As Jake walked carefully back to the Prius, the cats went into a frenzy at the sight and smell of the banquet above them. There was no way any prisoner could jump down and make a run for it.
Nudging the cats away from the door with his feet, Jake lowered himself into the passenger seat of the car, and placed both hands on the dashboard so the muscle mice could march off, with their prisoners ahead of them.
“Why do you want to talk to me?” asked Savannah. “Do you think Savannah’s been naughty? Well, maybe I have, but that’s all over now. I took care of it.”
“We already know that you communicated with at least one human,” said the Big Cheese while Trey translated. “Later we will find out why you did such a thing, but now we have more urgent questions. We must know who this human is, and why he is following us. And what does he know about our plans?”
Savannah looked at the Director of Forward Planning, who made a sad flapping gesture that Megan recognized as, “Go ahead.”
“The man is called Kevin,” said Savannah. “He and his wife, I guess they know…” She stopped and looked to the director for help, but he was avoiding her gaze.
“Go on!” said the Big Cheese.
“They know we have information, my friend and me. But we’ll never never never give it to them, so you don’t have to worry, they won’t find out from us. Not a peep.”
“Find out what?”
“Find out about Cool It!” she said, as if it were obvious. “Find out who’s making those senators change their vote, things like that!”
And a dreadful stillness settled on the Big Cheese, the sort of stillness that warns mice an explosion is coming.
It was a controlled explosion. An explosion with small gestures, icy sharp.
And Trey translated it with short, sharp sentences. “You. Told. Humans. Something. About. Cool It.”
“Oh, no no no no no,” said Savannah. “Well, not really. They wanted to know, but we weren’t going to tell them. Never never never.”
The Big Cheese put his head between his paws. “But you got in touch with these humans,” he said finally. “How could you? How could you violate our most important rule. The rule of CONTACT!” That last word came out in a roar, with a huge hop.
“It wasn’t real contact,” said Savannah, “And we didn’t mean to. It was an accident! I can explain!”
“Explaining must wait,” said the Big Cheese. “Open up your e-mail.”
“But it’s private, I don’t… Ouch!”
A muscle mouse had given her a quick jab with his toothpick.
“Savannah,” said Trey, putting a paw on her shoulder, “open your e-mail. It will be best for you.”
She sighed and clicked onto Gmail, which mice don’t normally use. She entered her screen name (Savtm7), and wrote in her password (Marilyn2) then turned the Thumbtop around for Trey to see.
“There are several messages from someone called Kevin,” he said. “One came in last night, after we’d gotten away from the green truck the first time near Tracy.” And he read:
Hey there, Savannah, I guess your uncle really doesn’t want you talking to me! That was some driving, getting off the road like that. We’re still hoping to get your information, so we’ve e-mailed the license number of that RV to all our members in this area, and one of us will find you!
“And here’s what Savannah replied,” said Trey.
Please go away. Don’t you get it? I’ve changed my mind and I don’t want to talk to you. And good luck hunting for that license number, because we’re not even driving that thing anymore.
“See?” said Savannah. “I told him to get lost. I was saving you all. Like that girl in Attack of the Blondes.”
The Big Cheese cast his eyes up at the roof of the car and made a gesture that Megan guessed meant something like “Aaaargh,” following it up with, “You told him. You told him we’d switched to another vehicle!”
“I didn’t really,” said Savannah. “Did I?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Trey. And he read the reply:
Thanks for telling me about the switch! There aren’t many places in this neck of the woods where you could have changed to a different RV, so it was easy to find the agency, and guess what—the guy gave me your uncle’s name, and the name of your motel. I’ll be right behind you when you set off tomorrow, still hoping for that information! Maybe my boss will double your reward, because your uncle is making it so hard for you to talk to us.
Next from Savannah came the short e-mail that Julia had seen her writing in the Mousemobile, just before all the Thumbtops were confiscated:
Go away. I keep telling you. I don’t want your crummy reward.
“See?” said Savannah. “I kept trying to get rid of him! Not my fault he didn’t take the hint!”
She hadn’t been able to check her e-mail again until the Mousemobile settled into the cat-filled barn, and she’d borrowed time from Larry. The message from Kevin that was waiting for her was the most chilling of all.
Trey read it out:
So your uncle did it again, getting away from me near Stockton! But we’re not giving up that easy. Your information is way too important, so we’re still on your trail. We’ve got your uncle’s name, remember? The researchers at our headquarters have found out some very interesting facts about him online. Like he has family connections in Greenfield, Oregon—so that’s where we think you’re at. Am I right?
“But look what I wrote back!” said Savannah proudly.
Trey read her reply:
That’s just a lucky guess about Greenfield, and so what? It doesn’t matter because by the time your dumb green truck gets here we’ll be gone and you’ll never ever find us.
“Which confirms,” said the Big Cheese, stating the obvious, “that we’re in Greenfield.”
“So maybe it does,” said Savannah, “but that doesn’t matter, does it, because, like I said, by the time he—”
“Wait,” Trey interrupted. “Another e-mail came in tonight. One you haven’t read. It’s from a different guy, somebody called Bud.” He clicked on it and read:
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hope to see you!
I got your e-mail address from our headquarters, and they think you’re right here in my town of Greenfield. What an honor! Please e-mail me so we can meet, or else I’ll have to think of another way to find you.
“Bud,” said Uncle Fred sadly, putting his head in his hands. “Looks like they’re everywhere.”
“And when you didn’t reply to that e-mail,” said Jake, unfurling one of the flyers, “Bud moved fast.”
Savannah’s jaw dropped, and for once she was speechless. Everyone was speechless until Megan broke the silence.
“Why me?” she asked, feeling a dangerous prickling at the back of her eyes. “Why did you give him my picture?”
Savannah looked at her as if the answer were obvious. “Well, I couldn’t exactly tell him, could I?” she asked. “Tell him I was a mouse?”
There was silence again until the Big Cheese said, “Director of Forward Planning and Talking Mouse Seven, you will remain in custody while my legal team prepares the case against you. Tonight, we will study the rest of your correspondence with these humans, and, needless to say, I expect your full cooperation in telling us what you know about this…this hornets’ nest you appear to have stirred up. Failure to reveal everything will result in the harshest of penalties.”
He turned to the muscle mice.
“Change the director’s status to suspended,” he said. “So all may see his disgrace.”
Two mice ran forward and pulled the red thread off the director’s neck, then tied a knot in it and put it back.
“Now you may remove the prisoners,” said the Big Cheese.
There was a cardboard box in the Prius, a leftover container from some fast food Jake and Joey had bought in Eugene. Jake held it against the dashboard so the muscle mice and their pris
oners could climb in, then he carried it carefully over to the Mousemobile.
When he came back, the Big Cheese was bent over Larry as he sat cowering in a corner of the dashboard, the picture of guilt and misery. And Trey translated as his boss said, “Mouse, there is no need for you to feel guilty! You did not harm our nation. Indeed, far from harming it, your actions—your generosity in sharing the computer—may, in the end, be of benefit to your nation, and to the planet.”
Larry lifted up his head as if he didn’t quite believe it.
“With the information we now have,” said the Big Cheese, “we hope to find out everything we can about those humans as we drive through the night. We may even lure them into a nice soft trap.”
Any other time, Jake might have laughed at the mention of nice soft traps, having fallen into one himself last year. But all he did now was reach out for a reassuring fist bump with the Big Cheese.
“Let’s roll,” he said.
e can move some mice,” said Uncle Fred, when the humans climbed up into the Mousemobile. “Get you guys a couple of beds.”
“Don’t bother with that now, Uncle Fred,” said Megan, thinking about who might be out there in the night, looking for them. “Can’t we just get out of here?”
“Yeah, let’s go,” said Joey. “We’ll sit at the table. These guys’ll make room for us, right?”
The mice who had been allocated space on the dining-table benches scooted over to make room for the two kids, and those on the tabletop compressed themselves against the wall of the Mousemobile. They knew these young humans would soon need some empty table space in front of them, even if these young humans did not.
And soon after Uncle Fred and Jake had backed the vehicles out of the barn, and fastened the Prius to the back of the Mousemobile, and started the dark journey eastward over the pass, Joey indeed had his head down, asleep, with Curly and Larry nestled against his neck.
Megan could not sleep, with so many fears chasing each other through her head. Now she had more to be afraid of than just one weird guy in a green truck—now it was a big organization of weird guys with members everywhere, probably all looking for her, all with her picture.
Yes, that picture was already the most famous in the world among mice. But having it run loose among humans?
She needed to talk to Trey. If anyone could guess why Savannah had stirred up this “hornets’ nest,” as the Big Cheese called it, he was the one. But he was riding with the Big Cheese in the cage, both bent over a Thumbtop—maybe finding just what they needed to make this nightmare stop.
It was a reassuring sight, because mice can do anything, right? Before long, Megan’s head went down on the table too, with Julia nestled softly against her neck.
It was a sudden stiffening of Julia’s body that woke Megan. In the next second, she felt a mouse tapping against her cheek, and when she opened her eyes she saw a flash of pink ribbon in the dim morning light.
“I came to say I’m sorry,” said Savannah. “So you’ll for- give me.”
With her head still on the table, Megan’s eyes were about level with Savannah’s, and, yes, Savannah looked as if she meant it. Or had she taken a class in “sincerity” for extra credit at the Talking Academy? Learned to slide into sincere-looking expressions at will?
Megan sat up. “Why should I forgive you?” she asked.
Savannah stroked her hand, which made it hard to stay mad, because a mouse-stroke is one of the better sensations any human can feel. “It didn’t seem bad at the time,” she said softly. “I just wanted a few nice things, like maybe some clothes. From the reward they promised. Just maybe a pink dress and a coat to go with it.”
“But you stole my identity!” said Megan.
“Only because I didn’t know you!” said Savannah, gazing up anxiously. “Like, I’d never met a human so it didn’t seem important! It didn’t seem real.”
She took a step back for emphasis, and her tail brushed Joey’s head, waking him up.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in jail?” he asked.
Savannah sighed. “I am in jail,” she said. “My fur is my jail. No one can see the real me because of the way I look, trapped in the body of a mouse.”
Joey laughed, but Megan couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for Savannah, who’d come out of the Talking Academy yearning to be a human. And not just any human, but one who was blond and beautiful and had closets full of clothes.
But showing sympathy wouldn’t do, not now, when she could see hundreds of mice looking their way in the half light.
“You know what?” Megan said. “You’re a mouse. Get over it.”
For a moment Savannah looked so forlorn that Megan was tempted to tickle her behind the ears. Oh, why was it so hard to stay mad at mice? But she disciplined her hands, made sure they didn’t reach out. And now she was saved by a squad of muscle mice climbing up to the table.
“Seems they don’t want me to talk to anyone,” said Savannah. “Don’t have a cow!” she added as the first toothpick gave her a quick jab in the butt. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
She turned to follow the muscle mice, passing in front of Julia, who was making a gesture that Megan knew to be very rude indeed.
When Megan next woke up, it was fully light. The big Mousemobile had left the Cascade Range behind and was some way into the high desert beyond. Now it was turning off into the parking lot of a motel where the Big Cheese and his transportation team had booked a couple of connecting rooms at the back, well out of sight.
The humans kept watch for hawks while the mice marched into one of the rooms, with Savannah and the Director of Forward Planning in the middle of the column, hemmed in by a phalanx of muscle mice.
Trey rode Megan’s shoulder into the human room, but he didn’t stay.
“I’ll be next door,” he said. “That telephone number on the flyer was a great lead, and so were the e-mail addresses, but they need to question Savannah and that director some more. And I’d better be there.”
“You don’t think they’ll torture her do you?”
“No no no, mice don’t do that,” he said. “At least I don’t think so.”
But he didn’t sound very confident.
Megan gave him a pat and opened the connecting door for him. He walked through slowly, as if the mouse room was the last place on earth he wanted to be.
Jake fetched some breakfast from a nearby convenience store, but he and Uncle Fred were too tired to even finish theirs, so they crashed on beds while Megan and Joey changed into swimsuits and took their food out to the pool. After they’d eaten, they cannonballed into the water, splashing Curly, Larry, and Julia, who were sheltering from the sun under a towel draped over one of the poolside chairs.
Seldom had a pool felt so good, washing away all the dark fear and mouse dust of the night. They played a couple of rounds of Marco Polo, then met in the middle of the pool to talk.
“Savannah’s so weird,” Joey said, as they both treaded water. “What was she telling you in the night…that it was all for clothes?”
“Well, money for clothes. There was something about a reward, remember?”
“But she’s a mouse. What’s she going to do with money? Go to a mall with a bunch of dollar bills in her mouth?”
Megan giggled.
“Trey says she’s not too smart,” she said. “One twist short of a Slinky.”
Joey remembered their old game, and Megan’s giggles spread to him.
“A few fries short of a Happy Meal!” he said. “The cheese slid off the cracker! Only one oar in the water!”
Laughter engulfed him, and with one last gurgle of, “As smart as bait,” he sank to the bottom of the pool and swam under Megan, then shot up behind her and splashed down.
“What’s up with poor old Trey, anyway?” he asked. “He must realize Savannah’s a dope, and sort of evil, but he still sticks with her.”
“It’s clan solidarity,” Megan explained. “No matter what she’s done, he c
an’t help that clan thing. It’s built in. When I told him Savannah had been e-mailing the people in the green truck, he didn’t even want to tell the Big Cheese.” She was glad her face was wet, because she could feel a tear or two coming out at the memory. “It was almost like we were on different sides.”
“So he was a rat,” said Joey. “A warthog.”
Megan swung her arm to splash him. She was the only person who could call Trey a warthog—the word Trey himself preferred to “rat,” because using a fellow rodent as an insult came too close to home.
“I was mad at him at the time,” she admitted. “But now I’m sorry for him. That sort of loyalty, it’s just the way mice are. It’s in their DNA.”
“Well, that bit of DNA must have skipped Savannah,” said Joey, treading water more slowly. “The loyalty gene or whatever. One for all and all for mice. Hey, maybe they’re still evolving, and Savannah just happens to be the first! And pretty soon they’ll all be like her, wanting to live like humans. Wearing clothes. Like mice in kids’ books.”
That thought seemed to weigh on him so heavily that he sank again. Megan sank too, and they gazed at each other through the water, their hair floating up like red and dusty-yellow seaweed, their eyes wide at the new thought. Mouse evolution. A billion mice like Savannah, all wanting the finer things of life. Selling out their nation. Tearing up the treaty that promised mice would work with humans to save the planet.
f you were to define the middle of nowhere,” Jake began, “would this be it?”
It was close to noon. Jake and Fred had finally emerged from their sleep to camp out in the shade of a big umbrella by the pool, with some sandwiches for the humans and crusts for the mice.
The middle of nowhere? True, wherever Megan looked she saw nowhere, more or less. The faintest humps of the Cascades behind them, dim in the heat haze. Maybe the fuzziest beginnings of the Rocky Mountains far ahead, with Camp Green Stars tucked away in one of the valleys, waiting for them to come by tomorrow.
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