by N M Tatum
She seemed to imagine it. A genuine smile snuck onto her face.
She shook away the thought. “Anyway, back to business. Malibu has a rodent problem. Now, do you do rodents, or are you strictly bug catchers? I don’t know how this works. I typically have my assistant handle these sorts of things. She went to college on a scholarship, so she’s more familiar with you working-class types.”
Cody swallowed hard then pretended to scroll through his wristcom.
Reggie smiled and said a silent prayer of gratitude that Joel wasn’t within earshot. “We handle rodents as well. Any kind of pest, really.”
“Great,” Millie said. “And you’re fast? And discreet?”
Reggie tried to answer, but the words he knew he needed to say wouldn’t come out.
“Yes,” Cody said. “Very fast and discreet.”
Neither of them mentioned the space station that was swallowed by the giant bug or the amusement park that exploded or the flying volcano monster.
“Wonderful.” Millie sipped her sweet tea. Her big hair, held aloft by several cans of hairspray and possibly some black magic, swayed as she tipped back her cup.
Joel and Sam returned, setting down coffee and muffins in front of Reggie and Cody. Peppy laid down next to Joel, his tail brushing against the bare skin of Millie’s leg. She jerked it away from him.
“He doesn’t bite,” Joel said. “Unless I tell him to.”
Millie looked like she was just told her reservation was lost and she’d have to wait for a table. “As I was saying, speed and discretion are of the utmost importance. I’m hosting a gala here tonight. The biggest names in everything from fashion and entertainment to politics will be in attendance. They cannot know about the infestation.”
Joel planted his elbows on the table. “Finally, something interesting. What are we talking about? ShimVens? Rapoo? Butt weasels? Hemorrhagic brain beetles?”
Millie leaned forward, dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin as a way of hiding her face, trying to keep the other customers from hearing. “Rats.”
Joel’s excitement level plummeted. “Rats? That’s it? Not even mutant rats who know karate? Just regular rats?”
Millie winced each time he mentioned the rodent. “Keep your voice down, please. No one can know. The embarrassment would be more than Malibu can handle.”
Sam eyed Cody’s muffin. She’d finished hers in two bites, and he’d yet to touch his. He caught onto her and slid the pastry closer to himself.
“Why call us now, on the night of the gala? Wouldn’t you want to get rid of the rats before the fancy-pants guests come to dinner?” Cody asked.
“I didn’t think it would be an issue.” Millie buried her face in her hands to hide her shame. “My maintenance crew found it last week. They assured me it was a small infestation. And with everything else that I needed to do to plan for the gala, I let it get away from me. But, this morning, I heard the rats make a godawful racket in the rafters above the ballroom.” She clutched her pearls. “Can you imagine if that happened during the gala?”
“Heavens, no,” Joel said with exaggerated breathlessness.
Millie didn’t seem to notice that he was insulting her. “I must have the infestation dealt with immediately. But with the gala beginning in just a few hours, I know that it won’t be removed in time. I just ask that you do as much as you can before the guests arrive, and then continue on subtly once they’re here.”
Her eyes fell on Sam, on the mask that hid her face from the world. Then they drifted down to Peppy, who had fallen asleep and begun to dream that he was chasing something. “If my guests were to see you, the gala would certainly be ruined.”
Sam leaned forward, inching closer to Millie’s face, tension building between them like they were opposing magnetic poles. “We wouldn’t want that.” Sam took half of Millie’s English muffin, lifted her mask and took a huge bite out of it before dropping it back on her plate.
Millie gasped.
“Not to worry,” Reggie said, looking to diffuse the situation and wrap up the meeting before it spiraled completely out of control. “We’ll get started immediately. You and your guests won’t even know we’re here.”
Cody brought up the display on his wristcom. A holographic projection of the Malibu schematics hovered between them. He pointed to a service tunnel hub on the second level.
“We’ll set up here.”
Millie thanked them in advance for the expediency and subtlety while simultaneously insulting them for everything else. Joel and Sam ground their teeth as Reggie smiled and shook her dead spider hand and assured her everything would work out.
Once Millie left, the team collectively unclenched.
Sam stabbed the uneaten portion of Millie’s English muffin. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to murder anyone as much as I’ve wanted to murder her.”
“I’m usually opposed to blowing up the space station and not getting paid,” Joel said. “But just this once, I’m okay with it.”
“Right?” Cody said. “Millicent? More like millipede. Am I right?” He raised his hand in expectation of a high five.
Sam glowered at him. “You’ve skyrocketed to number two on my must murder list.”
Reggie pumped his hands, trying to signal everyone to slow down. “All right, let’s just settle down. So she’s a little obnoxious. We can deal with obnoxious. We’ve fought off swarms of mutant bugs and hordes of vicious raccoon monsters. One obnoxious rich lady shouldn’t be a problem.”
Joel nodded, though reluctantly. “I guess. If Millie is the most we have to stomach with this job, then whatever. Just rats? No mutants or monsters or threats of death?”
“Exactly.” Reggie smiled. “Should be a cakewalk.”
Joel sighed. “You never learn. Every time you utter that phrase, a harmless rodent transforms into a face-eating monster.”
Reggie shoved the rest of his muffin in his mouth and spit crumbs as he spoke. “Come on, we’ve got a job to do.”
Chapter Three
The network of tubes and tunnels snaking through Malibu was like something out of Mario Bros. Joel wanted to climb inside one and see if he popped out somewhere else or found a magical item that let him fly.
“I should really get a raccoon suit,” he said, not realizing that he was thinking all that and no one had the slightest clue what he was talking about.
Sam chose to ignore him, which she found to be the most effective way of dealing with his nonsense.
They lugged their gear through the landing bay, as guests of the gala began to arrive. The gowns were like something out of a fairytale—long and flowing, glistening like they were made out of moonlight. But the people wearing them were nothing like the fairytale characters Sam had dreamed of as a girl. They were cruel and petty. They dismissed the dockhands like they were less than human. They gossiped about each other and served up backhanded compliments the same way they probably played tennis on the weekends.
“Such a lovely gown, Darlene. Even lovelier than when Samantha wore it last year.”
“Thank you, Katherine. I noticed how much your husband admired it when Samantha wore it last year. I figured a gown that garnered such enthusiastic attention must be worth trying on myself.”
The Notches kept their heads down and avoided as much attention as they could. Which wasn’t hard. The gala guests barely noticed they existed. To them, the Notches were little more than part of the décor.
They loaded into a freight elevator that brought them up to the next level. Level two was a service level. There were no storefronts or retail outlets or hotels. Level two made it possible for all that other stuff to function. This was where the access hatches, control panels, power conduits, and ventilation tubes ran. This level was the guts.
They reached a central hub just meters after leaving the elevator.
“This is the spot,” Cody said.
He and Sam began unpacking, while Reggie and Joel went back to the Ragnarok to get
the rest of the gear. They were so used to apocalyptic jobs that they didn’t know how to pack for a simple rat job anymore.
As Cody set up his remote monitoring station, he cast a glance at Sam, who was checking the weapons. She seemed preoccupied, which was unlike her, especially on the eve of a job.
“You okay?” he asked.
She seemed surprised by the question, a little offended, maybe. “Fine.”
“Because I noticed you seemed a little more on edge than normal in the café, talking to Millie. A little closer to stabbing her than you have been with most people lately.”
“That weapon is a chore.”
“No argument there. But then walking through the landing bay, seeing all those people in their fancy gala gowns, you seemed agitated again.”
Sam rested the blaster she was inspecting on her lap. “People like that are not kind to people like me.”
Cody felt suddenly like he couldn’t look at her, like she was too exposed. “Sounds like you have personal experience?”
“A lot,” Sam said. “Street kids are like pieces of trash to rich folks like that. Worse, they’re pieces of trash that beg for money.” She picked up the blaster again and smiled. “Or take it.”
“Did you rob a lot of people?”
“Enough to get by. I ran with a pack for a while in my early street days. That was the only way to survive. An older kid or adult would find you sleeping in an alley and recruit you. When they first found me, I thought I’d found a new family.” She popped the clip in the blaster and set it down in a stack of readied gear. “Turned out not to be the case.”
Cody hardwired his computer setup into Malibu’s internal system, then booted everything up. He wanted to ask her to elaborate, but this was the most she’d shared with him, and she was notoriously tight-lipped. He didn’t want to spook her.
She finished inspecting the gear, separating it all into neat piles for each member of the team. She drew her sword and inspected that last. The way she swung it, held it, revered it, was mesmerizing. Cody could watch her do it all day.
He was about to gently prod her to continue when Reggie and Joel returned with the last of the gear.
Joel dropped a box on the floor in the center of the room. It landed with a loud thud. “When did we start lugging so much crap to jobs?” He looked off into the distance at the answer to his question. “Right, all the space monsters and shit. Never mind. Maybe we should get some more stuff.”
Reggie looked at the gear like a dad looking at his new lawnmower. “I think this should be enough to take care of some rats. Assuming they’re normal rats and not flesh eating, mutant, monster rats.”
“Which they definitely will be,” Joel said. “But I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He sat on the edge of one of the larger crates. “So, what’s the plan?”
Cody displayed the floorplan for level two. He highlighted the series of tubes that delivered air to the entire station. “The rats are using these tubes to travel through the station. This means they can reach the entire place, but they’re also centralized. We should be able to corral them easily enough. I’m jacked into the system. I’ll lock down all of the vents. Then two of us will flush the tubes from this end. All of the rats will come running out the other end, where the other two of us will be waiting.”
Reggie scanned the gathered gear. “We could just set up a bunch of traps to catch them as they come out. We might not even need to blast anything.”
Sam sighed and sheathed her sword. “That does not sound exciting.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Reggie said. “And I’m okay with that.”
Cody and Sam stayed at the mouth of the tunnels. Cody to man the computer terminal, Sam to watch his back in case anything happened. Reggie and Joel made for the other end of the tunnel system to trap the rats.
Level two was like walking through a basement. It was musty, cramped, and you had to walk with a slight hunch for fear of smashing your head into a low-hanging pipe. By the time Reggie and Joel traveled halfway to their destination, their necks and backs ached. They squatted down to take a break near an air filter that hummed like a soothing white noise machine.
Joel seemed lost in his head. He chased down a stray thought as Reggie traced a pattern in the dust on the floor. Joel finally caught the idea and pounced on it. “Remember how we’re millionaires now? I mean, sure, we don’t have millions in liquid assets—we couldn’t go to the bank and withdraw a cool million right now—but our ship, Ragnarok, and all the equipment we bought after selling off those Rapoo teeth, that’s all worth millions. We’re rich.”
Reggie kept tracing, becoming mesmerized by the pattern. “What’s your point?”
“My point is that we’re still up here in the attic hunting rats while those rich bastards are twirling around in fancy dresses and drinking champagne.”
“You want to twirl around in a fancy dress?”
“What if I do? Are we getting invited to any galas? No. Are we ever going to? No. Because no matter how much money we have, we’ll never be like them. We’ll still be the exterminators, the help, the working-class joes.”
Reggie wiped the pattern away. “What’s wrong with that?”
“What’s the point of all this if not to get a taste of that life down there?”
Reggie snapped back to the present, now fully aware of Joel’s statement. “Freedom. We sail our own ship. We aren’t chained to a desk. We make our own hours. We’re our own bosses. We don’t answer to anyone if we don’t want to. That’s why I do this.”
Joel sneezed and kicked up a cloud of dust. Then he stood, banging his head on a ventilation pipe. “I guess we have different definitions of ‘freedom.’”
They walked a while in silence, both frustrated, but not necessarily at each other. Crawling around in a dank, rat poop-riddled crawl space while the rich and super rich sipped champagne and laughed over the plight of the other ninety-nine percent really took the wind out of their sails.
A sudden chorus of pattering feet froze Reggie and Joel in their tracks. It came at them from behind and rushed toward them like a wave. It passed by and then faded.
“Was that the rats?” Joel said. “That sounded like a lot of rats.”
“We ain’t afraid of no rats.” Reggie smiled and immediately regretted it after seeing Joel’s reaction. “Dad joke?”
“Dad joke.”
They hustled to the end of the tunnels, afraid the rats would start pouring out before they’d had the chance to set traps. Oddly, once they entered the alcove at the end of the tunnels, they found themselves alone.
“Cody, you closed all the vents, right?” Reggie asked over their comms.
“Yeah, everything is shut. Only way those rats get out is through you.”
Joel and Reggie scanned the area. Nothing. At a loss and not wanting to waste any more time, they shrugged and started setting traps. Ten minutes later, the alcove was littered with every trap they had. There were lethal and nonlethal devices. Traps that would kill individual rats and large boxes designed to allow the rat to enter but then not be able to get out. Once done, they’d dispose of the rats caught in the nonlethal traps.
Fish in a barrel. Or rats in a box. Whatever.
“We’re all set on our end,” Joel said. “You can start sending them our way.”
“On it,” Cody said. “Commencing Operation Rat Flush.”
Joel winced. “I’m formally requesting we change that name immediately.”
Sam popped two flares and tossed them into the tunnel opening. Cody activated the reverse suction so the smoke wouldn’t seep into the level below and ruin the fancy-pants party.
“They should be headed your way now,” Cody said.
Joel drew his pistols just in case, even though he probably wouldn’t need them. There was no way the rats would make it past their minefield of traps. And they didn’t want to use their weapons. The blasting would definitely be heard one level down. Still, it made h
im feel in control.
The chorus of pattering sounded again. Reggie and Joel braced themselves, logic and experience at war together. Logic told them it was just rats. Disgusting little creatures that made a mess and had once spread the plague across Earth but were mostly harmless now. But experience told them to be ready for anything, because shit was about to get totally bonkers.
The chorus built to a rumble. Then to a crescendo. Then stopped.
Joel and Reggie traded confused looks.
“Maybe Cody missed a vent?” Reggie said with a shrug.
“I certainly did not,” Cody answered.
Then, as if in answer to their question, a single rat poked his head out of the tunnel. It twitched its whiskers as it surveyed the area for danger. Seemingly declaring it safe, the lone rat stepped out like a man inching into cold water. It explored a small area, not yet feeling safe enough to venture far, apparently knowing enough to realize something was not right. But, quickly, it grew more confident. It sniffed at the traps, walked around them.
Joel grew concerned that they’d had the misfortune to stumble across the smartest rat alive. Until it wandered into one of the nonlethal traps. “Ha! Rats are dumb.”
That one seemed to have primed the pump. Steadily, more followed. And then a stream of them began to pour out of the tunnel and into the traps.
Reggie posed with his leg up on one of the nonlethal traps. “Just call me Pesterminator: the Western Exterminator.”
“These aren’t Ronnie the Super Rats, though,” Joel said. “Just regular dumb rats. The rate this is going, we should be able to wrap up in no time.”
Reggie and Joel sat along the wall at the far edge of the alcove and watched the rats pour out of the tunnel. They kept vigilant for a few minutes but quickly realized the rats needed no tending. They managed to get trapped just fine on their own.
“How’s everything on your end?” Cody said.
“Easy,” Joel responded.
“Here, too,” Cody said. He checked the monitors again. Everything was running smoothly on its own now. They’d created a self-sustaining system. He looked at Sam and shrugged. “I guess I’ll walk the route and see how everything’s going?”
