They were sitting at a dirt mound table in a tiny bar hole called Drinkets, just north of the rail tracks. Ship rats and wharfies hung out here, and the hemp rats crawled around. The hemp rats had droopy ears and low voices, and they danced with the wharfies, but they didn’t dance with the ship rats. The ship rats danced with the barkeep behind the counter and in between drinks.
The two rats had agreed to meet at Drinkets and discuss the Inspector’s special offer.
Scratch was concerned. The Incredible Impostor had lost steam in the last few days. He talked not much at all and he sunk inside himself. On Thursday he lost his first match ever to Grudge, and they had to change the banners because the Incredible Impostor was no longer undefeated. The victorious Grudge walked out of the ring with his chest sticking out like a rooster, and the rats cheered.
Scratch waited patiently for the Inspector’s report on the strange impostor, but his patience wore off quickly. Scratch enjoyed a drink as much as the next rat, but he hated to wait around.
Scratch’s lips pull back and his fangs pop out and he shows his teeth when he’s impatient, like most rats.
Said the Inspector, “Sad news is a shot of whisky. Good news is whisky with a chaser. What do you call a double shot and a chaser?”
“I call it stallin’,” said Scratch.
“Another drink, we’ll both be ready.”
“It ain’t right keepin’ me waitin’, despite what I’m drinkin’. But then we ain’t goin’ by my version of what’s right, are we?”
“Another round, barkeep!”
“Ready to give me my report?” asked Scratch.
The Inspector was ready for anything, but first he had good news for Scratch: there will be no charge for his service. It’s absolutely free, and the reason is Stipulation #33. The Inspector charges for findin’ out, but there’s no charge for what he realizes, so the Inspector can’t charge Scratch because it ain’t fair: Stipulation #33.
“Very nice. Got my report?”
“That’s where I’m gettin’ to. There ain’t no report. The report ain’t cummin’ up because of Stipulation #33A. Stipulation #33A is No Charge/No Report.”
“I had concerns, very strong concerns and you ain’t done nuthin’ to relieve me. What are you doin’ for my concerns, ratso?”
Scratch was riled. But that didn’t bother the Inspector. He was used to it.
“Fold up your concerns and put them in your pouch. You may never take them out again,” said the Inspector.
Free of charge, the Inspector told Scatch what was on his mind, and Scratch understood the implications. Scratch was a promoter of rat on rat competition, and he was subject to the strict rules of the Wrestling Board. If the Commission found out The Incredible Impostor was not an Impostor, Scratch would have a high price to pay. The Board would take away his license and fine him heavily. Wrestling fans all over Rat Land would turn against him. The rats will demand a refund of the full ticket price and a surcharge for being cheated. If that happens, the Inspector said he would help Scratch out.
Scratch was depressed. His business went with the Impostor, his life shattered.His ears sagged and he wanted to bite off his own tail, spit it out and bite it off again.
But Scratch knew very well that there’s money to be made from every situation. He just forgot it for a little while until the Inspector reminded him.
“You better eat your spades before you lose the game, cause they’re gonna find out about that Impostor.” The Inspector continued. “I’ve done a lot of thinkin’ on the way over here. You got to make one last bundle and change your game before it’s too late, and I got it all figured out.”
Scratch looked at his empty, licked-off plate, and he looked at the Inspector. The Inspector was a rat with ideas that pop into his head, and he was always looking for something new.
Scratch was the opposite type, he held onto what he had. Right now he wished he was more like the Inspector. A real good idea makes him smile. The Inspector’s head popped a good one and Scratchs’ tail stuck out straight as a board when he saw that great big smile.
The Inspector ordered two more drinks from the barkeep, an the barkeep poured and delivered the drinks. Scratch was touched that the Inspector was willing to share.
The Inspector said, “I’m willin’ to share cause that’s what partners do.”
“You mean we’re partners?” Scratch said.
“Sign the dotted line, we are.”
They searched the bar hole but they couldn’t find a dotted line, or a sheet of paper to draw a line on, or a pencil to draw with. The barkeep said they could sign the dirt mound table with their noses—for a small fee.
“Your new partner has big thoughts, and from big thoughts come big plans. He’s thinkin’ of a big match.” The Inspector was talking about himself.
“How big a match?” Scratch asked.
“Biggest match I can think of,” said the Inspector.
“Can it be grand?”
“Bigger than big and grander than grand.”
“Would it be bigger than Slim Deluxe versus the Porker?” Scratch asked.
“Makes that look like a mouse match,” said the Inspector.
“Will it have banners and lights?”
“Banners that stretch across the city. I’ll find out about the lights.”
“A marchin’ band?”
“Included.”
“Parade?”
“Essential.”
“So tell me about this most fabulous match, Inspector. But don’t spurt it out all at once like a fathead human. Take your time and spread it out like a rat,” said Scratch.
81
Dwight carried the old rat TV up from the basement and put it on the floor in the dining room under the 100 watt bulb. He had no use for tables and benches. He did his best work on the floor.
Dwight got down on his knees and took the old TV apart.
I tried to fix it weeks ago when Uncle Brucker gave it to me. Now it’s Dwight’s turn. He owed me one repair because I gave him a ride home last week and for driving him around in general.
Dwight brought a tool set with him along with two shopping bags with leftover parts. The parts came from many different appliances. If he can’t repair a TV with TV parts, maybe he can fix it with a mixer.
It’s been three and a half weeks and no word from Uncle Brucker. He said he might be late but I don’t think he meant this late. When I came to live with him, I never thought things would pile up like this, so high I can’t climb out. I was tired of people coming around when I didn’t invite them. I hated being in charge and making all the decisions. On top of it all Uncle Brucker’s War Medal was still missing and I didn’t eat lunch all last week.
And with everything else going on I had slacked off on my Identifying. The government could ask for my list anytime. It was written down in the government contract, and I better be ready to hand it in. Don’t forget to sign it. No matter what, it had to be neat.
Dwight threw the leftover parts in the bags. We put the TV on a chair and plugged it in. Dwight went into the kitchen in search of food. I pressed a button under the picture tube and waited.
The TV hummed to itself as the ancient tubes and out-dated transistors warmed up. A pinhole of light appeared in the center of the screen, and the hole expanded and the screen came alive with a circus of static.
Long lines of horizontal static stretched across the back and short vertical lines of static moved in the foreground. And there was shortline static of different sizes and shapes twisting around all over the screen, and zigzagging static with shortline static mixed in.
I moved up close to the screen and I found a dial on the side and tried to tune it in but what I got was clear static, and I figured out why.
The rats see the world through a different kind of eyes than we do, and that means a different kind of vision. I’ll never get rid of the static because it’s what their vision is based on. Rats have static vision.
There
’s a whole other dimension filled with rats on the other side of the screen. Rats went about their daily lives in their world just like we did in ours. I’d like to climb into the picture tube and clean it up.
Then I got an idea, and while Dwight looked for food in the kitchen, I put on my Identifiers.
As soon as I put them on, the static disappeared, the picture cleared up, and I got my first look at a very strange and dismal place.
The camera showed a dark alley with dark crooked buildings where the rats crawled freely. Across the alley stretched a long banner. I don’t know much about nose writing but I could read this: GRUDGE MATCH THURSDAY AT EIGHT. It was a wresting channel, and so was the next channel. In Rat Land, every channel is dedicated to wrestling. I watched for a while, and a man walked in front of the banner.
He wore a real cool wrestling suit that read THE INCREDIBLE IMPOSTOR, and in that suit was my Uncle.
He was miles beyond tired. He was beat-up tired, old age tired. One ear was swollen from a left foot drop kick and he had a black eye from a knuckle punch that knocked him to the mat. His bent nose had taken a beating and now it was bent in the other direction. He lost some weight. His eyes were wide open crazy, wild, wounded jungle animal eyes.
But I must say he looked pretty damn good in that suit.
“Who was that guy in the static?” asked Dwight.
I did’t notice him come in from the kitchen. He was standing by the door.
“Oh, him. That’s my Uncle,” I said.
“Awesome,” Dwight said.
82
Uncle Brucker helped me out by taking me in. What’s mine is yours, he said. He gave me everything he had and he taught me everything he knew. It’s a lot to give and now it’s my turn to give it back. I had to go into the rat dimension and get him.
Usually I fall asleep quickly. Tonight I turned over in bed. I did a lot of thinking and rethinking, and it buzzed around inside my brain. I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and found Uncle Brucker’s Specialized Rat Encyclopedia in the dresser and I got out my reverse map, and I brought them to the kitchen and sat at the table, and I went through the Encyclopedia and studied the map and I wrote a page of map notes to help me out, and I formulated a Plan of Rescue for Uncle Brucker.
First I covered sneaking through the no man’s land surrounding the Portal, which I labeled Portal Approach. Then I moved onto climbing up the Nowhere Road to the top of the Portal, which I labeled Portal Ascent, then up there on the Portal my plan stalled.
I could study the book and my notes and look over the map until I burned a hole in my forehead, but it won’t mean anything because it’s all based on hearsay. The Portal, the Nowhere Road, the Platform were just rumors people only heard about because the Army classified it top secret.
I made small progress but I made some good labels and I learned two things:
(1) Don’t waste time on labels.
(2) A good plan has a life of its own because you can’t plan for the unknown. A plan changes as it moves along. Plan all you want, but that doesn’t mean you’re prepared.
True, I lacked a good solid plan. But I knew what not to do and I realized that I wasn’t prepared.
Tomorrow’s the go date. Don’t knock on my door because I won’t be here. As far as I’m concerned, I have something better than any think-ahead certified 100 point plan.
I have a reverse map and an open mind.
83
Thursday at 7PM I parked the Eagle on the rise at the edge of town and waited for Dwight to show up.
From up there I had a view of the valley. Route 94 curved around the Galleria and the water tower, then headed west into the night. All the lights were off in the county office building, except for one or two and the first floor.
The Nowhere Road from Base Camp, the portal that led to the next dimension, the bridge that connected to the tunnel—nobody knew it was down there because it was camouflaged and classified as Top Secret, but was all discovered by Uncle Brucker and me.
We followed the homing rat. We made the reverse map and discovered the rift between dimensions. We notified the General through the LL.
General Hardesty’s Army Engineers dug the rift out and widened it, covered it with camouflage, self-reflecting mirrors, and other high tech military trickery. With the aid of Dwight and my reverse map, I will sneak into the rat dimension and make my way through the camouflage and mirrors and the trickery, and find my Uncle and take him back home.
It’s 7:25. Where’s Dwight? I sat in the car and studied the reverse map and waited for Dwight. I practiced my Rat Talk. Chi-‘za-ba. Out of the way, Ratso! Tze’-che-te. Get packing!
Dwight had tuned in the TV, and by adjusting the contrast and light he chased away some of the static, and we got a better look at my Uncle. I didn’t ask Dwight, he volunteered to go with me. If he doesn’t get here in the next few minutes, it will be too dark to make our way through the woods and I’ll have to abort until tomorrow.
I put the Eagle in first and I was ready to drive off when I heard footsteps on the sidewalk. Dwight came out of the bushes, and Renata was with him.
“What are you doin’ here?” I asked.
“She’s goin’, I’m not.”
Dwight turned and showed me the left side of his face. Whoever was looking for him, found him, and I didn’t want to know why. His left eye was black and blue and swollen shut, and it made him look tough and dumb. Tough enough to take a punch, but too dumb to avoid it.
“I’ll fix the timer and start it up for you,” Dwight said. “Don’t wanna go into no extra dimension lookin’ like this.”
“That’s why I’m goin’,” said Renata.
“You don’t want to go, and I don’t want you with me,” I told Renata.
She showed me the name tag she made just for me, and it was fancy and beautiful and it looked like it belonged to somebody important. The name WALT stuck out the top in neat letters like the Eleventh Commandment. Blue ribbons with sparkles and green ribbons with stars hung halfway down my chest.
The rats don’t care much for awards and diplomas, but they do have a lot of respect for a fancy name tag or an important-looking badge or an impressive business card.
“I won’t let you go without me,” she said.
84
“Let’s go,” I said.
I took the lead with my reverse map in my hand. It’s not an exact map, but it pointed me in the right direction. And if I keep an open mind, it will get me where I want to go.
Dwight grabbed his tools and one parts bag and Renata grabbed a bag with dials and meters, and we made our way through the woods to the Portal.
We passed weary soldiers limping back to base camp. More soldiers rode past us in military vehicles. Their bandaged legs hung off the tailgate. Rat-shocked MPs walked past us unaware, and headed to the med tent. Farther on, we entered the no man’s land patrolled by the rats.
But no rats patrolled. The restless rats had wandered off hours ago, and they left the patrolling to impatient rats, who left soon after and retreated to the storage room. After a while we came to the bridge support. Dwight found the service door and we went into the dark room.
In the storage room the pathetic rats slobbered down Rat Juice, smoked hemp and sang tuneless songs of victory.
The pitiful drunken rats did not know their limits. Most had passed out on the cold concrete floor, beer cans and Flippo cards scattered around them. On a table in the center of the room sat a metal box. A heavy black electric cord connected the metal box to the wall outlet. The metal box contained the timer.
“Gotta take it down,” said Dwight. “Put it on the floor. Can’t fix it on no table.”
Dwight and I tried to lift it, then Renata helped us and we managed to move it off the table.
Wasting no time, Dwight opened his parts bag and set to work. He unscrewed the cover, looked inside, and like an a-list mechanic, he removed the main switch and the timing mechanism.
The rats had taken the
timer apart and put it back together, but they couldn’t make it work. The lights on the Portal had not been on for many weeks.
“That baseball cap he’s wearin’,” Renata whispered. “He takes it off and switches it around means he fixed it. If he don’t switch, nobody can fix it.”
Dwight threw out the parts he didn’t need, borrowed a few parts from the toaster bag, fit the other parts back in.
“Pin!” said Dwight.
Renata dug into her purse and handed Dwight a safety pin.
“No. Bobby!” he said, and she found a bobby pin. Dwight reassembled the timing mechanism and installed the main switch and put the bobby pin where he needed it. He screwed the cover back on and turned his cap around.
Fixed!
Dwight set the timer.
Ten minutes!
“Let’s go, Walt. Let’s climb up the Portal!” said Renata.
A stairway on the right went all the way up to the top platform.
Renata grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her. She held it all the way to the top. She didn’t let go.
As we climbed the stairs I gave her some advice. Don’t make any sudden movements. Don’t smile, cause rats never smile. I knew some rat talk so let me do the talking.
I hadn’t planned on taking her with me, and I didn’t want her to go. But everything got switched around, and now she was taking me with her.
Up we climbed like indoor mountain goats, two steps at a time.
“I love climbin’,” she said as we neared the top. “I see stairs I gotta go up ‘em. I just love gettin’ to the top a things. When you’re up there, you’re higher than what you climbed. Nobody can say nuthin’ to ya. You look down at everythin’!”
At the top of the stairs, before we opened the door to the platform, we pinned on our name tags and waited in the stairwell for the lights on the Portal to go on.
A moment passed, then two. The timer clicked, the lights went on, and a great rat cheer filled the air. Rat feet tore up the dirt as the rats gathered outside the Portal to view the spectacular light show.
Uncle Brucker the Rat Killer Page 16
