Cats Aloft

by Lisa Martin

  Sergio gazed at Cecil for a moment, considering. “Perhaps it is not good for many of us, hmm? The keepers are not always careful. I remember, not long ago, they fed twigs to the white rhino, but she could not chew them up. And the tigress got bananas! She did not care for those at all, though I would have loved to have them.” He held his head with his paw-hands, shaking it sadly. “Still, I don’t know, my friend. I will have to think on it.” And he slipped away, his red hat bobbing as he went.

  Later in the day, Cecil spoke quietly with Tasha about her act, and he explained his plan. She bowed her head for a moment, then looked at him, her eyes flashing.

  “You are one clever cat,” she said. “I had almost forgotten what it meant to be clever. But I wonder if we can trust Sergio. He is dedicated to the circus.”

  “I’m not sure either,” Cecil replied. “But he’s all we’ve got.”

  Tasha shook her head, chuckling a little. “My life, in the hands of a monkey. How strange.”

  Cecil smiled but said nothing. His plan was full of holes, dependent on uncertain events and unreliable characters. For it to work, everything would have to go exactly right. Other than that, Cecil thought, it was just about purr-fect.

  Chapter 11

  The Rat Pack

  It was maddening. Mr. Morgan required Ruby’s help at the balloon field all morning as the detectives searched again, spoke with the suspects, and gathered clues. Anton could hardly stand the waiting, but he needed Ruby’s nose as well, so he paced and watched the work. Finally, when the sun was high in the sky, Ruby was released from her duties and she hurried over to Anton, ears flapping.

  “I do apologize!” she said. “I thought they would never be done.”

  “Why doesn’t Mr. Morgan have you track the cart himself?” asked Anton.

  “He doesn’t seem to understand that the dogs are being taken by air,” Ruby replied, shaking her head. “He still thinks they are to be found around here somewhere, I believe.”

  Anton frowned. They certainly aren’t around here anymore, he thought, trying to focus on the clue at hand: the mysterious “circus.”

  Anton nabbed a fresh fish from the boy by the lagoon as the duo made their way to the main gate, and they proceeded through with nary a look back. Ruby had no trouble following the trail of the horse-cart along the dry roadway. From time to time she was forced to divert around pedestrians as she sniffed out the path, but she was able to keep moving and soon the pair found themselves far from the Fair, at the edge of a metropolis, staring down a long gauntlet of block upon block of busy city streets.

  “Let’s do stick close together, Anton,” said Ruby. “I certainly wouldn’t want to be lost in there all alone.”

  Anton knew she was more worried about him getting lost than herself. “I won’t let you out of my sight, Ruby LeNez.”

  “Fair enough,” said Ruby. She took a deep breath. “In we go.”

  The heart of the city felt like a forest of buildings. Taller than ships, bunched and leaning together, the many-windowed structures loomed darkly over the road. The sidewalks were jammed with people and the road was packed with horses pulling buggies and carts in all directions. The drivers backed the buggies into the sidewalks to park them, so the horses faced the center of the street, snorting and whinnying to each other, sharing news and gossip.

  Anton saw strange vehicles he’d never seen before. Long carriages that resembled train cars rode atop silvery rails embedded in the roadway, but were attached by poles to hanging wires overhead, like dogs on leashes. Horses pulled enclosed buggies that looked like tiny houses with windows, and when the doors opened Anton could see people sitting on plush cushions inside. He also saw a thin, wiry contraption with only two wheels, one in front of the other, and between the wheels a man was seated, pumping his legs around in a circle as the thing rolled him along. In the very next block, he saw the same kind of contraption with two seats and two riders.

  Ruby kept her nose close to the ground, her eyes forward, watchful. She sniffed constantly and often abruptly changed direction for a few yards, then doubled back. Her long strides were hard to keep up with—Anton trotted quickly behind her as she zigged and zagged through traffic. They plunged past smelly puddles and mounds of rubbish at the curbs. On all sides, people shouted, horns blared, wheels squeaked, engines rumbled. Parked horses neighed to them as they passed.

  “Look at the bloodhound!” snorted one. “Chased by a cat—you don’t see that every day.”

  “If she thinks she can follow a scent through here, then she’s worthy of her name,” nickered another. “What are you after, dog?”

  Ruby slowed for a moment. “Trying to get to the circus, my good mares. Am I headed in the right direction?”

  Two of the horses tossed their heads uncertainly, rattling their bridles, but one looked at Ruby and nodded down the street. “That’s right, keep going that way, bear left at the water. Careful when you come to the train tracks—it can get a little rough on the other side.”

  “Many thanks,” said Ruby as she sped up again.

  “What does she mean, ‘rough’?” asked Anton, scampering alongside.

  “Don’t worry,” said Ruby between sniffs. “Nothing we can’t handle, I’m sure.”

  As they moved from block to block, the streets gradually became less crowded and the buildings more run-down. Anton noticed fewer shiny carriages, and some windows in buildings had wood in place of the see-through glass panels. Ruby slowed, swinging her head side-to-side, searching for the scent. At last, she stopped and sat down.

  “Are we lost?” asked Anton.

  “The trail is faint, but I believe I still have it,” Ruby assured him. “There are so many other carts that have passed through here already today. Hundreds.”

  Anton’s heart thudded at the thought of losing the path to Cecil. He looked over his shoulder at the congested roadway behind them, then gazed ahead. “I think the water is straight in front of us. The horse said to bear left at the water, remember?”

  “I do remember,” said Ruby. “That’s what my nose is telling me as well. Let’s see where the left turn takes us.”

  Anton and Ruby bore left, as instructed, and faced a drab, wide wasteland. It was a rail yard, but no trains chugged along the lines. Boxcars stood open and empty next to stacks of bins and cracked barrels. Weedy grass grew up through slats between the rails. A lone engine, its wheels and pistons rusted stiff, sat on a side spur, hulking and silent.

  “These trains are abandoned,” observed Anton in almost a whisper.

  “Indeed they are,” said Ruby. “The big train station near the Fair runs most of them over there, I believe. This whole yard must have shut down.”

  “It’s . . . creepy.” Anton had come to respect the trains at full volume, engines puffing and chugging, whistles screaming, wheels clanking. These hushed machines were like ghosts.

  “Agreed,” said Ruby, carefully picking her way across broken glass and shards of metal strewn on the tracks, still sniffing here and there. “The trail leads straight through here. But there’s another strong odor. It’s almost like . . . oh, my.”

  Anton turned sharply to her, hoping she’d found the scent again. But Ruby was staring straight ahead, to the far side of the tracks. Anton followed her gaze, and took in a sight that made his belly flip over.

  Four huge rats, black as coal, stood waiting for them.

  Ruby motioned with her head to Anton, who fell into step beside her. The pair strode up to the last set of rails and stopped across from the rat pack.

  “Good evening!” said Ruby politely. “So nice to see some friendly faces.”

  The rats said nothing, their beady black eyes shifting between the cat and dog. Three of them were almost as big as Anton, and the fourth was even larger—a fat, oily rodent with a scar running down one side of his face and what looked like a long tooth clutched in one clawed paw. A hound’s tooth, Anton thought, his whiskers twitching.

  “My name
is Ruby LeNez,” Ruby continued, “and this is my friend Anton. We are trying to trace a horse-cart back to the circus, and our trail leads directly through here.”

  The smallest of the rats dropped to all fours and paced in front of the group, making a tsk-tsk sound with his big front teeth that set Anton’s fur on end.

  “Through here, eh?” said the small rat in a high, nasal voice. “Dat’s very unfortunate.”

  “It is,” agreed Ruby, sitting back on her haunches. “Perhaps you gentlemen would be so good as to move aside.”

  The small rat snickered. “Maybe we will, maybe we won’t.”

  “Hush up, Sonny,” said a long, skinny rat, his pointed nose quivering. “I do the talking.”

  “Right, Frankie!” The small rat scooted to one side, cowering. “Whatever you say.”

  Frankie slinked forward. “What Sonny means is, dis is our territory, see?”

  Ruby shook her head. “I don’t see that. I see a cart path going across these tracks. A path we need to follow to get where we’re going.”

  Frankie gazed up at Ruby’s big jaw and drooping jowls. “Nah. You don’t understand. Nobody crosses the tracks into our territory unless they pay, see?” He rubbed his front claws together in a rolling motion, around and around. “So what you got?”

  “Don’t be silly . . . Frankie, is it?” said Ruby. “We’re merely walking through, that’s all. Now if you’ll step aside so that we can be on our way, that would be lovely. We’re in quite a hurry, I’m afraid.” She stood and took a step forward.

  The three smaller rats sat up on their hindquarters together in front of the fourth, forming a rodent blockade. Anton watched the largest, scar-faced rat, sitting behind the others like a king, and recalled his fight with an awful, crazed rat aboard a ship many moons ago. He smelled the grimy, foul odor on the pelts of these rats, heard the clicks of their claws, saw the malevolent gleam in their eyes, and felt his own legs trembling. But Anton remembered something else about that battle long ago: he had won.

  “Oooh, they’re in a hurry,” jeered the third rat. “Ain’t dat something, boss?”

  “I said I do the talking, Sal!” Frankie snapped. Sal nodded meekly. “What do you think, boss?” Frankie asked over his shoulder to the largest rat. “They got no payment.”

  The king rat said nothing, but lifted the hound’s tooth in his paw very slightly in a silent signal. At that, two burly brown rats darted out from an open boxcar and raced toward Ruby and Anton, their eyes murderous, their sharp teeth bared. Anton whirled and popped out his front claws, but the rats leaped past him and toward Ruby. The big dog lowered her head, barking and growling, and the rats squared off on either side of her. Behind them, Anton darted from side to side, but he had no angle in to help her. The rats lunged and slashed with their claws, forcing Ruby backward. They maneuvered the bloodhound around the far side of a boxcar where Anton couldn’t see her, and the snarling stopped abruptly.

  “Ruby!” Anton shouted.

  Ruby’s voice rang out from around the corner. “I’m all right, Anton. Just closely guarded, shall we say.”

  Anton whipped around to face the boss rat, his eyes blazing. “Is this how you greet everyone who comes through?” he growled. “What’s the meaning of this?” He took two steps toward the rat pack, hissing. Even as he did, his felt his courage falter—there was no way he could fight four of the beasts.

  The king rat licked his paws and smoothed the fur on his pink ears for several moments, gazing steadily at Anton all the while. Finally he drew up his bulk and spoke in a thin, high-pitched voice.

  “Calm yourself, please. I will allow Miss LeNez to pass through without further delay.” He paused, then pointed with the hound’s tooth directly at Anton. “But I require as payment that we keep you.”

  Anton’s heart pounded. Me? Frankie, Sonny, and Sal began to chortle unpleasantly, rubbing their paws. Anton’s fear and anger boiled up in his chest. “What are you talking about?”

  “We could use a cat around here,” Sal explained, rasping unpleasantly. “Cats can catch birds and fish and stuff like dat. We’re sick of the usual trash we eat.”

  “Yeah,” muttered Sonny, shrugging, “even though the boss eats most of it himself, anyway.”

  “Shut it, Sonny,” warned Frankie. “Them’s just the rules and you know it.”

  The king rat fixed Anton with a glittering stare. “That’s my offer,” he said calmly. “The dog goes, you stay.”

  Anton paused, thinking fast, then nodded. “All right. Let her go.” He had an idea—a long shot but one that might free him and Ruby both.

  “Anton?” Ruby called, worry in her voice.

  “It’s okay, Ruby. Go on ahead.”

  The king rat gave a sharp whistle and the two burly rats appeared from behind the boxcar, nodded to the king, then scampered off into the tangle of train carriages.

  “Here’s the deal,” Anton said to the rats. “I’ll stay here while my partner goes on. But I get to choose who gets to eat what I catch.”

  “You don’t get to choose,” said the king. “All catches are due to me.”

  Anton shrugged, looking from Sal to Frankie and back. “I don’t see why he gets to say who gets to eat,” he observed. “You all share the territory, so you should each get fair shares of the spoils, right?”

  Sonny nodded, but Frankie spoke harshly. “Wrong. It’s a seniority thing with us. Cats can’t understand that.”

  “But I see what he’s sayin’,” Sal said. “He’s the one that catches, so he gets to choose.”

  “Nobody but me is choosin’ nothing,” snarled the king. “And dat’s dat.”

  Frankie turned on Sal and gave him a push. “You hear him. Dat’s dat.”

  “Don’t push me, Frankie,” growled Sal.

  “Hmmm, that doesn’t seem fair,” observed Anton. “If I can’t choose, I think I’ll just eat whatever I catch myself.”

  The rats grumbled. “See dat?” Sal said to Frankie, giving him a shove. “Now none of us get any of the catch.”

  “Shut it, all of you!” bellowed the king. “I say what goes.”

  “And I say that stinks!” Sonny shouted, and he leaped onto the king’s shoulders and sank his teeth into the bigger rat’s neck. Anton took a few steps to one side.

  “Me too!” shrieked Sal, tackling Frankie.

  The rats toppled into a snarling, gnashing pile, bits of fur and spittle flying. Anton edged past the melee on silent paws and took off running across the tracks. He glanced behind to see if the rats were giving chase, but they hadn’t noticed he was gone. He turned and streaked past the rusting train hulks and out along the field where the air was fresh. Ruby emerged as well and greeted him.

  “Well done,” she said. “How did you manage it?”

  “Rats are such rats!” Anton exclaimed.

  Ruby laughed. “That does seem to be one thing we can depend upon.” They moved into a trot across the field toward the trees.

  The light was almost gone from the evening sky when the two friends began to hear jangly music rising from the white pointed roofline of the circus. Anton gazed up at the spires, which seemed to glow from lantern light inside, and his throat tightened.

  Come on, brother, Anton thought. You’ve just got to be there. Because if Cecil wasn’t there, he might be anywhere in the world.

  Chapter 12

  On with the Show

  Anton and Ruby came out of the woods to find a large field where the grass had been cut low. Across it they could see a long fence with a gate at the center and a banner attached to two tall poles on either side flapping a bit in the stiff breeze. In front of the gate, a line of humans moved slowly past a man who handed them slips of paper. This gained them entry into an enormous white tent that seemed to pour over the grass like a cloud.

  “Why do humans line up like that all the time?” Anton asked Ruby. “They do the same thing to get on trains and boats.”

  “In general, humans are very orderly,�
�� Ruby said. “Even when they just want to have fun. Mr. Morgan likes to play a very elaborate game with several other men, hitting balls around and running from place to place. They’re social. Well, we dogs are, too, but we never run in packs as big as the ones humans seem to enjoy.”

  “So, how do you think we should get into this circus? Stand in line?”

  Ruby chuckled. “Now wouldn’t that be an amusing sight? A cat and a dog in line for a show!”

  “I could squeeze under that tent, but you’d never fit.”

  “The thing to do is find the horses. They’re always near a large entrance.”

  “And how will we do that?”

  Ruby took a long sniff of the air, dropped her big head and took another long snuffle of the grass. She closed her eyes for a moment, sniffed the air again. “This way,” she said, and she took off briskly, nose to ground across the field. Anton followed, trotting a bit to keep up with her. Ruby pressed on, her shoulders and hips pivoting sharply at various points in the track. That nose, Anton thought, that nose. It leads that dog around like a fish on a line. She is hooked.

  That nose led them around the side of the tent, which was, Anton noted, clamped down tight to the grass so that no creature bigger than a rat could get in. Jaunty music issued from inside and human voices rose and fell. There, just as Ruby had predicted, they came upon a large bay horse wearing a halter with a rope attached to a stake in the ground. He was working his way in a wide circle around that stake, stolidly ripping up grass. Ruby barreled up close, nose to the ground, as if she couldn’t see what was in front of her. Anton followed, but he was watching the horse, who appeared unconcerned. At last Ruby came to a halt and sat down hard on her haunches, blowing air out of her nostrils.

  “Good evening,” Ruby said to the horse. “I wonder if you could possibly help us.”

  The horse lifted his head, and as he did one of his glassy eyes settled on Anton. “An ordinary cat,” he observed. “Now you’re something we don’t see much around here, though there’s every other kind of creature in the wide world back there in the tent village.”