by Emily Ecton
“Bad news,” Polo said, shivering.
“Right,” Walt said, standing up. Getting creeped out wasn’t going to do them any good. And Walt was starting to think it was contagious. “Let’s get going. Now, you know the signal if he comes back?”
“Howl into the elevator shaft and hope you hear it,” Butterbean said solemnly.
“Fly outside, locate his apartment, and peck on the windows,” Oscar said.
“Good.” Walt nodded. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that. I’ll be out in the hallway, so I should be able to make a commotion on my own. But as we’ve seen,” she said, shooting a side glance at Oscar, “it’s good to have backup plans.”
Oscar clicked his beak and then nodded. “Well, better get going,” he said, shooing the rats toward the door with his wings. “Hustle. Time’s a-wasting.”
“Polo? Marco? Climb up.” Walt settled down on her haunches and waited as they scrambled onto her back. She tried not to wince as their claws dug into her sides.
“Not so fun, is it?” Butterbean said gloomily.
“It’s fine,” Walt said through gritted teeth. “Ready, rats? Let’s go.” She stood up, trying not to jostle the rats too much.
“Whooaaa WHOOOAAAAA,” Marco shrieked, letting go of Walt’s back and waving his hands in the air like he was on a roller coaster.
“Not the time, Marco,” Polo said.
“WHOOOAAAA… what? Okay, sorry.” Marco put his hands back down and held on to Walt’s fur. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Well, don’t,” Polo said sternly. Then she winked. “We can goof around on the way back. AFTER we’ve found the loot.”
Marco grinned. “Got it. Let’s go!”
Walt rolled her eyes and slinked carefully to the door. “Oscar?”
Oscar flew over to the door and landed on the handle, jumping up and down just enough to jostle the door open. “Be careful.”
Walt took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway.
* * *
The trip up to the top floor was supposed to be the easy part of the plan, but waiting for the Coin Man to leave had put them right into the elevator rush hour. It took them three tries before they got an empty elevator. (Luckily, they went unseen by one teenager wearing headphones, two women looking at their phones, and an old man examining his mail.)
“The trip down may be even trickier,” Walt said as she crept into the elevator.
“We’ll worry about that later,” Marco said. “After all, if the man comes back before we’re done, we might not even need to go back down!”
“Geez, Marco!” Polo scrambled onto Walt’s head and pushed the top-floor button.
“What? I just mean if he finds us, we could be dead!” Marco scooched back to make room as Polo slid back down onto Walt’s back.
“GEEZ! I know what you mean!”
“Guys, seriously?” Walt hissed, watching the floor numbers light up. It was kind of mesmerizing, actually.
“Ninth floor,” the elevator voice said as the doors opened.
Walt peered out of the elevator. They could hear muffled noises coming from one of the apartments, but otherwise the hallway seemed deserted. Walt raised an eyebrow at Polo.
Polo shook her head. “Not the one with the noises. It’s this one.” She pointed at the Coin Man’s apartment, trying not to shudder. She could practically still see him in the doorway, looming over the girl and Butterbean.
Without a word, Walt crept out of the elevator, keeping low to the ground. The door closed behind them.
There was no going back.
Walt slunk over to the Coin Man’s door, her ears moving as she listened for any sounds from inside. Finally she nodded.
“It’s clear. But we should hurry. Get in and get out.” Walt had thought most of the “creepy” talk earlier had been silliness, but there was something about that apartment. The hairs on the back of her neck were starting to prickle. “I’ll keep watch.”
“Got it,” Polo said, sliding off Walt’s back.
“You can count on us,” Marco said. “We’ll be super thorough. We’re going to split the apartment into zones to search, just like humans do when they’re searching a field for a body.”
“Geez, Marco!” Polo squeaked. “What have you been watching?”
“What? You can count on us to be thorough, that’s all I’m saying!” Marco said defensively. He patted Polo on the shoulder. “Why don’t I go first?”
Polo considered for less than half a second. There was no way she was going first. “Yep, sounds good. You first. Get a move on.”
Marco nodded solemnly. “Okay. See you on the other side.”
After an elaborate show of examining the gap, he lay down on the floor and started crawling into the apartment.
Marco stopped.
“What are you doing?” Polo leaned over and called to Marco, who was halfway under the door, butt high in the air.
“Um. Nothing,” Marco said, backing out again. “I just want to try it a different way. I’ll back into it. I think it’ll be better. For surveillance purposes, I mean.”
“Butt first?” Polo said. “Is that a good idea?”
“Yeah, I think it’ll be better,” Marco said, wriggling his butt under the door and starting to crawl backward.
Marco stopped.
“What is it this time?” Polo asked. Marco’s arms were squished forward in a weird way. Polo didn’t think they were squished like that for surveillance purposes.
Marco cleared his throat. “Um. My… um. My waistline seems to be a little large.”
“Well, suck it in!” Polo said, clapping her hands. “Squeeze in there! We’re rats—this is what we do!”
“Okay, yes,” Marco said, taking a deep breath and wiggling his butt backward. He made it a little farther, up to the bottom of his rib cage. “Um. Polo? No good,” he said, his voice a thin squeak. “And now I think I’m stuck.”
“Oh, sheesh,” Polo grumbled, grabbing Marco by the paws and dragging him out as he held his breath. “I’ll go first, then. But I’m not going butt first.”
Polo smoothed her side fur, flattened herself on the floor, and started to crawl under the door. When she hit hip level, she stopped too.
“Problem?” Marco said, looking at Polo’s struggling hind legs and tail. They didn’t seem to be moving forward anymore.
“Um,” Polo said. “Problem.”
“Is it your waistline?”
“Um. I think it might be.” Polo stopped struggling. “Pull me back out?”
“Sure.” Marco grabbed hold of Polo’s tail and started tugging. “Hey, Walt? Come here!”
“What’s the problem?” Walt came over, eyes still scanning the hallway. Polo was definitely right, this place gave her the creeps.
Marco leaned on Polo’s butt and tried to look casual. “What was that you were saying about backup plans?”
9
“SO WE HAVE A NEW plan,” Walt said as she stalked into the room, taking Butterbean and Oscar by surprise. Oscar snapped his beak shut. It was a little irritating, to be honest, all this changing of his plans.
“What was wrong with the old plan?” Butterbean said, watching as Polo and Marco slid off Walt’s back.
Walt shrugged. “The gap under the door is too narrow. It’s not rat-sized. We’d need mice. Or maybe snakes. Anyway, that’s not important. We’ve got a better idea.”
“Okay,” Butterbean agreed. She didn’t even need to know what the better idea was, as long as it didn’t involve snakes. She’d never met one, but she’d heard things about them. Word on the street was that they flicked their tongues.
Oscar looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Yes. I should have measured the gap.” He turned to the rats and bowed his head slightly. “I’m sorry, Marco, Polo. That was a lapse on my part. It was thoughtless of me.” Oscar hated to admit it, but the gap size hadn’t even crossed his mind, not even once. He’d just assumed that rats were squishy enough that they would have no
problem. He didn’t actually know that much about rats, now that he thought about it.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” Marco said, touching his waist. “We should probably go a little easier on the sunflower seeds.”
“It was the gap, not you,” Walt said dismissively. “You’re fine. Now for the new plan—I’m thinking vents.”
“What vents?” Butterbean asked.
“Up there,” Walt said, nodding up at the air vents near the ceiling. “If I’m right, those vents connect all the apartments in the building. Most of them are up high like those, but I thought we could just use this one.” Walt walked over to the sofa and pointed behind it. A small vent was in the baseboard underneath the window.
“A behind-the-sofa vent?” Butterbean said, shocked. How could she have never noticed that before? Her ball had gone back there a thousand times at least. “Who would’ve expected that?”
“Exactly. Plus, this one’s a little special.” Walt reached out and swatted at the vent cover. It fell forward with a thump. “I’ve been working on the screws on this baby for months. Never know when you’ll need a good hiding place, you know?”
Oscar whistled in appreciation. “Nice job.” He peered into the vent. “And floor level is much easier for me, with my bad back. So this goes…”
“To the side, and then up. It connects to the ceiling vents. It’s our ticket to the whole building.”
Oscar stood up. “And you didn’t share this earlier because…?”
“A cat likes to have some secrets, Oscar,” Walt sniffed. “I didn’t know it would be necessary.” She reached into the vent and pulled out a small catnip mouse. “I’ll just take this back for now.”
“Well, we can definitely fit in there, right, Polo?” Marco said, marching up to the vent and crawling inside. “Oh yeah, this should be a piece of cake. We can climb like nobody’s business.”
Polo nodded in agreement. “This looks a lot better. So we go how many floors up?”
“Five,” Walt said. “Butterbean, can you explain the building layout?”
“Okay, this is how it is,” Butterbean said, hunkering down on her haunches. “Most floors have four apartments, right? Well, we’re a D apartment, but there are only two on that top floor, and the Coin Man is in B. So I think that means that he’s above us.”
Walt nodded. “That makes sense. So you’ll just have to go straight up. If you’re not sure, just look out of the vent grates into the apartments—that should help you get your bearings.”
“Got it.” Polo smacked her hands together. “Who’s in the apartments on eight? Just in case we get confused about what floor we’re on?”
“Based on the smells, I’d say Apartment A is the Patchouli Family, Apartment B is Biscuit, Apartment C is the weird pretzely apartment, and Apartment D is Axe Body Spray.” Butterbean thumped her tail. “Got it?”
“Wait a minute. I thought Biscuit was on the second floor?” Walt frowned.
“Different Biscuit,” Polo said knowingly.
Butterbean patted Walt’s paw. “This building has a LOT of Biscuits.”
“So we’re all set, right?” Polo said. Hopefully, the apartments would be stinky enough that Butterbean’s descriptions would help.
“Should we go now?” Marco said, bobbing up and down inside the vent. The metal on the bottom was making small booming noises, and it made him feel better. He really wanted to put the whole door episode behind him. His ribs were still a little sore.
“Yes, go. Before the girl comes back to walk Bean,” Walt said. “We’ll try to cover for you if you’re not back in time. But hurry.”
“Consider it done,” Polo said, crawling into the vent after Marco. “This should be a snap. Up, up, and away!”
“WHOOHOOO,” Marco shrieked, his voice echoing as he went.
“Marco! Not the time!” Polo’s voice could be heard disappearing down the vent.
“Do you think this’ll work?” Oscar said, tilting his head toward Walt as the rats’ voices faded away.
“Why not?” Walt shrugged. “They’re rats. Rats love vents. What could go wrong?”
* * *
Marco and Polo were lost. They’d started out taking only the up vents, like Butterbean had suggested. But some of the sideways vents looked pretty interesting, so they decided to take one quick detour. And then another one. And now they were staring through a grate at Bob the maintenance guy.
“I think he’s making dinner,” Marco whispered, peering out of the grate.
“Did you know he lived here?” Polo whispered. “I thought he lived someplace else. He lives at his work!”
“It smells spicy. Is that spaghetti sauce?” Marco pressed his eye against the grate opening for a better view.
Bob was wearing an apron and whistling to himself while he stirred a pot on the stove. It did smell spicy. Polo craned her neck down to get a closer look.
“I don’t know. Could be? Maybe it’s soup. It’s hard to see.” She examined it for a second and then straightened up, smacking Marco on the shoulder. “What are we doing? That’s not important! We’ve got to focus.”
“But it’s Bob! In his apartment!” Marco said.
“Exactly!” Polo crossed her arms. “Butterbean didn’t say anything about Bob, so we’re obviously not on the right floor. We might not even be on the right side of the building! We shouldn’t have taken that last turn!”
“But it smelled like corn chips!” Marco wailed. “I just wanted a taste!”
“Well, yes, me too,” Polo admitted. Corn chips were hard to pass up. “But we need to forget Bob, find an up vent, and get back to work.”
“Shhh!” Marco said, putting his hand over Polo’s mouth. They’d kind of forgotten about the whole “being quiet” aspect of surveillance.
“BOB,” he mouthed.
Bob had stopped humming.
The rats peered back down through the grate. Bob hadn’t just stopped humming. He’d stopped stirring. And he was staring up at them. He was looking right into their eyes.
“Oh, that can’t be good,” Polo said.
“Whaa—” Bob yelped, dropping his wooden spoon and spattering sauce everywhere. “RATS!”
“I was right. It is spaghetti sauce,” Marco smirked.
“Who cares! RUN!” Polo said, grabbing Marco by the shoulder and dashing back down the vent just as Bob’s hand smacked across the grate.
“AAAAAHHHHH,” Marco shrieked, running after Polo.
“Up! Up! Look for an up vent!” Polo yelled, craning her neck to look at the ceiling. She could hear Bob tugging at the grate. She didn’t think he’d be able to reach them, but she didn’t want to take that chance.
“There!” Marco pointed. A small up vent was in the corner just a few feet away. “There it is!”
Marco and Polo leaped into the vent just as the grate in Bob’s apartment was wrenched off. They crawled up, slipping on the slick metal as they went, not even looking back until they were sure they were safely on the next floor. Then they collapsed in relief.
“Do you think he recognized us?” Polo asked, panting.
“I sure hope not. We do have very distinctive faces, though.” Marco ran his hand over his muzzle. “We’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”
“We’ve got to stop stalling and get to the top. I can’t even tell what floor we’re on.” Polo sat up and looked around.
“Maybe we could ask him?” Marco said, looking over her shoulder.
“Him who?” Polo turned around and gasped.
A strange rat was crouching in the corner of their vent.
“Who’s that?” she squealed. “And what is he doing in our vent?”
“YOUR vent?” the rat squeaked uncertainly. Then he raised himself to his full height. “Excuse me, ma’am, but this is MY vent.”
Polo blinked. “Of course. Your vent. We’re just passing through. Don’t mind us.” She knew she’d started to babble. This must be one of those outdoor rats she’d heard about. Not a pet. A WI
LD rat. She didn’t know what to expect from a wild rat. Wild rats were crazy. They’d do anything.
“Yeah, we’ll just be going. Sorry about that,” Marco said, scrambling to his feet and pulling Polo up with him.
“Not so fast,” the Wild Rat said, taking a step toward them.
“We don’t want any trouble—” Polo started, but the Wild Rat cut her off.
“Wait a minute…” the rat said, squinting at them closely. He took another step closer. “Wait just a minute. Are you… are you two PETS?”
Marco and Polo exchanged a worried glance. They didn’t know whether yes was the right answer or the wrong answer. And they sure didn’t want to give the wrong answer.
“Well, um,” Marco started, but he never got to finish.
“You are! You’re pets!” the Wild Rat interrupted, hopping up and down. “Me too! I was a pet too!”
“You were?” Polo said uncertainly. “That’s great!”
“Isn’t it? I was a pet on the second floor! Or I was until one of the children in my household squeezed my middle a bit too hard. Then I decided to take to the vents. It’s so nice to meet a fellow pet!” He clasped his hands in front of him and gazed at them with moist eyes. “So tell me. Do they still have that seed mix with the sunflower seeds and corn? I used to love that.”
“Um. Yes, that’s still pretty much the standard,” Marco said.
“Of course, it’s a classic.” The rat stared at them happily. “And the wheel? I can tell you work out. Is that still the exercise equipment of choice? How I did love a good run on the wheel.”
“Um, yes. We use the wheel almost every night,” Polo said.
“Nothing better to keep the human family awake, am I right?” the Wild Rat said, nudging Marco in the ribs with his elbow. “But how rude of me, let me introduce myself. My name is Wallace. My pet name was Fuzzy, but you know how that is. I go by Wallace in the vents.”
“I’m Marco, and this is Polo,” Marco said, extending a hand, which Wallace grabbed and immediately started to shake enthusiastically. “Are there a lot of rats in the vents?”
