Chapter Thirty

Turner was in the habit of leaving gifts. He usually left them behind when trouble threatened--when Teresa and Martin had almost single-handedly (or single-pawedly, perhaps) driven Group B from their river-port stronghold in the wilds of Canada, Turner had left them a packet of plans and blueprints. The cold logic of the scheme contained within those pages still kept Elizabeth and Justin up late at night, not the least because it could still be made to work, with the potential for complete disaster.

Twice, at great risk of being ripped to shreds by his own Commander and the whole of Group B, Turner had secretly slipped tools and supplies to Gadget, though she wouldn't have remembered the first time. She had no memory of packing a grappling hook before her sudden descent into the dark, where she'd lost her dear companions--the hook was another of Turner's little touches. Gadget had abandoned the rest of that first small package in her hasty flight through those tunnels--including the gas mask. Turner had only been able to scrounge a single mask, and then he had still feared Gadget would give the mask to one of her friends, sacrificing herself. It was, perhaps, a bittersweet blessing that she never knew about the mask--she could have driven herself to madness, wondering which of her friends she would have chosen.

For an instant, Turner's latest care package nearly did drive her mad, though he couldn't have meant her any harm.

"Haven't you heard of the postal system?" Timothy yelled up, though their visitor had long since abandoned his high perch at the airshaft entrance. Timothy was still rubbing a fresh lump on his head--he had broken the package's fall. As Gadget unwound the tight twine from the bundle that had come down through the shaft (their one source of light and air for the moment) she shrieked and dropped it.

A shriveled, furry thing lay on top of a note like a piece of dried fruit. The note, in block printing, began: "This one hurt you." It was an ear. Gone hard and dark, with a hole punched in it, but still recognizable. Through her fear, Gadget thought, Oh, Jesus, it's like some twisted version of the Franklin Mint, the Ear-Of-The-Month club. How do I cancel my subscription?

Devin's reaction was a little calmer. He steadied Gadget with a paw against one shoulder, then bent to examine the object. He picked it up gingerly between two paw-pads and turned it over, eyeing it closely. For one moment, Gadget had the crazy sensation that he was going to chew on it. He held it out to Gadget and she backed away, waving it off.

"I dobe think thad's a snack, Debbin," Runner eyed the intensely squinting packrat.

"I can understand a secret admirer leaving flowers, or chocolate even," Timothy whistled, "but body parts?"

"You've got a morbid little mind, Tim," Gadget growled, grinning in spite of herself and getting a good paw-hold on Devin's lab coat. "No one better try competing with this guy."

A light smile of appreciation touched Devin's lips, but he took the note gently from her free paw and scanned the rest of it, dropping the ear into one of his lab coat's many pockets. "I'll bet this ear belongs to the fellow we dragged out of the lake," he reasoned. "He was missing one, and the torn edge looks the same. With Turner on the job," he patted his coat, "I just might run out of pockets, or the bad guys might run out of ears. That is, if he's taking his ounce of flesh from everyone who hurt you."

Gadget shivered. I suppose it's a good thing to know I have some dangerous people on my side.

"Well, Gadget," Devin went on, "I think the rest of this package is yours too--Turner strikes again. I wish he'd leave me something once in a while." A look of longing passed across his face for a moment, not as deep as Gadget had seen, but close. "Cheese. Gouda, straight up. Right about now, I'd almost settle for a bite of that red wax the stuff's wrapped in."

Tina covered her eyes. "Don't talk about food. Everybody smells like a backyard barbecue."

All eyes turned her way. Narrowed, piercing eyes. Tina lifted her paw a little, sensing the sudden stillness to the room.

"What? What did I say? I've been to a barbecue, I didn't say I ate cow. I don't eat mammals--"

Runner made mock horns with his paws against his head. "Moo…Teema's a cabinal!"

"--though I might make an exception for smartass squirrels," she gnashed her teeth, fixing Runner in her sights. Runner whipped his paws down behind his back, all innocence.

"If you're all finished making threats," Gadget coughed pointedly, "there's a lot more to this note." She scanned Turner's businesslike message and began again, out loud.

She? Gadget's mind boggled.

"Arthur?" Devin gulped. "I can't believe the old fellow's mixed up in this. His son was the one who got the diving lesson from Turner--but I can't think it would be in Arthur's heart to do anything against the Valley!"

Gadget shook her head. "I only really know Arthur by reputation, but I know he's a fellow builder. His business is creation, not destruction. The mean streak must have skipped a generation with Arthur."

"Gee, thanks," Timothy huffed.

Tina thwapped herself on the forehead. "Someone did knock! Timothy didn't hear it, but I felt it. Turner probably saved our lives when he woke us up!"

Gadget chuckled a bit at the irony. "That's almost funny. He saved my life once by putting me to sleep for a while." She turned her eyes down to the note once more.

"Hey…" Devin started defensively.

Timothy grinned. "I'm liking this guy better and better."

Gadget rummaged around in Turner's package and found the pictures. They were like a vicious open-pawed slap to her soul. She forced herself not to crumple them in her grief and shame--shame that welled up in her again for surviving the attack on the Rangers, shame that her logic told her was unfounded but that her heart overflowed with none the less. She staggered back as Devin caught her--he looked over her shoulder and saw what had inspired her silent horror.

Gadget saw the eyes first--a crowd of them, silver-bright in the camera's flash, in faces grinning fiendishly. The eyes of the triumphant rats shone with evil purpose as they crowded around two smaller figures whose eyes were dull in death. Some stood with one foot on their defeated prey, as hunters might. A few of the rats still had gas masks dangling loose from their necks as they jeered and kicked at their unfeeling targets, only able to add insult now. Dale and Chip were far beyond further injury.

They came back! Gadget's grip on the pictures tightened in fury, an emotion that felt far better to her right now than that soul-deep shame. They came back after I left my friends dead down there in the dark! To gloat! She heard her voice well up from inside her, a cold and certain voice. "They didn't finish the job. I'm going to make every one of them regrets it."

Devin gently took his paws and turned her face so that she was looking straight into his. "You and I will make them pay, Gadget. Just remember that we're the good guys. If you hold onto enough hate, for long enough, even you might lose a little bit of that light that makes me love you so much. Revenge isn't all we have to live for."

She nodded against his careful paw, a tear trickling into it. "Forgive me, Dev. I don't want to make you sad."

"Sometimes you can't help it," he said soothingly. "I want to share your life, and parts are rough. It makes the good parts stand out better."

She gave him a well-deserved hug. As Devin held her close, he felt a shudder run through both their bodies. She must be terrified! "Hang in there, Gadge."

"Thanks. But that wasn’t me," she frowned.

The room shook again, to the accompaniment of muffled rumblings, like pieces of crockery banging against each other inside a distant dishwasher. Timothy’s wheelchair rattled back and forth. "Tina, you know I think you can make the earth move, but I don’t think that was you, either."

A dull spot of glass suddenly sprang to life by the door, blinking red in dots and dashes. "Morph cobe!" Runner pointed as the others puzzled out his words. He leapt to the doorside, finding a small transmitter button.

"He’s right! Hey, Runner—" Gadget grinned, " talk for us and if we get out of here alive, I'll sew that Communications badge back on Dale’s uniform for you." Runner nodded eagerly, pawpads poised above the sending button.

This should be entertaining, Timothy signed doubtfully to Tina, who pinched him on the shoulder.

Runner sighted in on the light, sending a short reply letting the person on the other end know they were receiving, and asking them to slow down. "Dey’re saying, ‘we habe an eclectic jabhacker down here—’"

"Clear as mud," Timothy nodded.

"And … ‘it cubs through roks like bubber,’" Runner gritted his teeth and continued to watch the light pulses. "Do I geb an egstra badge for pudding ub with Dimathee?"

"A jackhammer!" Devin snapped his pawpads. "I’ve used them for building collapses and other rescues. They could reach us, if they wanted to badly enough—"

"—shh! They say, ‘oben up or we’ll…’" Runner trailed off and went a little red around the ears. Watch your language, I’m just a kid, he tapped out. "They meandt, ‘open up or we’ll get really mad,’" he said, no one noticing how easily the words came.

"We want an exact translation—" Gadget cautioned.

"No, you dobt," he countered quickly, in a tone that let Gadget know he was right. "Whoebber it is, she cuzzes up a blue streek."

Tina gasped. "She? How can you tell?"

Runner winced as another flurry of light pulses came through. "She sez I neeb helb with my spellig. She can spell lobs of worgs I can’d." He didn’t dare repeat half of them.

Gadget recalled Turner’s odd warning that even female infiltrators from Group B might be in Thorn Valley. If the visitor knocking on the door with heavy machinery was female, it was still no guarantee of safety. "We have to be really sure, Runner. They might just want to trick us into coming out."

"We’re like Schroedinger’s cat," Devin murmured. "we don’t know if we’re alive or dead until we open the door."

"Teema?" Runner called over his shoulder, then turned so she she could see him. "Whoebber’s on the udder end—"

"Had better milk for all she’s worth," chuckled Timothy.

Runner regarded him coolly. "Stig to your day job az a kook, Dimathee. Yoore no cobedian. Teema, she sed if you dibn’t come oub right now, she’b tan yoor hibe an ube it for a thow rub."

"A throw rug?" Tina grinned wide. "I know who that is. And she never would, not really." She took a step toward the door, but Gadget barred her way.

"Waitaminute," Gadget slapped a paw over the heavy door bolt. "Someone threatens to skin you and you want to open up the door?"

"Trust me. She always talks trash but she wouldn’t hurt a living soul." Tina’s voice was so full of confidence and relief that Gadget took the paw away from the bolt.

Runner shuddered and prepared to send a last message. "I’ll leb her know we’re cubbing oub." He reluctantly tapped out the message, though whether a reunion or surrender to a terrible fate lay beyond the door, only Tina seemed to know for sure.

Tina pulled carefully at the well-balanced but massive door, and it swung into the room.

In the open doorway, bristling and crouched to spring, stood the largest rat any of them had ever seen, huge burly paws wrapped around the haft of a spiked weapon nearly as tall as himself. The rat’s eyes were a mere silver glimmer in sunken sockets, and he looked as if he would be equally comfortable plowing through solid rock with his claws, or ripping, say, a defenseless trio of mice, a packrat, and a Morse-code-tapping squirrel (whether or not he had earned his Communications badge) into unidentifiable pieces.

In the instant Gadget had to think, she was certain that opening the door was the last mistake they would ever make.

Button images by Keith Elder