Lords of Trillium

by Hilary Wagner

  “Father, even if what you say is true, how can you believe him?” asked Cotton. “Just a year ago he was dead set on wiping out our entire colony. What if it’s all an act?”

  “I receive reports from Juniper and the Council on a regular basis. The Colony Leader Summit was just last month, lest you forget, and who attended?”

  “The Canyon Bats,” said Telula softly.

  “Yes, and they told me of Billycan’s transformation. I would have flown to Trillium and told Juniper myself, had our capture not occurred.”

  “Well, that’s still not proof enough for me,” said Telula, sneering through the plastic pane.

  Willow, stepping next to his father, said, “You were scary. The mere thought of you kept me from sleeping, back when you were in the swamp.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” said Billycan. “I’m a different rat now.”

  “Let’s hope,” said Cotton skeptically.

  “How did you find us?” asked Dresden.

  “It’s a long story,” said Billycan, “but as we had suspected, the Topsiders are back at their research.” He glanced around the lab. “We need to stop it—once and for all.”

  “On that we agree,” said Telula.

  Telula had every right to feel angry. All the bats did. Billycan looked up at them. They were all staring fixedly at him, hanging upside down on the artificial tree limbs, some quaking with fear, bits of guano dropping from the youngest. “Dresden, freedom is near. Juniper and the others are waiting up in the vent. Have you learned anything since your capture? Any idea what they’re after?”

  “All I can tell you is they’re killing us off quickly, twenty of my colony gone already and at least triple that number of your kind.” Dresden motioned to a long desk on which sat lab equipment and paperwork, a single row of cages pressed against the end of it. “I trust you remember Cobweb and Montague, your lieutenants back in the swamp? After we were captured, those brave rats jumped into the truck, trying to free us. Instead, they were captured too. One of the scientists seems to have taken a shine to them. They’re locked up over there where he works—the only rats kept in that area. If anyone would know anything, it’s them.”

  Slow, heavy footsteps grew closer. Billycan’s body tensed. “We’ll be back for you,” he promised, and then darted across the lab.

  Carefully he scaled the back of the long table, climbing up the electrical cords, a veritable jungle of wires and cables. He crawled behind a panel of monitors, all warm and glowing.

  He ducked his head out from under the monitor flanking the row of cages Dresden had pointed out. Whoever had walked back into the lab had left again. Billycan looked at the row of cages, all empty except for the one nearest the table.

  The cage was very much like the one he’d lived in for half his life. The closer he got to it, the more he felt like retreating. Inside the cage Cobweb and Montague huddled together in a far corner, each with a shiny silver tag strapped to his neck. Billycan sneered at the blue kibble in a small plastic dish; the scent still sickened him. He hurried up to the cage and shook the bars lightly. “Cobweb, Montague, wake up! Don’t be alarmed.” The rats did not rouse.

  Hesitantly, Billycan reached for the latch. How he’d dreamed for years about being able to unlatch his own cage. He silently lifted the pin and slid it out of the small metal holes that held it fast, smoothly unlocking the door—how easy it was!

  Leaving the door partially open, he stepped tentatively inside. Cobweb and Montague did not stir. They looked thin, fragile, not the robust swamp rats he remembered, his two seconds-in-command. He knelt down and picked up a piece of the dry blue kibble, the synthetic food that had always left him feeling hungrier than before and made his stomach twist in agony. As he let the piece fall to the ground, the two gray rats finally stirred.

  Montague’s eyes opened. Blearily he looked right at Billycan. Within seconds he was up, no longer dreaming. He grabbed his sleeping brother by the chest, yanking him farther back into the corner of the cage. “Cobweb, wake up!”

  Cobweb woke with a gasp, his eyes landing on Billycan. He stood in front of his brother and snarled. The two terrified rats brandished their claws and teeth. “You!” shouted Cobweb.

  “Stay back!” shouted Montague.

  Cobweb charged. Gritting his teeth, he growled and jumped up, kicking Billycan in the throat and knocking him against the cage wall.

  Billycan lay on the ground, stunned. He grabbed the slim metal bars of the cage door. Coughing, he pulled himself back to his feet. “I . . . I suppose I deserve that, and more. But . . . I’m not here . . . to hurt you,” he panted. Rubbing his throat, he pointed to the slender window on the side of the cage. “See for yourself. You’re . . . close enough to see them from here. Look at the vent . . . on the wall”. He fell to his knees, still struggling for breath. “Juniper . . . and the Council . . . they’re up there, waiting to help you and the others escape.”

  Montague squinted up at the vent. “There are rats up there, to be sure. I can make out their forms.”

  “How do we know they’re Nightshade rats?” asked Cobweb, glaring at Billycan. “They could be rats from his old regime.”

  Billycan got to his feet, still holding his throat. “Even if I’m lying, would it matter? Look around you. You are not in a position to be picky.” He nodded to the cage door. “Besides, you’re both free to go anytime you like. You can leave right now, if you choose.”

  The brothers exchanged glances. “We aren’t cowards,” said Montague. “We’re not about to leave the others to die. We wouldn’t do that.”

  Billycan looked at the monitors, all glowing a ghostly blue. “What happened to the other swamp rats? Are they here?”

  “After the bats were removed, Oleander’s father, Mannux, led the rats behind the manor and right into the chapel—hiding them in the only place the humans would never look for them, having just cleared the place of the bats.”

  “Clever move. What can you tell me of the lab? Do you know what’s in the injections?”

  “We know it’s deadly,” said Cobweb. “Most rats seem all right at first, but then they change, grow angry and bewildered . . . and very, very sick. Then they die. Rats that seem to be able to endure the injections and aren’t driven mad, they just disappear. They’re removed from the lab. We don’t know where they go, but I suppose they’re all dead too.”

  “We’ve been lucky so far,” said Montague. “The chief scientist seems to like us. He hasn’t given us any injections yet.”

  “It’s strange,” said Cobweb. “He’s in charge of the entire laboratory, yet he seems intimidated by the men in suits.”

  “Who?” asked Billycan.

  “His superiors,” said Montague. “They come in dark suits, carrying briefcases—an army of them sometimes. They argue with Walter a lot, telling him the operation must move faster, threatening to take ’drastic measures’ if he doesn’t get the results they want.”

  Eyeing his surroundings, Billycan stepped out of the cage for a moment and looked at the stack of papers in front of the monitors. Each one read “Confidential, Intellectual Property of Prince Industries” in bold letters across the top. He remembered the men in the suits, always very grim and perpetually unhappy.

  The classical music suddenly grew louder. “He’s coming back,” said Cobweb nervously. “This is his favorite part of the song. He always turns up the volume for this part!”

  Billycan slipped back into the cage, moving to its darkest corner. “He mustn’t see me,” he said.

  “Of course not,” said Montague. “A third rat can’t suddenly appear in our cage. That would certainly make him suspicious.”

  “That’s not the only reason,” said Billycan. He reached for his neck, feeling where his lab tag had been for so many years. “You see, he might remember me.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Walter

  MUCH ROUNDER THAN BILLYCAN RECALLED, Walter shuffled back to his stool in front of the monitors, his sh
ort, stocky frame encased in a white lab coat. The scents of coffee and the dried liver he always kept in his pockets as treats wafted off him.

  He’d grown old in the years since Billycan had last seen him. The brown hair that had lined the sides of his bald head was now a fluffy white, and the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth had grown deep and rutted.

  So he’s in charge now, thought Billycan, remembering that Walter was a mere lab tech all those years ago. He’d risen through the ranks, in a way much like Billycan.

  Walter took a deep breath. He removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His once rosy skin was slack and sallow. He closed his eyes, waving his pen in time with the music.

  Walter sighed and put his glasses back on. He looked down at the pile of papers before him. Reaching into his pocket, he dumped a handful of silver tags onto the table. He began scribbling their numbers on a piece of paper. “An additional twenty today . . .” Walter slammed down the pen. “At this rate, all our subjects will dead before we can fix the drug.”

  He pulled more tags from another pocket and placed them next to the others. They were like the small clasps Willow and his family had strapped around their legs. After counting them, Walter wrote down the numbers. “And seven bats today—that’s a record.” He got up and disappeared down a hallway.

  “Where did he go?” asked Billycan.

  “To get the cart,” said Montague.

  “The cart?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Walter quickly returned with a long metal cart. It had two trays on it, one on the top, another on the bottom. Cobweb quickly covered his nose. Billycan now knew what Topher had meant when he’d spoken of the trolley. The smell of death was overwhelming.

  Twenty rats, stiff and cold, lay on the top tray. They were skin and bone. Nearly half were albino, the other half in various shades—probably the ones captured in Trillium City. Billycan couldn’t bear to look at them.

  His back to the cages, Walter stood in front of the cart. He looked down at his papers and began typing numbers on the keyboard in front of the monitors.

  “Where does he take the cart?” whispered Billycan.

  “We don’t know,” said Montague. “One thing’s for certain, it always comes back empty. What does it matter? Let the man leave and we can open all the cages while he’s gone.”

  “We have to do more than merely free everyone. If we don’t, this will only happen again. We have to stop them permanently. We need to go with him—to see every inch of this place. There could be more rats we don’t know about.”

  “What if we’re caught?” asked Cobweb.

  Billycan looked up at the vent. Cobweb and Montague were in no condition to go with him. They were skeletally thin. Their coats were patchy and dull. Their eyes were bloodshot. “You two get Juniper and the others down here and start unlocking cages. We can’t be sure how many humans are inside. Everybody must stay in their cages until we have an escape plan, understand?” They nodded. Billycan glanced at Walter, still busy with his paperwork. “I’ll follow him.”

  “But what about those who are sick?” asked Montague. “They won’t willingly stay in their cages. They’ve gone mad. They’ll only cause chaos.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Billycan, thinking of Topher and Liam. “They must be left here. There’s no other choice.”

  “They’ll die!”

  “They’ve already been given a death sentence!” hissed Billycan. “We cannot help them.” He crept out the door of the cage, gently shutting it. To the naked eye it still looked locked. “Stay put until we’re gone.” He slipped around the side of the row of cages and climbed down to the floor, using the wire windows as a ladder. He stole quickly past Walter’s feet and stepped lightly onto the lower tray of the cart. Seven dead bats lay at his feet, their dark faces mirroring the shape of his own.

  The cart began to move, slowly rolling down a dark hallway with a checkerboard floor. Walter stopped at an elevator, punching in numbers on a keypad affixed to the wall. The keypad beeped and the doors of the elevator opened. As they entered the small compartment, Walter took something from his breast pocket and put it over his face. It was a small white mask that covered his nose and mouth.

  The elevator descended swiftly. Billycan’s stomach dropped. They were already well under the museum. How far into the earth could they go?

  When the doors of the elevator opened, they emerged into darkness, the only visible light a flashing red bulb in the distance. Walter pushed the cart down a narrow corridor that led to a set of metal doors highlighted by the pulsing red glow. He punched a code into another keypad on the wall and put on a pair of thick black gloves. The doors opened, sliding into the walls.

  They entered a cave, sounds echoing all around them. An overwhelming smell filled Billycan’s nostrils. It was oddly familiar, brackish, verging on rotten, but strangely it didn’t bother him. In fact he suddenly felt more at ease.

  Walter pushed the cart into an open area and left it there. He walked to a metal railing that ran around the central space. He placed his gloved hands on top of the railing and looked down.

  Billycan jumped off the cart. The ground was warm under his feet. He padded behind Walter, hiding himself beneath the railing.

  He looked down, then clutched the railing and jerked his body back, stunned by the sight below him—a vast, cavernous hole in the earth! From the center of the hole jutted a lofty rock formation, a small mountain. Billycan stifled a gasp. The volcano!

  Billycan sniffed the air, realizing the moldering scent grew stronger the nearer he was to the rock formation. “Brimstone,” whispered a voice from behind him.

  He whipped around, mechanically priming his claws for a fight. He lurched forward, about to strike, but stopped short when he saw the black rat before him. Billycan grabbed him by the shoulders. “Victor! You’re all right?”

  Victor’s eyes darted around the cave. “Yes,” he whispered nervously, “I think so.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I followed Duncan’s directions through the sewer and up into the museum. I heard music and was going to follow it, but found a rat-made tunnel instead. It led me right to the lab. I tried to catch a scent in the tunnel, but all I could smell was chemicals.” He rubbed between his eyes. “I followed one of the scientists down here, but got locked inside.”

  “The blue kibble the scientists feed the rats,” said Billycan. “That’s what you smelled in the tunnel. Its artificial scent seems to take over everything.” Victor seemed quite shaken, so much so that Billycan decided not to mention that Topher and Liam had made the tunnel. Victor need not hear what had happened to the Hunters just yet. If he only knew how lucky he was not to have come across them alone in the sewer!

  “What you said just now, brimstone. What did you mean?” asked Billycan. “That’s Trillium City’s original name, from the old days.”

  “The diary Juniper and Cole found in the museum archives last year said we lived in the core of the extinct volcano for hundreds of years. We were isolated, trapped in our own little world, unaffected by the elements outside. It wasn’t until the scientists discovered us that we found out we were so far advanced compared to other rats.” He stared down at the mountain. “The diary spoke of a mineral on the shores of the Hellgate Sea, a remnant of the volcano.”

  “Brimstone?” asked Billycan. Victor nodded. “Maybe that’s what we’ve been chasing all this time, going to the swamp and Tosca—but their volcanoes were exposed. The elements must have carried away the brimstone.”

  Walter turned. “Hurry,” said Billycan. “Onto the cart.” They dashed back to the cart, leaping onto the lower tray before Walter could spot them.

  At the sight of the seven lifeless bats, Victor nearly ruined their cover. Stumbling over the feet of a dead bat, he crawled frantically backward in a crab walk into the corner of the tray, the weight of his body nearly toppling it. Billycan promptly took him by the scruff of the neck and yanked
him toward the center of the tray, evening out their weight. “Steady, now,” he said, releasing his grasp. “You’re all right.”

  “How did you stand it?” Victor asked bleakly.

  “You mean the lab?” Victor nodded. “I’m not sure,” said Billycan. “It was the only life I knew back then. I suppose one can grow accustomed to anything.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Victor.

  “For what?”

  “For what happened to you. I didn’t understand what you went through until I saw for myself what they were doing to the rats. I was only in the lab a short while, and I saw more than I could stomach for a lifetime.”

  “And what did you see?” asked Billycan.

  “I’ve seen so much horror in the few hours I’ve been here! Starving rats begging for food, banging around their cages, their minds eaten away, their eyes hollow and sunken. I saw the humans jab them with needles filled with a thick black fluid. Then they took their blood, testing it in their equipment, writing down the results, and then tossing it away into a yellow can as though it meant nothing to them!”

  “It doesn’t mean anything to them,” said Billycan, inspecting the row of dead bats, who all looked very young.

  They were going down a ramp. “There are more of them down there,” whispered Victor.

  The astringent scent of perspiring humans filled the air, mingling with the smell of the brimstone. A man walked up the ramp as Walter came down with the cart. The man was in a blue one-piece garment. He had large round goggles covering his eyes, a black mask over his nose and mouth, a hard hat, and oversized earmuffs to protect his hearing, giving him the look of a giant insect. He pulled down his mask. He was dirty, his face covered in sweat and ash. He and Walter stopped for a moment and exchanged words.