Chapter Twenty Two
That night the forage was particularly depressing. Since they were barred from the park, the clan only had the three small dumpsters next to the building to search in. There were some other areas where they sometimes found food, like the alleyway, but the Leaders had stopped sending teams there because they never found anything anymore. The rats also used to search for food in the human’s kitchens, but the Leaders were so nervous about being discovered that they had forbidden anyone to go into a human’s area at all for any reason.
Torus’s team was one of three that had been assigned to the South dumpster that night. A total of eighteen rats with four sledges and several bags were picking over a pile of bagged garbage that looked to Torus like the smallest pile he had ever seen.
An almost equal number of Patrol rats paced around the edge of the dumpster. They said their job was to keep the rival clans away, and Torus had certainly heard that the other clans were upset with the Rats of Acme. But he couldn’t remember ever actually seeing a rat from another clan, and he wondered if the Patrol was really there to keep the foragers on task.
He tried to focus on his work, but he felt the tension that they all felt. There simply wasn’t enough food for all the teams to meet their quotas, and everyone was anxiously going through the pile as fast as they could, hoping to find enough to fill their sledge before some other team did it first.
“This is ridiculous!” said a voice in the darkness to his left. “There’s nothing here but paper! Where’s all the food?”
“Shhh!” hissed another voice. “Be quiet or the humans’ll hear you. Or the Patrol…”
“What humans?” said a third voice. “Half the rooms in the building are empty now, and more humans leave all the time.”
There was a general murmur of agreement while the rats continued to pick through the pile.
Torus turned to an old rat that was working next to him. He hesitated for a moment, and then asked, “Where do they go?”
“What?” said the old rat, looking up sharply. “Where do what go?”
“The humans,” said Torus. “If they go away from the building, where do they go to?”
The other rat squinted at him for a moment, then returned to his task, trying to open a plastic bag that had been tied shut.
“Who knows,” he said. “Who cares.” He tried again to bite through the knot at the top of the bag, but lost his grip, and the bag rolled toward Torus.
Torus stopped the bag and rolled it back to the old rat.
“We should care, shouldn’t we?” he asked. “I mean, if that’s where our food comes from…” He looked at the bag thoughtfully, and then bit sharply through the knot, letting the contents of the bag come spilling out.
“Thanks,” said the old rat, squinting at the trash in the top of the bag. “My teeth, you know…”
“Sure,” said Torus, turning back to his own search.
“If there’s anything in here, I…” the old rat stammered, “I guess you’ll want some for…your…”
“No, don’t worry about it,” said Torus. “I’m sure there’s plenty in here if we just keep digging.”
“Okay, thanks,” said the old rat. “Thanks.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes, and then the old rat spoke up unexpectedly.
“They go to other buildings, mostly,” he said.
“What?” said Torus.
“The humans,” said the rat, still methodically going through the contents of the bag. “They go to other buildings, or so I hear. Some of them grow up and go to nests of their own, and some of them get old and move to other buildings without stairs, I guess. And some of them just lay down and go into darkness, like we do, and then other humans come and take them away wherever they take them.” He paused to sniff a candy wrapper. “Not so different from us. Just bigger.”
Torus looked at the old rat, and saw that his paws were shaking as he carefully put the candy wrapper in his carrying pouch.
“How do you know this?” he asked finally.
“I seen it,” the rat replied. “Been here my whole life, six winters now, and I seen it all.” He looked at the empty trash bag in disgust and pushed it away from him, coming over to Torus’s side.
“Listen,” he said. “Everything is always the same everywhere, over and over again, no matter what. Winter, summer, winter, summer. The same for humans and birds and rats and everything else. Wake up in light and lie down in darkness, and everything in between is just survival.” He crept right up to Torus’s ear and whispered so softly he could hardly be heard.
“Listen,” he said again, tensely. “Listen, the way things are now? Well, it’s been this way before, too. Long time ago, me and Nile were just pups, barely more than pups, and the Chief’s granddaddy was just like the Chief is now. You get me?”
Torus nodded.
“And the same thing was going on, with not enough food, and all what there was going to the Clan and nothing for the families.” He paused, and stepped back from Torus, as if he was unsure what to say next.
“So what happened?” asked Torus.
There was a sudden scrambling near them, and a sturdy rat from the Patrol walked past, eyeing them suspiciously.
“The same thing that always happens,” said the old rat. “Nothing ever changes, right Officer?” He picked up his pouch and walked past Torus, headed for the other side of the pile. As he passed, he whispered, “You and your friends are doing it right.”
Torus nodded absently, not realizing at first what the old rat was talking about.
“Say ‘hey’ to Nile for me,” said the old rat as he disappeared around the pile.
“Okay…” said Torus.
When he got home from foraging, Torus came into his family’s den to find his father and siblings huddled around an object in the middle of the floor. His father whipped his head around when he heard Torus come in, alarmed at first, but then relieved.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said.
“Who else would it be?” asked Torus.
“Torus, come and see,” said Moki loudly. “It’s a whole hotdog!”
“Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh, sh!” his father whispered intently, waving his paws in the air to erase Moki’s words. “Not so loud!”
“How did you get it?” asked Torus. “Why didn’t they take it for the stockpile?”
“They didn’t see it,” said his father carefully. “It was…under some other stuff in my bag, and they…missed it, I guess.”
“Oh, okay,” said Torus, nodding. “Lucky for us, then, right?”
“Exactly,” said his father, breaking the sausage into pieces and passing them to the others. “Eat this quick, okay?”
“Why?” asked Shona, her mouth full.
“Because you’re hungry,” said his father.
“Because the Patrol is coming again,” said Moki, licking his claws.
“They haven’t been here for a couple of days,” his father acknowledged. “We might as well eat what we can before it gets donated to the greater good…”
“Do we even have anything for them to take now?” asked Torus? “The food nook looks pretty empty to me.”
“We’ll be okay,” said his father evasively.
Nosha finished her bit of hotdog and sat cleaning her whiskers. “Is it okay to hide food from the Patrol?” she asked.
“Who said anything about hiding,” Nolki replied. “We keep our food in the food nook and if it’s empty it’s empty.”
“Except for under the bed,” said Shona. “Last night –”
“There’s nothing under the bed,” said Nolki abruptly. “Last night you were dreaming.”
“No I wasn’t,” she said, defensively.
“Look, just leave it alone, alright?” Nolki seemed tired and exasperated. “The food nook is empty right now but we’ll manage to get enough food day by day, okay?”
“Okay,??
? she said.
Energized by the rich food, Moki and the girls started a chasing scrambling game and Nolki took the opportunity to wave Torus over to the side of the room.
“Come over here,” he whispered. “There’s more.”
“What? More food in the bed? I know that. Everybody knows that.”
“No, not that,” said his father hastily. “There’s more hotdogs! A whole package!”
“Where?” Torus asked.
“In the north dumpster. I found it in a corner and kept it buried. I just took one to bring home, but I want to go out tonight and get more.”
“Wow,” said Torus. He was filled with a confused admiration. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to…”
“Feeding my pups has to be my first priority,” his father replied seriously. “I’m happy to give the Clan what it needs if I have it available, but when things are this tight I don’t feel bad bending the rules a little to make sure the pups can eat.”
Torus nodded. He and the other grown rats could eat while they foraged alone after hours, and sometimes even sneak a bite during the regular foraging trips, but the little ones at home had to rely on what came back to the den. Lately, with the supply of food shrinking, and the forage masters retaining more and more for the stockpile, the foragers had been bring less and less into their own nests. And on top of that, every other day or so, the Patrol came by to collect donations for the needy from any food that the rats collected on their own. With all that, Torus thought, it was a wonder they had anything to eat at all.
“Listen,” said his father. “I want you to come out with me tonight, okay?”
Torus nodded, and his father continued.
“That way I think we can get most of what’s there and get it home without anyone seeing.”
“Okay,” said Torus, “when do we go?”
“I want to go!” said Moki, standing nearby.
“Go where?” asked Torus, “We’re not going anywhere…”
“Shut up,” said Moki, angrily. “I want to go with you and Dad to get more hotdogs.” He looked back and forth between them. “I heard you talking.”
“Sorry,” said his father. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. You haven’t come of age yet, and there wouldn’t be anyone to stay home with the girls.”
“I’d be ready to come of age if they hadn’t cancelled all the Young Gatherings,” Moki retorted. “And the girls are more than half grown! They can take care of themselves.”
“No, I’m sorry, but no,” his father said firmly. “They wouldn’t know what to say if the Patrol came poking around. Shona would probably tell them she dreamed about food in the bed and they’d take her away to the crazy hole.”
Torus laughed, but Moki just scowled at the ground.
“It’s not fair,” he said. “I should be coming of age at the next moon.”
Torus was surprised to notice how big his brother had become. He was nearly Torus’s size already, and looked as if he would continue to grow for some time.
“Next time,” he said to Moki. “Next time you’ll come out with me and Dad’ll stay home, okay?”
Moki looked up and then mumled, “Alright…”
“I’ll start teaching you about coming of age stuff, too, so when the Young Gatherings start up again you’ll have a head start.”
Moki seemed mollified, and by the time Torus and his father started out he was back to rough-housing with his sisters like normal.
That night, when the building was dark and quiet, Torus and Nolki made their way to the north dumpster, slipping quietly through side tunnels and avoiding any other rats. The few rats they did see seemed just as eager to avoid meeting anyone, so their journey passed without a word.
The way to the dumpster led through a basement wall, up the back wall of the building, and finally out a broken drainpipe in a concrete alcove in the back of the building. This dumpster was smaller than the others, and so seemed fuller, and like the others was fed by a long, square metal chute that ran all the way up to the top floor of the building. The human occupants of the building put their garbage in plastic or paper bags and dropped them down the chute to the dumpster. Once a week, giant trucks came and emptied the dumpsters and the day they were empty was rest day. Torus couldn’t keep track of the days, but he guessed by how full the dumpster was that the trucks would be coming soon.
He and his father clambered up the side and into the big metal box and then he followed his father over to the darkest corner. His father nosed around for a moment, and then started pulling at a newspaper that lay crumpled in the dark.
“Excellent!” he whispered at last. “Wonderful! It’s still here.” He pulled a lumpy package from under the collected trash and pulled it over to better light. Torus could see it was indeed a whole package of hotdogs, with only one missing.
“Why is it here?” he asked while his father hurriedly opened the package and started putting hotdogs in their pouches. “Why would humans throw this much food away?
“I dunno,” he muttered. “Maybe it was a mistake, or maybe they thought something was wrong with them. It doesn’t matter, though, now we have them. This will keep us through the next rest day and more, I’ll bet.”
Once the sausages were secured in their pouches, Torus and his father headed back into the building and began making their way back home.
“This is great,” said his father. “Just like the old days. Just two rats out foraging for their family. No teams, no stockpile, just bags full of food.”
Torus struggled to keep up, hauling the heavy bag behind him.
“These are heavy,” he said. “I wish we had a sledge.”
“Speaking of sledges,” his father said, “I was poking around the tunnel under the street the other day and I found a wrecked sledge in there. It looked like the one we made, way back when, remember?”
Torus stayed silent.
“Remember?” his father persisted.
“Yeah, I remember, but how could you tell? All the sledges look alike, don’t they?”
“No, this one was ours. I recognized your work.”
Torus laughed, nervously.
“No you didn’t,” he said.
“Yes I did,” said his father. “Everyone knows your work. The things you make really stand out.”
Torus, tried to dismiss the issue with a nonchalant “Huh…” but he suddenly remembered the wreckage of his failed flying machine and wondered if anyone would find it, and if they would know who made it if they did.
“Weird,” continued his father. “Finding a wrecked sledge way out there.” He turned briefly and looked back at Torus. “Do you have any idea how it got there?”
Torus stopped, panting, and shook his head.
“No,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “I haven’t seen it since it was commandeered by the Forage Committee.”
His father gave him a long, penetrating gaze.
“All right,” he said finally. “Good answer.”
He turned and started off again, leading the way back toward home
After a short while Torus called up to him.
“Can we rest for a minute? I’m dying…”
“Okay,” his father said, also panting. “A little rest will be okay, I guess.”
They sat for a moment in silence, and then Torus asked, “Do you trust the Leaders?”
His father gave him a sharp glance.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I dunno, do you think they’re really doing what’s best for the Clan? I mean, you never see them out foraging or building or cleaning, and when you do see them, they don’t look very hungry…”
“No, they don’t,” his father acknowledged. “I guess rank has its privileges.”
“What does that mean?” asked Torus.
“It means the rats on the top of the pile get first pick, I guess.”
“Huh,” Torus grun
ted.
“What about you?” his father asked. “Do you trust them?”
“I don’t know,” Torus said, warily. “Some of them are okay, I guess. Dinnick seems like he wants things to be good for everyone, and the Chief, I guess.”
“Yes,” said his father, “when he knows what’s going on…”
“Exactly,” said Torus. “What’s that all about? And is Nogolo just trying to help the Chief, like he says, or is he trying to take over?”
“Well, the Chief is really old, older than your grandparents, maybe even my grandparents. When rats get old sometimes their minds get loose and all we can do is help them get along. I don’t know about Nogolo, but he’s got a reputation for getting things done. Rats seem to do what he wants them to, even if they don’t entirely agree with him.” He got up, picked up the strap to his pouch and they started off again.
“But do you trust him?” Torus persisted.
“That’s a complicated question,” his father replied. “I don’t know if I completely trust him, but I don’t think I could do his job, and I don’t know many other rats who could. Without leaders to keep the Clan organized, things could get really mixed up here, with everyone fighting for food and places to live, and no one doing any cleaning so we can’t hide from the humans so well. The leaders help keep things running smoothly so we can all be secure in our homes. And they need us to be content and willing to be led by them, so they probably wouldn’t do anything that was going to make everyone too mad or there would be a revolt.”
“So you don’t trust them?”
“I trust them to not do anything too horrible,” his father said. “Now that’s enough of that. You don’t need to be known as someone who stirs things up…”
“What do you mean?” said Torus, trying to keep the apprehension out of his voice.
“Well, like with the sledge out in the tunnel. If someone else finds that and recognizes it as your work, they might think you were up to something out there.” He paused, considering what to say. “I don’t know what all you and your friends do when you’re hanging out, and I know you’ve come of age and I can’t really tell you what to do or not do, but I hope you’re not being too risky.”
“Risky like what?” said Torus.
“I don’t know, young rats do some crazy things,” his father said. “I guess it’s normal to explore and try things, but it’s a dangerous world for rats. There’s traps and poison hidden in food, and cats and dogs and humans everywhere. It only takes one human to see one rat and then they could gas the whole building.”
“Yeah, I know all that,” said Torus. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“Oh, I know,” said his father. “Except I can’t help it. I probably worry more about Moki than you, but I worry about all you pups sometimes.” He paused, thoughtfully. “You know, bad things happen all the time, and the older I get, the more it piles up and the more I worry…”
“Bad stuff like what? Like with Mom?”
His father glanced at him briefly, and then nodded silently.
“What happened then?” Torus continued. “I just remember she got sick and then all of a sudden she was gone.”
“I don’t know,” his father replied. “No one knows. Maybe some poison, maybe an illness of some kind…Nile couldn’t figure it out, and it happened so fast…”
Torus was sorry he’d brought it up, and the silence stretched out awkwardly.
“You were really small,” his father finally said. “I guess I tried to protect you from it. I mean, rats go into darkness all the time, but when it’s in your own den…” He paused and took a deep breath.
“Yeah,” said Torus, not knowing what else to say.
His father stood up and shook his head as if to clear it.
“Life is hard for a rat,” he said, squinting into the distance. “Just be careful. That’s all I’m asking.”
He hoisted his bag and headed off, with Torus following behind.
When they got home, Moki was waiting at the back of the den with the girls. As big as he was, he looked like a small, nervous pup, and was visibly relieved to see Torus and Nolki return.
“Shoo, I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “While you were gone someone came and called down the entrance for you. I think it was the Patrol.”
“Really?” said his father. “What happened?”
“Nothing. We just kept quiet and they went away, but I heard them say something about coming back.”
“Did they? What did they say, exactly, do you remember?”
Moki shook his head and was about to speak when a voice came in from outside.
“Nolki? Are you in?”
“Who’s there?” called Nolki, gesturing rapidly to Torus to hide the food they had brought.
“Patrol,” said the voice. “May we enter?”
“Just a moment,” called Nolki, heading to the entrance.
Torus tried frantically to think of a place he could stash the food quickly, but before he could do anything Patrol Commander Dumash came into the room without waiting to be invited. He was smiling and friendly, as always, and his large belly nearly brushed the floor as he waddled in. Torus and Nolki both froze in their places.
“Good to see you, friend,” said Dumash to Nolki. Then he nodded to the others. “Torus. Pups. We came by earlier and there was no answer.” He paused and smiled again. “All out for a little family forage?”
“No,” said Nolki. “That is, yes, Torus and I were out looking around, and the pups were here, but I’ve asked them to keep quiet when…things being what they are, you know…” He trailed off, struggling to look the big rat in the eye.
“Certainly,” said Dumash agreeably. “I completely understand.” He called out over his shoulder. “Come on in, boys. Nolki’s home now.” There was a scuffling outside, and then a tall, young rat Torus didn’t recognize came in, followed at length by a reluctant Chello, who was carrying his knitting needle awkwardly, as if he wished he could hide it behind his back. Torus tried to catch his eye, but he kept his gaze lowered and stayed as far away from the other Patrol Officers as he could.
Dumash wandered further into the room, gazing around nonchalantly.
“Well, did you have any luck? The Clan surely appreciates your extra efforts.” He stopped in front of Torus and gazed at him evenly. “We’ll be happy to save you the trouble of bringing the Clan’s portion to the Stockpile.”
Torus was unable to continue meeting his gaze and dropped his eyes. He stood there, holding the straps to the two pouches, and glanced sideways at his father. Nolki clenched his jaw and nodded resignedly.
“Yeah,” said Torus, finally, gesturing feebly with the pouches. “We found a little…”
“Excellent” said Dumash, stepping back and giving a signal to the tall rat. He stepped over to Torus and took the pouches from Torus clumsily. He pulled them over to where Dumash and Chello could see them opened them up.
Dumash’s eyes widened when he saw the contents.
“Well, well, well!” he said, with an admiring glance to Nolki. “This is quite a find!”
“My success is the Clan’s good fortune,” said Nolki, quietly.
“Right you are!” replied Dumash. Chello and the other young rat made a move to start emptying the pouches, but Dumash stopped them.
“No, no, no,” he said. “It will be easier to take the pouches out to the sledge and then bring the pouches back with the family’s share.” He led the way out, and Chello and the other rat exchanged uncomfortable glances and followed him.
Torus and the pups gathered around Nolki and waited. There was some muffled discussion outside, but Torus couldn’t catch any words. Presently, though, Chello and the tall rat came back in and handed the pouches to Nolki. The pouches seemed much lighter than before, and when his father looked inside his ears went red to the tips.
“Just one?” he said, looking shar
ply at the two Patrol Officers. “Our share is supposed to be two parts in three. We should have at least four of them, if not more.”
Chello was silent and the other rat mumbled uncomfortably.
“P. C. Dumash says that with two foragers and the pups nearly grown that there are other…needier rats you would be happy to contribute…to their…welfare…” He trailed off and turned away and out the door, leaving Chello standing alone facing the family.
There was an awkward pause, until Moki broke the silence.
“Chello! Why do you let them do this?”
Chello shrugged miserably and looked at the floor.
“It’s just the way it is, MiniMouse,” he said.
“Don’t call me that!” said Moki. “I’m as big as you now, and I’m gonna get bigger, and then you won’t be coming here like this anymore!”
Dumash called down the entrance.
“Time to move on, Officer!” Chello turned to leave, and was almost at the entrance when Nolki spoke.
“Chello! Tell Dumash his wisdom will be rewarded. Tell him that from me.”
Chello nodded glumly and turned away, leaving the family standing in the middle of the room with one limp hotdog in an otherwise empty bag.
* * *