The Wild Ones

by C. Alexander London

  “Well, that makes as much sense as a platypus in a parachute.” Eeni shook her head. “Who’d go destroying something they could turn a profit on? Wouldn’t catch folk from Ankle Snap Alley throwing away an easy score.”

  “I fear the ones who did this are terribly close to Ankle Snap Alley,” said Uncle Rik. “In fact, Ankle Snap Alley is at the center of this entirely. Kit, do you know what this footprint means?”

  He remembered his mother saying this little stone could help stop a war, but he couldn’t imagine how.

  “It’s a clue!” Uncle Rik exclaimed. “This is the clue your parents had been searching for their whole lives. This is the proof that Azban was real. And that Azban was here, long ago. This could lead us right to the Bone of Contention.”

  “I heard a mouse talking about the Bone of Contention,” Kit said. “He tried to give me a pamphlet.”

  “That’s mice for you,” Eeni grumbled. “Always trying make everybody read all the time. As if reading ever helped anybody.” She crossed her arms and harrumphed.

  Kit cocked his head at Eeni, wondering what she had against reading, but right now, he didn’t want to get distracted. Right now, he wanted to know what the Bone of Contention was and why his mother believed it could stop a war. Why his parents had to die for it.

  “The Bone is an ancient contract,” his uncle began, “between Azban and Brutus, the Duke of Dogs. Some say it never existed, but for those who believe in it, it gives the wild creatures all the—”

  Just then, someone pounded on the front door so loud it made them jump.

  “Who’s that?” Kit whispered.

  “Hush.” Uncle Rik tensed and bared his teeth. “I’m not expecting any visitors tonight.”

  He slid the Footprint of Azban back into Kit’s seed pouch and handed the pouch back to him, then his claws came out. He crept toward the door. Before Uncle Rik was even half the distance down the hall, the door bent, like it was being squeezed from the outside, and then burst, sending splinters of wood flying in all directions.

  Kit and Eeni peeked out into the hall and saw, much to their dismay, the Blacktail brothers, Flynn and Shane, in the open doorway, and behind them, his body uncoiling, a massive python. It was the same brown-and-yellow python Kit had seen collecting payoffs from the small business owners. The python’s rows of needle-sharp teeth glistened in the moonlight.

  “Riky Two Ringssss,” the python hissed. “Sssso good to sssseee you thissss evening.”

  “And there’s Kit, our old friend,” said Shane Blacktail with an oil-slick smile.

  “Young friend, you mean, brother,” Flynn Blacktail responded. “If Kit were older he’d know that you don’t run out on a losing bet before you’ve paid. Not on your worst enemy and certainly not on your friends.”

  “We’d like to stay friends,” Shane said. “And we’d like young Kit to grow old.”

  “We certainly would,” agreed Flynn. “Can’t be an old friend if you don’t grow old at all.”

  “What do you want with my nephew?” Uncle Rik demanded.

  “Were we not clear?” said Shane.

  “I thought we were terribly clear,” said Flynn.

  “Riky Two Rings doesn’t listen well,” said Shane.

  “Perhaps he’ll listen to Basil.” Flynn snapped his fingers. “Basil. Make him listen.”

  Basil the python slid his large body past the two raccoons, filling the hallway, and slithered face-to-face with Kit’s uncle. Kit and Eeni clutched each other nervously, but Uncle Rik didn’t move a muscle. He locked eyes with the snake.

  “We just want what’s owed us,” Flynn called out from the other side of the python.

  “Plus a fee for our troubles,” added Shane.

  “Your troubles haven’t started yet,” Uncle Rik warned, and his chest puffed up so his body seemed to fill the hallway, blocking the snake from slithering even one scale farther.

  “Ssssuch a big talker,” Basil said. “Makessss me wanna ssssqueeze the talk right out of him.”

  “If my nephew has a debt, I’ll pay it,” said Uncle Rik. “But only if it’s fairly owed. We both know that the Blacktail brothers never won a bet fair in their lives.”

  “Slander!” Flynn Blacktail cried out.

  “Lies!” Shane echoed him.

  “Slander and lies!” Flynn concurred. He held a paw up to the sky and spoke in a singsongy voice. “I swear before Azban himself that our games are twice as honest as any under the Slivered Sky.”

  “Twice of none is still none,” said Uncle Rik.

  “We didn’t invent math,” Shane replied. “Kit lost his bet and ran out on paying. That’s a fact more true than any multiplication table.”

  “I didn’t lose,” Kit called out. “They cheated. I knew where the nut was, but they must’ve moved it with sleight of paw.”

  “Ssssoundssss like your nephew doessssn’t want to pay,” Basil said. His body coiled forward underneath him. He reared himself back to strike. “Sssssoundssss like ssssomeone’ssss got to pay or ssssomeone’ssss got to get hurt—”

  “You leave them alone!” Eeni shouted. “We all know the Blacktail brothers cheated.”

  The snake grinned at her. “Yum,” he said. “A ssssnack! Doessss anyone know if white ratssss are ssssaltier than gray onessss?”

  “If your bets are so fair,” Uncle Rik proposed, “why not make one more?”

  “Another bet?” Shane said.

  “For what stakes?” Flynn said.

  “Forgive what my nephew owes,” Uncle Rik said.

  “And if you lose this bet?” asked Shane.

  “I’ll pay double,” said Uncle Rik.

  “Tssss, tssss, tssss,” Basil broke out into a loud, sibilant snake laugh. He laughed so hard all his coils shook and his head hit the ceiling, showering the hall with dust and dirt. “You? Pay double? You owe ussss more than you’ve got already.”

  “I’m good for it,” said Uncle Rik, but Kit noticed his uncle’s snout blushing in the same way Kit’s did. A family trait. It made the whole family bad at bluffing. Judging by the mess his house was in even before the snake busted down the door, Uncle Rik didn’t have a lot of seeds or nuts to lose in a bet.

  “You ssssaid you were ‘good for it’ at the cockroach fightssss lasssst week,” said Basil. “And at the ssssparrow raccccessss before that. You’re in deep to the bossss.”

  “I . . . er . . .” Uncle Rik looked at his feet, embarrassed to be called out in front of his nephew. Uncle Rik was a gambler, and not one gifted with either skill or luck.

  “We’ve learned better than to make bets with a historian,” said Flynn.

  “An historian,” said Eeni.

  “What?” said Flynn.

  “An historian,” Eeni corrected him. “It’s the indefinite article preceding a vowel sound.”

  “What?” said Flynn.

  “You said ‘a’ historian,” said Eeni. “But it should’ve been ‘an’ historian. I’m just saying, if you’re gonna insult a fella, get your grammar right.”

  “You’re a smart one,” said Flynn.

  “Too smart for a gutter rat,” said Shane.

  “I know what I know.” Eeni folded her arms.

  “Well, here’s something for you to know, Eeni,” said Flynn. “How long does it take a python to eat a raccoon?”

  “She doesn’t know,” said Shane. “Basil. Show her. Eat Kit.”

  Chapter Twelve

  RETIREMENT FUND

  BASIL’S coils wrapped themselves around Kit and squeezed. The snake’s mouth opened wider than Kit’s whole head, and his breath smelled like rodent bones and cheese ale.

  Kit would not be Basil’s first meal of the day.

  “Uncle Rik! Help!” Kit screamed.

  Eeni punched at Basil’s scaly side.

  “H
ow dare you come into my home to eat my nephew,” Uncle Rik yelled, rather unhelpfully.

  Kit realized if he was going to get saved, he was going to have to save himself. He couldn’t wriggle free, and he couldn’t pry himself free. Although he had always been good at using his hands to get out of traps, they wouldn’t help this time. He’d have to use his wits instead.

  “Uncle! Please!” he pleaded in his most desperate voice. “Just give them your secret stash of seeds.”

  “What?” Rik looked puzzled.

  “Your life savings!” Kit tried to wink at his uncle without anyone else seeing. “Your reTIREment fund?”

  “My—wha—?” Uncle Rik began, then it dawned on him. “Oh . . . oh no . . . Kit, that’s worth far too much.”

  Flynn raised an eyebrow. Shane cocked his head to the side. Even Basil slowed his squeezing.

  Uncle Rik played it up now. “I’m sorry, kiddo, you’re a real pal of the paw and all that, but I’ve only just met you. I’ve spent my whole life collecting my secret seed savings. I fear I’ll miss them far more than I’ll miss a nephew. Apologies.”

  “But . . . Uncle!”

  “No, no, no. Sorry, Kit. Squeeze on, Basil.” Uncle Rik waved his paw in the air. “Just eat my nephew quickly and then we’re even.”

  “Wait a moment, Basil,” Flynn instructed the snake. “I’d like to hear more about this retirement fund.”

  “I won’t say a word about it.” Uncle Rik crossed his arms. “Those are my seeds and nuts and scraps and scroungings, and I won’t share with anyone.”

  “Tell me, Kit.” Shane smiled. “Would you like not to be eaten?”

  Kit couldn’t talk anymore because the snake’s squeezing was too tight, but he nodded.

  “Do you know where your uncle keeps his secret wealth?” Flynn asked.

  Kit nodded again.

  “No, Kit, please don’t tell them!” Uncle Rik cried out, then pretended to faint onto his sofa, which Kit thought was a bit much, but the Blacktail brothers didn’t seem to notice the bad performance. They were thinking about robbing secret riches now and had no room in their raccoon brains for anything else.

  Basil loosened his grip and Kit took a big breath. He wiggled himself higher up on the snake’s back so he could look down on the Blacktail brothers.

  “Well? Where issss the loot?” Basil demanded.

  “There’s a big tire outside,” said Kit. “He hides it there.”

  “Outside?” Shane looked doubtful.

  “Of course,” said Kit. “That’s the safest place. You hear about houses getting robbed all the time, and if he kept all his seeds here, they’d get robbed too. But you never hear about someone’s tire getting robbed. No one robs a tire.”

  “It’s true,” added Eeni. “I’ve never heard about a tire robbery.”

  “You keep quiet,” Flynn told her. “In fact, why don’t you go check it out for us. That way, if it’s a trick, you’ll be the one who gets tricked.”

  Eeni nodded and moved for the door, brushing past Kit with a reassuring squeeze of his paw. The others followed her outside—except Uncle Rik, who was enjoying his role, pretending to have fainted.

  The Blacktail brothers, with Kit, Basil, and Eeni, stood around the tire outside. A passing squirrel looked away from them, while two news finches pretended not to watch from a high branch. Their little heads tilted with anticipation of a good story to sing about. Windows in the Gnarly Oak Apartments slammed shut so that the eyes of young bunnies, foxes, rats, and mice wouldn’t see the ugly scene about to unfold below.

  Kit couldn’t believe that a whole crowded neighborhood could see the trouble he was in, yet no one moved to help.

  But everyone in Ankle Snap Alley knew that creatures who went around witnessing things had a way of vanishing into the sewers or slipping onto the train tracks. Better to see nothing, hear nothing, know nothing, and do nothing. Safer that way. Kit understood the word circumspect now for real, and he didn’t like it. He was certain if he ever saw another creature in desperate straits like he was in, he wouldn’t be at all circumspect. He’d help.

  “Get in there!” Shane ordered Eeni.

  The white rat sighed and scrambled up the side of the tire, then glanced back at Kit, who tried to warn her with his eyes to be careful. She winked, then vanished inside the tire.

  “Wow!” she called out. “There’s too much in here to carry!”

  “Prove it!” Flynn called out.

  A pouch came flying from inside the tire and landed right in front of the raccoons. It was bursting with seeds and nuts. Kit recognized it as his own seed pouch . . . Eeni had swiped it again when she’d brushed past him! How could she risk the Footprint of Azban like this?

  Kit tried not to let the surprise or panic show on his face, but he needn’t have worried. The Blacktail brothers weren’t looking at him. They smiled at each other, and both bent down to pick up the pouch at the same time. Their foreheads knocked together.

  “Ouch,” barked Flynn.

  “Hey,” barked Shane. “I’ll take this pouch, you take the next one.”

  “Why don’t I take this little thing,” said Flynn. “I’m sure there’s a bigger one for you in there.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t take the bigger one from my own brother,” said Shane. “I’ll take this little one, and you take the next.”

  “Hey,” Basil interrupted them. “We ssssplit that by three. Not two. I want my share.”

  “Of course, of course,” said Flynn. “Once we’ve seen what’s what, we’ll split it nice and evenly, three ways.”

  Basil’s eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. Flynn’s and Shane’s did too. In a flash, they all sprang for the tire, none of them trusting the other not to take as much as he could for himself. They all dove in, just as Eeni hopped out and hit the ground with a smile.

  SNAP! SNAP! SNAP!

  Three traps snapped shut inside the tire.

  “Ow!” yelled Shane.

  “Ow!” yelled Flynn.

  “Sssssssss!” hissed Basil.

  Kit made the A sign with his paws, and Eeni returned the gesture. “Nasty traps in there,” she said. “Easy to avoid if you’re expecting them, though.”

  “Too bad those three weren’t expecting them, then?” Kit replied, bending to pick up his seed pouch from the ground. Eeni handed him the stone with the footprint on it. She’d taken it out before throwing the pouch to the crooks.

  “I didn’t want to risk it falling into the wrong paws,” she said with a smile.

  “You don’t miss a trick, do you?” asked Kit.

  “Neither do you, huh, Kit?” said Eeni. “You’re a sharp one.”

  “Sharp enough to cut yourself,” said Uncle Rik, leaning on the doorframe of his apartment with a grin on his face and a paw resting in his pocket.

  “You get us out of here, Riky Two Rings!” Shane yelled.

  “You’re a lousy, cheating sneak, Kit!” added Flynn.

  “Ssssssss,” added Basil, whose head had been clamped in a metal trap and whose body wriggled and shook the whole tire violently. The back of his body poked out from the tube, thrashing wildly.

  “So, what do we do with them?” Kit asked.

  Uncle Rik looked up and down the alley, and wiped his paws on his robe. “Well, I think we should clean some of the garbage out of this alley!”

  Together, the three of them heaved and hefted and levered and lifted the tire up, as the snake and the twin raccoon rascals hurled all manner of curses at them.

  “We’ll get you for this, you hairball-hacking traitors!”

  “No one treats a Rabid Rascal this way!”

  “Ssssssssss!”

  “Ready?” said Uncle Rik with a laugh in his voice. “A one and a two and a three!”

  With that, Kit, Eeni, and Rik sent the tire rolling
down the length of Ankle Snap Alley. Moles and stoats and church mice dove from its path as it picked up speed, bouncing and spinning and hurling along. Even the mangy dog in front of Larkanon’s opened one eye to watch the truck tire streak past.

  “Gahhhhhhhhhh!” screamed the three hoodlums trapped inside, as they smashed through the fence and flew clear over the train tracks and out of Ankle Snap Alley. A round of applause erupted from all the creatures on the street, furred and feathered alike. Even the big rooster in his barbershop clapped his wings, before returning to sweeping fur from the floor.

  “Well, that’s that sorted out.” Uncle Rik clapped his paws as if nothing at all remarkable had happened. “Say, why don’t we go over to Ansel’s bakery and get a bite to eat. He makes the best trash casserole beneath the Slivered Sky. I’m buying!”

  Kit smiled and licked his lips. He was starving, and trash casserole was just what he needed after the single longest night of his young life.

  “And while we’re there, perhaps I can tell you more about this stone you’ve got,” Uncle Rik added in a whisper. “And how it could change everything.”

  •••

  As his uncle pulled the busted door into place as best he could and led Kit and Eeni back through the alley toward Possum Ansel’s bakery, an orange cat watched from his favorite shadow between two buildings. Next to him, the miniature greyhound growled.

  “That’s the one?” the dog asked the cat.

  “That’s the one who got away,” the cat confirmed.

  Titus pawed at the dirt. “You think he has the footprint.”

  “I do,” said the cat.

  “How do you know?” the dog growled.

  “A little bird told me.” Sixclaw burped, and a single finch’s feather fell from his mouth. “Before I ate him.”

  “If that clue leads him to the Bone of Contention, we’ll have a problem,” said the dog.

  “So you want me to kill him?”

  “Kill all three of them,” said the dog. “Just to be sure.”

  “If the Bone is real, then don’t the vermin have a right to Ankle Snap Alley?”