Chapter Thirty Two
As they neared the attic, Torus called to the rats behind him.
“We can’t all rush in together, the tunnel’s too narrow. Chello and I will go in first and you follow as quick as you can, one after another. We need to make them think we’re a flood of rats. Once we’re in, spread out as much as you can and jump at any bird you see. If we keep moving around, they’ll think there are more of us than there really are. Understand?”
The rats nodded.
“Great,” he said. “Pass it back so everyone gets it.”
Then he rushed to catch up with Chello and Nevi who were nearly at the entrance to the tunnel that led up to the attic. When they got there, Nevi paused to say something, but Chello rushed past her into the darkness. Torus exchanged a puzzled glance with her and then followed Chello up through the wall. As they got closer, he could hear the sound of pigeons squawking at each other and flapping around the big room. He glimpsed a bit of light ahead and the next thing he knew, Chello had burst out of the hole into the room and he was right behind him.
“Red Raiders!” shouted Chello, fiercely, racing across the floor. “Rats of Acme!”
He lunged toward a pigeon that stood nearby, his red cloak and the wings of his flyer flapping as he ran. It seemed to take the pigeon a moment to realize that the strange thing rushing at it was a rat. It gazed curiously at Chello for a moment, then cocked its head to one side. Within a second, though, it saw him for what he was. It gave a startled lurch and leapt clattering into the air, screaming, “Rat! Red! Rat! Rat!” Chello jumped after it, swinging with his spear, and just missed it as it flew up into the air.
Remembering his plan, Torus headed off in another direction as the birds in the room, already agitated by the earlier events of the day, began screeching and flapping restlessly on their perches. They were gathered in little groups throughout the room, on top of the stacks of boxes and along the rafters of the ceiling. When the first pigeon flew up from the floor, several others also fluttered up reflexively, and started flying from place to place in the room, looking for a higher place to perch.
Torus glanced behind him and saw a steady stream of rats issuing from the hole. All the Raiders were in, now, and the other rats from the clan were following after. Some of them looked confused or nervous, but Torus was glad to see they all seemed willing to keep rushing forward.
By this time, all the pigeons were off the ground and the rats started climbing boxes and the stacks of junk in an effort to reach the birds perched there. Torus clambered to the top of a large wooden crate and startled a couple of birds away. From that vantage point he could see several small groups of rats gathered on various high spots in the room, and several pigeons circling haphazardly around them, taunting them in their strange voices, while many more perched on the rafters gazing down at the melee below them.
Then he saw a bird fly down swiftly from the roof, and he recognized the mottled gray and white plumage of the King. The King swept through the air above the birds circling the rats and called out to them. With all the noise in the air, Torus could only make out a few words, – “Treachery!” “Rat!” “Kill!” – but it was clear he was urging the pigeons to attack. At his words, the birds began swooping down more aggressively at the groups of rats, and even landing near the smaller groups and attempting to move in on them. A big, dark gray pigeon dove down and tried to land near Torus, but he slashed at it with his knife and it retreated.
The fight became more urgent, now, and feathers and bits of fur began to float through the air. The big pigeon came back to where Torus was watching and this time it stayed to fight, despite Torus’s knife. It danced about on top of the crate, beating at the air with its wings and trying to get at Torus with its sharp beak. Suddenly it got hold of his cloak and pulled him off his feet. He managed to swivel around and crack it in the side of the head with the handle of his knife and it let go of him, shaking its head, and flew up to the rafters somewhat unevenly.
An anguished cry came from the floor below, and Torus looked down in alarm. A young rat he didn’t recognize was struggling to escape from the grip of two pigeons, while a circle of birds surrounded them and kept any other rats from coming to his aid. There was a flash of white and gray, and the King settled down in the middle of the circle and faced the captive rat. With a lurch in his stomach, Torus realized what the King was about to do, and he looked around frantically for a way to help. The King stepped forward and pecked sharply at the struggling rat, who cried out in pain. The rats surrounding them roared in anger and surged forward, but the circle of pigeons held them back, flapping and squawking hysterically. The King said something that made the birds laugh, and then he pecked again at the rat in the middle.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Torus saw a flash of red. Chello leapt down from where he had been fighting a pigeon and ran at full tilt toward the King. The gash on his face had reopened and a trickle of blood ran down his cheek. The other rats in the circle scrambled out of his way. Without slowing at all he swung the weighted end of his spear like a club and knocked aside the pigeons guarding the King. Startled, the King looked up just as Chello crashed into him at full speed, knocking him over along with the two pigeons holding the other rat. The young rat scrambled away to safety and Chello quickly swung his spear around and pointed it directly at the King. They froze for just a moment, and then the circle of pigeons started closing in on Chello.
Not knowing what else to do, Torus jumped off the crate opened the wings of his flyer. He wasn’t high enough off the ground to get far, but it was enough to carry him over the crowd of birds on the floor. To his surprise, when they saw his dark shape overhead, they panicked and launched up into the air, leaving Chello and the King now surrounded by rats.
Torus glided down and landed next to Chello and in the same instant the King flew off as well. Without a word, Chello raced after him, leaping up boxes and piles, higher and higher, keeping as close as he could to the King, his teeth clenched and a grimly determined look in his eye.
Torus saw the pigeons making their way up to the rafters and was suddenly struck with an idea.
“To the roof!” he called loudly. “Up to the rafters! Don’t give them a place to land!”
He started climbing as well, to the highest place he could find in the room, and then scrabbling up the beams of the walls to reach the rafters. Many of the others followed him, and soon there were rats on each long beam that stretched across the room just under the roof. They ran back and forth, sometimes leaping from one to another, forcing away any pigeon that tried to land. Soon all the birds were circling the room in perplexed flight. Between the rats on the ground and the rats in the roof, there was nowhere they could land.
Torus saw Chello, still chasing the King, now up among the rafters. He leapt lightly from one beam to the next, clutching his spear and getting closer and closer to the bird as it tried frantically to keep its distance.
Torus had another thought, and shouted to Chello,
“Force him down! Into the flock!”
Chello didn’t answer, but very shortly he worked the King into a corner and the bird was forced to fly down into the room to escape him. Without hesitation, Chello jumped after him, opening the wings of his flyer, and Torus followed, diving swiftly and silently into the dead center of the circling flock.
The sight of two flying rats was too much for the agitated birds. Almost as one, they wheeled away from the rats and raced toward the broken windows and out into the deep twilight of late evening. There was an explosion of flapping wings and screeching calls as they flew out, and then the rats throughout the room broke into wild cheers and triumphant shouts as Chello and Torus glided down to the floor.
The celebration was short lived, however. There was a screech from near the window and Torus turned to see a pigeon silhouetted against the evening sky.
“Rat treacherous ra
t red!” it said. “Culucu I King frighten not!”
The rats fell silent and Chello started walking toward the bird.
“Rat red rat rat,” continued the bird. “Flock frighten King I not fright not!”
Chello didn’t respond, except to continue moving toward the bird. Torus and a few others started to follow him, and soon the bird was close enough that he could see it was the king, his white splotches shining dimly in the fading light.
“Rat die red!” the King screamed, becoming nervous. “Rat blood red blood die red!” It hopped on the window sill in front of the broken-out pane and fluttered its wings. “Rat red stupid!”
“Probably,” Chello muttered.
Then, without warning, he darted forward and leapt up to the windowsill where the bird stood. It barely had time to turn and flap awkwardly out the window before Chello reached the spot. Without stopping, Chello launched himself off the edge of the window frame and out into the air. Torus rushed up to the window and looked out anxiously. He saw the pigeon flapping madly down toward the alley and the dark shape of Chello’s flyer, with the wings narrowly extended, diving almost straight down toward the bird.
The pigeon glanced behind him, and seeing Chello approaching, swerved sharply to the right. Chello reacted just as quickly. Pulling his dive to the right without losing any speed he neared the bird and then, instead of maneuvering and attacking with his spear, he crashed right into it. As he clung to it, its wings became entangled in the fabric and wires of his flyer, and together they fell in a wobbling spiral into the darkness at the bottom of the alley, where they landed with a smack and then lay still.
Torus gasped when he saw Chello crash.
“What is it?” said Nevi. “What’s going on?”
“We have to get down there,” he replied. “Meet me down in the alley.” He launched himself out into the air and glided as quickly as he dared down to where Chello and the pigeon lay.
By the time he landed, Chello was shaking off the effects of his flight. He shrugged of the remains of his flyer and picked up his spear from where it had fallen. He was scuffed and bruised, and he limped slightly. The bird had recovered somewhat as well, although it still looked stunned, and it held one wing at an awkward angle, as though it were sprained or broken.
“Are you okay?” asked Torus. Chello ignored him, staring angrily at the bird. He started walking toward it and it stepped backward toward the blind end of the alley.
“What are you doing?” Torus asked, trying to grab Chello’s arm. Chello shrugged him off and continued toward the bird, grim and resolute. Other rats began to join them, Nevi among them, coming from the hole in the wall and watching tensely. A couple of pigeons flew into the alley and circled briefly high overhead. The King called to them weakly but they turned and flew off without replying. High above, the hawk circled slowly in the fading twilight.
The King turned to Chello.
“Rat red kill don’t,” it said, backing up against the pile of trash and junk at the back of the alley.
Chello remained silent and continued approaching the bird until he was directly in front of it. It hopped back and forth with no place to go, squawking feebly.
“Rat treachery rat,” it said. “Kill don’t.”
Chello stood for what seemed like a long time, staring at the bird and breathing heavily. The other rats shuffled up nervously and murmured to each other.
“Chello, what…” Nevi started, but trailed off without finishing.
Finally, Chello gripped his spear and leaned in toward the bird.
“I should kill you,” he said, quietly. Then he reached out and grabbed the bird’s wing, giving it a sharp yank. The bird yelped in pain and Chello stepped back, holding a long white feather.
“Get out of here,” he said to the bird. “Leave us alone now.”
He turned and walked away from the King, and the crowd of rats parted to let him pass. Torus caught his glance as he went by, but his expression was unreadable. The other rats began to move away from the pigeon and it eyed them suspiciously. Then it hobbled quickly between them to an open space on the ground and flapped its wings unevenly, trying to get into the air. After a couple of failed attempts it finally was able to get aloft, and it staggered in the air, up and over the street, until it disappeared in the darkness over the park.
Torus looked at Chello, who watched the bird leave and then looked at the white feather in his hand.
“Now what?” Torus asked. He looked up at the empty sky. “Do you think the hawk will get him?”
“Come on,” said Chello, turning abruptly toward the entrance to the building. “I have to go wake up the Chief.”
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