“Juniper,” whispered Mother Gallo, “that’s far too dangerous. We’ll surely awaken the Topsiders, and it’s a long jump down from that window. There could be injuries, possibly fatal.”
Juniper sighed. “Maddy, I agree, you know I do; but I don’t believe we have an alternative.”
“But we do,” she said calmly. “The boy.”
Juniper and Mother Gallo climbed the staircase in silence. As they reached the landing, Mother Gallo stuck her nose into the air, picking up Ramsey’s scent. She easily caught wind of the little boy, who smelled of chocolate and oranges. The twosome slinked down the hall, inaudible on the plush carpet.
Muffled voices murmured from the television, which gave off a ghostly radiance from under the door leading to the parents’ room. Despite the seriousness of their task, Juniper couldn’t help but snigger a little when he heard the mother and father snoring. Mother Gallo gave him a stern look, swatting him on the arm. They came to Ramsey’s door, decorated with pictures drawn on thick colored paper. Mother Gallo gasped.
“What is it?” Juniper said, searching the hallway for trouble.
“It’s just … I think it’s me,” she said in amazement. She pointed to a crinkled piece of powder-blue paper taped at the bottom of the door. It was a child’s depiction in crayon of a round, gray rat with a blue ribbon around its waist, holding a blob of yellow, which she assumed to be cheese. The rat had a smile on its face, more of a Topsider smile than that of rat, and Ramsey had even managed to draw a brown satchel on its shoulder. “See? Look, there’s my sash, and your satchel. The child remembered everything.”
Juniper looked at the picture. “It looks as though you have an admirer. You must have made quite an impression on the boy,” he whispered. “Let’s see if you can do it again.” He pointed to the gap under the door.
“Stay out of sight,” said Mother Gallo. “I don’t want to scare him. A large, one-eyed rat like you might send him into a panic. Just stay out of sight till I say otherwise.”
They squeezed through the gap. Ramsey’s bed was in the center of the room, with a wooden chest pushed against its foot. On his nightstand he had a glowing red night-light in the shape of a rocket. Juniper waited by the door as Mother Gallo sank her claws into the bed’s navy skirt and scaled her way to the top.
Ramsey was sleeping soundly, wrapped up in his comforter. She crept over to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder. He didn’t move. She tried again, this time a little harder. Ramsey scratched his shoulder where she tapped him but did not wake. “Third time’s the charm,” she said, giving his shoulder a solid push. Ramsey yawned, rubbed his nose, and finally opened his sleepy eyes.
Mother Gallo stood in front of his freckled face. He squinted his eyes, then quickly sat up, gawking at her. Mother Gallo was afraid he might cry out. She leaped onto his nightstand and put a claw to her lips. Ramsey studied her from head to toe. He smiled, unafraid. Leaning in, he whispered, “Lady Rat, you’ve come back, just like you promised. I’m so glad to see you!”
Mother Gallo looked round the room. There were more drawings of her. She pointed to one tacked behind his night-light.
“You like my drawings?” Ramsey asked eagerly. She nodded yes. She pointed to a picture of her in front of a big brown door.
“The door—where we met,” he said, smiling proudly. She pointed downward towards the floor. “You want to go down?”
Mother Gallo became excited and pointed to his window and then down again. “Oh,” said Ramsey, “you want to go outside again!” She jumped up and down on his nightstand and clapped her paws.
Mother Gallo bounded over Ramsey to the foot of the bed and motioned for Juniper to come up. Ramsey watched guardedly as the woolly rat scaled his bed. Mother Gallo took Juniper by the paw and walked him over to Ramsey. The boy studied the violet rat.
Mother Gallo pointed to Juniper’s bag, which hung across his chest, and then to Ramsey’s drawing. The boy caught on. “This is your friend’s bag, then?” he asked. Juniper smiled at the boy and bowed graciously.
Mother Gallo pointed to the window again. “Oh, yes,” said Ramsey, “you want to go back outside.”
Ramsey leaned in closer, now eye-level with the rats, and looked at them seriously. “My mother and father are sleeping. We mustn’t wake them. I’m not allowed to roam the house after dark. So you both need to be very quiet.”
Ramsey slipped out of bed and put on his slippers. He walked over to the wooden chest at the foot of his bed and carefully lifted the heavy lid. He reached in and pulled something out. It was a flashlight. He clicked it on. “Now, remember, be very, very quiet,” he said, motioning to the door.
In the time it took for Mother Gallo and Juniper to rouse the boy, all two hundred rats had organized, scooting under the studio door, and were now waiting patiently in the foyer. One and all stood motionless, scared to even wiggle an ear or flick a tail.
Mother Gallo had explained to the Nightshade rats that a Topsider would be coming down and that he was just a child, no different from their own children, notwithstanding his size. He had helped her once before and, with any luck, would help them tonight. That seemed to put the rats a little more at ease, but child or not, a Topsider was still a Topsider.
A noise came from upstairs. All two hundred rats looked up apprehensively. They saw the light from Ramsey’s flashlight bouncing down the staircase, followed by two small Topsider feet in crimson slippers. Mother Gallo and Juniper trailed quickly at his heels. The pair held their breath, not knowing how the boy would react to the mass of rats he was about to encounter.
Ramsey got to the bottom stair and shone his flashlight around the room. First he looked towards the kitchen. All clear. He then looked towards the front door. Everything looked fine at first, but on second glance he noticed a strange reflection coming from the floor. He slowly moved his light across it. There they were—four hundred tiny eyes gleaming like polished marbles. He just about dropped his flashlight to the marble floor below. All the rats held their breath as he fumbled with the light. When he caught it, a muffled sigh filled the foyer as all two hundred rats exhaled in unison.
Ramsey cautiously inspected the throng of rats, then slowly turned back to Mother Gallo and Juniper. He crouched down next to them on the bottom stairs. “I see you’ve brought your family with you,” he whispered. They nodded yes. “Where are you going?”
Mother Gallo quickly jumped to her feet and started pointing to the numerous Saints’ Day decorations adorning the home. Ramsey caught on. “Ah, you’re going somewhere for Saints’ Day. My father says lots of people travel during the holidays. I guess rats need to travel too.” Mother Gallo nodded. Ramsey looked at all the eyes blinking back at him. “You know, you have an awfully large family, Lady Rat. You must be very proud.”
Ramsey stood up. “All right, then, Lady Rat and Mr. Rat, I better get you out of here. Please make sure your family stays very quiet.” The rats skittered out of his way. Most of them had never been so close to a Topsider, and they stared at the boy curiously as he tiptoed to the front door.
He pulled on the first door, which opened with a soft creak. He held it open as all the rats poured into the vestibule, their claws clicking against the cold tile.
The crowd of rats split in two, giving Ramsey room to make his way to the outer door leading to the street. He had trouble with the bolt, stiffened up with cold, but he eventually pried it open using all his strength. It gave way with a begrudging groan. A flood of icy night air filled the vestibule, stealing everyone’s breath for a moment.
Ramsey crouched down and spoke to Mother Gallo. “Lady Rat, happy Saints’ Day,” he whispered cheerily. “I’m glad you came back to see me.” Mother Gallo hugged his ankle as a rapid current of rats poured out onto the sidewalk of Ashbury Lane.
Mother Gallo waved good-bye to Juniper, who paused as he watched her disappear back into the house and back to Nightshade City.
The rats headed to the Brimstone Building in t
he run-down Battery District of Trillium City, the location of the chimneys. Juniper led the pack as they twisted like spun taffy round the streets of the Reserve. Midnight was alarmingly close.
Killdeer, Billycan, and the high majors waited in the War Room, all donning their freshly pressed Kill Army dress sashes, with their coats groomed and shiny. Catacomb Hall was filling up with soldiers. As soon as the last seat was occupied, the speech would begin.
Killdeer held up his polished medallion and studied it. He would not meet the same fate as old Trilok. He would not be overthrown. He thought of Saints’ Day, now so near, and how he had carved out Trilok’s throat all those years ago, just like the Topsiders carved their roast suckling pig and stuffed fowl. He chuckled to himself, thinking the analogy rather funny. He turned to Billycan. “I do,” he said bluntly.
“Minister?” asked Billycan, oblivious as to what Killdeer was referring to.
“What you said back in my den, when you so eloquently informed me of what a derelict leader I had become. The question you asked me—do I want to feel the glory again? I realize my answer is late in coming, but I’m telling you—yes, I do. I want there to be war. Never has my vigor been so strong. The last time I felt this high was the day Trilok sucked in his last ragged breath. Just let those Nightshade mutineers attack us. Let them. I’ll kill them myself and have the army burn their bloodied carcasses in Catacomb Hall! I’ll have the High Cook boil their bones and make me a winter stew. I’ll use Juniper’s skull as my soup bowl!”
The majors laughed riotously. Billycan grimaced at the Minister’s wit. As pleased as he was to see the Minister back to his old self, he would be the one to kill Juniper. Killdeer would not have that honor. He had not earned the right. Billycan ran his skeletal digits down the edge of his newly-sharpened blade hanging firmly on his hip, clanking against his billy club. He pictured the event. He would gut the troublesome rat end-to-end. The thought gave him a convulsive chill, which shivered up his spine. He smelled death. He jumped from his chair, knocking it to the ground, as the adrenaline took hold.
“My High Collector and Commander is ready, I see!” said Killdeer. “I can feel it too, Billycan.” Killdeer bellowed down the length of the War Room, as they exited for the speech. “Death is forthcoming!”
Catacomb Hall was ready for the speech as soldiers gradually filtered in. The hall was set up with an imposing stage in the front, blocking Ellington’s Tavern and the other businesses lining the horseshoe. There were numerous rows of seating, with a long ruby carpet trailing down the middle. The Kill Army colors of crimson and navy draped the stage and entrances, and long matching flags cut in the shape of a serpent’s tongue hung from the ceiling, all decorated with Killdeer’s three-pronged mark. Flickering torches lined the perimeter of the hall.
The Kill Army soldiers had no idea what the meat of the Grand Speech would be. Much gossip and conjecture had been offered up in the barracks, but for the most part the troops assumed it would have something to do with the kidnapped lieutenant and the Chosen One.
The Nightshade rats turned the corner, barreling into the north alley of the Brimstone Building. There it was: the green Dumpster, just as Oard had described. Juniper led the way, piloting the horde directly under the rusty container.
They spotted the five chimneys. The Kill Army had affixed copper flues over each chimney, allowing smoke to escape while still blocking out the harsh Trillium elements. Juniper, Cole, and Virden made quick work of the covers, easily ripping them off and tossing them aside, while Vincent, Suttor, and Victor started organizing everyone into five groups, one for each chimney.
The rats were ready to descend. The continuous moisture from the Kill Army kitchens had kept the soil of the chimneys pliable, easy to sink sharp claws into and scale down swiftly. Each rat had his weapon tightly bound to his back, ensuring it would not get tangled during the descent, should he accidentally fall.
From below, Ragan and Ulrich would be directing the Nightshade rats from the secret corridors dug from Nightshade City to the Catacombs. The earthworms had re-excavated most of the tunnels that led back to the Combs, all going into the deserted quarters of Catacomb rats who’d already fled to Nightshade. Each group of Nightshade rats would then wait in one of the empty homes until they heard the signal to move towards Catacomb Hall.
The hall was equipped with a bell, pilfered from a Topside academy. The bell was rung to signal the start of all High Ministry events. The deafening noise rang through every corridor, even to the farthest border. When the Nightshade rats heard the bell, they were to descend upon Catacomb Hall.
The Kill Army soldiers who were on guard would be bound, gagged, and placed in the abandoned quarters, guarded by Nightshade rats. Juniper anticipated little opposition from the lone soldiers, hoping fear would prevail over foolishness.
After the five groups were lined up in front of each chimney, Juniper and the group leaders met for one last time. They huddled under the Dumpster in a circle. “Everyone, bow your heads,” said Juniper. “May the Saints be looking down on us tonight. May our hearts be strong and our aim true. On this night, so near to Saints’ Day, may our enemies die with dignity and their souls be given the fate they deserve. Saints protect the innocent children of the Kill Army. May none of them meet their end by means of our blades.” They all looked at one another for a moment, silently hoping that it would not be for the last time.
The group leaders motioned to Juniper and vanished into their designated chimneys. The rest of the rats descended, one by one, careful to keep an arm’s length between one another. Juniper watched closely, making sure everyone entered the chimneys safely. Things were going smoothly, at least for now.
Barring the front rows, nearly every seat in Catacomb Hall was occupied by a Kill Army soldier. Only a handful of lieutenants were guarding the perimeters of the Combs, one per exit leading Topside. The High Ministry thought the speech too important to waste more than a few handpicked soldiers, already briefed on the proceedings and already bored as they manned their desolate posts.
Ragan and Ulrich were running the Loyalist operation from below, filling the reopened tunnels with Nightshade Rats and waiting patiently in empty quarters. When the bell rang, chiming throughout the Combs, the Nightshade rats quietly infiltrated their designated corridors. They then went about waking groggy Catacomb rats from their beds, telling them to stay quiet for their own safety and informing them that they were free.
At first, in their tired and fuzzy state, many of the rats were confused. The Nightshade rats explained that they were Trilok Loyalists—now led by Juniper Belancort, still alive and well! Catacomb rats shook, cried, and laughed. Some were frightened, not sure if they should believe their ears or trust these foreign rats. The Nightshade rats told them they could stay, but for what? Taking a chance on a new life, whatever that life may be, was far better than the tyranny they now endured. Most agreed. Parents quickly gathered their few meager belongings, clutched their little ones, and traveled down the tunnels to Nightshade.
Knowing that all the Nightshade rats would be needed at Catacomb Hall, Ragan sent a team of newly freed volunteer rats, guided by the earthworms, to the kitchen girls’ cramped quarters to rouse them from their tiny beds. At first the girls didn’t believe they could simply pick up and leave. It could not be true. They would be punished.
One of the volunteers, a mother, grabbed two of the girls and hugged them as hard as she could. “We are all free, all of us!” she exclaimed. “The rumors are true—Juniper is alive! The Loyalists have come to save us, giving us all a new home! You are free!” Some of the girls wailed in relief; others couldn’t stop grinning. Sadly, many had no reaction at all, too numb from years of abuse. The mother spotted one of these girls, cheerless, a blank look on her face. She took the girl’s chin in her paw and stared at her deadened expression. “You will wake up soon, you’ll see. This has all been but a long and terrible nightmare. Our real life begins now.”
The Kill Army
quieted as the proceedings began. A lieutenant appeared at the base of the stage in front of the red carpet. He retrieved a trumpet hanging from his hip and blew a short, regal call, designating the arrival of the Kill Army majors and Ministry leaders. He left as quickly as he had arrived and took his seat on the sidelines.
The first to appear was the endless line of sector majors. They marched in formation down the red carpet, taking their seats in the front rows, just in front of the senior lieutenants.
After the sector majors came High Majors Lithgo, Schnauss, and Foiber. Lithgo stuck his snout in the air and sucked in his overfed belly as Schnauss skulked in behind him. Foiber eventually appeared, taking extra time as he dragged the cumbersome weight of his loose-fitting skin. The majors climbed the stage and took their seats facing the soldiers, behind the wooden podium.
The trumpeter stood once more and blew another royal number, signifying the entrance of Billycan and Killdeer. The soldiers rose from their seats and stood at attention.
Billycan walked the red carpet first, pushing out his concave chest and striding down the center of the army. The soldiers looked on apprehensively as he marched the length of the carpet. He swiftly jumped onto the stage and took his seat next to the podium, in front of the high majors.
There was a brief but purposeful pause in the proceedings. The soldiers looked anxiously towards the back of the room. Finally, Killdeer emerged at the edge of the red carpet. He walked the length of the carpet with an imposing swagger. The genial face he wore during the mess-hall feast had transformed into a stoic gaze, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed.
Killdeer stood behind the podium, dwarfing it with his huge presence. He regarded the packed room. He sized up the Kill Army, his army. As he looked at the sprawl of soldiers before him, he pondered how far he had come to achieve all of this, this world—his world—he, once an exiled citizen, banished for his crimes, and now High Minister of the Catacombs. “From criminal to king,” he whispered to himself.
Nightshade City Page 22
