Billy produced his needle dagger and proceeded to the right toward the only light that he could see, dimly showing through a crack in his ceiling, which, from a human perspective, was the floor of the library. This part of the inner walls had not been prepped for gnome travel; nails and screws stuck out of the walls here and there. Billy made his way slowly, careful not to stick himself on the sharp points. He slashed at a spider web with his needle sword and caused a crouching spider half the size of his body to flee. Billy shivered; of all things, spiders were the worst, as far as he was concerned. Sure, a rat had huge teeth and nasty claws, a snake could eat you whole, but a spider large enough and hungry could paralyze your body and wrap you up in silk, leaving you to wait to be eaten. Of course there were only a few reports of this ever happening to a gnome within the town of Arappathy, but a few were a few too many.
Billy came to the crack in the wall that was the source of the leaking light. He peered through the crack and looked upon the large library of Sockefeller Castle.
The room was huge, even by human standards, nearly as big as his home, Old Glory. Thousands of human books lined the walls. Paintings hung here and there upon the few bare walls with no books. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling; a large table with many chairs sat in the middle of the great room, and many sofas and chairs sat near and around a huge fireplace on the opposite side of the room. Above the fireplace was mounted a huge glass clock. Billy groaned to himself when he saw the time; he had lost a half hour since he saw the rat! Worse yet, he had not even begun to puzzle out where the cat collar might be. He wracked his brain for clues.
Cat collar, cat collar, cat collar. Where could it be? Hhmm, c’mon, Billy, think, think, think! There are many cats within Sockefeller Castle, a virtual army of the beasts. They are unlike the barn cats of the wild, not feral. The Sockefeller cats are fat and lazy, would hardly bat an eye at a mouse. Think, think, think! But why and where would one lose its collar? In a tight squeeze!
Billy’s mother’s words came to mind.
“When without a clue and when out of time, use your mind and rhyme.”
Right. Okay, tight squeeze, squeeze, knees, ease, seas, please, breeze, trees, threes, these, tease, sneeze…sneeze! A sneeze strong enough could shake loose a collar, thought Billy. As he paced the beam within the walls of the library, he absently avoided two nails that protruded from the walls. He followed the train of thought and let himself be led.
Tight squeeze sneeze. Tight squeeze sneeze. Why would a cat be in a tight squeeze and sneeze? What would be at fault? Fault, malt, vault, default, assault, salt…salt! No, no, pepper, pepper!
Billy thought frantically about where he was and what he knew of the layout of Sockefeller Castle. His father had many maps of the place, every floor, every room, and every door. Billy knew he was within the northern wall of the library. The closest kitchen was two rooms away, out the door to the left and right down the hall. But when traveling through walls, it was a much taller order, easier said than done.
“The fastest way to get from one point to another…is alive,” his father always said. But he did not have time for such luxuries as sound logic. He made up his mind and went the point A to B route. Without even thinking, lest he lose his nerve, he sprang out of a gap in the wall and ran straight for the door.
A quick glance to the left and the right proved that he was alone in the room.
No cats, check, he thought to himself as he ran for dear life.
He slid to a stop with his back to the molding near the door frame. He breathed heavily but forced himself to calm his breath and listen. He heard nothing but the large clock. Tick, tock, tick, tock went the clock.
Block, stock, mock, broc…coli? Nah, that’s a stretch. Duh, sock! Okay, focus…this is not time for rhyming, Billy warned himself as he scanned the room once again for danger. He saw nothing out of order except a small object under a burgundy chaise lounge near the fireplace. The object was perhaps twenty feet away. Billy scrunched up his face and finally recognized it as a human device for breathing big: an inhaler.
Billy had once asked his father what the opposite of an inhaler was and his father had answered, “An exhaler.” When Billy had asked what an exhaler looked like, his father had tickled him until he couldn’t breathe and nearly peed his sock.
Billy listened once again as he crept to the doorway. Quickly he looked around it and retreated back to his safe spot against the molding.
Nothing in sight. The coast is clear. It’s now or never.
Before Billy could waste any more time with endless catch phrases, he dashed down the hall in the direction of the kitchen, turned the corner, skidding, and came face to face with a gigantic orange cat.
The cat was so startled that it jumped three feet in the air, fur sticking out like it had licked a light socket, and hissed. Billy jumped back and into the air instinctively. He twisted as he went and in one fluid motion reached for and extended his grappling fish hook. The hook sailed through the air over the cat’s head and caught in the wood of the corner of the nearest counter. Billy climbed the line with his hands as he swung, frantically distancing himself up, over, and away from the falling cat.
In an instant the cat was on its feet and hissing at Billy. But Billy had swung clear to land upon the second shelf of the open counter.
The fat cat landed, looked to Billy, hissed, and scampered off. Billy began to rejoice and remembered where he was out in the open, outside of walls. Though humans could not see sock gnomes, there was still a strange and threatening feeling about being exposed to a world so big, where a falling broom could break your back.
Have you ever had to worry about a rolling pin rolling you flat? I think not!
Billy scanned the room and quickly found that which he sought, the spice pantry. He looked left, and then right, and then repeated the motion seven times. Satisfied, he threw his grappling hook to the limits of its line and caught hold of a drawer handle. He deftly swung from the second shelf of the island to the floor four feet away, unhooked his hook with a flick of the wrist, and ran full speed toward the pantry shutter doors.
He caught hold of the huge pantry doors and pulled with all his might; they would not budge. From behind he heard a cat mewl; turning, he discovered that the fat cat had returned and sat poised to strike not seven feet away. Billy readied his grappling hook, formulating a plan. Billy hooked the handle to the pantry doors high above; eyeing the crouching cat, he quickly tied the other end of the line to the bag of catnip.
He had barely secured the knot when the cat finally pounced. Billy threw the bag of catnip into the air and dove to the right, out of the path of the cat. The small bag of catnip arched up and fell, hitting the cat on the top of the head. The cat’s attention shifted from Billy to the catnip that lay on the floor. Billy waited, his tiny heart beating fiercely in his chest; if his plan did not work, he would be a kitty treat.
C’mon, cat…c’mon, take the nip!
The fat cat sniffed the bag and purred. It completely forgot about Billy and began swatting and playing with the bag. Finally the cat took the bag in its mouth and took off in the opposite direction. To Billy’s vast relief, the line became tight and the pantry door was pulled wide open before jerking the cat back. He quickly scrambled into the pantry as he caught the cat’s attention once again.
Chapter 4
The Decision
Billy scrambled into the spice pantry as the cat came charging in once again. The orange beast had forgotten its catnip sack and seemed enraged. Billy barely dodged a swipe from its long-clawed paw; he hurdled a container of garlic salt and dove for the back of the spices. He crashed into a variety of spice containers as the fat cat fought its way into the pantry. A claw nicked Billy’s shoulder and a flash of hot pain took his breath away. He looked around frantically and then he saw it, PEPPER!
Billy scrambled over the fallen spice containers as the cat swatted and smashed its way deeper into the small space. Billy reached the pepper and t
o his relief saw what he had hoped would be there, a mouse hole. He dove into the hole and shuffled on his belly far into it to the safety of the inner wall. The cat reached the hole and went berserk, hissing and spitting and clawing. Try as it might, it could not get to Billy; he was safe.
From the kitchen came a booming human voice. “Get outta there, Sunshine! How many times do I have to shoo you out of my spices?”
The fat cat mewled and reluctantly sprang from the spice pantry, retrieved its catnip sack, and exited the kitchen. Billy let out a long, pent-up breath. The chef that had shooed the cat bent down and righted the toppled spice containers as he cursed the cat under his breath. He closed the pantry door and left Billy in darkness.
Though the pantry was dark, it mattered little to Billy; being a sock gnome, he could see quite well in the dark. He remembered where he was and looked left and then right: clear. No mice, no rats.
Billy slowly emerged from the mouse hole and, to his amazement and delight, saw the cat collar. In his haste to escape the cat he had not noticed it, but there it was hooked on a nail that had not been driven true. The nail protruded from the upper shelf in a way that when the cat had come chasing a mouse, it had gotten hooked. The cat must have gotten stuck and in its attempt to free itself from the trap had knocked over a pepper shaker. Pepper was scattered all over the floor of the bottom of the pantry. The cat had sneezed and the violent jerk had allowed its head to slip through the hooked collar.
Billy marveled at his luck that his rhyme had been right. Then he remembered the time; wasting no more of it, he reached up and unhooked the cat collar. He threw the collar over his shoulder and held it in place as best he could.
It was big and heavy but Billy was young and strong. He would have to be careful, however; with the weight of the collar, there was no way he could outrun the fat cat again. Billy only hoped that the cat was busy somewhere else in the castle, not to mention the other cats in residence.
Billy cleared out a running space as best he could within the pantry. Gaining all the momentum he could, he barreled into the swinging doors that he had not been able to pull open. Luckily they opened this time. He peered out and upon seeing no one and nothing about, he quickly scampered across the kitchen to the doorway to the hall. Around the corner and into the huge library he ran, dragging the weight of the collar with him. He was halfway across the room when he heard frantic voices coming from the hall and many human feet coming his way.
“Where could it be?” a woman frantically asked.
“He cannot breathe. Where is the blasted thing?” asked a man.
“Bring him into the library and lay him down. Back off…give the lad some space!” said another man.
Billy charged for the hole in the wall from which he had come into the library. He was not concerned with the humans seeing him, as they could not see sock gnomes. But they would see a cat collar floating across the room, and that was almost as bad as being seen.
Many human ghost stories of floating things and muffled voices in the night were due to the sock gnomes. And Billy had no intentions of starting more.
He finally got to the hole and dove into it. He pulled the collar into the hole and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. The humans had come into the library and were causing quite a ruckus. Two men carried a boy of around eleven years old; he seemed to be unconscious.
“What happened?” insisted a man, whom Billy recognized as the father of the child.
“He was outside playing and began to have one of his attacks. We cannot find any of his inhalers!” answered a distraught woman, a maid of the house.
Inhaler, thought Billy.
His eyes went instantly to the inhaler he had seen only a short while ago, hidden beneath the very sofa on which they had laid the boy.
It’s right there under your noses! his mind screamed. Just look under the sofa!
The boy was breathing in short, shallow breaths; his face had begun to turn a sickly pale blue. Billy had to do something. He looked to the clock. TEN MINUTES!
If he left now, he would make it in time to bring back the lost cat collar; he would pass the test of mastery on the first try! A feat only his father had ever achieved. He would be famous. Songs would be sung in his glory. He would be able to live his lifelong dream of becoming a treasure hunter. Billy scooped up the collar and began to run down the inner wall tunnel.
He stopped and bowed his head. Muffled through the wall he could still hear the pleadings of the men and women tending to the human boy. I have to help.
Billy dropped the collar and ran pell-mell to the hole, scrambled through it, and ran to the inhaler. He caught a glimpse of the boy; he looked worse. Humans stood around the lad trying to coax him to breathe but to no avail.
Billy reached the inhaler and with all his might picked it up and threw it at the feet of the nearest human. The inhaler hit the boy’s father in the foot. Nothing happened. The man did not notice. Billy breathed a colorful curse about sweaty socks and took his needle dagger from its sheath. The man wore thick dress shoes, and Billy knew that he would not be able to penetrate the material. Instead of sticking him in the foot, he scampered up the man’s foot and stuck him in the ankle.
“Ah, what the—” exclaimed the boy’s father as he looked down at his own foot. He did not see Billy there hanging on to the cuff of his pants, but he did finally see the inhaler.
“Praise God, there it is!” the man exclaimed and reached down to grab it. Billy waited until the man had retrieved it and jumped from his shoe. He ran back to the hole in the wall and once inside looked back.
The boy’s father held the inhaler to his son’s mouth and squeezed three times. At first there was no change. But then slowly, ever so slowly, the color returned to the boy’s face and his breathing became deeper. Billy looked to the clock: five minutes until his test was over. He looked once more to the recovering boy. And the boy looked back! He looked right at Billy, right into his eyes!
Billy ducked behind the wall. He saw me! Oh, no, no, no, he saw me. Did he see me? Maybe he only was looking in my direction. He couldn’t have really seen me. I didn’t want him to!
Billy peeked around the corner and to his relief found that the boy was now sitting up, being fussed over by the humans, and he was not looking at Billy. He sighed in relief.
Just my imagination. He didn’t see me. How could he?
Just then the boy looked straight at Billy once again and pointed. In a weak, almost inaudible voice, he said, “Look there. It’s a little mouse man!”
Chapter 5
Failure and Fate
Billy ran down the tunnel, dragging the collar with him. He took the route that he knew would bring him back to the judges the quickest. He entered the chamber panting. Though he had taken the fastest route, he was still late, by one minute. He laid the collar before the judges and bowed his head. The old gnome that had spoken before spoke again. “Note that the boy has retrieved the collar, but has not done so within the allotted time frame.”
Billy looked to the clock and then the judges and then to his father. “I would have been on time but…”
“Fail,” boomed the judge as he scribbled in a bound book.
“But there was a human boy and a rat and a cat and…”
“That will be all, young gnome,” said the judge without looking at Billy.
Billy’s father took him by the arm. “Come on, son,” he said with a sympathetic smile.
On the walk back to their home, Billy recounted the story to his father; he left out the part about being seen.
“So I failed because I stopped to help the human boy. I am a failure.”
His father stopped him and held him at arm’s length.
“You are not a failure, son! You are a hero. You sacrificed your glory to help a human child. What is the first rule of the sock gnome code?”
“To protect our humans,” said Billy, not meeting his father’s eyes.
“Look at me.”
“I am proud of you, son. Had you forsaken the child’s fate and been on time to pass the test, how do you think you would feel now?”
Billy had not considered that. What if the boy had died because he had been too selfish to help?
“I would have felt…terrible.”
“That is because it would have been the wrong thing to do. We may not be rewarded for the heroic things that we do, but that is not why we do them. We do what is right because it is right, not for glory.”
They walked on, Billy feeling much better until he remembered that he had been seen. He did not tell his father this; he would tell no one. If it became known that the boy had seen Billy, he did not know what would happen. Any sock gnome that had ever allowed a human to see them had been exiled, cast into the wild world, never to return.
Gnome sightings had birthed the legends of leprechauns and fairies and a host of other creatures. This did not bode well with the gnomes, who wished to remain a secret. If the existence of sock gnomes living within human walls was ever known, it would be a disaster. They would be called an infestation and would shortly be driven from their homes with pesticides and bug bombs. The diligent work of the gnomes in ridding their humans’ homes of bugs and rodents was the reason that the humans did not use such methods. And the gnomes wanted to keep it that way. If the boy kept insisting that he had seen a “mouse man,” the humans might resort to using such pest control methods, or, sock forbid, an exterminator!
They returned home in time for lunch. Billy’s father tended to the scratch on his shoulder where the cat’s claw had nicked him. With a fresh bandage now on the wound, they sat down to dinner.
Billy’s mother had prepared a small feast of vegetables and fruit. Billy had no appetite but ate anyway. The food had been acquired at great cost, Billy knew, and he had not the heart to let down his mother. His father told Billy’s mother and brother what had happened and they all congratulated Billy on his moral choice.
Billy Coatbutton and the Wheel of Destiny Page 3