by Kirk Watson
Good morning to you, too.
At least John thought it was morning. He’d have to take the ermine’s word for it; there were no windows in the underground dungeon.
Ray waited for them outside their cells, holding a box of jumpsuits. The grey one-piece outfits sported white numbers on the back and bore multiple rips that had been crudely sewn up with a coarse thread.
Ray handed John a jumpsuit with the numeral five emblazoned across its back. As John retreated to his cell to put it on, he noticed several dark stains around the collar he suspected were blood.
Lisa drew the number eight jumpsuit, and Violet the number twelve.
“Does it come in purple?” Violet asked, holding her jumpsuit like a dirty dishrag. Ernie snapped his black-tipped tail at the little squirrel, sending her shrieking back into her cell.
Billy drew jumpsuit number seven, though his long arms and legs stuck out from the too-short sleeves and pants.
Rollie groaned as he drew number thirteen; a rough black stitch ran between the one and three on its back. “Of all the rotten luck,” he said. “Hey, Billy, wanna trade?”
Billy shook his head with a grim smile.
Rollie sulked as he carried the unlucky jumpsuit to his cell. “Kid looks like a dang scarecrow…” His own jumpsuit bulged at the seams as he tried to zip it past his considerable paunch. After sucking in his stomach, he managed to get the zipper all the way to the top. “Fits like a glove,” he said, gasping.
The squirrels emerged from their cells looking like a ragged sports team, or perhaps a deranged sanitation crew.
“Ah, a right fine bunch,” Ernie said. He pointed to the door with his tail. “Everyone follow me.”
He led the squirrels down the tunnel to an underground pit resembling an arena. A hole in the ceiling allowed natural light to fill the chamber. The squirrels blinked as their eyes adjusted to the relative brightness of the room. A makeshift obstacle course had been laid out in the arena, complete with ropes, climbing walls, and a small stream running down the center.
Neil the possum stood in the center of the arena, wearing a red tracksuit. He carried a wooden rod under one arm and a brass whistle around his neck. He blew the whistle and indicated for the prisoners to form a line. Ernie and Ray took their seats in the bleachers as Neil addressed the squirrels.
“Good morning, and welcome to the arena. I am Coach Neil. I will be performing your evaluation today. When I say jump, you jump. When I say crawl, you crawl.”
“When do you say eat?” Rollie asked.
Neil rapped Rollie across the left side of his head with the rod. “You will not speak unless spoken to, number thirteen. Is that understood?”
“The name’s Rollie Ma—ow!”
Neil struck him on the other side of his head. “Is that understood, number thirteen?”
Rollie rubbed his head as he glared at the possum. He began to speak but reconsidered, simply nodding instead.
“Good,” Neil said. “We have one purpose today: to determine your current level of fitness before the hunt begins. We do not have much time, so I suggest you pay attention. It could mean the difference between life and death. Is that clear?”
John raised his paw.
Neil pointed at him with the rod. “Yes, number five?”
“Why should we do any of this?”
“An excellent question, number five. I assume you’re familiar with the carrot and stick philosophy? This is the stick.”
Neil struck him on the shin. John hopped on one foot, wincing in pain.
The possum continued. “I assume its purpose is clear?”
“Painfully,” John said. “And the carrot?”
“Before you disembark on the hunt, you each will be allowed to select one piece of equipment to take with you. The better you perform in the arena today, the better your selection of equipment. That equipment could save your life. But perform poorly today, and you will take nothing but the clothes on your back. Is that clear?”
The squirrels nodded in unison.
“Good. Now let’s start with an easy test: your flexibility.”
The possum led the squirrels through a series of stretches. The girls and Billy performed well, but John found it impossible to touch his toes. He swore he could do this just a few years ago, but he felt much better when he looked over at Rollie. The plump squirrel couldn’t even touch his knees, despite Neil’s constant flogging with the rod.
“Bend!” the possum shouted, getting in his face.
John expected the seams of Rollie’s jumpsuit to burst, but somehow it held together. Rollie collapsed to the ground, panting.
Neil threw up his paws. “Oh, for crying out loud.” He shook his head as he jotted a note in his notebook. “A poor start, number thirteen.”
Ernie cackled from the bleachers. “Hey, Neil! Are those jumpsuits supposed to be skin-tight? It looks like he’s wearing a leotard. Give us a pirouette, number thirteen!”
Rollie picked himself off the ground and glowered at the ermine.
“Ooh, I think I made him mad,” Ernie said. “Don’t get huffy, number thirteen—you’ll split your pants!”
“This next exercise,” Neil continued, “is a test of strength. This one should be easy for you squirrels: climbing.”
He led the squirrels to a rope suspended from the ceiling with a bell at the top. “Just climb to the top and ring the bell. Understood?”
The possum brought out his pocket watch to record their times. Billy went first, scurrying up the rope and ringing the bell in little time at all. He spiraled gracefully back down the rope before leaping to the ground with a smile.
“Very good, number seven,” Neil said, making a note in his book.
Rollie stood behind him and made kissing faces at Billy. Neil turned around to catch Rollie pursing his lips.
He frowned at the squirrel. “You’re next, number thirteen.”
“Right,” Rollie said, straightening up. “Everyone stand back.”
“Hey, Neil!” Ernie called from the stands. “You’re going to need a stronger rope!”
“Damn ermines,” Rollie grumbled, spitting in his paws before gripping the rope. He pulled with all his might, but only managed to lift himself six inches off the ground. Despite his grunting and groaning, he went no higher.
“Whenever you’re ready, number thirteen,” Neil said, looking at his watch.
Ernie held his paws up in mock terror. “Make him stop, Neil! He’s going to bring the roof down!”
Rollie hung suspended for a moment more before falling to the ground. He lay flat on his back, gasping for air.
Neil shook his head and made another note in his book. “Not even thirteen inches, number thirteen.”
“Hey, Neil,” Ernie shouted from the stands. “Maybe he’s afraid of heights? Get it, Ray? A squirrel who’s afraid of heights.”
Ray just stared ahead with a blank expression. Rollie picked himself up and made a rude gesture at Ernie before returning to the line.
Lisa went next. She reached the top and rang the bell, just a little slower than Billy. John followed her, also reaching the bell, but a good deal slower still. Violet made it halfway up the rope before freezing in fear.
The other squirrels cheered her on from below: “You can do it, Violet! It’s just like climbing a tree.”
Violet mustered her courage and made it to the top. She rang the bell and slid back down with a grin.
“Very good, number twelve,” Neil said. “Perhaps you could give thirteen some pointers.”
Violet gave Rollie a smug smile. He rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, but the possum ignored him.
“Next, we will test your agility,” Neil said. “The object of this exercise is simple: don’t get hit. Number five, you’re up first.”
The possum brought out a length of rope. John groaned when he saw the pinecone tied to the other end. Neil held one end of the rope at his hip, and with his other paw, he began spinning the pin
econe over his head. The pinecone whirled faster and faster, soon becoming a blur as it whistled around him. He released the rope, hurling the pinecone at John. John ducked, and the pinecone soared over his head. The other squirrels cheered, and John took a bow.
“Don’t get cocky, number five,” Neil said, reeling the pinecone back in. “That was just the warm-up.”
Once again, he began spinning the pinecone over his head. This time he released it at John’s feet. John leapt into the air, and the pinecone passed safely beneath him. The other squirrels cheered again.
“Is that all you’ve got?” John asked, dancing around.
Neil narrowed his eyes at the squirrel. Once more, he spun the pinecone, this time releasing it to John’s left. It whizzed past John’s ear.
He’s missed! John thought.
Neil gave the rope a sharp tug, and the pinecone reversed its course, popping John in the back of the head. John fell flat on his face.
“I should have mentioned, number five,” Neil said, making a note in his book, “this is also a test of your intelligence. Or lack thereof.”
John rubbed his head, cursing the possum under his breath, before falling back in line. Billy went next. As the pinecone danced around him, he quickly dropped to the ground and jumped in the air, deftly avoiding the projectile. He was only grazed once.
The kid’s looking a lot healthier, John had to admit. He’s a natural athlete.
Lisa performed similarly, curving her body and cartwheeling to avoid the projectile, but she also got caught once on the return.
Violet, the smallest of the group, didn’t get hit once. She barely had to move to avoid the pinecone, much to Neil’s frustration. The other squirrels cheered as she returned to the line, clapping her on the back.
Rollie went last. He was struck in the face twice, and even managed to trip over the rope on the last throw.
Ernie hooted in the stands. “You’re supposed to dodge the pinecone, number thirteen, not eat it!”
“That’s not fair!” Rollie said, picking himself off the ground. He pointed at Violet. “I’m three times bigger than her.”
“And three times clumsier, number thirteen,” Neil said.
Violet stuck her tongue out at Rollie. He scowled before giving her a wink.
Neil ran them through a series of other tests: endurance, problem solving, memory. After several hours had passed, he pulled his watch from his pocket. “Break time! Ten minutes for lunch.”
Ernie wheeled out a cart of moldy rolls, a jar of honey, and a jug of water. The squirrels each took a roll (Rollie smothering his in honey) and a tin cup of water. They sat together in a circle, and Billy dug in immediately.
“You must be feeling better,” John said.
“Oh, yes,” Billy said between gulps. “It must be the exercise. I’m actually feeling pretty good today.”
“I can tell,” Lisa said. “You looked pretty good out there, number seven.”
Billy smiled back at her. “You looked pretty good yourself, number eight.” They clinked their tin cups together.
Violet popped up between them, holding her paws under her chin and blinking her eyes. “Oo-ooh… Kiss me, you fool!”
Lisa blushed and proceeded to chase Violet around the arena. “Get back here, you scamp!”
Violet hooted as she ran from her big sister. “No, you’ll never destroy our love!”
By the time Lisa finally caught her, they were both laughing. Lisa pulled her gently to the ground and sat on top of her, pinning her arms beneath her.
“So you like to laugh, you little brat?” Lisa proceeded to tickle her little sister.
“No! Stop!” Violet snorted. “I just ate!”
“Save your strength!” Neil shouted from the bleachers, but the girls ignored him. He shook his head and returned his attention to his notebook. “Damn squirrels…”
Rollie finished his bread and gulped down his water. With a loud belch, he stood and stretched, admiring his arms. “Yep, it feels good to flex the old pipes again.”
Billy and John looked at each other, trying not to laugh.
Rollie frowned at them. “No, seriously. Back in the day, I was quite the athlete.”
“I’m not sure what calendar you’re using,” Billy said, “but I don’t think the days go back that far.”
John laughed, and after a moment, even Rollie chuckled:
“You’re all right, kid. When you’re not vomiting on yourself, that is.” This time it was Billy’s turn to laugh.
“All right, all right,” Neil said a few minutes later. “Playtime’s over. Ladies, if you’re finished playing grab-ass, everybody back in line.” He paced back and forth in front of the squirrels with the wooden rod tucked under his arm, his hairless tail twitching behind him. “That was a poor performance this morning. You are undoubtedly the worst recruits I’ve ever had the displeasure of evaluating. But I’m giving you one last chance to redeem yourselves. I suggest you take it more seriously. This last test is the one we’ve all been waiting for. I present to you—the obstacle course!”
He pointed his rod at the various obstacles in the arena as if the squirrels had never seen them before.
“First, you must race to the rope and swing across the stream, then you must crawl under the first wall and over the second wall. Next, you must turn around, cross back over the stream by swinging paw-to-paw across the bars, and race back to the finish line. Any questions?” He didn’t wait for the squirrels to respond. “Good. Ready, set, go!” He blew the whistle.
Billy sprinted into the lead with Lisa right behind him. Rollie grabbed John’s ankle at the starting line and tripped him; John fell hard on his face.
“Sorry, Johnny-boy!” Rollie called over his shoulder as he and Violet ran past. “All’s fair, etcetera, etcetera.”
“Cheeky bastard,” John muttered, picking himself up and running after the pack.
Billy reached the stream first and leapt for the rope. He caught it and glided across the stream in a single, graceful motion. He swung the rope back to Lisa, who also made it across. She swung the rope back to Violet, who caught it, but hesitated.
“Jump, Violet!” Lisa shouted.
Violet closed her eyes and leapt. She barely made it across the stream, nearly falling back into the water before Lisa grabbed hold of her jumpsuit and pulled her to safety.
“The rope, girl!” Rollie yelled from the other side.
Lisa scowled at him but swung the rope back. Rollie started to leap, but this time John caught his ankle, sending Rollie sprawling into the stream below. John snagged the rope and swung over.
“Turnabout, etcetera, etcetera!” he shouted as he flew over the drenched squirrel.
Rollie dragged himself out of the stream, splashing and cursing.
“There she blows!” Ernie called from the bleachers.
“This blows, all right,” Rollie muttered, huffing as he ran after the others.
Billy reached the first wall and scrambled underneath. The two sisters shimmied through the tight opening right behind him. John scraped his back as he passed under the wall; he wondered how Rollie would ever squeeze through.
Sure enough, the plump squirrel did not make it.
“Help me, John!” Rollie cried. “I’m stuck!”
“Good grief,” John said, but he returned to assist him.
Ernie hooted at the two struggling squirrels. “Keep pulling! He’ll be a tall, skinny squirrel soon!”
With a groan, John finally pulled Rollie through, and they ran after the other squirrels.
Billy reached the second wall and leapt over headfirst in a single bound. He rolled as he hit the ground and came up running. Lisa caught the top of the wall and pulled herself over. Violet jumped for it but fell short.
John caught up to the pack. “I’ve got you, Violet,” he said, giving the little squirrel a boost to the top. Once she was safely over, he climbed to the top of the wall and looked back. “Give me your paw, Rollie.”
Billy had already made the turn and reached the bars leading over the stream. He swung from bar to bar with ease, clearing the cold water below.
Lisa took the first two bars before realizing Violet wouldn’t be able to reach that far. She waited for her sister. Violet jumped and caught Lisa’s outstretched paw, and Lisa swung her across to the final bars before crossing herself.
John leapt for the first bar and barely managed to snag it. Dangling, he looked down at the cold water below, his eyes growing wide. He grasped each bar deliberately with both paws before proceeding to the next, slowly but surely making his way across the stream.
Rollie leapt for the first bar but missed it completely. Once again, he tumbled headfirst into the stream. “Dammit, that’s twice!”
Ernie cackled in the stands. “Boy, that squirrel sure loves the water, Ray. He must think he’s an otter.”
Rollie climbed out of the stream and chased after the others as they raced to the finish line. Billy finished first, followed by Lisa, Violet, and John. Rollie came running up last, dripping wet and cursing. “Geez,” he said, shivering. “Could that water be any colder?”
“At least you’re a lot cleaner,” Violet said. Rollie shook his head but laughed.
Neil looked at his watch and made some more entries in his notebook. “All right, all right. That’s all I can stand of you squirrels for one day. I should have enough to make your evaluations.”
“How’d we do?” Billy asked.
“You will have the results in the morning, number seven.”
“What happens then?” John asked.
“You will be assembled for the hunt, at which time you will be allowed to select your gear.”
“I call dibs on the haakönen-repellant,” Rollie said.
Neil rapped him on the head with his rod. “If you’re looking for repellant, number thirteen, I suggest you look no further than your performance today. Perhaps that will quell your appetite; I know it has mine. Now, I recommend you all get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow is the real deal; I assure you, it will be a much more challenging day. Ernie, take them away.”