Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry

by Lynne Jonell

  Emmy grinned. Miss Barmy would never catch Sissy now. What the nanny didn’t know was that the freight train wouldn’t stop at the Grayson Lake station. Stefano Bat had said it would only slow down. And while rodents could leap off safely, it would be far too dangerous for humans. Miss Barmy wouldn’t dare to jump.

  Emmy bounded to the last boxcar, skidded to a halt next to Ratty and Sissy, and looked around. On her left was the town of Grayson Lake, spreading up a wide hill, and down the embankment on the other side was the lake. Out in Loon’s Bay was a white blotch that must be a sail. Someone had gone out early and was rounding the point—was it her father? Emmy squinted, but her rodent eyes couldn’t focus that far.

  The train was slowing. The trees were going by less quickly, and the warning bell had begun to ring. Emmy shouted in Ratty’s and Sissy’s ears, “Go down the ladder and get ready to jump!”

  Raston clambered over the edge first, followed by Cecilia. Emmy, waiting her turn, watched intently as the long, gabled train station grew steadily larger. She could see a cloud of bats swooping out from beneath the station eaves. They darted toward one of the hopper cars in a fluttering mass, and flew off again somewhat more slowly, dangling two elderly rats in the harness beneath them.

  Emmy’s heart gave a sudden leaping beat. It had worked! The great-aunts were safely off the train and away from Miss Barmy and Cheswick!

  Emmy narrowed her eyes, still watching. A moment later, two young brown rats leaped from the hopper and landed, somersaulting, on the ground. Joe and Ana took off for the station at a scamper, crying an ultrahigh Aiiiieeeee! Aiiiieeeee! as the bats lowered Gussie and Melly onto one of the benches. Behind the station, on the sloping ground, hundreds of small rodent heads suddenly popped out of their burrows at once. Then, all together, the shrill cry of the Emergency Rodent Alert went up, winging its way back toward Rodent City and Ratmom.

  Emmy slid joyfully down the ladder after Sissy and Ratty. “Jump!” she cried, and leaped clear of the tracks. She landed, tumbling like an acrobat, the drawstring bag whipping around and around.

  It was true! Rodents could fall hard, even from a moving train, and not get hurt! And the train was pulling away, with Cheswick and Miss Barmy still hanging on to the hopper car ladder, leaning out on the lake side of the train, afraid to jump.

  Cheswick leaped—or was shoved—and Miss Barmy, hanging on to him, leaped, too. Emmy watched with horrified fascination as Cheswick hit the ground and Miss Barmy hit Cheswick.

  There was a sound like a dry branch snapping, then a piercing scream. The carryall, torn off Cheswick’s shoulder, split open, and the Sissy-patches flew up and scattered in swirling, windy gusts as Cheswick and Miss Barmy rolled heavily down the lake side of the embankment and out of sight.

  The train rumbled distantly and disappeared around a curve. The bats, done with their task, streamed back under the station eaves to roost.

  Sissy whimpered.

  Emmy turned immediately. Sissy had not quite jumped clear of the tracks, and her front paw had jammed in the narrow gap between rail and cross-tie. Raston, bent over the paw, was yanking at it vigorously.

  “Stop that, Ratty, and let me see.” Emmy crouched over Sissy’s paw, swollen now and even more tightly wedged. She glanced up the tracks and blinked as a sudden gust blew grit in her small rodent eyes. It would probably be a while before another train came, but they had to get the paw out somehow. Maybe someone from Rodent City would come with Ratmom and could help? Emmy found herself wishing it would be Mrs. Bunjee, who always seemed to know what to do in an emergency.

  Raston gave a low rodent growl, his fur bristling. Emmy looked back to see Miss Barmy struggling up the embankment, using a stick to help her climb. Her hair was wild, and her eyes stared piteously at the carryall bag, lying split and empty on the railroad tracks.

  “My patches!” she cried. “They can’t all have blown away.” She struggled to the damaged bag and picked it up. “Cheswick!” she bawled down the embankment. “Help me!”

  A low moan floated up. “My leg … I think it’s broken …”

  “You think that’s bad? I broke two nails!” Miss Barmy held a manicured hand out in front of her, and shrieked, “No! Three!”

  Raston sniffled.

  “Shhh!” Emmy said. She flattened her small rodent body between the railroad ties. With her hind foot, she carefully slid the drawstring bag behind her, out of sight.

  Raston sniffled again. Emmy glared at him.

  “I’m very allergic!” he whispered desperately. “There’s—ah—ragweed! Ah—ah—”

  Emmy shut her eyes and prayed.

  “—CHOO!”

  Raston had not managed to make his sneeze ultrasonic.

  Gravel scraped. Miss Barmy bent over them with a hideous smile.

  “Bite her, Ratty!” cried Emmy.

  But before he could move, Miss Barmy shifted her weight. Her heel dug into the ground next to Sissy’s tail. The rest of her foot rested, ever so lightly, atop the rat’s small, defenseless body.

  Emmy stared hopelessly up at Miss Barmy’s powerful leg, at her ankle, scraped and bruised from the fall—and then she forced her gaze down to the lizard-skin shoes with the metal tips and Sissy’s terrified face.

  “Run!” whispered Sissy. “Leave me! Find a hole and hide!”

  Raston reared back. “I’ll bite you if you don’t let her go! I’ll shrink you!”

  Miss Barmy pressed down lightly with her foot. Sissy screamed.

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” Miss Barmy swung her stick idly beside her ankles. “Because if you and your little rat friends get any closer, I might do something you won’t like at all.”

  Emmy turned at the sound of pattering feet. Joe, scampering to the rescue, had left Ana on the station bench to watch the aunts—but he skidded to a stop at the sight of Sissy beneath Miss Barmy’s shoe.

  Raston looked frantically at his friends. Then, with a sudden spurt of gravel beneath his paws, he whirled and took off running toward the station.

  Emmy stared. Ratty had abandoned his sister! It hardly seemed possible!

  Miss Barmy snapped her fingers at Emmy and Joe. “You two, pick up my patches!” She reached into the carryall and pulled out a shard of broken mirror, patting her hair back into place. “And you’d better hurry, if you want to keep your precious kissy rat safe. I’m going to need more patches soon.” Her nose twitched, and she frowned into the mirror as her ears thinned and grew hairy tufts.

  And then Emmy had an idea. She backed slowly away.

  “If you don’t go find my patches this instant,” said Miss Barmy coldly, “I won’t let the kissy rat turn you human again. How would you like to stay a rat forever, Emmaline?”

  Emmy stopped just out of Miss Barmy’s reach. She pulled the drawstring bag from her neck. “I have patches,” she said.

  Miss Barmy stared at her intently. “You do not.”

  Emmy pulled out a Sissy-patch and held it up. She backed up a few more steps.

  “Bring that bag here!” Miss Barmy commanded. “Bring it here, or I’ll squish the kissy rat!”

  Emmy felt her whiskers trembling, but she forced her voice to remain calm. “No, you won’t. You need her too much.”

  “So do you,” snarled Miss Barmy, but she lifted her foot.

  “Come and get them,” said Emmy, backing away still farther. She glanced over her furry shoulder at the rising ground beyond the station and the line of woods beyond. Were there wild rodents who might help?

  “You nasty little rat!” cried Miss Barmy, lunging forward. Emmy whirled and ran, but Miss Barmy caught up all too quickly, and her metal-tipped shoes stamped far too close to Emmy’s tail.

  Emmy threw the small drawstring bag with all her ratty strength. It sailed a foot and a half into a patch of weeds, and Miss Barmy laughed aloud, pushing aside the prickly stems with both hands. She pounced on the small bag where it lay and pulled open the drawstring.

  “I’ve outsmarted
you again,” she crowed, throwing aside the shoelace and slapping the Sissy-patches on her neck. “I’ll take these, and then I’ll just go back and get the kissy rat in the end. She’s still stuck, or hadn’t you noticed?”

  Emmy’s tiny heart was beating like a humming-bird’s. She looked sideways toward the tracks where Joe and now Ana, too, were struggling to free Sissy. If only she could keep Miss Barmy distracted for just a little longer!

  Emmy looked up at Miss Barmy’s sneering face—and gasped.

  “What?” Miss Barmy looked down at her in scornful triumph.

  Emmy blinked, staring. “It’s just that I’ve never seen such a …”

  “Such an incredibly beautiful woman?” Miss Barmy smiled.

  Emmy shook her head, unable to take her eyes from Miss Barmy’s changed face. “Such a monster,” she finished unsteadily.

  “Ha! Everyone else thinks I’m beautiful. Everyone else thinks I’m stunning. Everyone else thinks I’m the most attractive, lovely, gorgeous—”

  Emmy reached in the carryall bag and threw a piece of the broken mirror at Miss Barmy’s feet. “See for yourself.”

  It wasn’t just the whiskers sprouting everywhere that made Miss Barmy look so loathsome, Emmy thought as she listened to the woman’s shattered cries, nor the repulsive half rat, half human features, nor the spasmodic twitches that shivered over the furry skin.

  No. What gave Miss Barmy an air of pure evil was the hideous red splash that stained her from head to foot. Dark like old blood, glistening as if with tears, it had a look of raw liver.

  “Aaaiiieegh!” Miss Barmy’s wail had the crimson edge of despair. “I’m ugly! Ugly!”

  Emmy glanced over at the tracks again. Aunt Melly was there now, too, struggling with Joe and Ana to free Sissy’s paw. Emmy was surprised—had Melly left Gussie alone on the bench? And then suddenly Aunt Melly grew less furry and larger, going up and up until she was full sized once more. Looking slightly disheveled but very much the schoolteacher, she straightened her skirt and marched firmly across the gravel toward the monstrous Miss Barmy.

  Miss Barmy turned, snarling, but a sudden shadow overhead made her look up. From the air came a fluttering, and a high peeping, and a shrill whistle.

  Raston, dangling from the harness beneath a canopy of bats, lifted his paw to his mouth and whistled again, a short, sharp signal. “Operation Guano Drop! Bombs away!”

  Guano? Emmy had heard that word before somewhere. But what did it mean?

  Splat. The first guano bomb hit Miss Barmy on her forehead and dripped down. It was white, and sloppy, and smelled of—

  “Bat poop!” screamed Miss Barmy. “In my eye! Cheswick, help!”

  But Cheswick didn’t come. Miss Barmy, half blind, tried to dodge the bat guano plopping down, blob after soft, wet blob, but it landed on her head, her shoulders, her red ears, until she was sobbing with rage and humiliation. Joe and Ana, now full sized, came running, and Emmy darted on rapid rodent feet back to Sissy to get kissed and grow and join in the circle of humans that surrounded the monster that was Miss Barmy.

  The bats dropped Raston gently lower, lower, until he tumbled, sneezing, into the ragweed. Joe and Emmy lunged for Miss Barmy’s feet—Ana and Aunt Melly grabbed a wrist each—and between them they held Miss Barmy down while Raston spit on her grazed ankle with scorn.

  Miss Barmy shrank. Emmy and Joe tied her up with the shoelace. And through the thin line of woods and down the hill came an army of rodents, led by a familiar-looking chipmunk.

  “Where’s the emergency?” said Mrs. Bunjee. She looked at the trussed-up Miss Barmy, put her paws on her hips, and chuckled richly, her chipmunk cheeks bunching. “It looks as if you have the situation under control.”

  “Well,” said Emmy, glancing over her shoulder, “not exactly. We found Sissy, but she got her paw stuck between the rails—”

  A massive gray rat burst forward from the ranks of rodents. “My baby!” screamed Ratmom. “On the train tracks!”

  29

  EMMY KNELT DOWN on the gravel railbed, joining the huddle around Sissy. Ratmom, who had left a trail of bare earth behind her as her tears landed on the vegetation, wept from a safe distance as she gazed at her long-lost daughter.

  “Pardon me,” said Aunt Melly, bending over with a limp and furry Gussie in her hands. “I just need one tear. Maybe two …”

  She caught one of Della’s tears on her finger and dropped it in the corner of Gussie’s half-open mouth. The elderly rat shivered slightly, opened her eyes, and sat up, smiling. “Oh, my! How wonderful I feel!”

  “And now two kisses, Cecilia?” asked Melly. “I’m sorry to bother you, dear. I know your paw must be hurting you terribly.”

  Sissy’s smile was strained, but she leaned in to kiss Gussie once, then twice. Everyone backed away to avoid the suddenly growing arms and legs of the not-quite-so-elderly Aunt Gussie.

  Aunt Gussie combed the twigs out of her hair with her fingers, beamed down at the rats, and pressed her sister’s hand. “My, what an adventure we seem to be having!”

  “Er—” said Emmy, looking down the tracks. There was a vibration in the rails that she didn’t like. “It might be more of an adventure if we don’t get Sissy’s paw out soon.”

  Whooo … whooooo …

  Aunt Gussie exchanged a startled glance with Emmy and bent over Sissy’s paw. “I can try to pull it free, dear,” she said to the little rat, “but it’s going to hurt. Are you ready?”

  A gust of wind blew grit across the tracks, and Gussie’s grip tightened. Sissy cried out in a high squeal of pain, but the paw remained stuck, now more swollen than ever.

  “I’m afraid to pull harder!” Gussie’s face crinkled with concern. “I don’t want to pull her in two!”

  Emmy stroked Sissy’s back gently. The little rat trembled beneath her hand, whimpering.

  “I’ve heard of animals chewing their paw off, if they were caught in a trap,” said Joe in a low voice. “It’s better than dying.”

  Whooo … whooooo … the whistle sounded again, louder this time. There was a humming vibration in the rails.

  A shudder rippled over Sissy’s body from ears to tail. She looked at her weeping mother and brother; she looked at her paw. She stiffened her whiskers and lowered her head, placing her mouth with its sharp teeth around the tender wrist bones.

  “Oh, my brave little ratling!” sobbed Della.

  “Sissy, no!” Raston buried his face on Ratmom’s damp shoulder.

  “Hey!” Joe said sharply. “Stay away from those tears—the last thing we need right now is a screaming baby Ratty!”

  “Everyone off the tracks,” ordered Aunt Gussie. “You too, Melly. Joe and Emmy, keep the rodents back.” She gazed at Cecilia with compassion. “Do you want me to pull until you come free—even if I pull your paw right off?”

  Sissy looked up with wide eyes and nodded. Aunt Gussie took hold of the small, furry body and braced herself.

  “No!” cried Emmy. “Wait!”

  Aunt Melly lunged ahead to clutch Emmy’s shoulder with fingers of iron. “Get back this instant, Emmaline Addison! The train is coming!”

  Somewhere ahead, there was a series of clanging noises and the ting ting ting of a bell. AWHOOOO! AWHOOOO! A whistle echoed in the rocky cut and back from the rooftops of Grayson Lake. Emmy, unable to make herself heard, twisted hard and ducked out from under Aunt Melly’s grasp. She scooped up Della Rat and ran to Sissy, pushing Aunt Gussie’s hand aside.

  “One tear!” Emmy shouted. “Just one!” She wiped a forefinger under Ratmom’s brimming eye and dropped a shining crystal tear into Sissy’s startled mouth. “Swallow!” she yelled in Sissy’s ear.

  Cecilia gulped—and dwindled under Emmy’s hand. The rodent’s fur became finer and silkier, the tail short and curly, the little paws smaller than ever …

  Baby Sissy’s tiny paw slid easily out from the narrow gap where it had been wedged. Emmy felt hands seize her collar and she was violently yanked backw
ard as the train went ringing and thundering past, car after car.

  Stunned, flat on her back, with a scrape on one elbow and a bump on her head, Emmy gazed up at the distressed faces of her great-aunts.

  “What were you thinking?” demanded Aunt Melly, still gasping for breath. “You could have been killed!”

  Della Rat climbed slowly out of Emmy’s hand.

  “Ratmommy!” shrieked Raston, breaking free from Joe’s restraining hand. “Where’s Sissy? She’s not—” He choked and didn’t finish.

  Della lifted her muzzle, her pink nose quivering, her eyes wet. She looked at Emmy, waiting.

  Emmy opened her other hand. Squirming on the palm was a tiny rat, waving her paws and gurgling.

  “Sissy?” Raston’s mouth hung open.

  “Watty!” cried the baby, with a charming squeak of laughter. She held out her forepaws in a clear demand to be picked up.

  Raston stared at his tiny sister. “I don’t know anything about babies. Let Ratmommy take her.”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” Joe’s hand came down, blocking Ratmom’s path. “Sorry, Della,” he added, looking down. “If even one more tear got into her mouth—”

  “I know, I know,” said Della, still crying but this time for happiness, her eyes bright and shiny with joy. “Go on, Rasty. Pick up your sister!”

  Raston edged forward. He flexed his paws, gripped Sissy gingerly under her forearms, and lifted. She hung in the air, kicking her hind feet.

  “Don’t hold her out like that, son! She’s not a wet rag; she’s a baby. Cuddle her. Pat her on the back.”

  Raston pulled his sister awkwardly to his chest and gave her back several experimental thumps.

  “No, Rasty, not so hard! She might spit—”

  Urp!

  “—up,” finished Della, a moment too late.

  Raston stared in horror at the glob of regurgitated food dribbling down his front, and then at baby Sissy, still blurping out messy little bubbles.

  Joe made a sudden choking noise and turned away.

  “If anyone,” said the Rat bitterly, “thinks this is funny—”

  “Not me,” Joe gasped, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow.