Chapter Eighteen
Later that day, shortly before the dusk forage was to begin, the young rats picked their way carefully up to the top of the building, six floors from the level of the street. None of them, not even Nevi, had ever been there, and they kept together in a close group, creeping along the route Mr. Nile had described to them. For the last two floors they were winding their way up the rear wall of the building, inside the wooden frame that was attached to the crumbling old bricks. Torus led the way, with Chello once again trailing behind.
“This is stupid,” he said. “Why are we doing this stupid thing?”
“You said it, little brother,” said Pryus, interrupting the now-familiar monologue. “I mean, you really said it already, like a thousand times!”
Flinka giggled nervously and Nevi said “Hush!”
Torus stopped at the bottom of a broken vent pipe and they gathered around him.
“Okay,” he said. “If this is the right pipe, it goes right up to the roof frame and then there are several different spaces we can check out to get to the outside.”
They looked at one another but said nothing.
“So remember,” he continued, “when we get up there, be careful. Look before you go out, and try not to attract any attention until we’re all up. We don’t want him to notice us until we’re a big enough group he won’t want to attack us.”
The others nodded silently. He turned and slipped into the pipe through a rusty hole in the side, followed by the rest of the team. It was a tight fit, much smaller than the heating duct that led to the cat’s home. Torus managed to scrabble up with only a little difficulty, but Juke and Pryus both had to struggle to get through.
Chello was still in the rear. His light frame let him climb up without any trouble at all and he jabbed at his brother’s rear end with the blunt end of his knitting needle.
“Hurry up, you pipe plug!” he whispered. “That hawk’ll die of boredom waiting for you.”
“If I could turn around I’d kill you,” said Pryus without much humor.
“Shhh!” hissed Torus from above. “We’re almost there.”
A few moments later they emerged from a second hole in the pipe into the wooden frame that supported the roof. The roofing material itself had crumbled around the pipe and through it they could feel the sharp winter breeze and see a small patch of the late evening sky. Around them in the darkness they could see faint shafts of light from a dozen or more similar holes at varying distances from them.
Torus gathered them around him with silent gestures and held a claw to his lips. He pointed to each of them in turn and then toward one of the closer pools of light. The headed off individually and then waited beneath their assigned holes. Once they were all in place, Torus pointed up and then back down and they all nodded, except Chello, who mouthed ‘This is stupid’ silently.
Torus nodded and mouthed ‘I know.”
At Torus’s signal they all climbed carefully up into their holes and peeked out, seeing as much as they could without exposing more than the tips of their noses. Torus climbed up the hole alongside the vent pipe they had climbed and peered into the frosty air. The cold breeze made his nose twitch, and for a second he was afraid he would sneeze. He looked out across the flat surface of the roof, and swept his eyes across the dirty, cracked tar. Nothing was distinct in the fading light. He saw no sign of the hawk, just scattered piles of loose trash and leaves. Several pipes jutted up from the roof, and he briefly saw the tips of a rat’s ears rise above a crack in the surface. In the middle of the roof was a large, brick chimney that blocked much of his view.
He carefully pulled his head in and backed down the hole. Nevi came down at the same time, glanced over at him and shook her head No. Juke came down next and gave his head a single shake. Flinka was trembling as she emerged from her hole and looked like she might start crying, but she shook her head No and looked at the floor. Chello and Pryus lowered themselves at the same time and both gave the same disappointed thumbs-down. Torus wondered whether they were too early, if the hawk was still hunting. If so, they would have to wait down in the darkness. Mr. Nile had told them not to be caught on the roof when the hawk was flying. He would descend silently and fast as lightening and they would be taken before they even knew he was there.
Finally Arkon came down. The hair along his spine was standing up straight, and his eyes were wide. Torus looked at him questioningly and he nodded, pointing to a direction away from all their spy holes. Torus gathered them all together and then whispered to them as quietly as possible.
“We climb up this hole here and gather on the far side of the big chimney.” He looked from one to another and they nodded their heads. Then he turned and led the way up.
The surface of the roof was black and rumpled, and covered with small cracks. There were scattered piles of rubbish everywhere, and Torus tried not to think about the small, white shapes jumbled among the ragged leaves and shredded papers.
Once they were all on the surface of the roof, he moved as quickly and quietly as possible to the shelter of the chimney. If Arkon was right, the hawk would be on the other side and they would be shielded from his view until they were ready to approach him.
On the wide roof, with nothing over him but the fading sky, Torus felt more exposed than he had ever felt in his life. Inside the building he was always in an enclosed place. Even in the alleyway, or at one of the dumpsters there were walls close by and easy access to safe holes. Here, except for the bricks of the chimney, there was nothing at all between him and the sky. It was just after sunset and the sky in the west was a dingy yellow, fading to gray-green overhead, to blue-black in the east. There was a pearly sheen to the eastern horizon and the first silver glimmer of the moon showed itself in the distance. With a shock, he realized those small shapes so far away were buildings just like his, hundreds of them stretching away as far as he could see. The sudden awareness of so much space made his heart race. He fought the urge to race back to the hole and waited for the others.
Nevi joined him, followed by Chello and the rest, with Arkon coming last. Chello had his knitting needle, Juke had his big stick, and Arkon had a smaller stick with a rusty nail held on with tape. None of the rest had anything at all. Torus suddenly thought they must look pathetic. Seven rats, barely grown, with three ridiculous weapons about to confront a huge predator in a wide flat space under the wide open sky.
“This is stupid,” he whispered. Chello grinned and gave him a thumbs-up.
Torus resigned himself and led the little band away. They rounded the first corner of the chimney and saw nothing. As he led the way along the bricks of the second side, Torus wondered what he should be looking for. He had only seen the bird once, as a speck in the sky, and suddenly realized he didn’t know what to expect. As he rounded the next corner, though, he stopped wondering, for there, on the edge of the building with his back to them, gazing out at the sunset, was the hawk.
Torus kept still and gazed for a moment. The bird looked bigger than he had expected, bigger than even a big cat, with smooth feathers that looked black in the semi-darkness and a wide triangular tail. It sat without moving as Torus and the team edged slightly closer. When they were within calling distance, but still fairly close to the chimney Torus called out as Mr. Nile had instructed.
“Greetings, Skeerin, from Nile and friends of Nile.” His voice sounded tiny in the cold, thin air, and he thought at first the bird had not heard him. He was trying to decide whether to call again or run away when there was a reply.
“What is there?” The hawk spoke in a low, clear voice without turning around to face them. The sound of his voice gave Torus a strange, chilled feeling, and he felt slightly confused. He struggled to remember what Mr. Nile had told him about addressing the bird.
“Rats,” he stammered, “oh, Powerful Skeerin. Friends of Nile’s, as I said.” There was a long pause, and Torus was su
ddenly worried he had come to the wrong roof and met the wrong hawk. “Nile is your friend as well, is he not?” he asked.
There was another pause, and the rats exchanged nervous glances.
“The Nile is not,” came the answer at last, and Torus gasped and held his breath.
“I have few friends,” the hawk continued. “None are rats. The Nile is…tolerable.”
He remained silent, and after a moment, although the chill was seeping into Torus’s bones, the cold breeze cleared his head a little and he remembered more of the words Mr. Nile had given him.
“Nile praises your wisdom,” he said, “and sends you wishes for clear light and good hunting.”
The bird remained silent, but Torus waited. He was beginning to understand the pattern of the bird’s conversation.
“Those are indeed The Nile’s words,” said the hawk at last. “Why does it send you?”
“You may know,” said Torus, “that we are…engaged, in a…” The strange confusion was rising again in his mind and he couldn’t remember what Nile had told him to say. “A fight,” he said, finally. “The pigeons. We rats are fighting the pigeons.”
“Rats and pigeons are the same to me,” said the bird. “Unless I am hunting, they are invisible. When I hunt, they are the same.”
“We disagree!” came a shout from behind Torus’s head. Chello had a slightly foggy look in his eyes, but the anger behind them was clear. At his shout the hawk turned around swiftly and gazed at them sharply with his round, yellow eyes. They were similar to the pigeons’ eyes, but Torus noticed they were sharp and intelligent, in contrast to the other birds’ blank, vacant gaze.
“How many?” he said. “Seven. The Nile sends seven rats to me. It is tolerable. It understands the moon. But seven rats it sends. For what?” He hopped off the low wall at the edge of the roof and stepped twice toward them, still staring with clear, unblinking eyes.
Torus forced himself to stay in his spot as the bird approached.
“Please, Powerful,” he said. “We wish to learn about…” he stopped, and clenched his claws into the surface of the roof. The freezing air and the strange effect of the hawk’s voice made it difficult for him to keep his thoughts.
“Flying,” called another voice behind him. He thought it might be Nevi, but he wasn’t sure. “We need to learn about flying,” the voice continued, trailing off.
The hawk halted its approach, standing a few feet in front of them.
“Yes,” said Torus. “To help us fight the pigeons.”
“Pigeons do not fly,” said the hawk. “They clatter in the air like broken things.”
“True,” said Torus, his head clearing a bit. “You are indeed wise, Skeerin. Their flight is ugly as yours is…really amazing.” He shook his head, losing the words again. “That is why we tried to find you here…to learn about flying from you, since you’re so…since you fly so good.” Torus started shaking. Whether from the cold or the powerful presence of the big bird he couldn’t tell.
“Please,” he said again,” please tell us about it so we can learn to fly and defeat the pigeons.”
This time the bird responded sharply, with no thoughtful pause at all.
“Rats will never fly,” he said. “Creatures of holes will never fly. They are clever with sticks, and the Nile understands the moon, but flight is beyond the clutch of your claws.”
Torus felt his head swimming in confusion as the bird continued to talk in its strange voice. He struggled to hang onto the thread of what the bird was saying, or just remember why he was even there.
“You cannot see the wind,” the bird continued. “You will never feel the air in your bones, or feel your skin become one with the fluid of the sky.”
With that, he stood up straight and stared down at them. He spread his huge wings and launched into the air. With two incredibly powerful beats of his wings he lunged toward the rats with a shrill scream. Torus pressed his belly onto the surface of the roof and when he felt the rushing air from the hawk’s wings hit his face his mind went black.
The next thing he knew, he was back in the safety and darkness of the framework under the roof, his heart racing, his breath coming in gasps, his whiskers standing straight out and his fur full of electricity. He struggled shakily to both control his breathing and to bring his thoughts to order. He realized he had escaped from something terrible, and then remembered the hawk. He had just thought to look for his friends when he heard a voice call out his name.
“Torus!” It was Arkon, who looked just as shocked and confused as Torus as he walked over uncertainly. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Torus replied. “Is everyone okay?”
“I’m here,” said Nevi, “and I think I heard someone over there.
Slowly, they gathered the rest of the group together. Chello and Pryus were trying weakly to argue over whose fault it was, and Flinka and Juke were huddled in a tight crevice and only reluctantly came out to join the others.
Once they were all back together, they just sat for a while, trying to smooth their fur and make sense of what had happened. Finally Torus spoke.
“Thanks for coming up with me,” he said. “I didn’t know it would be like that. I’m glad we all got down okay.”
“That was crazy,” said Chello, with weak enthusiasm. “It was almost fun, except for the end…”
“It was weird at the end,” said Nevi, cautiously. “It made me feel…funny.”
“Yeah, funny,” said Juke, staring at the floor.
Torus could tell from the awkward silence that they had all had the same strange reaction to the hawk. He thought to tell them he had the same experience with the pigeons, but instead he said, “I guess we’d better get back down for the forage.”
Flinka shook her head.
“I’m not going tonight. I don’t think I can go back outside.” She started to tremble, and Nevi reached out and patted her on the arm.
“You’ll be okay,” she said, kindly. “You’ll shake it off. Rats are strong.” Flinka gave her a small, grateful smile, but didn’t say anything.
Chello said, “I agree with you about the forage. Forget the forage. They can live without us for one night, right?”
Juke suddenly stood up and walked away.
“Forgot my stick,” he said, heading up the nearest hole. “Be right back.”
Chello looked around to find his knitting needle, and followed him up, calling, “Wait up, I’ll cover you.”
“Huh,” said Pryus. “I guess they shook it off pretty quick.”
“Do you think they’re okay?” asked Flinka nervously.
“I think so. Mr. Nile said the hawk doesn’t do anything in the dark, and it’s way past sunset now,” said Arkon.
Chello and Juke came back shortly, Juke dragging his stick behind him.
“You need a string on that,” said Chello, showing him the string on his needle. “Then you carry it over your shoulder and you don’t have to use your teeth.
“Mff,” Juke replied.
Instead of stopping at the group, however, Chello continued to the vent pipe that lead back to their normal haunts.
“I’m going to go eat Nile’s pretzels,” he said, “and forage twice tomorrow to make up for it. I suggest you come along unless you want to try to explain to all the forage leaders why you were late.”
“Makes sense to me,” said Pryus, rising from his seat. There was a murmur of agreement, and one by one the group slipped into the hole in the pipe, leaving Torus to reflect on the strange events of the evening alone in the darkness.
He sat for a long time, while the sliver of sky above changed from purple to charcoal to black. He noticed a scrap of stiff paper and picked it up, waving it in the air. He tore it carefully in two, then sat up on his haunches with a piece in each hand. Stretching out his arms, he flapped his hands like wings and imagined the wind rushing
past his face. Then he tossed the papers away and giggled quietly as he dashed suddenly into the pipe and down into the depths of the building.
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