The Mysterious Abductions

by Tracey Hecht

  “Plump prowlers of the night!” yelled the sugar glider. “Explain your presence at once!”

  The birds bumbled toward the group.

  “My name is Burt,” said the smaller of the two. “And this here is Becka, my wife. We were simply searching for food.”

  “Humph!” exclaimed Bismark. “Searching for victims, more like it!”

  The fox shook her head at the sugar glider’s distrust. It was clear that these kiwi birds posed no threat. “I apologize,” she said, speaking on her friend’s behalf.

  “Oh, it’s okay,” said Becka. “Everyone seems on edge in these dangerous times.”

  Dawn’s ears stood erect. “Dangerous times?”

  “Oh, yes,” replied Burt. “Terrible, these nappings. Just terrible.”

  Cora stepped forward, eyes wide. “Nappings? You know of them, too?”

  The kiwi birds nodded. “How could we not?” replied Burt. “Seems like everywhere you go, animals are missing.”

  Becka nodded. “Twenty-two years, we’ve been together. Twenty-two years, and twenty-two tots. Chose this place for the kids. A family area, a peaceful place. And now…” Tearfully, she buried her beak in Burt’s feathered breast. “Well, I’m just worried sick!”

  “There, there, Peaches. There, there,” whispered Burt. “You just let it all out.” Tenderly, the bird stroked his wife’s head. Then he turned back toward the Brigade. “We’ve lost so many,” he said. “So many dear friends.”

  “Twelve,” said Becka, raising her face from Burt’s chest. “Just last night, my cousin Bailey was taken!” The kiwi burst into sobs.

  Burt lowered his feathered head. “You’re down at Patterson Pond, minding your own business, looking for worms in the mud,” he sighed. “And the next thing you know…whomp! Gone.”

  The wombat groaned, and scrunched her eyes shut. Tobin rested his paw on her shoulder.

  “Wait,” said Dawn, approaching the birds. “What was that you just said?”

  Burt looked in her eyes. “Whomp!” he repeated, this time with more force.

  “No, no,” muttered Dawn. “The other thing. About the pond.”

  “Oh!” said Burt, clearing his throat. “Right. Yes. Like I said, poor Bailey was just down by Patterson Pond. You know, the one near the coyote dens. That’s where all the plump worms live.” The kiwi bowed his head. “Those delicious, delicious worms.”

  “Tragic,” said Becka. “Digging in the mud one minute, disappeared the next. Absolutely tragic.”

  “Tragic, yes,” said Dawn, but the fox looked preoccupied. As if pulled by an invisible string, she was drawn toward the river. The others followed.

  “What is it?” Tobin asked, joining the fox.

  “Patterson Pond,” she said. She stared at the opposite bank, lost completely in her thoughts.

  A cool breeze blew through the grass, sending a chill down Tobin’s spine.

  Dawn turned back toward the birds. “Why don’t you two go check on your children?” she said. “Thank you for sharing your story. You’ve been very helpful.”

  The kiwis nodded and then, side-by-side, shuffled back toward the woods.

  Dawn looked at Bismark, Tobin, and Cora. Her Brigade-mates stared back at her, waiting for instruction.

  “We must cross the river,” she said, her voice determined and strong, “and make our way toward the pond.”

  “Toward the pond?” said Bismark. “You mean, toward the coyotes!” His eyes bulged out of his head. “Have you gone loco, my lady?”

  Tobin shuddered. The coyotes were crafty, cruel killers with big appetites. But he knew they had to find Joe, and now the missing kiwi birds, too. “Let’s go,” he said, forcing himself to sound brave.

  Everyone nodded. Although they were scared of what they might find across the river, something told them Dawn had a plan.

  Chapter Seven

  THE CROSSING

  “Ah, Dawn,” sighed Bismark. “Not only the name of our beautiful leader, but also the time when we night prowlers should be asleep!” The sugar glider yawned and plopped himself down on the ground. The morning sun was already beating down on them, baking the dry soil and making the air shimmer.

  Dawn approached Bismark. “Stand up,” she directed. “We can rest when we get to that pond.”

  “Rest? Or face certain death?” cried the sugar glider. Reluctantly, he hoisted himself to his feet. “If we don’t get nabbed on the way, we’ll be gobbled by those nasty coyotes when we get there!”

  Dawn turned back toward the river. “We must cross,” she said, surveying the banks. “It is only a question of how.”

  “We could make a raft,” said a bat.

  The others flapped their leathery wings in agreement. “Most cunning! Most clever!”

  “Most thickheaded,” snapped Bismark. He turned to the bats. “Surely, you see the current moves far too fast for a floating device. We would be miles downstream before we reached the other side.”

  “I’m afraid he’s correct,” agreed Dawn. The fox lowered her face to the water and prodded at it with one outstretched paw.

  “Animals of boundless flight,” said the sugar glider, taunting the bats. “When will your sonar be fixed so you can find yourselves a good idea?”

  Dawn ignored the bickering. “Look at these sea cucumbers.” She pointed to the knobby cucumber-like creatures floating in the water. “They shouldn’t be here.”

  “What do you mean?” Cora leaned over the water’s edge, her brow creased with confusion.

  “They are saltwater creatures,” said Dawn. “They should be in the sea, not the river.”

  Curious, the pangolin extended his exceptionally long tongue to investigate further. “Ick!” he exclaimed, quickly snapping it back.

  “Oy gevalt!” gasped the bats. In unison, they extended their wings toward Tobin.

  “That’s not a tongue—”

  “—that’s a jump rope!”

  The bats cackled.

  “Oh goodness, yes,” stammered the pangolin. “My tongue.” Self-conscious, he covered his mouth with one paw.

  “Enough,” Dawn commanded. “Tobin, what’s wrong with the water?”

  “It tastes salty, I think. Just a little bit.”

  Dawn dipped a paw in the water and then licked it. “You’re right,” she confirmed.

  “Most clever canine, illuminate this finding. Empower us with knowledge. Tell us what this means!” exclaimed Bismark.

  “This means that, for some reason, sea water has mixed into this freshwater stream.” Dawn looked out onto the river.

  “So the sea cucumbers are lost,” concluded Tobin.

  “Yes,” said the fox. Gently, she placed a paw onto one of the long blobs. It continued to float near the surface, supporting her weight surprisingly well. “Hmm,” she said. “I think the sea cucumbers could be very helpful to us. If we could just think of a way to control their direction…”

  But the bats were no longer listening. Bored of river talk, they had surrounded Tobin.

  “Can it feel that?” asked one.

  “Can it taste this?” said a second.

  The pangolin yelped.

  “What are you doing?” Dawn gasped. The fox turned to see all four bats prodding Tobin’s stomach with their long bony fingers.

  “Says he stores it right here,” said a bat.

  “It’s longer than his body!” cried another.

  “What’s longer than his body?” asked Cora.

  Tobin blushed. “My tongue,” he replied, cradling his belly. “It coils in my stomach when I’m not using it.” Slowly, the pangolin inched away from the bats in the direction of the fox. “Dawn!” he said, eager to change the subject. “They’re going after that green stuff in the water.” Indeed, slowly but surely, the sea cucumbers were chasing after the flecks of algae floating downstream.

  The fox’s face brightened. “Come,” she said. Dawn searched the edge of the river, gathering green plants with her paws. “Collect a
ll the algae you can and then store it in your mouths.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the wombat. “Should we eat it?”

  “No. This is how we will cross the river,” Dawn said, a green wad already tucked in her bottom lip. “Watch.”

  Chapter Eight

  SEA CUCUMBER EXPRESS

  The fox mounted the sea cucumbers, each paw on one blob. From her mouth, she sprinkled small bits of algae in front of her. Sure enough, the creatures started wriggling toward the food, taking Dawn along for the ride.

  “It’s working!” Tobin said. “They’re moving across the river!” Eagerly, the pangolin mimicked Dawn’s actions, climbing aboard the sea cucumbers and luring them forward with their favorite food.

  Bismark and Cora soon followed. And so did the bats.

  “What are you doing?” snapped the sugar glider. “You have wings! Can’t you fly across?”

  “Sonar still broken,” said a bat.

  “Why fly when you can ride?” asked another.

  Bismark clenched his jaw. “Lazy bats,” he muttered.

  “Come now,” said Dawn, calling over her shoulder. “The sooner we cross, the sooner we can find the missing animals.”

  Tobin nodded in agreement, and as he did, a large clump of algae dropped from his mouth to the water. His sea cucumbers shot toward the food. “Oh goodness!” he cried, speeding forward.

  Cora giggled. “Wheee!” she exclaimed. “I can feel the wind in my fur!”

  “It’s a cucumber cavalry!” said the sugar glider.

  “A speedy salad!” added Tobin.

  “Hey, stop eating all the algae!” said one of the bats to his companion.

  “I can’t help it if these cucumbers have good taste in bait,” said the bat, chewing down a mouthful of the slimy green matter.

  “That’s the last of it. I ate mine too,” said another. “I suppose we’ll have to use wind power now.”

  The bats extended their wings, which caught the wind like sails. The foursome zoomed on ahead, passing the Brigade and Cora. Their steering, however, was wonky and soon—Bam! Oof! Plop!—they crashed into a rock and tumbled into the river.

  As the Brigade stepped off their sea cucumbers onto the rocky bank, the bats pulled themselves onto the shore, dripping wet, fists raised in triumph.

  “Made it,” said one.

  “Bit of an unexpected dip.”

  “Water up the nose, that’s for sure.”

  “But sweet—cough, cough—glory.”

  Now on the other side of the river, Dawn peered through the trees. She could see the glittering surface of Patterson Pond. Sharp, distant howls warbled through the early morning air. The coyotes’ den was not far.

  Chapter Nine

  THE WARNING CALL

  “One, two, three!” chanted the bats. The march to the coyotes’ den took them down a shadowy path through the heart of a gum tree forest. The animals were all tired—having had only a few hours of sleep.

  “So much senseless chatter,” grumbled Bismark. “These bats talk just to hear themselves speak!”

  Dawn wasn’t listening to the sugar glider’s complaints. She was scanning their surroundings for any signs of movement in the darkness. Something didn’t feel right. A westerly breeze blew in from the direction of the nearby pond, carrying with it a musty, sour scent.

  “Oh goodness, is that what coyotes smell like?” asked Tobin. His scales were bunched together in fear.

  A shrill howl rose up nearby and Bismark halted. “Wait! Basta! This is madness! We are about to walk into the jaws of these vicious predators! This goes against every instinct in my beautiful, bite-free body!”

  “I’m certain Dawn has a plan to keep us safe, Bismark,” said Tobin.

  “My lovely fox,” said the sugar glider, “enlighten us as to the specifics of this plan of yours. Will my role involve being chewed, swallowed, or otherwise eaten?”

  Dawn opened her mouth to respond but then suddenly stopped. She squinted, raised her head, and let out a quiet yowl.

  “I see that I have moved you beyond what words can express,” said Bismark. He blew on his nails casually. “I was not even trying, you know.”

  Dawn shook her head then made the sound again.

  “Oh goodness, does your stomach hurt? I think I swallowed a bit too much of that algae, myself,” said the pangolin.

  Dawn sighed. “The distress call was a bad idea. From now on, let’s just say ‘help,’ or ‘look over there’.”

  Bismark nodded. “Yes, no need to speak in nonsensical sounds that nobody can really understand, ça va?”

  “So, look over there,” whispered Dawn. She bobbed her neck in the direction of some tall grass by the side of the path. At first glance, it was perfectly ordinary, except for an odd flower with a long, drooping stalk and a blossom like a paintbrush. But there, between the blades of grass, were two familiar points of light.

  “Oh goodness,” Tobin whispered.

  “Don’t be alarmed, my innocent friend,” Bismark said to Tobin. “The fox is merely drawing our attention to the beautiful scenery. What are these spooky-looking trees called, my love?”

  There was no reply. Bismark’s brow furrowed. All seven animals—Dawn, Tobin, Cora, and the four bats—gazed past him, their eyes trained on something just behind him. And they all wore expressions of fear. “Mon dieu! Is it something I said?” asked the sugar glider, his eyes growing wide.

  Cora shook her head.

  Slowly, Bismark rotated his head and looked over his shoulder.

  “Ahhhh!” Spotting the eyes of the spy, the sugar glider shrieked.

  “Eeeek!” So did the strange little creature.

  “Ohhh!” The rest of the crew replied. And then they sprang into action.

  Tobin shot a noxious scent from his gland. Bismark lunged forward, his gliding flaps spread wide. Dawn pounced with bared teeth.

  There was a great commotion as a flurry of dirt and dust surrounded the animals. There were shouts here, furry limbs there, a bundle of bat wings flapping—chaos. When the uproar subsided and the air cleared, the animals saw the suspect before them, pinned and writhing beneath the commanding paws of the fox.

  Chapter Ten

  THE JERBOA

  “D-d-d-don’t hurt me!” stammered the creature, trembling with fear beneath Dawn’s sturdy paw. “P-please! Let me go!”

  “Pah!” scoffed Bismark, placing his hands on his hips. “Do not liberate that dangerous beast!”

  Dawn kept her paw firmly planted. She needed no advice.

  “D-d-dangerous?” echoed the animal. “That’s impossible! I’m t-t-t-tiny!”

  Tobin squinted. The creature was indeed tiny. From his head to his haunches, he was only half the size of the sugar glider. In fact, with his oversized ears, puny body, and long tail, he looked like a miniature, malnourished mouse—hardly the profile of an animal napper. But still, there was something strained about the way he spoke that made the pangolin suspicious.

  “P-p-please,” begged the creature. He sniveled and coughed. “My t-t-tail. Look out for my tail!” Nervously, he eyed Dawn’s rear paw. “It’s very s-s-sensitive.”

  But the fox still did not move. “Bring me something to tie him,” she instructed the bats. “We will secure this stranger until we know more.”

  “Right away!” said the bats. They stripped the surrounding greenery and quickly wove together a cord out of stalks and vines.

  With the creature restrained, Dawn finally lifted her paw. “Who are you?” she asked, leaning in. Her eyes narrowed to slivers.

  “I’m J-J-Jerry,” he said, tilting away from the fox. “J-J-Jerry the g-g-gentle jerboa.” The animal delivered a shaky smile that strained his cheeks and jaw.

  Not convinced, Dawn leaned in even closer. “Can you tell us anything about a missing wombat?”

  “And kiwis,” added Tobin.

  “Oh, k-kiwi,” said Jerry. “I love kiwi. Delicious and high in water c-c-c-content. The seeds g-g-g
et stuck in my teeth, though.”

  “Not the fruit!” snapped a bat.

  “The bird,” said another.

  Dawn locked eyes with the jerboa. “We are investigating a wave of animal disappearances,” she said. “Do you have any information?”

  Jerry squirmed in his bonds. “I c-c-can’t think,” he sputtered. “These v-v-vines are c-c-cutting off my circulation.”

  With a sigh, the fox motioned for the bats to loosen the rope.

  “M-m-much better,” said the jerboa. The animal stretched and rose to his feet.

  Cora let out a gasp. “His legs,” she whispered, drawing close to Tobin.

  The pangolin nodded. The creature had long hind legs, spindly and bent backwards at the knee, like a flamingo’s.

  “L-l-l-let me think,” he stalled, shifty eyes darting from one animal to the next. “W-w-well,” he continued, “I h-h-have heard a good deal of c-c-c-commotion recently….”

  Dawn glared at the creature. “Out with it,” she demanded.

  “Don’t play stupido!” Bismark chimed in. “We saw you at the scene of the crime. Practically caught you red-pawed!”

  “R-r-right,” stammered Jerry, a bit flustered now.

  Cora stepped toward him, tears misting her eyes. “Please,” she begged.

  Tobin padded to his wombat friend’s side. “Her brother was taken,” he explained. “Is there anything you know that could help us?”

  “I don’t know anything! I s-s-swear!” stammered Jerry.

  “Then why were you down by the river?” pressed Dawn. “We saw you watching us from the bushes.”

  Jerry eyes darted to the ground. “I was h-hiding,” he said. “I was so s-s-scared.” “My family was taken, too,” he muttered. “I thought maybe y-y-you were the n-n-nappers.”

  Bismark placed his hands on his hips. “Tell us more! Give us evidence of your innocence!” he demanded, flashing his cape. “Pronto!”