Forest

by Janet Taylor Lisle

  “Good idea,” answered the professor. She gave Amber an admiring glance. “You certainly are a person who steps up and takes charge.”

  Amber blushed with pleasure at this and was trying to think of a humble-sounding reply when Wendell let out a squawk in the backseat. The professor jammed on the brakes.

  “Look!” Wendell shrieked, pointing out the car window. “Something’s happened to the apple trees!”

  “Good grief! They’ve been torn to shreds!” cried Amber. “For miles in every direction! And where are all the apples? I can’t see a single one.”

  “I was afraid of this,” said Professor Spark, putting her shrimp-size foot to the gas pedal again. “It looks as if the squirrels have already made an attack. Very bad, my dears. Very dangerous. Hang on to your hatpins—I’m picking up the tempo a bit.”

  With this she stamped the car’s gas pedal to the floor, and the car shot ahead like a missile. The landscape blurred. The wind beat at their faces. It was impossible to see or hear or say anything for several minutes. They arrived at the firehouse with a screech of tires and leapt out on the sidewalk.

  Only then, looking around, did they notice something odd about the town. It was deathly quiet. There were no cars in the street, or people. There were no children playing in yards, no baby carriages parked in the shade or water sprinklers on the lawns. Many wires were down along the road. In a house across the way, Amber saw a face surface at a window and draw away.

  “This is a town under siege if ever I saw one,” Professor Spark declared. “I’m afraid our squirrels are turning more vicious by the hour.”

  “But that’s impossible!” cried Amber. “It’s all a terrible mistake. These squirrels are peaceful, civilized creatures. This can’t be happening!”

  Even as she spoke, however, a strange, low rustle started in the distance. It might have been wind rushing toward them through the trees—if the day had been stormy; or the wash of surf on a rocky shore—if Forest had been near the ocean. Wendell turned pale. He grabbed Amber by the hand.

  “Squirrels!” he bellowed, and pulled her toward the fire-house. “Come inside, quick! They move like lightning.”

  They scrambled for the big doors, which flew open as they approached, and closed down so fast behind them that Professor Spark almost lost India, and India very nearly parted with her tail.

  And then, from the roof, came such a scrabble of small feet that no one dared move for several minutes. Amber and Wendell stood gazing at the rafters amid a quaking group of volunteer firemen. Professor Spark moved to a window and narrowed her eyes.

  “Amazing!” she exclaimed when the hordes had passed.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this in all my years of research. Amber, you are quite right about these squirrels. They have achieved a level of organization far beyond others of their species. Unfortunately, it is being used for destructive purposes at the moment. Don’t look so surprised, my dear. It’s in the nature of the beast.”

  “But these squirrels are not beasts!” Amber protested.

  “Oh, pish-tosh, we are all of us beasts,” the professor replied lightly. “The trouble comes when we try to pretend that we’re not. And that is why we must act quickly,” she went on. “The hunting party must be found and stopped before things get any worse. We don’t want a full-scale war on our hands. Does anyone know where the men have gone?”

  After a brief discussion with several firemen, she nodded and beckoned to Amber and Wendell.

  “India and I are going into the forest,” she said. “Will you come with us? It’s dangerous, I’m afraid, but your knowledge of the area would be a great help.”

  “Of course we’ll come!” Amber said. “We couldn’t stand to be left behind now.” Wendell was already emptying the change from his pockets. He tucked in his shirt, cinched in his belt, and double-knotted his shoelaces.

  “Ready for action,” he announced grimly. “I’m a beast, and I know it. I’ve got my slingshot this time. If anything tries to attack us, I’m shooting it between the eyes!”

  “Wendell,” said Amber, “remember, these are our friends the squirrels you’re talking about. They are not savages.”

  “And then I’m shooting them through the eyes…”

  “Wendell, please!”

  “…and through the ears and nose and neck and guts, and if that doesn’t stop them, I’m…”

  “Wendell, that is horrible!”

  “…I’m taking out my jackknife and skinning them from head to foot like the trappers do for squirrel coats. And then I’m chopping up the meat into little bits and putting it in a pot and…”

  “Wendell!”

  Amber grabbed him by the collar before he could say any more, and dragged him out the firehouse door, following Professor Spark.

  Bam! Bam! Bam! Zing! Bam!

  From a clearing surrounded by giant beech trees somewhere in the middle of the forest, the sound of shots ricocheting through branches rang out. A shower of leaves drifted earthward as the figures of two hunters stepped from the bushes below. “Did you see one, Padgett?”

  “Naw. Just a bunch of scared birds. Come on, Teckstar. Let’s sit down on this stump and wait for the others to catch up. We’ve gotten a little ahead.”

  “Sure. Okay. Where are all these supposedly rabid squirrels, anyway? I haven’t seen one.”

  “They’re here. Hiding out, probably. Look at these enormous trees! I guess I’ve never been so far into the forest before.”

  “Me either.”

  “I mean, I knew the place was old, but wow! This stump should be in a museum. What a monster. I wonder if the Natural History Museum in Randomville would be interested? They could bring a backhoe in here and dig it up and use it for an exhibit. The kids would love it…. Um, what’s that noise?”

  “That rustling, you mean?”

  “Sounds like wind coming toward us.”

  “Except there isn’t any wind. It’s flat calm.”

  “Hey, Teckstar. Have you ever been to the beach?”

  “One time. When I was a kid.”

  “Well, doesn’t this sound sort of like…”

  “Waves! Rolling in to shore.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. Except we’re not there.”

  “Where?”

  “At the beach! So it can’t be waves!”

  “Well, what is it, then? It’s getting closer.”

  “Um…”

  “Listen, Padgett. It’s getting louder. I don’t like this at all. Let’s start back and see where the others are. We should keep together in case anything…”

  “Ah…”

  “What is that up there?”

  “Ah…”

  “Squirrels! Lord save us, a huge swarm of squirrels! There must be thousands! No, millions!”

  “Teckstar, they’re moving like lightning!”

  “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life!”

  BAM! Bam. Bam.

  BLAST! BAM!

  “Run, Padgett! It’s no good trying to shoot them. There’re too many. Run! Help! They’re closing in!”

  “Help! Help!”

  “Help! Help! Oh, help!”

  Professor Spark paused under a tree and held up her hand.

  “Wait a minute,” she said. “I think India heard something.”

  Wendell and Amber stopped walking and listened to the forest noises around them. Off to their right, India had come to a halt, ears cocked. A series of little pops went off in the distance.

  “Gunshots!” exclaimed Amber.

  “I heard them, too,” Wendell said. “They seemed to come from over there.” He pointed through the trees, away to the left.

  “Beyond the pond,” Amber said. “Come on!”

  They marched along in silence, single file. India trotted with them, a shadowy form to one side. Every once in a while she would pause and lift her ears. Then she moved on again, sniffing as she went. Amber noticed that the professor never took her eyes off
the dog for long, and when India began to trot faster, she lengthened her own strides.

  “She’s onto something. She’s smelled something, I’m sure,” the professor said.

  They increased their pace to keep up. A rumble of gunshots broke out in front of them, much nearer. The forest was sweltering. Amber pushed her damp hair off her forehead. Wendell’s face had turned a tropical pink.

  “I’m just not a forest person, okay?” he snapped when Amber asked him if he felt all right. “Every time I’m in the forest, something bad happens. I’d rather be home watching TV, if you really want to know.”

  “TV!” exclaimed Professor Spark. “That feeble substitute for adventure? I’d rather sit home with the flu!”

  Amber smiled. She’d been watching the older woman. Professor Spark might not understand television, but when it came to forests, she was in a class by herself. Cool and confident, she moved between the trees as if she were among friends in a place she knew well. Her white hair was slicked back under a camouflage-colored scarf. Her tiny feet skimmed through the brush. She knew the names of everything, plants, animals, and rocks, and pointed them out as they sped along. A compass was strung on a thong around her neck. At intervals she stopped to check their position. Amber had never thought about positions before. She made a mental note to get a compass for herself.

  It was during one of the professor’s halts that Amber noticed something strange about India. The dog was standing stiffly in a clearing about fifteen yards away, hackles raised. As Amber watched, its thick hyena lips curled back in a snarl.

  “Look! India sees something!” she cried. Immediately the sound of cracking underbrush reached their ears. Not more than ten seconds later, the hunting party stormed down on them, at least twenty men running at top speed through the woods with their guns.

  “Mad squirrels! Go back! Back!” some of the hunters shouted. Others tried to speak as they raced by, but couldn’t for lack of breath.

  “Dad!” cried Wendell, catching sight of his father. His shout seemed to bring the whole group up short. They spun around with wild eyes.

  “Wendell! Amber!” Mr. Padgett called. “What are you doing here? Run back! The squirrels are right behind us!”

  Even as he shouted, however, the rustling that everyone knew by now rose out of the woods behind him. At the same time, more rustling sounded to the right of the hunting party, and still more from the left, and it became clear that they were all surrounded. There was nowhere left for anyone to run.

  Chief Teckstar took charge immediately. Fast-moving fires were his specialty.

  “All right, men, prepare to dig in and fight!” the big fireman ordered. “There’s not a moment to lose. Women and children to the middle. Marksmen, form a circle around them. Guns set! Ammunition handy!”

  Professor Spark sprang forward with a cry. “What are you trying to do, land us all in a war?” she yelled at the hunters. “Throw down your guns at once. Show the squirrels that we do not mean to hurt them. According to reports, they are civilized creatures and peaceful at heart. Perhaps they can be persuaded to turn around and go home.”

  Civilized creatures? The hunters gaped at her. Turn around and go home? Even Amber had to admit it was impossible now. The masses of squirrels closing in on all sides looked utterly barbaric. Their small, fierce bodies filled the branches overhead. Their snapping heads swirled across the forest floor. They trampled bushes in their path and surged through the trees in thick gray rivers. Gradually, as their hordes converged, the squirrels formed a living wall around the terrified group. Then the rustling stopped, and Amber felt the weight of alien eyes upon her.

  Without another word from Chief Teckstar, the hunters dropped to one knee and raised their guns to their shoulders. They sighted down their barrels and put their fingers on the triggers. Wendell dropped to one knee, too. He drew his slingshot from his back pocket and tucked a stone in the sling.

  “Well, I guess this is it,” he rasped to Amber, who sat down suddenly on the ground beside him. With a wild gesture, half of anger, half of despair, she buried her face in her hands. Behind her, Professor Spark clenched her fists, and for a long minute all of Forest seemed to hang in some dreadful, final balance.

  Then an odd ripple of movement passed through the squirrels in the trees. Low chitters erupted, and the swarms on the ground swayed and began to break apart. Like a series of veils drawn aside, the ground squirrels parted, and a wide channel opened between them.

  “What is happening?” Chief Teckstar whispered. The answer soon appeared.

  “It’s the troop of silver-haired squirrels!” exclaimed Amber, who had raised her head to look. “See? They’re coming toward us.” Nearby, she heard her father murmur in surprise. Professor Spark stood speechless, her mouth dropped open.

  The strange raft of bodies advanced slowly, but with such precision that there was no sign of the many legs working beneath. Like a cloud, the silver squirrels floated out from the mass of others and came to rest in the space between the squirrels and the humans. As the hunters nervously fingered their guns, the silver squirrels raised their heads. From their throats came the wonderful chitter and whir that Amber and Wendell had heard before.

  “Listen! They’re speaking to us!” Amber said, leaning forward in delight.

  “What are they saying?” Mr. Padgett asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “I can almost hear it, but…” She listened with all her might to the soaring voices. “I know there’s a pattern, but I can’t quite hear…

  “Wait a minute!” shouted Amber. “Yes, I can! Stop, they’re saying! The silver squirrels are telling us to stop.”

  “Stop what?” Chief Teckstar said. “We haven’t done anything.”

  In the next moment the squirrels’ raft began to turn slowly around. The elegant gray heads turned also, until they were gazing at the squirrel hordes crowding in on all sides. Then, low and high, their voices soared again, soft and loud, quick and slow.

  “Stop!” whispered Amber. She looked at Professor Spark. “They are telling the squirrels to stop. They say the fight is pointless and everyone must go home.”

  “Amber Padgett, are you making this all up?” demanded her father. “I can’t hear anything but a lot of chitters and squeaks.”

  “Amber never makes anything up!” Wendell said, stepping up to his father fiercely. “Don’t you know anything about her by now?”

  There was no time for a reply. The silver squirrels fell suddenly silent, and there rose, as if in answer, ten thousand chitters and ten thousand deep-chested whirs from the huge congregation of squirrels all around. Never had anyone in the group heard such a noise before. The sound was thunderous—but gentle.

  “Like wind blowing through a canyon,” Mr. Padgett tried to explain to Mrs. Padgett later. “Or a crowd of people saying a prayer.”

  “And then what happened?” Mrs. Padgett asked.

  And then, well, how could Mr. Padgett describe what he’d seen? How could Chief Teckstar or any of them? It was unbelievable. One moment the tree limbs swarmed with squirrels; the next, they were empty. One moment a massive gray army surrounded them with deadly eyes; the next, it had melted away. And only the silver-haired squirrels remained behind, twitching their tails in a strangely intelligent way. It was enough to make you wonder if the varmints had minds.

  Amber and Wendell had seen something even more extraordinary, however. It was something that kept them wondering for a long time after about what really happened that day in the squirrels’ treetop world…. As the gray armies disappeared, they caught sight of three small squirrels crouched to one side of the silver-hairs’ raft.

  “Wendell, look! Doesn’t that look like…”

  “It is! It’s our little squirrel. I’d recognize her anywhere. And guess who’s sitting beside her.”

  “The one-eared squirrel who came to rescue her. And the other one, his pretty friend.”

  “But are they silver-hairs, too?” Wendell as
ked. “They’re sitting with them as if they were.”

  “I don’t know,” Amber said. “They look too young. Do you think they had anything to do with all this?”

  “I bet they did,” said Wendell. “Though exactly what we’ll probably never figure out.”

  “I don’t know why not,” said Professor Spark, interrupting just then. “It’s the very sort of thing I would like to look into. And now that Amber has cracked the squirrels’ language code…” The tiny woman winked at Amber while Wendell grinned at them both.

  “Well, ahem,” said Amber. “I suppose that was going a little far. I didn’t really know what the silver-hairs were saying. I was just so afraid that the hunters would start shooting.”

  “It was an excellent translation, to my mind,” the professor said dryly. “And made in the nick of time. Which brings me to my point: would either of you be willing to start a research project on these squirrels with me? I believe, after today’s amazing events, I can have them placed on the endangered species list. Not that they are any more endangered than we are, you understand. (I have an idea that humans may be the ones in real trouble.) But it will keep certain people in Forest from going on with the war.”

  At this they all glanced over to Mr. Padgett, who, to give him credit, didn’t appear very angry. He seemed, in fact, rather awed by what he’d seen.

  “And the incredible thing is, these squirrels have probably been here all along!” he could be heard exclaiming to Chief Teckstar. “It’s just that no one ever bothered to look up before.”

  “Professor Spark,” said Amber, “I’d love to do research with you. And with India,” she added, nodding respectfully at the frightful dog, who had come to join her mistress in the crowd of hunters. “I still think these squirrels are peaceful at heart.”

  “Well, I think they’re a bunch of maniacs,” Wendell said to the professor. “From what I’ve seen, they’re exactly like humans, only worse. But if Amber is studying them…” He turned to his sister. “Amber, are you sure you want to go back up in these trees?”