Mousemobile

by Prudence Breitrose

  “I didn’t mean to!” said Savannah.

  “That is for the jury to decide,” said the prosecutor, and for the next few minutes showed them the e-mails that had flown back and forth between Savannah and the green truck—the ones that accidentally told Kevin about the switch of a silver Mousemobile for a blue one, and accidentally confirmed that the new blue Mousemobile was indeed in Greenfield.

  And when he’d finished, there was no sound except for that fake but sad mouse sobbing, the alternating chant of “boo” and “hoo” coming from behind the paws Savannah had pressed against her face.

  hen it was time for the jury to decide on the case, the twelve mice trooped into the human room to discuss their verdict in private. But not for long. In less than five minutes they were back.

  Both guilty. Guilty of betraying their nation.

  And the sentence? That would come later, when this long ride was over, when the Headquarters staff arrived at its final destination.

  Trey stayed with Savannah in case she needed comfort, while the four humans retreated to their room to flop on beds and couches, exhausted.

  They were all asleep when Trey came bustling in from the mouse room and ran from one human to the next, tweaking hair and saying, “Wake up, wake up, and better straighten up this room a bit! The Big Cheese will be here in exactly three minutes. Very important meeting!”

  And he did two pirouettes. Not just good news but very good news. “And if this works out well,” he whispered to Megan, “it could help make Savannah’s sentence a bit lighter.”

  In two and a half minutes, with the room halfway straightened, Joey opened the communicating door between the two rooms, and four mice came in—the Big Cheese, the Director of Geography, and two bearer mice, one with a Thumbtop strapped to his back, and the other dragging a cable that would plug it into the motel television set.

  The Big Cheese was plainly in a very good mood.

  “Change of plan,” he said, and actually did a pirouette himself.

  “Oh?” said Uncle Fred.

  “While most of us were busy with the trial,” said the Big Cheese, as Trey translated, “some of my best researchers were hard at work looking for the secret headquarters of this Jim-Bob and his WATCH organization. They were successful. So successful that… Let me put it this way. In a few days, or at most weeks, WATCH will be history. We can disarm it. Make it change its tune, before Jim-Bob has time to follow up on his knowledge about Mr. Fred—knowledge that could lead him to Planet Mouse and even Operation Cool It. Observe.”

  He waved a paw, and a mouse brought up a screen from Google Maps, showing a piece of the Rocky Mountains as seen from above, with snow-capped peaks, deep green forests, and two lighter-green valleys, side by side.

  The mouse zoomed in on the northern valley so the humans could see what looked like a resort, with clusters of cabins on each side of a larger building.

  “This valley,” said the Big Cheese, with great satisfaction in his gestures, “is the headquarters of WATCH. Its beating heart. Here, a group of humans, funded by billionaires in the oil business, runs a Web site spreading misinformation about the unfortunate reality of climate change. There is a good road leading to that settlement, one that we can navigate with ease.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” said Uncle Fred. “You’re suggesting that we should drive up into a valley full of humans who hate us? Who’ve probably all seen Megan’s picture?”

  “Have. Some. Faith,” said the Big Cheese, with a pause between each word and a little hop at the end for emphasis. “We may be mice, but we are not dumb. Perhaps I should say, we are mice and therefore we are not dumb. To return to our plan, we will kill two cats with one stone. First, we will get those humans permanently off our tail, as it were. Second, we will persuade them to spread the true facts about climate change.”

  He looked at his humans, and it was plain to anyone who’d taken a course in Human Expressions (as all mice do) that the humans were having a hard time believing him.

  “Have we not already changed the minds of many whose denial of the truth seemed unshakable?” asked the Big Cheese.

  And it was true, of course—starting with those senators and that noisy talk-show host.

  “As you will recall,” said the Big Cheese, “the key to successful re-education has been the Thumbtop. It provides a constant connection between Headquarters and the mouse in the field, the mouse who knows best how to manipulate his human hosts. Unfortunately, there are some places where delivery of Thumbtops has proved virtually impossible, and this valley is one of them. Observe.”

  He waved for another view of the mountain and its two valleys, with the caption:

  Thumbtop Distribution

  There were three red dots on the town of Irving, just west of the mountain range. And another dot in the valley to the south of the WATCH settlement. But in the WATCH valley itself, nothing. And Megan could guess why. Normally, Thumbtop deliveries went to an empty house, or one whose owners were away, and mice crept out at night to retrieve it. Not so easy when there were no empty houses within miles.

  “But what about that dot?” asked Jake, pointing to the southern valley, just across a ridge from the WATCH guys. “How did you get a Thumbtop in there?”

  The Big Cheese paused to make sure everyone was watching him.

  “That Thumbtop?” he asked. “That one was in Miss Susie’s suitcase, although she didn’t know it. That, my friends, is Camp Green Stars.”

  It was hard for the humans to keep their minds on WATCH once they knew about Green Stars; especially for Jake, who came out with some worried questions.

  “Did you know about the WATCH people when you chose that site for Green Stars?” he asked. “If we’d known you were sending her…Megan’s mom…”

  The Big Cheese held up a paw to quiet him down.

  “We did not know specifically who was in the next valley,” he said. “But the two settlements are far enough apart. Their humans are not going to run into each other.”

  But Jake was on a roll. “Well, what if a couple of movie stars took a hike across that ridge?” He pointed to what looked like a trail leading from Green Stars over to the cluster of cabins in the next valley. “Then some WATCH guys followed them back to Green Stars?”

  “Right,” said Uncle Fred. “Even if all they did was tell the media about the camp, that would be the end of it. Photographers behind every rock! No movie star who’s serious about the climate would go near it.”

  “Have no fear,” said the Big Cheese. “I have seen the schedule, and the campers at Green Stars are far too busy for such hikes, so that does not concern us now. Our current task is simply to get a Thumbtop into the mouse community of this northernmost valley. Once we have done that,” he said, turning to Megan, “you can finally welcome your parent into our little circle of Humans Who Know.”

  “Yay,” shouted Megan, and did a pirouette.

  Jake went one step further and actually did two pirouettes, the first Megan had ever seen from him. And they were not bad for a human—certainly better than her uncle’s elephantine spins.

  hey left early the next day, heading eastward across the high desert to the beckoning mountains.

  Megan and Joey had grabbed a piece of prime real estate, the queen-size bed above the driver’s cabin, where you could lie on your stomach and look out ahead to watch the Rockies draw ever closer and higher, even though the mountains didn’t move fast enough for Megan, who wanted them here now.

  Joey slept, and Megan was half asleep when someone grabbed one of her feet. She turned around to see Jake grinning at her.

  “Bet you can’t wait to see your mom,” he said, waggling her foot.

  “Right,” she said.

  “Me too,” he said, with a wider grin than usual. “Or me neither. Whatever. I think we’ve all missed her a lot. See any movie stars yet?”

  Megan turned and gazed forward.

  “Yeah,” she said, pointing. “Rocky.” />
  “Rocky Mountain or Rocky Stone?”

  “Both,” said Megan.

  “That’s so cool,” said Jake. “Rocky Stone was great in Hard Landing, remember?”

  Who could forget that movie, with Rocky Stone taking on a whole army of alien beings, his muscles rippling?

  “And Daisy Dakota is there,” said Megan. “Mom was so glad she’s interested in the climate because every kid in America will do whatever she tells them.”

  Which was true. The Daisy Dakota phenomenon had swept through the land, making Daisy perhaps the most famous teenager of all time. And as if seeing Susie Miller in her natural habitat wasn’t going to be great enough, meeting Daisy? Hey, she could probably have her picture taken with Daisy. Get her to sign it. Come away with something to prove to the kids in her class that she wasn’t just a nerdy kid who was too old for braids and had a strange interest in the planet and mice.

  She couldn’t wait.

  True, they had to call in at that other valley first, but that was just to drop off a Thumbtop. Right?

  They passed the little town of Irving in its broad valley between massive peaks, and at a fork in the road a few miles farther east they swung left, on a road that wound up into the valley of the WATCH people. It was just as it had looked on the computer, with an excellent place to hide the Mousemobile behind a bluff where the road climbed high above a river.

  Jake and Uncle Fred unhitched the Prius from the Mousemobile so it could take them the last few hundred yards to the old resort. At first Jake thought maybe Uncle Fred should stay behind, in case the WATCH guys had found a photo of him online, and whisked it from computer to computer along their network.

  But Uncle Fred reassured him. He hated being photographed: hadn’t allowed a single picture to get onto the Internet since his days as a football player for Ohio State, when he looked like a whole different human. He always hid behind a cartoon, which could be anyone.

  But Megan—that was a different story, of course. Thanks to Savannah, her picture could be lurking on a dozen computers in that valley. So she had to stay behind—and Jake insisted that Joey should stay with her in the Mousemobile. Just in case.

  Their plans were all ready. Plan A called for Jake to park the Prius close to the cabin nearest the road. If the cabin looked empty, Uncle Fred would carry Trey up to it and he’d give an urgent mouse-call, the high-pitched squeak that brings everyone running. Once local mice appeared, Trey would quickly explain what was going on, and Uncle Fred would hand over the Thumbtop and a solar blob to charge it.

  If no mice showed up, there was always Plan B, which meant finding a safe place—any place—to hide a Thumbtop. Could be in a cabin or a hollow tree or a hole in a rock—anywhere the resident mice could find it after they read their e-mail, which they probably managed to do at night when the humans left their computers unguarded.

  Either way, it shouldn’t take long. With luck, Uncle Fred and Jake wouldn’t run into any humans, but both men had cameras around their necks, in case. Just a couple of photographers looking for the best shot of the big snowy peak that loomed to the east.

  Six or seven minutes, they reckoned it would take. Ten, tops.

  Megan and Joey sat up front in the Mousemobile and tried not to look at the dashboard clock, which seemed to stretch each minute to about twice its normal length.

  It was when the clock had staggered through five and a half minutes that there came a sound you hope you never hear when your uncle or your dad are delivering Thumbtops in territory that might be hostile.

  The deep barking of dogs—large dogs that sounded enraged—followed by the distant shouts of humans. Then silence.

  Megan and Joey looked at each other, and Megan tried not to show how scared she was. What if Uncle Fred and Jake never came back? What if she and Joey were stranded on the shoulder of a mountain in a huge Mousemobile that they couldn’t drive even if they knew how, because their feet wouldn’t reach the pedals? And you couldn’t call the cops, when a couple of thousand mice on board had to remain a secret at all costs?

  Savannah didn’t help.

  “Do you think that was Jim-Bob?” she asked, climbing onto Joey’s shoulder, then leaping over to Megan’s when he brushed her off.

  Megan barely noticed what was going on as Julia, in full-attack mode with her ears back and teeth bared, raced up Megan’s T-shirt to chase Savannah away—though she didn’t go quietly. And Megan was vaguely aware of a spate of breathy words as Savannah told Julia that she, Julia, was just jealous of her because she, Savannah, could talk.

  What now? Oh, why did both men have to go? Why couldn’t one of them have stayed—an adult who’d know what to do?

  The closest thing to an adult in the Mousemobile was the Big Cheese, so Megan turned to him.

  “Should we go down there to see what’s happened?” she asked.

  “Absolutely not,” said the Big Cheese, as Sir Quentin translated—and although the fact didn’t click with Megan until much later, the situation must have been alarming enough to make Sir Quentin forget any extra syllables and talk straight. “At most,” went his translation, “one of you could try to get a view of the valley, and report to me what you see.”

  “I’ll go,” said Joey.

  “I’m coming too,” said Megan, because just waiting did not seem like an option. “It’s okay, sir,” she reassured the Big Cheese. “We’ll just go up to the top of this steep bit and look down. No one will see us. We’ll be careful.”

  She wondered for a minute whether to take Julia with her, but looking at the bluff above the Mousemobile, she could see several places where the trees grew so close together that a mouse in a pocket might be squashed, or a mouse on a shoulder brushed off and sent tumbling down to the river below.

  “Better if you guys stay here,” she said, lifting Julia carefully onto the dashboard next to Curly and Larry, who’d been begging Joey for a ride.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Joey whispered to them. “We’re leaving you guys in charge, okay?” Then louder as he opened the door: “Back in a couple of minutes.”

  They climbed down. Just as the door was closing, there was a flash of pink, as Savannah leaped out onto Megan’s shoulder.

  “Like, I so want to see those humans?” she said. “After all they’ve put me through!”

  Megan was tempted to pluck Savannah off her shoulder and hurl her back into the Mousemobile, but Joey had already started climbing up the slope, so she hurried after him.

  It was quite a climb, steeper in parts than it had looked from below, and Megan and Joey had to pull themselves up by grabbing the trunks of the skinny trees that had found a foothold.

  “Wheee!” said Savannah. “Isn’t this fun? Just like in the movies! Real trees!”

  Megan sort of wished a real tree would scrape Savannah off her shoulder, but she had enough on her mind to block out the excited twitterings of a mouse who’d never been close to a tree in her life.

  Joey was a couple of trees above them, so he got the first look down at the settlement.

  “Phew!” he said. “Looks okay. They’re just talking.”

  As Megan scrambled up beside him, a huge wave of relief washed through her, and she even reached up to scratch Savannah behind the bow. Because this was how it had to be, if you thought about it. Uncle Fred and Jake had a great cover story. A pair of photographers looking for the best shots. And that shouldn’t get you into trouble, should it? Here in America?

  It was indeed a calm scene, almost as it must have been when this valley was a thriving resort—except that when you looked closely, many of the cabins were boarded up, and the part around the main lodge that must once have been planted with flowers was now shaggy with weeds.

  As Megan watched, Jake was pointing to the big snowy mountain, making a frame with his fingers as if he were asking about different views. One of the men was gesturing toward another part of the valley as he answered, and the big dogs that had barked so fiercely were now wagging the
ir tails as they sniffed at Uncle Fred’s jeans, detecting what? Doughnuts, maybe? Or mice?

  “Do you think one of them is Jim-Bob?” came the breathy voice of Savannah from Megan’s shoulder. “Oh, I’d so like to see him! Can we go a bit closer?”

  “Savannah,” said Joey. “There’s no way.”

  “Oh, phooey,” she said, and was silent; and whether she was sulking or not, Megan didn’t care, because the scene below was so much more important.

  “How are they going to find a place for the Thumbtop, with those guys watching?” she wondered.

  “Looks like they have a plan,” said Joey. Uncle Fred had detached himself from the group and was heading toward the main lodge, with one of the men walking beside him.

  “I guess Uncle Fred asked to use the bathroom,” said Megan. “Maybe he’ll leave the Thumbtop there. And look, there goes Jake!”

  They could almost read Jake’s thoughts as he said something that might have been: “I could use a bathroom too,” because he and the second man also set off for the lodge. Plainly, Jake must have felt it was safer for the two men to stick together. After a couple of minutes, they were both inside.

  “Oh, Jim-Bob, be nice to them!” called Savannah, not exactly shouting, because she didn’t have the volume, but as loud as she could. “They won’t hurt you!”

  This was exactly what Megan did not need right now, and she sort of lost it. Forgetting caution—forgetting that they were in territory that was not friendly, to say the least—she yelled, “Savannah. Shut. Up.”

  “Hush,” said Joey, who had seen danger. But it was too late.

  “Savannah?” came a voice. Then louder, “Savannah! You’re Savannah!”

  he boy looked about eight, with tangled blond hair flopping into his eyes, and shorts that were too big for him, kept up with a piece of rope.

  As he came closer, Megan was terrified that Savannah might call out again, but she was blessedly silent, leaning against Megan’s neck. Was she trembling? Had the prospect of real contact with a human made her think like a mouse, finally? At all events, she made no effort to speak as the boy took one last long look at Megan, then turned and ran, sprinting down the hill toward the old resort, his shouts of “It’s that girl! It’s Savannah!” getting fainter as he went.