Raffie on the Run

by Jacqueline Resnick

  “It’s got to be a protest,” said Summer Mills, a local student. “Stop the oppression of circus animals!”

  “Ew, there was a skunk and a rat,” said Sophie Walker, an employee at Dollhouse Wares, a nearby store. “All I have to say is, they better stay away from my merchandise!”

  For better or worse, many are claiming the incident to be a publicity stunt staged by disgruntled employees. Mary Stowe, head of the location, remains tight-lipped on the subject as investigations continue, but she did release the following statement: “I want to assure New Yorkers that none of these animals pose a threat.”

  The escaped animals include a skunk, a possum, a raccoon, a rat, and a cat, along with the pigeon and rat who recently made a splash after New York One’s morning show featured a photo of them falling off a city tour bus.

  As of publication, none of the escaped animals have been recovered. No one knows where they’ve gone, but at least one thing is certain: if they can make it here, they can make it anywhere.

  CHAPTER

  31

  Like a Pig in Slop

  “Wait for me!” I yell after Kaz. I scurry after him, but a group of humans blocks my way. They’re crowded on the sidewalk, wearing backpacks and pointing cameras at the park. I’m about to dash around them when something catches my eye. A woman is wearing a shirt with familiar letters on it. I ♥ NY.

  “Just like Oggie’s sticker,” I gasp. Suddenly my fur prickles. I look up, and my eyes meet the woman’s. Instantly, her shoulders tense. Her jaw unhinges. “Rat!” she shrieks.

  I dash over to a bush. My heart is beating wildly as I disappear underneath it. I crouch low, careful to stay hidden. I think of Oggie and the I ♥ NY sticker on his ear. I’m so close. I just need to catch up to Kaz, and then he’ll help me get the rest of the way.

  I crawl through the bush and peek out the other side. “Central Park,” I murmur. I’ve never seen so much green in my life. Everywhere I look, there are trees and grass and flowers and leaves. The smells swirl together, disgustingly sweet.

  I try not to gag as I scurry into the park and scan the sky. A line of buildings rises in the distance, but here in the park, the sky is wide and blue and empty. It should be easy to spot a striped-winged pigeon flying crookedly above. I spin in a circle. But no matter where I look, I see nothing but blue.

  Kaz is gone.

  No. I refuse to believe it. He has to be here somewhere. He wouldn’t just leave me.

  “Kaz?” I call out. “Where did you go?” My eyes dart frantically back and forth, studying the sky. It’s unusually empty, not a single bird flying above. “KAZ!” I shout again. “Come back!”

  “Pssst. Little guy.” A voice drifts over to me.

  I look across the field. The fattest rat I’ve ever seen is squatting under a bush. His belly is so full that it sweeps the ground. “If you don’t want to become falcon meat, I’d suggest you lower your voice and take cover.”

  “Falcon?” I repeat.

  “Yeah.” The rat sits back on his haunches and adjusts his huge belly. “There’s a falcon stalking the park. And word has it he’s hungry.”

  “Oh no,” I whisper. I picture Kaz’s stubby wing carrying him crookedly through the park. A falcon already hurt him once. I don’t want to imagine a second run-in.

  The rat lifts a branch. “You should probably get under here to hide. If I know falcons, this one will be coming our way soon.” I scan the sky once more for Kaz. It’s still empty. “Hurry it up,” the rat says. “Unless you want to be falcon dinner.”

  I scurry across the field and under the bush. “Whoa,” I breathe. There’s a wide hole dug underneath it, and it’s filled to the brim with forages. There’s half-eaten sandwiches and moldy string cheese and torn milk cartons and crushed M&M’s and—my heart skips a beat—half a slice of pizza. The smell wafts over to me. Moldy cheese … hardened crust … rotten tomato sauce … It’s perfectly aged. My stomach lets out a loud grumble.

  The fat rat laughs. It makes his belly jiggle. “Life is good in the park.” He waves his tail at the tower of forages. “Go ahead. Take what you want. We’ve got time to kill anyway.”

  I grab the pizza and dig in. The sauce slides down my throat, perfectly sour. For a second, I forget everything: Kaz, Oggie, the falcon. It’s just me and the most delicious food in the world. I tear through it, closing my eyes as I swallow the last bite.

  When I open my eyes, the rat is watching me. “Now that’s how you eat a slice of pizza.”

  “Thanks for the snack…” I trail off. I don’t know his name.

  “Tiny,” he fills in. He squeezes himself into a small chair and rubs his swollen belly. “Because I’m not.”

  “I’m Raffie,” I tell him.

  “A pleasure,” Tiny says. The chair rocks back and forth under his weight. It’s the strangest chair I’ve ever seen: made entirely out of smooth, glossy wood.

  “What kind of forages did you build that from?” I ask.

  “Build?” Tiny snorts. “Do I look like the kind of rat who works with my paws? No, there’s a dollhouse store nearby. Occasionally a kid drops something they bought there, like this rocking chair. Or the store throws away something perfectly nice. Like this.”

  Tiny hoists himself out of the chair and leads me behind his stash of food to a shiny, gold table. It has a round mirror attached to it. “This is where I fix my fur in the morning. Look at that mirror; it doesn’t even have a single crack. Humans can be so wasteful.” He rubs his belly. “But that’s what they’ve got us for, right?”

  I don’t answer. My eyes are locked on the mirror. There’s a rat staring back at me. He has gray fur and big eyes and whiskers that droop with worry. He looks so small standing in front of Tiny’s huge pile of forages. Small and sad and all alone. It takes me a second to realize that rat is me.

  My fur bristles. I’m not supposed to be alone. Kaz is supposed to be here with me. But instead, he’s out in the park somewhere, with a falcon on the hunt. If something happens to him … I drop my head, unable to look at my reflection any longer.

  I can’t lose both Kaz and Oggie. I just can’t.

  I scurry to the edge of the bush and peek out. We’re in the middle of a large, green field. The street is far enough away that the cars are just a distant drone. Two humans stroll hand in hand along a path, but otherwise the park is eerily still. Not a single animal is in sight.

  Tiny comes over. He looks out at the park with a sigh. “Everyone’s hiding from the falcon. But he’ll find a meal. He always does.”

  My whiskers droop even more. Tiny must notice, because he pats my back with his tail. “It’s okay. We’re safe under here. I’ve been doing this a long time. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  I stare out at the park, hoping desperately for a glimpse of Kaz. But I see nothing. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” I say quietly. “It’s my friend. He’s a pigeon and he’s out there somewhere. He might not even know about the falcon.”

  Tiny gives his snout a slow shake. “That’s not good news. Pigeon meat is a falcon delicacy.”

  I draw in a shaky breath. “I have to warn him.”

  As I say it, an awful noise fills the air. A loud, piercing squawk. A huge brown-and-white bird soars into view. His wings slice through the sky. “Speak of the bird,” Tiny says.

  Without warning, the falcon dives downward. He cuts toward the ground. Faster. Faster. “He’s hunting,” Tiny whispers. The falcon swoops across the grass. There’s a distant squeak—then silence. The falcon returns to the sky, wings spread wide.

  The pizza roils in my stomach. “Did he just…?”

  “Be glad it wasn’t us out there,” Tiny says grimly.

  “But Kaz is out there.” I squeeze my tail between my front paws. “I have to find him, Tiny. I have to warn him about the falcon.”

  “That would mean crossing the park.” Tiny burrows into his pile of forages. When he returns, he has a deliciously moldy Fruit Roll-Up in his mo
uth. “That sounds exhausting. And deadly, with a falcon on the prowl.” He swallows the Fruit Roll-Up in one bite. “You’d do better to just stay here. You’ll never go hungry here, I can promise you that. I can even forage you a chair of your own.” He plops down in his chair and rocks back and forth. “It would be nice to have some company for once.”

  “I can’t.” I shake my snout. “It’s not just Kaz out there. It’s my little brother, too.” I tell Tiny the story of Oggie. When I finish, Tiny strokes his huge belly. “This little brother of yours … did he have a sticker on his ear?”

  My heart squeezes so hard, I’m worried it’s going to explode. “Yes,” I whisper. “It said I heart NY.”

  “Interesting.” Tiny lifts a rotten peach and gnaws at it thoughtfully. He offers me a bite, but my stomach is spinning too wildly to eat.

  “What’s interesting?” I blurt out. “Do you know something?”

  “I don’t know anything,” Tiny says. He takes another bite of peach. “But I’ve heard things. Rumors.”

  I can’t breathe. “Rumors?” I choke out.

  “Word has it that a boy brought a little subway rat to the local school,” Tiny continues. “And the rat had a sticker on his ear.”

  “That’s him! That has to be my brother!” I pace in a circle around Tiny’s chair. I can’t stand still. “Did you hear anything else?”

  “Word has it that there’s a video. The little rat kept trying to escape his cage, and some kid filmed the whole thing. He’s being called Houdini Rat.” Tiny hesitates. When he speaks again, his voice is hushed. “From what I’ve heard, the video has gone viral.”

  I gasp. I know exactly what viral means. I’ve heard plenty of subway platform gossip about human viruses over the years. Clearly, humans are sickened by the video of Oggie. And when humans are sickened by an animal, one thing always comes next. The E word.

  I feel shaky all over. I have to get to Oggie. And I have to get to Kaz. “Tell me how to get across the park,” I say.

  Tiny rubs his belly with a sigh. “There are only two ways across the park for a rat. You can scurry through the fields and risk being spotted by the falcon. Or you can take the Roadway.”

  I think of Truella and shiver. “No way am I using the Roadway. Besides, I couldn’t help Kaz down there.” I take a deep breath and straighten my whiskers. “It looks like I’m taking the fields.”

  “It’s your life.” Tiny reaches for a half-eaten lollipop. “But whatever you do, don’t let the falcon spot you.”

  CHAPTER

  32

  Bird’s-Eye View

  Rays of sun scald my back as I scurry through the grass. The sun’s higher in the sky now, and it feels like it’s shining directly on me, lighting me up for the falcon to see. I duck my head lower, letting the blades of grass sweep over me. Tiny pointed me toward the west side of the park, but he warned me: it’s not a short trip.

  I scurry faster. The park is eerily still, no sparrows chirping or pigeons waddling or squirrels dashing up trees. It only serves to remind me: I’m all alone. A human passes on the pathway, but I know he won’t notice me. The grass is long enough to camouflage me from human eyes. But a falcon won’t be so easily fooled.

  I steal a glance at the sky. It’s empty. For now.

  I take a deep sniff. The scents of grass and flowers and leaves and bark stink up the air, disgustingly sweet. I catch one pleasant whiff of dirt, and the distant perfume of car exhaust, but I don’t find either of the scents I’m sniffing for: the feathery smell of a half-winged pigeon or the chilling smell of a falcon on the hunt.

  I hurry around a tree and dart across a paved path. I’m galloping now, tearing through grass and dirt and sticks and pebbles. I cut through a patch of flowers. Their stench clings to me, but I don’t let it slow me down. I lose track of time as I wind left and weave right, doing my best to stick to the grassy areas. Humans run and walk and bike past, but it’s easy to stay hidden here.

  Suddenly a familiar scent catches my attention. Feathers … talons …

  A little ways up, a pigeon is flying crookedly through the air, his uneven wings spread wide. “Kaz!” I gasp. “Wait for me!”

  Kaz doesn’t react. He just keeps on flying.

  “Kaz!” I call again.

  Nothing. Kaz is completely focused on something up ahead.

  I pause to grab a pebble and whip it through the air. It zooms toward Kaz and bounces off his stubby wing. Still, he doesn’t react. I break back into a run, trying to catch up. I’m panting as I weave between two trees. There’s a path up ahead, and behind it, the deepest, most enormous puddle I’ve ever seen. Kaz flies straight toward it. His voice drifts down to me. “Must … get … there…”

  “Must get where?” I shout. There’s no response. Kaz is so focused, he doesn’t even notice I’m there.

  I skid to a stop in front of the massive puddle. I’ve never seen anything like it. Back home, puddles are shallow and muddy, perfect for bathing. This one is different. It’s a rippling, glittering blue, too deep to walk through and much too wide to walk around. Kaz soars ahead, flying right over it. If I want to catch him, I’m going to have to cross this puddle.

  I could try swimming, but I’ve never swum such a long distance. My eyes land on an empty water bottle, abandoned on the ground. It still has its cap on. My tail curls with excitement. Back home, whenever there’s a big rain, Oggie, Lulu, and I make boats out of foraged water bottles and race them along the watery subway tracks, while Mom and Dad cheer us on. My boat is always the fastest.

  I roll the bottle over to the puddle and grab a small stick. Then I hop aboard and start paddling. Before long, I’m panting with the effort. Above me, Kaz keeps flying foward. He curves left, and I catch a glimpse of his face. He has on a dreamy, distant expression, as if, in his mind, he’s somewhere else completely.

  A noise drifts over the water. A low, angry squawk. I twist around. It’s the falcon, and he’s flying right toward Kaz.

  Kaz doesn’t notice. His gaze is still locked on something up ahead. A circle of tall, billowing trees.

  I reach the other end of the puddle and leap onto dry land. “Kaz!” I hiss, as loud as I dare. The falcon doesn’t hear me, but neither does Kaz. I duck down low and scurry through the grass, trying desperately to reach Kaz. In front of me, the falcon’s wings slice through the air. He laughs, and the sound turns my stomach.

  “Pigeon,” the falcon says gleefully. “Just what I’m in the mood for.” With another laugh, he soars toward Kaz.

  “Hey!” The word explodes out of me before I have time to think. “Forget the pigeon! Look down here!”

  The falcon pauses in midair. He looks down. The instant his gaze lands on me, every strand of my fur stands on end. In the corner of my vision, I see Kaz disappear through the circle of trees. I sag with relief. Kaz is safe.

  But I’m not.

  The falcon’s deep, savage squawk fills the air. It rattles the ground and shakes the trees like thunder. He dives down, cutting straight toward the ground. Straight toward me.

  A whimper escapes me. I have to do something. My dad’s voice echoes distantly in my head. Duck, dash, disappear.

  Nearby, an abandoned plastic bag floats on the breeze. I won’t get far if I duck or dash, but maybe … maybe I can still disappear. I’m shaking all over as I hook the bag with my tail and pull it around me.

  The falcon swoops lower. He squawks, and I cringe at the smell of his breath. It stinks of prey. I curl up inside the bag and squeeze my eyes shut. My heart pounds much too loudly. I can hear the falcon flying closer … closer …

  Suddenly he pauses.

  He hovers in the air, only inches above my bag. “Where did my meal go?” he snarls. He flaps in a circle, squawking furiously. He’s so close that my plastic bag rustles with every flap of his wings. I don’t move. I barely even breathe.

  He swoops around me. “Where are you, little rat?” His wing brushes my bag and I swallow back a scream. I hear him o
pen his beak. I hold my breath and wait for the worst.

  “I can’t believe I lost him.” The falcon snaps his beak shut angrily. I stay frozen, still not daring to breathe. He takes one more swoop around my bag. “I’ll go find something bigger to eat,” he grumbles at last.

  With a final squawk of fury, he flies off.

  I stay curled inside the bag until the smell of falcon is long gone. Carefully, I peek out. The sky is empty. I’m still trembling as I shake off the bag. Up ahead, I spot the circle of trees where Kaz disappeared. I take a deep breath and wait for my paws to stop wobbling. I have no idea what’s through those trees, but I’m about to find out.

  CHAPTER

  33

  A Little Bird Told Me

  I scurry between two trees—and bump into something soft and feathery. “Kaz!” I exclaim. “You don’t know how happy I am to see you right now.”

  Kaz doesn’t answer. He’s standing frozen, his beak hanging slightly open. I glance around. The circle of trees has created a tent of leaves, completely sheltering this shady patch of grass from the rest of the park. Everywhere I look, I see pigeons. They flutter on tree branches and peck at the grass. They waddle through the field and soar beneath the leaves.

  “Look at this place, Raffie.” Kaz’s voice is filled with wonder. “This is it. This is what I was looking for. I can’t explain it, but I can feel it, deep down in my feathers.”

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “That’s the thing.” Kaz shrugs his wings. “I’ve got no idea. I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

  “Going to,” I correct automatically.

  For once, Kaz doesn’t reply. He’s too busy gaping at the scene around us. A pair of pigeons waddles through the grass nearby. “What’s the plan for today?” one asks.

  “Oh, the usual,” the other replies. “Grass seeds. Nap. More grass seeds.”

  “A little bird told me there are bread crumbs over by the willow tree,” the first pigeon replies.

  Kaz’s eyes flicker with excitement. He says something, but I don’t hear it, because a movement in the sky has caught my attention. It’s an older pigeon. He’s flying in a lopsided way that reminds me of Kaz. I look closer. The pigeon’s wings are white with black stripes, and one is smaller than the other. I gasp. The wing is a jagged stump—as if half of it has been torn right off. It’s just like Kaz’s.