.”
John nodded and the two grew silent.
“I like PC Listhoff,” Rollie said.
“PC Listhoff?” John asked, smiling at Billy.
“Piss off, Listhoff!” Billy and John said in unison. The three squirrels chuckled.
Lisa rolled her eyes. “You boys never grow up, do you?”
“Not if it can be helped,” Rollie said. “And why should we? Just to get jobs and work ourselves to death?”
“What about raising a family?” Lisa asked.
“What about it? A nagging wife and a litter of spoiled brats to feed? No, thank you. That’s the Woodland dream, eh, John?”
“Yes, quite right,” John said, dropping his eyes. “Who needs that?”
Lisa noticed the sudden change in John’s demeanor and quickly changed the subject. “Who would hire you anyway, Rollie? I doubt there’s much demand for professional belchers.”
“A true artist belches for love, not money,” he said, letting out another loud one, and the others laughed.
“Keep it down, you gassy fool,” Gary said from the back of the barge.
“Sor-ry, Gar-ry,” Rollie said in a singsong voice. The other captives laughed again.
Gary narrowed his eyes. “Call me Captain!”
“Sor-ry, Cap-tain Gar-ry,” Rollie said, and the others chuckled again, but more quietly this time.
“Damn squirrels,” Gary said, his nose twitching.
“Everybody quiet,” Ray said. He pointed to a thin column of smoke rising from around a bend in the river.
“What is it?” Lisa asked. “More pirates?”
“No,” Ray said, “pirates wouldn’t risk a fire. They know it’s best not to be seen.”
“Hmmm…” Gary said, rubbing his chin with his bony fingers. “It’s probably just headhunters.”
“Headhunters?” Violet gasped, looking at him wide-eyed. The river rat gave her a cruel smile.
“Don’t listen to him, Violet,” Lisa said. “He’s just trying to scare you again.” But there was a little fear in Lisa’s eyes as well.
As the barge rounded the bend, they saw a group of mice gathered around a campfire on the riverbank. The male mice were dressed in brightly colored vests, and the females in flowing silk dresses. Their children chased each other around the campfire while the men played music on stringed instruments.
“Gypsies,” Rollie said with disdain.
“What’s a gypsy?” Violet asked.
“They’re professional wanderers,” John said, “never staying in one place for very long. I wrote an article about them once.”
“Professional wanderers?” Lisa asked. “Doesn’t sound like it pays too well. How do they survive?”
“They sell goods and services along the way.”
“And steal! And spread disease!” Rollie said. “Never trust a gypsy. What John forgot to tell you is that gypsies also sneak into town at night to steal children from their beds.”
“Steal children?” John turned to Gary. “Friends of yours, Captain Gary?”
“Shut it, squirrel,” Gary said. He placed a paw on his pistol. “That goes for all of you. Not a peep!”
The gypsies spotted the barge. The mice stood on the shore watching as the vessel passed by.
“Hello there!” one of the gypsies called out.
“Hello yourself,” Gary called back. “Having a little barbecue, are we?”