by Kirk Watson
“So you’re the one that got away,” Rollie said.
“That’s right. The only one, as far as I know.”
“They said you were dead,” John said.
“Who said I was dead?”
“Alvíss, for one. You know, that haakönen you just shot.”
“Goes to show that ignorance can kill you.” Cecil blew a smoke ring over the squirrels’ heads and smiled. “But he was nearly right. I almost didn’t make it.” He tapped his eyepatch with the stem of his pipe. “I had a few close scrapes of my own before I found this place.”
“How’d you do it?” Lisa asked. “Escape, I mean.”
“Well, I ran,” Cecil said. “Ran like the devil himself was chasing me. We all did, of course. The other rabbits were just as fast as me—faster even—just not as lucky, I suppose. I was the only one left by the time I reached these brambles. I tunneled in as far as I could and just hid—hid until the haakönen stopped looking for me. Over the months, I was able to slowly carve out this beautiful palace you’re sitting in now. Been hanging around ever since, getting by on whatever food I can find.”
“Why didn’t you go home?” John asked.
“Don’t you think I tried? But we’re in a valley surrounded by mountains. The only way out is to climb out, and there’s not much cover up there. Not to mention all the spies the haakönen have in the mountains. No, it’s much safer down here in the brambles.”
“So you haven’t gotten away at all,” Lisa said. “We’re still trapped.”
“No, I suppose you’re right, little lady; you are trapped, same as me. But there’s one difference: the haakönen thought I was dead. After a while they quit looking for me. You, on the other paw, have a dead haakönen to explain. When the others find him, they’ll know that was no accident. I don’t suspect they’ll give up looking for you quite so easily.”
“Actually, it’s two dead haakönen,” John said.
Cecil slapped his thigh. “Good for you! Never would have thought you squirrels had it in ya’, no offense. Say, you know what you call two dead haakönen? An even better start! Heh-heh, been saving that one for years.”
The squirrels looked at him with blank expressions.
“It was funnier in my head,” Cecil grumbled. “It gets mighty lonely down here; a fella gets to talking to himself. Anyways, we’ve got enough grub to hide out for a little while.”
“Where’d you get the food?” Rollie asked.
“Why, Ray brought it to me.”
“Ray?” John asked in disbelief. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Ray?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Big, black, burly sonofafish?” Rollie asked.
Cecil chuckled. “Yep, that sounds like Ray, all right.”
“Wait,” John said. “Just to be clear: mean, moody Ray? A real taciturn terror?”
Cecil scratched his head. “Toss and turn terror? Well, I don’t know about that; Ray don’t talk much about his personal life.”
“But Ray’s the one who brought us here in the first place,” Lisa said.
“Oh, I’m sure he didn’t want to, miss,” Cecil said. “He’s not one of them. Not by a long shot.”
“Then why is he helping them?” John asked.
“I reckon he didn’t have much choice in the matter. You see, the haakönen have Ray’s daughter.”
Chapter 21
A RAY OF LIGHT
fall·ing in line
/`fôl-iNG in līn/
phrase
1. To line up in such a manner that each person is standing behind another.
2. To conform.
“Ray has a daughter?” Lisa asked.
“That’s right,” Cecil said, reloading his pipe with a pinch of tobacco. “The haakönen kidnapped her about a year ago. They told him he’d never see her again if he didn’t help them smuggle Woodlanders to Highcastle. What choice did he have, really?”
“Why didn’t he say something?” John asked.
“Say something?” Cecil asked. “To whom? The police? What could they have done? Come storming up the mountain to arrest a bunch of haakönen? Even if they did believe him, those haakönen would have seen ‘em coming from miles away. No, Ray’s daughter would be dead long before they got anywhere near the mountain—or worse.”
“Well, he could have at least told us,” Lisa said.
“And what good would that have done? You were in no position to help him. And if the haakönen found out Ray was talking, she’d be just as dead. Try and put yourself in his position.”
“That’s not too hard,” Lisa said glumly. “They have my sister.”
“I see,” Cecil said. “I’m sorry to hear that, little lady. But then you should understand better than anyone. What wouldn’t you do to get your sister back?”
Lisa dropped her eyes.
Cecil continued. “That’s right. The way I see it, old Ray didn’t have a choice at all. He had to keep his mouth shut.”
That explains why Ray was so desperate to retrieve that card of his, John thought. If the haakönen found out it had fallen into the hands of a reporter… “You said Ray came here to find you, Cecil. Why?”
“Ray and I go way back. Many years ago, we served together in the Woodland Corps.”
“The Woodland Corps?”
“That’s right. I was a sergeant back then, and Ray was just a private in my platoon. But he saved my hide on more than one occasion. This one time, during the Fox Uprising of ’33—”
“Fox Uprising?” John interrupted. “I’ve never heard of any fox uprising.”
“Count yourself lucky to have missed it, young fella. That was one bloody fight.”
“But I thought the Woodland Corps was peaceful. Don’t they build roads and such?”
“The Corps is a peace-time force, but there are times when keeping the peace requires a little extra force.”
“I don’t understand. Why haven’t I heard—”
“Because the government likes to keep these sorts of things quiet. It wouldn’t do to have all of Woodland in a tizzy every time our homes are threatened, now, would it? And it happens more often than you’d think. You see, Woodland’s a rich place compared to most. We’ve got plenty of natural resources—trees, water, food, minerals, and nice weather to boot. There’s a whole world full of nasty critters out there that would like nothing more than to take our property, our people, our very lives. Who do you think keeps them at bay? Mother nature?” He waved his paws in front of him. “Positive vibes?
“No, it’s the Corps. We fight to protect our homes and our families, and your families, too. And Ray fought with us. Best damn fighter I’d ever seen—especially with a knife. The kid was a natural, a real killer, I tell you. And the top brass took notice. They called him up for special duty in the WPA.”
“The WPA?” Lisa asked.
“Woodland Protection Agency.”
“I’ve never heard of it, either,” John said.
“Nor would you. It doesn’t exist. Not officially, anyways. The WPA are spooks, apparitions, phantoms running special operations—espionage and wet work, mostly. Or so I’ve heard. Ray and I lost touch after he joined the Agency.”
John rubbed his chin. “No offense, Cecil, but this is all kind of hard to believe. You’re saying Ray is some sort of super spy?”
“How well do you know Ray?” He leaned in close and whispered, “If you had seen what he was capable of, you’d believe me.”
John thought back to how Ray had killed the pirate on the river, the way the squirrel moved without sound, the deftness with which he had slipped John the dagger.
Is it really so hard to believe? We’ve seen the squirrel in action—he’s a freak of nature. But can we trust him? Or this rabbit, for that matter?
“So why did Ray come to you?” John asked.
Cecil stroked his floppy ear. “Well, after I left the Corps, I fell on some… hard times. War does something to a rabbit. You see some awful thing
s, do some awful things. They tell you it’s all for the good of Woodland, and I suppose it is, but it haunts you just the same. I just wanted to forget—forget anyway I could. Booze, pills, women.
“Somewhere along the way, I lost everything I had fought to protect. My home, my family: all gone. I was living on the streets with a couple of other bums when the haakönen grabbed me and took me to the mountain. This was all before Ray was working for them, you see? Back then, they had this nasty fox for a transporter, but I heard he died in a brothel. Too good a death for that bastard, if you ask me.
“Anyway, a couple of years later, Ray was running Woodlanders for the haakönen. He heard the story about the ‘one that got away,’ and after some investigation, he put two-and-two together and figured it was his old pal, Cecil. And lucky for me he did! He’s the only one that would have cared enough to come looking for this old rabbit.
“He showed up about a month ago. Tracked me through these very brambles. I nearly soiled myself when I heard someone coming down the tunnel.” Cecil chuckled. “But it was just Ray, and he brought me all these wonderful supplies.” He waved his paws at the crates in the burrow.
“That was very kind of him,” Lisa said, “but that doesn’t sound like the Ray we know.”
“Well, he didn’t do it out of kindness.”
“Why then?” John asked.
“To prepare for your arrival.”
“Our arrival? How did he even know we’d make it this far?”
“I suppose he didn’t. Not for sure, anyways. Ray had me sketch a map to help you find your way. We hoped you’d make it, but if not, there’d be another crew soon enough.”
“So, you drew the map?” Lisa asked.
“That’s right.”
“Nice brambles,” Rollie said.
“Hey, I’m a soldier, not some free-loving artist. Besides, you found the place, didn’t you?”
“But why did Ray want us to come here?” John asked.
“He needs you to help him rescue his daughter. Ray’s a real tough sonofafish, but even he can’t take on all those haakönen by himself. And he can’t bring any help from the outside—the haakönen would see ‘em coming long before they got close. So he’s building a secret army right under their beaks. An army from the inside.”
Cecil crossed his arms and gave the squirrels a satisfied smile. He was met with stares of disbelief.
“An army?” Rollie asked. “You mean us? You must be mad.”
“Don’t sell yourselves short,” Cecil said. “We may not look like much, but we’ve already taken down two of those haakönen. That’s two more than anyone else ever got.”
“But we have no weapons,” Lisa said.
“That’s right,” John said. “I’m afraid I lost the dagger Ray gave me.”
“Oh, no, not the dagger!” Cecil said, holding his paws to his head. The rabbit chuckled. “Perhaps you squirrels should come with me.”
He carried the lamp to the chest in the back of the room.
“If anything,” Cecil said as he opened the chest, “Ray is prepared.” The squirrels gathered around.
“Will you look at that,” Rollie said. “A real treasure chest…”
“Oh, my,” Lisa said. “May I?”
Cecil nodded with a grin. Inside the chest was a cache of weapons and other equipment. Lisa began to remove the contents one-by-one, taking inventory as she handed each piece to the others. John and Rollie laid the items out on the ground.
First came the rifles, three in all: two were bolt-action, and the third a repeating rifle with an elaborately engraved barrel. Next, she removed two revolvers—not the old cap-and-ball sort that John had owned, but modern, breech-loading pistols. Lisa swung their cylinders open and confirmed each was loaded before snapping them shut. She kept one for herself and handed the other to John.
“You ever fire one of those, city boy?” Cecil asked John.
“Oh, sure,” John replied.
“Did you hit anything?”
“Nicked a phantom in the ear at ten paces. You should ask Ray about it some time.”
Cecil arched his bushy eyebrows.
Lisa continued unpacking the chest. She removed a long section of rope and a pulley system of some sort.
“Climbing gear?” John asked.
“Something like that,” Cecil replied.
Lisa pulled out a pair of knives and four shoulder-and-belt harnesses. Rollie tried on a harness but was unable to fasten the belt over his ample belly. He left the ends hanging loose, hoping the others wouldn’t notice.
Lisa’s eyes grew wide as she pulled the last item out of the chest. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Ooh, come to poppa,” Rollie said, motioning for Lisa to hand the egg-shaped object over.
“No, I don’t think so,” Cecil said, intercepting the grenade. “This isn’t a toy. One wrong move and you could kill us all. No, I think I’ll be holding on to this myself. But let me show you how it works, just in case something happens to me. First, you hold it in one paw like this. Now, don’t go pulling this pin here until you’re ready to throw it. Then you’ve got about three seconds before…” He made a sweeping gesture with his paws. “Ka-boom!”
The squirrels took a step back, then chuckled nervously. They helped each other put on the harnesses, Cecil carefully attaching the grenade to his own, and divvied up the remaining weapons. Cecil gave the squirrels quick instructions on how to reload the firearms, and they spent several minutes practicing.
“Now you look like a proper army,” Cecil said. “So, who’s ready to fire a gun?”
“Won’t the haakönen hear?” John asked.
“No, we’re too far underground; they won’t hear a thing. I’ll go set up some targets.” He took the empty fruit cans and lined them up against the back wall. “Who’s first?”
“I’ll go,” Lisa said, stepping forward with her rifle.
“Atta girl. Now stand over here. No, not like that! With your feet apart, for balance. Good. Now raise the rifle and aim at the target. You best press that stock against your shoulder unless you want a kick in your pretty face, missy! That’s better. Now look down the barrel and line the sights up. Just place the tab in the notch and line it up with the can. Focus on the can, but you’ve got to see all three at once: notch, tab, can. Got it? Good. When you’re ready to fire, take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Squeeze the trigger gently. Don’t pull it! Squeeeeze it slowly, soft as a marshmallow…”
Lisa squeezed the trigger. The rifle fired and the can leapt into the air, bouncing off the back wall and landing at her feet with a hole blown straight through it.
“I did it!” Lisa said, turning excitedly.
“Bravo,” Cecil said, directing the smoking barrel towards the ground, “but make sure you don’t put any holes in us, little lady.”
“Sorry, Cecil.”
“Quite all right, miss. I do appreciate the enthusiasm. Now, who’s next?”
The squirrels took turns practicing. John did well up close with his pistol, but he found it difficult to aim his rifle without his glasses.
“That’s okay, city boy,” Cecil said. “Those haakönen are pretty big targets. Just shoot at the feathery blur in the middle.”
Rollie fared better with his rifle. His considerable girth absorbed the recoil well, allowing him to fire as rapidly as he could work the bolt.
Afterwards, Cecil clapped him on the back. “Fine shooting, son. We’ll make a soldier of you yet.”
“So, what happens now?” John asked.
“Why, now we fight,” Cecil replied.
“What?” Rollie asked. “Here in the brambles?”
“No. If we were to stay down here, the haakönen would just wait us out. Our food supplies won’t last forever. We have to take the fight to them, catch those birds by surprise.”
“How are we supposed to do that?” John asked. “Highcastle is miles from here, way up in the mountains. Even if we survived the trip, you sai
d they would see us coming.”
“That’s right,” Cecil said. “If we marched straight up the mountain, they would see us coming. But we’re not marching.” The rabbit picked up the climbing gear and smiled. “We’re going to catch us a ride.”
Chapter 22
HITCHING A RIDE
fall for
/`fôl fôr/
phrasal verb
To be deceived or swindled.
“This will never work,” John said.
“Quit your bellyaching, squirrel,” Cecil replied, tugging on the end of the rope. “It will work, trust me.”
The three squirrels and lone rabbit lay just inside the brambles, staring at the clearing before them. Two days had passed since Cecil shot Alvíss, but the haakönen’s remains were nowhere to be found.
The other haakönen must have removed his body, John thought. They’ll know we’re close by.
Cecil held the end of the rope, naked as the day he was born except for his harness.
“Sorry, little lady,” Cecil said to Lisa. “It couldn’t be helped.”
Lisa shrugged. “I’ve seen worse.”
“Right. Well, here we go.”
Beneath a tree in the clearing, Cecil’s empty jumpsuit lay attached to the other end of the rope. It had been stuffed with loose grass to give it some shape. Cecil gave the rope a slight tug, and the jumpsuit twitched in the field. They watched the sky and waited.
“Sometimes it takes a couple of tugs,” Cecil whispered to John, giving the rope another pull. The jumpsuit twitched in the field again.
“Have you ever done this before?” John whispered back.
“Well, no…”
John looked at him incredulously. “Then how do you know it will work?”
“Haven’t you ever been fishing, city boy? It’s the same principle. Bait a hook, throw it in the water, and watch the bobber. A haakönen’s eye is drawn to movement. Trust me, it will work.”