Garbage Island

by Fred Koehler

  Edward the Dung ambled to the mayor’s seat—the one that Mr. Popli used to occupy. He sat down, looking smug as a bug.

  “We’re doomed, aren’t we?” asked the shrew.

  “I should think so.”

  “Captain Shift,” said the dung beetle. “Can you tell us what you witnessed last night?”

  The gecko cleared her throat. “Honorable war council members, I led the patrol last night on the southern approach. At dusk, we witnessed a vessel making its way toward the island. Per the war council’s orders, we fired a warning shot and commanded her to turn back. They hailed us. We allowed them to advance. The mouse announced himself as Mayor Popli and invoked his right as a citizen to access the island. I considered escorting them in myself until we saw the snake.”

  Someone in the audience gasped at the mention of the snake, as though Huxley wasn’t sitting right there in the assembly hall, smelling the unfamiliar air with a flickering tongue. Mr. Popli rolled his eyes and put a paw to his shaking head. Captain Shift continued.

  “I followed protocol. No outsiders were to be allowed in on threat of death, so we turned them back. That was the last we saw of them.”

  “Thank you for your testimony, Captain.” The beetle turned toward Mr. Popli, Archie, and Huxley. All eyes followed his gaze. “It’s a shame you didn’t bury them at sea and save us the trouble.”

  Edward the Dung believed himself to be the best leader, which is often the worst kind of person for the job. He grew up a bully, and not even a very good one. Most animals mistook his attempts to torment others as a mild developmental impediment.

  He’d run against Mayor Popli in the last two elections and had lost, both times, in landslides. And yet, with Mr. Popli gone and no small amount of voter fraud, he was now chair of the war council. And he was enjoying it immensely. From this position he could, on threat of death, demand the admiration he’d always wanted but never earned. Not only that, but others did his dirty work. It was little wonder the island was in a state of panic.

  He addressed the pair of bedraggled mammals. “You’ve been accused of harboring an enemy and defying orders by sneaking into the island!” If a dung beetle could appear villainously elated, Edward the Dung certainly did. “Please, explain yourselves to this war council. Then we will proceed to the hanging.” The rest of the citizens tensed. No one clicked a pincer or licked an eyeball.

  “What a blowhard,” whispered Mr. Popli to Archie.

  “Yes,” the shrew agreed solemnly. “He’s got all the qualities of a fine leader.”

  “Shall I go ahead and put him in his place?”

  “With Godspeed, Mr. Mayor.”

  “WHAT ARE YOU TWO WHISPERING ABOUT?!” The dung beetle’s head turned from shiny green to a dull orange, which is as close as it could get to red.

  Mr. Popli cleared his voice and rose up to his full height. “As mayor, I hereby disband the war council. Thank you, Mr. Dung, for your service. You may step down.”

  “But—”

  “No. No. You’ve done more than enough harm. Our citizens are in a panic. An enemy threatens our borders. And you appear to have handled the situation like a frogfish.”

  “You can’t disband the war council!” The beetle stomped his six feet and clacked his mandibles in absolute outrage. “You’re being tried for treason!”

  “Tried, perhaps. But never formally arrested. According to our laws (that’s statute 645.7, paragraph three, if you’re having trouble finding it), the mayorship can be revoked if, and only if, he or she has died, has lost an election, or has been formally arrested using the lengthy process described in paragraphs four through thirteen. Which, I assure everyone, has yet to happen.”

  Not a whisker twitched in the assembly hall. All eyes jumped from Mr. Popli to the war council members to Edward the Dung. Most of the citizens wanted Mr. Popli back—Edward had done a miserable job as leader. But none were brave enough to say so.

  “Then I hereby arrest you for treason!” said Edward the Dung.

  “You can’t. I already disbanded the war council.”

  “WILL SOMEONE ARREST THIS MOUSE?!” When no one responded, Mr. Popli crawled out of the cereal dish, scaled the podium, and gently nudged the dung beetle out of the way. Edward looked commandingly at one soldier after another, but they all refused to meet his eyes. Defeated, he clomped down from the pedestal.

  Mr. Popli reconvened the old council, and they debated for hours over what to do with Huxley. Mr. Popli argued that the juvenile snake ought to be set free, carrying terms of peace back to his mother. Other council members thought they should use him as a hostage to force Colubra to surrender. Others still, those few dark characters loyal to Edward the Dung, thought they ought to nail him to the outer wall.

  The moderates prevailed, and plans were formed to send out their entire armada of boats to Colubra’s lair the next morning. Till then, Huxley would be a prisoner of war. The juvenile snake sank to the bottom of his cage.

  The sun set low on the horizon as the council finalized their plans. “But what if Colubra won’t agree to our terms?” asked a sulking Edward the Dung.

  “We fight and a lot of us die,” said Mayor Popli.

  “Unless we can kill her first,” added Captain Shift.

  Edward the Dung harrumphed. “If we’re lucky, both snakes will end up dead.”

  Chapter 28

  Archie pushed and pulled against the oars. “It’s the same moon,” he told Huxley. “This is the same rowboat. Those are the same stars mapping the way to the same old refrigerator where I found you. I should never have taken you away from your mother. I was wrong about a lot of things. And I hope by getting you home, I can start to fix it.”

  “Fix it,” Huxley hissed in agreement.

  “I suppose the worst that could happen is that Colubra eats me for dinner. Unless she then heads to the island and eats all of my friends. Everyone except Edward the Dung, of course, who becomes her new best pal, and they live happily ever after. Yes, that would be the worst that could happen.”

  Archie had decided to do this alone. After all he’d put poor Mr. Popli through, he couldn’t stand to have the mouse join him in another foolish and perilous venture.

  When the council broke for dinner, Archie had freed Huxley. It was a simple matter, really. Using the key that Mr. Popli gave to him, he regained access to his workshop. There, he’d built a decoy snake from a length of black rubber tubing and striped it with homemade paint made from sea salt and dandelion flour. Since it was evening and Huxley had been napping, the fake snake, curled in the dim cage, could easily pass for a sleeping Huxley. Then all Archie had to do was create a distraction for the guard, pick the lock on Huxley’s cage, and make the switch. Soon they were casting off the rowboat from his secret door.

  Familiar rubber duckies bobbed in the ocean current as Archie neared the former mouse colony that had become Colubra’s lair. As if sensing his proximity to home, Huxley livened, slithering rapidly from bow to stern and between the shrew’s feet.

  Well. Here goes. Archie scaled the old refrigerator, recognizing his own claw marks in the moldy grime from his previous visit. He shook like a plastic bag in the wind. Huxley zigzagged up the incline after him.

  The still, small voice in Archie’s head told him that going forward was a very, very bad idea. For once, he heartily agreed with it. And yet he scuttled in through the ice maker.

  The moment Archie stepped a paw inside, he froze, hypnotized by the towering serpent coiled back to strike.

  “H-h-hello,” he managed. Colubra turned her head curiously to one side.

  “I know your scent, thief. Kidnapper. Murderer.”

  “N-n-no! Not at all! S-s-see? I’ve brought your son back to you.”

  Huxley slithered from the shadows of the ice maker behind Archie into the light. Colubra reared up again as Huxley joyfully climbed over and around her. Archie wondered if Huxley might never treat him that way again. But Colubra kept all her attention on the t
rembling shrew.

  “Why?” The serpent loomed over Archie.

  “Would you believe it was all an accident? A complete misunderstanding! I saw you with the egg, and I thought—silly me—it was a bird or some other unlucky animal. So, if you look at it from a certain perspective, it was more of a rescue than a kidnapping.”

  “So you and your islanders took my child, hatched him, and held him captive. But now you’re bringing him back to me? So that I might stop attacking you?”

  “No!” the shrew said emphatically. “I mean, it was my fault. The citizens knew nothing about it. I’ve returned your son in hopes that you’ll make peace with us.”

  The snake’s coils writhed back and forth. “You had peace,” Colubra hissed. “I found other meals. I allowed your island to prosper. But now you’re strong enough to fight against me. And arrogant enough to come into my home and steal what’s mine. I have little choice but to put an end to all of you.”

  That’s when Archie realized the depth of his mistake. There would be no peace. No alliance. Just a final, bloody battle in which he would be the first casualty.

  “Then I’ll fight you.” He cast around for a weapon and chose the shattered end of a spear whose previous owner had fared rather poorly.

  “If you insist,” said Colubra. “But you can’t win.”

  “You’ve never fought a shrew.”

  “You’re right. Typically, I paralyze and swallow them without a fight.”

  “No one needs to be paralyzed and swallowed.” Mr. Popli cast a long shadow across the lair, creeping over the wreckage of his childhood home. He made his way toward Colubra, Archie, and Huxley. Colubra coiled backward by a mouse length.

  “Archibald, you accidentally left without me!”

  “Oh, um. My apologies.”

  “It’s a good thing Edward the Dung had the Abigail pulled out of the water as evidence, and I had the foresight to have her repaired this afternoon. A bit of tar, some patches—and she’s limping along just fine. I was nearly able to catch up with you.”

  Thank goodness! thought Archie. If anyone can orchestrate peace between a snake and an island full of snake food, it’s good old Mr. Popli.

  “I’ve come to surrender,” said the mouse. Colubra flicked her tongue excitedly.

  “You and I have been at war since the day you slithered into my childhood home, taking away everything I knew and loved. You hunted down everyone else. I’m the last mouse alive from this colony. So finish what you started, and then, perhaps, you and the islanders can have peace.”

  He’d rehearsed the speech a dozen times and delivered it with sincerity and fervor. It was a fine political maneuver. He’d demonstrated humility and a willingness to compromise; now she would see that the islanders were reasonable. That peace could be a possibility, if only both sides would agree. I hope she doesn’t actually take me up on it.

  Colubra lifted herself higher, turning her head to one side. She struck like a firebolt, snatching Mr. Popli off his feet and retreating with the mouse into the shadows.

  Archie scurried for his life.

  Chapter 29

  No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Archie’s brain could form no other word. One second, Mr. Popli had been there, doing what Mr. Popli did. Making a speech. Building peace. Fixing Archie’s mistakes. And then he was gone—in a flash of scales and fangs and fur. No. No. No. The word echoed in his mind as he leapt instinctively aboard the Abigail, ignoring his skiff. No. No. No. The word pounded in his head in rhythm with the clicks of the engine and chugs of the paddle wheel. No. It was his heart’s cry of shame as the shrew pedaled the Abigail away. Away from Colubra’s lair. Away from the island. Away from all the trouble he’d caused.

  He pedaled all night, following a cluster of stars he recognized from his charts.

  Merri found him the next morning, slumped over the steering mechanism. He stared blankly when she nudged him, eyes glazed from lack of sleep, fur tangled, and skin drawn from the heat.

  “Archie, are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Where’s the snake? Belowdecks with Mr. Popli?”

  “No.”

  “Did you take it back to its mother? What did she say? Did she agree to stop attacking the island?”

  “No. She said no, Merri. And then she ate Mr. Popli.” Saying the words out loud made everything real. Archie’s head cleared.

  “No!”

  “You were right, Merri. She wants all of us gone. Exterminated. I saw her up close. She’s faster than a sailfish. Strong as a sea turtle. There’s no stopping her. That’s why I’m leaving for good.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I am. And you should come with me. We’ll find a new island, start our own civilization.”

  Archie expected her to refuse, but was unprepared for her response.

  “NO—”

  “Ow!”

  “YOU—”

  “Stop it!”

  “ARE—”

  “That hurts!”

  “NOT—”

  “Please!”

  With every word she pecked Archie right on top of his skull. Then she perched next to him, sobbing quietly with her head tucked under her wing.

  “Merri, please. What can we do to stop Colubra? To stop the citizens? She’s determined to kill us all. We haven’t got a spear sharp enough to pierce her scales. There’s not a ship in our fleet she can’t sink.”

  “I’m not crying about the citizens. Or the island.” The bird sniffled. “I weep for Mr. Popli. He’s the only one who ever thought there was a chance for peace. For real community. He spent his whole life working for it. And for what? To be eaten by the same enemy who killed his parents? To see his dream shattered by politicians like Edward the Dung? By cowards like you?” Her words stung more than any peck on his skull.

  “I—I don’t—I can’t—Merri, I don’t know what to do! Mr. Popli was the smartest animal I’ve ever met. He was brave and clever and the citizens listened to him. He saved us from a hundred dangers on our trip. And even he couldn’t fix this mess. He tried! And now he’s slowly digesting in Colubra’s stomach. What can I possibly do that he couldn’t?”

  Merri tilted her head sideways. “You still don’t get it, do you?” The bird gestured out over the ocean. “Look out there. Most of us see trash and hopeless, empty expanses. But you? You look at garbage and see tools and weapons. You stare at the ocean and see farms, food, and highways. Garbage Island wouldn’t have existed without Mr. Popli, but it wouldn’t have survived without you! And you’re the reason I’ve stayed.”

  “Oh.” Archie had never seen things that way before. He’d never been told he was useful or important. Or, if he had, he’d never believed it. Till now.

  And Mr. Popli! Archie blinked. Even as we disagreed, we created something together—something worth saving.

  Archie felt drained of ideas, though. He sighed. “Merri, I can’t fix the mess we’re in now.”

  “But you can show up. You can build. You can help put weapons in the hands of every able-bodied citizen. And you can fight beside me to try to save what Mr. Popli and you built. The island needs you. I need you.”

  The clouds opened up and rain fell in tiny droplets. Archie watched as they gathered on his snout and rolled down his whiskers. The water bounced off the side of the Abigail and snaked along the grooves of the plastic before collecting, drip by drip, in the rain barrels. An idea began to form in the shrew’s mind.

  “Merri, what did the council decide to do now that they don’t have Huxley?”

  “Go to war with Colubra. Better to bring the fight to her, they said.”

  “Can you get back in time to stop the assault? Or slow it down, even for a day?”

  “I—I don’t know, Archie. Without Mr. Popli, will they listen to either of us? And what good would it do? You said yourself that there’s no way we can beat Colubra.”

  “I was wrong. We may not be able to have peace, but we can win. I’ve got a plan.”


  “Simply announcing to the council that Archibald Shrew has another plan will not change their minds. I need something more.”

  “Tell them …” The shrew paused, thinking. He wondered what Mr. Popli might say. “Tell them that I’m bringing a snake of our own. One that’s big enough to swallow Colubra whole.”

  “This may be the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” said Edward the Dung. “Can we vote instead to liberate the island once and for all from this irksome shrew? We’re low on ammunition, and his head would make a satisfactory cannonball.”

  “His plan could work,” Merri argued. “And it puts far fewer lives at risk than an open assault on Colubra.”

  “I want to hear him explain it one more time,” said Captain Shift, who had been elected to fill an ominously empty seat on the council.

  “Well, the idea is pretty simple. What’s the one thing we’ve made that Colubra has never overcome? Our wall. It’s sturdy enough to face the wind. Strong enough to withstand storms. Steady enough to turn back even a bigger fish. Colubra can’t get over it or under it or through it. But parts of the wall are hollow.”

  “And you think we can trap Colubra inside the wall?” asked the captain.

  Archie was terrified that the citizens wouldn’t listen. That they’d rise up against him, or, worse yet, ignore him completely. But a general murmur arose in the crowd. Ears perked up. Brows furrowed. Eyes squinted. All afraid for their lives. All waiting to hear what the shrew had in mind.

  “There’s a door under the Watchtower that leads in and out of the island through one of those hollow parts of the wall. All we’d have to do is seal off the bottom to make a chamber, then use our ships to lure Colubra back to the island. She chases one of us into the trap. We shut the door behind her. Hopefully, the bait evades her long enough to escape through a small opening we leave toward the interior. She can thrash and flail all she wants. She’ll have no way out.”