Chapter Fifteen
“I’m glad you finally came to your senses, Chip,” Dee stated as she, her fiancé and Drywall flew northward from the abandoned rail yard in the Ranger Wing. The lady had convinced her betrothed that she could be trusted not to go after Philippe.
“Me?” Chip responded almost indignantly, “I wasn’t the one who was going to go off and kill someone over an unflattering portrait.”
“I mean your finally accepting I wasn’t actually going to kill that frog,” Dee pointed out.
“I know, it’s just that I didn’t really expect that extreme a reaction from you over something that trivial,” Chip explained.
“You should talk,” Dee jabbed playfully, “Monty’s told me about some of the things you and Dale have come to blows over.”
“But you’ve always told me how you try to keep control over your temper,” the chipmunk countered, “That way, no one could use you.”
“Yeah,” the mouse agreed, “It’s just that there’s something about Philippe that really sets me off.”
“Put down here,” Chip ordered. Dee landed the craft where her love had instructed. Being a substantial distance from Philippe’s studio so as to avoid detection by his loyal following, Chip had to explain to Drywall how to make it the rest of the way. The chipmunk simultaneously instilled in the weasel that there was nothing of interest to be found on the way and that there were great mysteries to be discovered at the destination... the hope being that Drywall would head straight for his destination without distraction. “And remember, once you get there” Chip finished, stressing his final words, “Keep your eyes peeled!”
Drywall developed a very worried expression and slowly turned away. Dee and Chip looked to each other as they both came to the same horrible realization. “WAIT!” Dee shouted to the weasel. She leaned out far from the Ranger Wing to grab hold of his arm before he could get any farther.
“What I meant when I said ‘keep your eyes peeled’ was,” Chip began to correct himself, “When you get there, try not to overlook anything. Even otherwise mundane items could have great significance.”
“Whew!” Drywall exhaled in relief, then departed for his mission.
“You had the same flashback of that ‘butter him up’ incident, didn’t you?” Chip asked his love. Dee nodded. “We should probably warn Romulus not to say ‘Stick a fork in me, I’m done’ around Drywall,” Chip reasoned.
“But he can still say it around plaster board, right?” Dee inquired. As Chip gave her a confused look, she added with a growing smile, “And wall paper? Romulus loves to say ‘Stick a fork in me, I’m done’ around wall paper... It’d break his heart if he couldn’t.”
“Maybe we should come up with a new name for Drywall,” Chip reasoned. As the Ranger Wing took to the sky, he turned to his fiancé and prodded playfully, “You’re lucky you’re not Dale, otherwise I would’ve been tempted to bonk you for that construction material joke.”
Drywall bounded eagerly through the undergrowth on his quest. He paused momentarily upon reaching the small clearing before the entrance to Philippe’s studio. The darkness within the burrow beckoned him forward, enticing the weasel with it’s untold secrets. So many potential mysteries, so many potential answers, so much... potential! He could hold back no longer. Quickly licking his lips, Drywall bolted across the clearing and vanished into the earth.
There was little within the tunnel itself for the inquisitive weasel to take note of (though what little there was did not go unobserved). Entering the candle lit studio, Drywall paused again. It was as if he’d uncovered the legendary Cave of Wonders itself! His pupils dilated with ecstasy. As Drywall’s lust to satisfy his curiosity flew into overdrive, it was as if the laws of physics had been undone... he was everywhere! Looking into, under and around everything... weaving between statues... nothing escaped his observation. Even the fleas hidden in Philippe’s tousled and filthy bedding were paid a visit.
Once all possible lanes of exploration had been exhausted, Drywall turned his attention to the two side tunnels leading off from the studio. One was a simple tunnel leading to the outside, containing very little to hold the weasel’s attention. The other proved far more interesting. The second tunnel led a chamber full of vats of liquid, sacks of various substances, scales with weights and measures, and frogs, lots of frogs.
“An intruder!” shouted one of the amphibians, “‘E must be stopped!”
“AAHHH!” shouted Drywall as the mass of green advanced on him. Racing back down the tunnel to Philippe’s studio he managed to stay far ahead of the amphibious mob. However, a second, smaller group of frogs were entering the studio from one of the other tunnels and, upon seeing the panicked weasel, moved to block the escape routes. With escape cut off, Drywall resorted to the only tactic he could think of: evade.
Frogs lunged at the weasel form all sides only to have the wiry fur ball quickly bolt between two of them. Dodging, ducking, weaving, bouncing and racing about like mad, Drywall stayed out of the grasp of his pursuers. One by one, frogs began dropping from exhaustion. In time, only a few remained standing, and when they lost track of the manic mammal among Philippe’s possessions, they sat down to catch their breath. It wasn’t long before they were asleep. A crumpled up ball of paper sprouted a furry paw, then another, then two more, then scampered from the frog strewn studio, off towards Dee’s workshop.
Dale was contentedly sprawled out on the floor of the workshop, perusing a comic book filled with alien creatures, when he noticed a large shadow overtake his reading material. Looking up from his entertaining diversion, he found himself face to ‘face’ with a bristling white ball that happened to be peering at him intently with a pair of unblinking eyes. “AHH! An ALIEN!!” Dale hollered. Everyone’s attention was riveted upon the startled chipmunk and his visitor.
“Alien? Where?” Drywall asked excitedly, his head popping up out of the ball of paper. The weasel bounded out of the paper ball and was soon racing about the workshop attempting to locate the extraterrestrial.
“Dale, you dimwit,” Chip scolded, “It was just Drywall... in a disguise, I guess.”
“Drywall,” Dee called out to the streaking blur, “There’s no alien.”
“Oh poo,” the weasel noted disappointedly, coming to a sudden halt in the middle of the room.
Chip pulled Drywall aside and promptly proceeded to debrief him concerning his recent mission. “Did you find the stuff that Fangs and Raven told you about?”
“Most of ‘em,” Drywall answered simply.
“Any idea what they were being used for?” Chip inquired. Drywall just shook his head. “Did you find a tunnel leading off to the side?” the chipmunk asked.
The weasel nodded, “Two,” he clarified.
“Where did they lead?” Chip inquired further, hoping to finally satisfy his own curiosity about what he’d failed to investigate earlier.
“One just led outside,” Drywall proceeded to answer, “the other led to a room.”
Chip waited for Drywall to continue, only to have the weasel stare at him intently. “What was in the room,” the chipmunk pressed. Once the weasel finished relating what he’d spotted before the frogs spotted him, Chip asked, “Do you have any idea what was in those vats or sacks?” Drywall shook his head. “Did the frogs see you?” Drywall nodded. “What did you do?”
“I ran,” Drywall answered.
“I assume you wound up hiding in that paper ball and then snuck back here, right?” Chip inquired. Drywall nodded. Having finished with the weasel, Chip approached the ball of paper, which was nearly as large as himself. It occurred to him that there might be something of potential value scrawled on such a piece of discarded paper. “Hey, Monty,” he called out, “Help me get this straightened out.”
“Sure thing, Chip, me lad,” the Aussie replied, sauntering over to assist. Once the two had opened the ball and had the sheet flattened out on the floor, they looked it over.
“Looks like some kind of mechanical schematics,” Chip remarked as he proceeded to lift up one side of the sheet.
“Yer right, there,” Monty commented as he lifted the other side, helping to hold it upright.
Gadget, having heard the words ‘mechanical schematics’, wandered away from her project to see what was up. As she approached her companions from the opposite side of the sheet, she spotted various sketches on the reverse that had gone unnoticed by the two as they unraveled it. Gadget released a startled shriek and raced over to the paper. Grabbing the top edge, she pulled it down, out of the grip of Chip and Monty, and pushed it flat against the floor.
“Gadget!” Chip exclaimed.
“What’s the matter, luv?” Monty inquired.
“What is it now?” Dee asked, wandering away from her own project. Gadget motioned her sister over, discreetly lifted up the sheet and gestured to what she’d spotted. “That frog drew these, didn’t he?” Dee practically growled.
“Drew what?” Chip asked.
Raven, who had been drawn away from playing kissy-face with Fangs by all the noise, also spotted what had caused the commotion. “Whoa! Who drew all the nudie pics of Aunt Gadget?”
Drywall, who had begun to leaf through Dale’s comic book, raced over to get a gander. “Ooh!” the weasel commented.
Being a bit more at the center of attention than she’d intended, Gadget was not pleased by Drywall’s sudden intrusion. “Knock it off!” she shouted as she bonked him on the head.
“Ow!” Drywall spouted, backing away, covering his head.
“Golly!” Gadget responded, “I’m sorry, Drywall. It was a gut reaction!”
“Golly,” Dee commented, “That excuse sounds familiar.”
Taking the opportunity to change the subject, Chip walked over to Drywall. “Before I forget... While you were gone, we decided to come up with a more, er, less, um... a new name for you,” he began to explain. Drywall stopped rubbing his sore noggin for a moment. “We figured it’d be best if we called you by a name that wasn’t going to be mistaken for a piece of construction material, you know, if one of us states ‘I need Drywall’ or ‘Bring me Drywall’.”
“That’s understandable,” Drywall agreed.
“We considered names like ‘Creepy Weasel’, ‘General Nuisance’...” Chip listed.
“My favorite was ‘Wonder Weasel’!” exclaimed Dale.
“Yeah, but the thought of you wearing a Wonder Woman get-up made it a little too ridiculous,” Monty pointed out.
“So we eventually settled on calling you ‘Snoop’,” Chip finished, “It made sense given your natural tendencies.”
“Snoop,” Drywall repeated.
“Think you can live with that?” Chip asked.
“Sure,” answered ‘Snoop’ with a shrug.
While the males had been busy counseling ‘Snoop’ about his new moniker, Dee and Gadget had taken to examining the mechanical designs on the sheet. Laying it flat on the floor so as to draw no further attention to the sketches on the reverse, they poured over the details. All of the numbers made sense, their only problem was the text. “Figures,” Dee grumbled, “It’s all in french.”
“It looks like it’s supposed to be some kind of pump,” Gadget declared, “These appear to be valves, flow rates... in metric I think, but that would only make sense considering Philippe is from France, but that’s assuming it was Philippe who drew up these plans, which I guess makes sense since it was found in his studio, but then again one doesn’t always consider artists to be engineers, but there are exceptions like Leonardo da Vinci...”
“I’d rather we not start equating this greasy, thieving lech to da Vinci,” Dee argued.
“Fair enough,” Gadget agreed. “Monty,” she called, “How well can you read french?”
“I think I do pretty well,” Monty replied modestly, walking over to the ladies, “I picked up quite a bit during my early days back-packing across Europe.... plus some German, Italian...”
“Could you translate some of this then?” Dee asked, motioning to the schematics.
“Well I’ll certainly give it a try,” Monty consented, leaning in to examine the text. After a few minutes, most of which were devoted to Monty’s tales detailing just how he came to learn certain words and phrases, the french text of the document was translated. One aspect of the translation became an issue of particular importance. “Chipper, I think you should come take a look at this,” Monty called over.
“What is it, Monty?” Chip asked as he approached.
“Now I’m not one-hundred percent certain on the translation of this one phrase,” the Aussie prefaced, pointing towards a particular point on the schematics, “But it seems t’me Philippe is talkin’ about some kind of ‘belch sauce’.”
“Belch sauce?” Chip repeated.
“That substance we found in the tainted soup would, in it’s original form, have the consistency of runny cheese sauce,” Gadget pointed out.
“Making it a ‘belch sauce’,” Dee finished.
“So this would seem to indicate that Philippe is the one behind that strange belching incident,” Chip concluded.
“That’s certainly what it looks like,” Gadget confirmed.
“So what does it have to do with this pump?” Chip inquired, “or whatever it is.”
“Now that we have the labels and comments translated we should be able to figure that out,” Dee explained.
“It’s not for creating it,” Gadget inferred, “but for transporting it from one point to another.”
Dee, following the line of flow with her finger, stated, “It ends in a reservoir of some sort.”
“A larger holding tank?” Chip offered.
“No,” Gadget answered, “It’s a reservoir of water.”
“Isn’t the Allegany Reservoir near here?” asked Chip.
“Technically, the Reservoir ends here in town, everything downstream from here to the Kinzua Dam is the Allegany Reservoir... or what some of the elders still call Lake Perfidy,” Dee explained, “But that couldn’t be the reservoir mentioned here.” Pointing to part of the schematic, she continued, “See here, there’s a concrete and steel rebar wall that the pump has to pass through before it terminates... there’s nothing like that along the Reservoir, at least not fitting this description.”
“Can either of you think of any other kind of reservoirs that would have this kind of wall?” Chip asked the two mechanically inclined mice.
“Achully,” Gadget replied after some thought, “this looks similar to one of the reservoirs just above the city back home, where we get our drinking water.”
“You don’t mean Philippe intends to dump this into someone’s drinking water?” Monterrey inquired in disbelief.
“That’s what it looks like,” Gadget confirmed, “If only we knew which reservoir this was.”
Dee suddenly got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Chip, where did you find Philippe’s studio?” she asked.
“It was up past the end of Newton Street,” he answered.
“Oh o’dah,” Dee groaned in obvious distress.
“What?” Chip asked, “What’s wrong?”
“The city’s reservoir is at the end of Newton Street,” Dee pointed out, “This city’s reservoir, where we get our drinking water!”
“Wouldn’t filters prevent this from getting through into the tap water?” Chip questioned, with increasing concern.
“Doubtful,” Gadget replied, “The current standards for municipal water treatment wouldn’t catch something like this, not once it’s mixed into the water supply.”
Chip hesitated a moment before asking, “Dee... how many people rely on that reservoir for their tap water?”
Dee did some quick figuring in her head, “Roughly thirteen thousand five hundred humans, rodents, pets and other small mammals.”
“Crikey!” Monty commented at the thought.
“Why would Philippe want to poison so many people?!” Gadget inquired.
“He probably doesn’t even know the stuff is poisonous, that is if he was using the Powwow as a trial run,” Chip clarified, “With the exception of Dee, who knew the chef, we all assumed the soup was made with tap water... Philippe would probably think the same thing!”
“So he’d put this in the water supply without realizing it would kill thousands!” Gadget realized.
“Well, he threw away the plans for this pump,” Monty interjected hopefully, “Maybe he wrote it all off as being too much trouble.”
“Or he rejected it in favor of a better design,” Dee countered.
“Given the potential consequences we should assume he plans to put this stuff in the water supply one way or another,” Chip stated, “But we still don’t know why?”
“That bloke strikes me as one of them ‘modern’ artist types,” Monty commented, “Them’s the types that would wrap an entire building in plastic, or seal their own droppings in tin cans.” His last comment brought some incredulous looks from the others. “Well, Dale and I read about that in a Dave Barry article,” he confessed.
“And making an entire city belch is just stupid enough for someone like that to consider it art,” Chip agreed.
Chapter Sixteen
About the time Drywall arrived back at the workshop following his somewhat successful infiltration, Philippe was informed that his studio had a close encounter of the weasel kind.
“‘Ow could you let zat weasel escape?!” Philippe hollered at his amphibious minions, “And not only zat, ‘e took ze design for my pump!”
“But,” interjected one of the frogs, “you zrew out zat design when you, in your genius, devised one even better.”
“Zat eez not ze point!” the rat screamed as he picked up the frog and shook him violently... before letting him drop like so much garbage. “I saw zat weasel wiz zat chipmunk who was asking about ze belching at ze celebration,” Philippe began to explain, “Eef ‘e already suspects my involvement in zat, ‘e may conclude I intend to use such a pump to impregnate ze water supply wiz my formula, and in his uncultured ignorance may attempt to prevent me from completing my masterpiece!”
“Then we must stop him first,” sniveled a bug-eyed frog in a sinisterly eager manner, “Stop him, permanently!”
“IDIOT!” Philippe cried out, back-handing his subordinate across the studio, “I do not have time for such foolishness! Eef I kill him I would have to kill those who would continue his actions, zen zose who follow zem! All of zat would keep me distracted from my duty to my art! Zerefore, I must complete it before zis chipmunk and ‘is companions can interfere!”
“But, can you steal all ze parts you need to finish ze pump before zen?” another frog asked.
Philippe bellowed, throwing the poor frog in frustration, “OF COURSE NOT!! Zat eez why I am so furious at your failure to stop zat weasel!” Hitting, throwing, or otherwise acting out his anger on the frogs about him, he continued his tirade, “Because of your incompetence, ze world will be denied my GREATEST MASTERPIECE EVER!!”
“What if several of us went out to steal the parts simultaneously?” one of the battered amphibians offered weakly.
“Do I look like ze fool?” Philippe inquired rhetorically, “All of you togezer do not have ze skill, ze subtlety to steal wizout ze notice of ze public eye!” For suggesting something he felt was so ludicrous, the rat treated the frog to a one way flight across the studio. Hitting the far wall, he slid down into a tub of bright yellow paint. Seeing the frog pull himself out of the colored liquid, Philippe was struck with inspiration. “Zat eez eet!” he screamed as he began hurling frogs into different tubs of brightly colored paint. As they crawled out, he explained, “Now you look like ze poisonous toads! You can take what you will right in front of ze people and zey will not stop you out of fear of being poisoned! Now go!” As brightly colored frogs streamed from the entrance to Philippe’s studio, the rat cried out, “Cry havoc and let slip ze frogs of war! Or, at least, ze frogs of theft.” Turning to the rest of his admirers, he decreed, “Zere eez work for ze rest of you! Allons y!”
==
A knock at the door was answered by William, the others in Dee’s workshop being preoccupied with other things. A female rat, looking a little bewildered, was waiting outside.
“May I help you?” William asked politely.
“Well, I don’t know,” she started, trying to order her thoughts, “Is Doohickey here?”
The squirrel showed the lady in and led her to his employer. Dee was still discussing the filched pump plans with the Rangers when her attention was diverted by the arrival of the newcomer. “Excuse me,” William began, addressing Dee, “but a Miss...” he turned towards the rat.
“Uh, oh, Rhea,” she stated.
“A Miss Rhea wished to see you,” the squirrel finished.
“What about?” Dee laconically asked.
“Um, well, I, uh,” Rhea muttered, “See, I was wondering if you had something, a spray, device, or something, that could keep poisonous toads away?”
“Planning a vacation in the tropics, are you?” Monty inquired.
“No,” the rat returned, “Planning to keep them out of my place.”
“Here, in town?” Dee asked. Rhea nodded readily. “But there aren’t any native to this part of the country,” Dee explained.
“Well maybe they’re the ones on vacation!” Rhea replied in an exasperated tone, “But the depot is crawling with them... They’re grabbing things out of people’s paws, even going into people’s homes and taking out,” here she paused as she though back on what she saw one of the toads carrying out of her neighbor’s residence, “push-pins...”
“Sounds like a crime wave!” Dale promptly concluded.
“The depot over here?” Dee asked, motioning in the general direction of the depot within the same abandoned rail yard as her workshop.
“They’re all over the place!” Rhea confirmed.
“Golly, maybe we should check this out,” Gadget suggested.
“Are you sure they were poisonous toads?” Chip asked, reflecting on the fact that the only large group of amphibians he knew of were Philippe’s following, “Maybe they were frogs.”
“I know what frogs look like!” Rhea snapped, “They’re not red, yellow or blue!”
Chip thought for a moment. “Monty, you’ve had more experience with poisonous toads than the rest of us,” the chipmunk assumed, “You stay here with Dee and Gadget and come up with some kind of deterrent.” Turning to the Rhea, he continued, “Take me back to the depot, I’d like to see these toads for myself.” The lady hesitantly consented.
“Hey, Chip, can I go too?” Dale piped up.
Chip sighed, “Sure, c’mon.”
“Me too?” Foxglove then intoned, “I can get a bird’s eye view... well, bat’s eye at least.”
Chip nodded. “Anyone else?” he asked, looking towards Raven.
The young mouse shook her head innocently. However, once Chip and party had left the workshop, she grabbed Fangs by the wing and exited the building.
==
“They were here!” Rhea protested when she and the others arrived at the abandoned depot, a site now completely devoid of amphibious activity. But the throngs of residents congregating out in the open without any other apparent reason for the assembly made it evident that something out of the ordinary had indeed happened.
“Dale, I want you to go around and ask people what, if anything, was stolen. Try to get a description of the perps,” tuning to Foxglove, he continued, “Foxy, I want you to get a look from the air, see if you can spot anyone suspicious, toad or otherwise, leaving the area.” As the others departed, Chip addressed the rat, “Rhea, I want you to take me to one of your neighbors you know was stolen from, I’d like to speak to them.”
As Chip was initiating his investigation, Raven and Fangs were already on the hunt for the croaking crooks themselves. “We should have told someone we were doing this,” Fangs protested as they left the rail yard, “just in case something goes wrong.”
“Where’s the fun in that,” Raven replied lightly, “Keep your ears open for anything that sounds like trouble.”
The pair hadn’t gone very far, were even still within site of the depot Chip and the others were investigating, when ‘trouble’ was heard. “THAT CREEP STOLE MY CANE!” a lady hollered. Both Raven and Fangs turned towards the apparent origin just in time to see a yellow amphibian frantically hop around the corner of the building and head in their general direction.
The young mouse, clad in her black cloak, didn’t hesitate to charge the suspected thief. “Hold it right there slime ball!” Raven shouted as she approached. Her quarry came to a screeching halt upon realizing someone wasn’t in the least deterred by the lethal secretions of a poisonous toad, turned and prepared to flee in the opposite direction. However, Raven closed the distance before he could get up a good head of steam. “Gotcha, you thieving bastard!” Raven declared triumphantly as she locked her arms around him.
Finding himself restrained, the criminal began howling like a fiend and thrashed about in a mad panic. Raven planted her feet and held tight as her captive wiggled and wailed. Feeling a sudden coolness on her legs, the mouse peered down as best she could, given the situation, and noticed she and her opponent were standing in a puddle. It took a moment for the realization to set in. “Eeww!” Raven spouted in revulsion as she discovered just how terrified her captive had become. Feeling his captor involuntarily release him, the panicked amphibian made good his escape. Dropping his loot, and still screaming in fear, he hopped like the wind. “Get back here you disgusting freak!” Raven angrily hollered after him.
Regarding his love as she waddled awkwardly out of the puddle, Fangs commented, “Unless you grabbed an extra pair of jeans before heading out on this little adventure, you’re probably going to have to explain this to the others.”
==
“Any luck?” Gadget asked when Chip, Dale and Foxglove returned from their expedition.
“Yes and no,” Chip replied, “There were poisonous toads stealing things left and right...”
“Foxy even spotted a couple from the air!” Dale interjected sprightly.
“But by the time we got to the site they were long gone,” Chip finished, “I really wanted to get a look at one of them myself.”
Before Chip could continue to commiserate the lost opportunity, Raven and Fangs returned from their respective outing. “Well hey there, pardner,” Dale drawled in an overly Western accent, inspired by the way Raven sauntered in like a cowboy, “Just get back from the cattle drive?”
“Oh, shut up,” the mouse growled.
“What happened?” Dee asked.
Before Raven could answer, Fangs declared, “She grabbed one of those toads.”
“He stole someone’s cane,” Raven proceeded to recount, “I chased him down, grabbed him... and the coward wet himself in fright.”
Dale adopted his best Charlie Chan accent as he sagely advised, “Confucius say, frogs and toads sit around all day drinking water just in case someone pick them up.”
“That was Hobbes, you dummy!” Chip pointed out.
“Did you bring an extra pair of jeans?” Dee asked her daughter.
“They’re back at the mill,” Raven glumly explained.
“Well, I’ve got a washer and dryer set up here, it’ll take less time than going all the way there and back” her mother explained, “If you don’t mind wearing a washcloth for a while.” As Dee led Raven to a suitable changing room, the younger deposited her cloak on a workbench as she passed. Once Raven had a washcloth to wrap herself in she entered the changing room with her mother remaining just outside. As she waited, Dee inquired into an issue that troubled her, “What, exactly, possessed you to attack what could very well have been a poisonous toad?”
“He stole something and I was trying to stop him,” Raven proceeded to answer, “It’s not like the poison could have hurt me while I was wearing my cloak.”
Dee felt compelled to point out what she deemed a flaw in her daughter’s logic, “That cloak is meant to protect you from weapons meant to harm you, not naturally occurring secretions.”
“Put it on the end of a toothpick and stick it in a straw and it’s suddenly considered a weapon,” Raven countered, “Why should it be any different if it’s still on the toad?”
As the back and forth continued in the time honored tradition of protective parents and reckless offspring the world over, Gadget took a scientific interest in the girl’s mystical garb, pondering methods of determining what its limits really were. Inspecting it closely she discovered that it appeared to be covered in yellow speckles. “Monty,” Gadget proceeded to inquire, “Do poisonous toads shed?”
“What’s t’ shed?” the Aussie replied, “It’s not like they have fur, feathers or scales.”
Chip wandered over to see what Gadget had found so interesting. Seeing her delicately remove a yellow flake with a pair of improvised tweezers, he interrupted the mother-daughter discussion that was growing increasingly heated. “Raven, what color was that toad you attacked?” Chip asked.
“Yellow,” answered the young mouse before diving back into the argument with her mother.
“Check to see if that’s paint, Gadget,” Chip suggested to his future sister-in-law, who was already making ready to do an analysis of the mystery flake.
After some moments Gadget reported, “It’s definitely paint, Chip!”
“That’s what I thought!” he declared, “I bet those were Philippe’s frogs carrying out that looting!”
“See? Painted frogs, perfectly harmless,” Raven remarked to her mother.
“That doesn’t matter,” Dee fired back, “You didn’t know that at the time so they could have been poisonous, in which case you could have gotten yourself killed!” Not giving her daughter a chance to interrupt, she continued with barely a breath, “I’ve already lost one child and I don’t want to have to go through that all over again, and if I have to resort to grounding you to keep you from getting yourself killed that’s exactly what I’ll do!”
Raven was only a moment away from declaring ‘I’d like to see you try!’ knowing full well it was unenforceable with someone who could become invisible, but realized it would unnecessarily strain their relationship. Given the disastrous results the last time they had a falling out, she decided to let it go. Walking out, wrapped in a washcloth and carrying her clothes, she simply stated, “Mom, I’ve been peed on by a frog... I think I’ve been punished enough.”
As Dee left to launder Raven’s clothes, the focus returned to other matters. “Why would Philippe send his frogs out to steal things?” Gadget wondered.
“Some kind of performance art?” Monty ventured.
“I don’t know for sure,” Chip replied, “but they’re still stealing and on the verge of causing a general panic on top of it... It has to stop. We have to tell the local authorities that it’s perfectly safe to detain these ‘poisonous toads’.” When Dee returned, Chip inquired, “Where’s the headquarters for the city’s non-human police?”
“It’s in the old city hall, where Dry- I mean, where Snoop’s trial was held,” Dee answered, “You can talk to the city police, I’ll get in touch with the tribe’s Chief.”
“Maybe you should pass on word that someone might be trying to poison the water supply while you’re at it,” Monty suggested.
“I think things are bad enough with people afraid that poisonous toads are looting the city,” Chip countered, “I don’t think we should risk word getting out that the water might be poisoned when we don’t know for certain when, or even if it’ll happen.” As he and Dee prepared to depart, he added, “After we let the authorities on to the truth about these toads we can pay Philippe a visit... we may not have to worry anybody about the water depending on how that goes.”
==
“Ah, Ms Hawkfeather, I’m glad I finally haff a chance to meet you!” the Chief warmly greeted his visitor as he rose from his seat and crossed the office, “We were all a little concerned when you didn’t turn up after you were named the new Clan Mother.”
“Yeah, I heard,” Dee responded blandly, still not comfortable with her new status. “Are you aware there are poisonous toads rampaging through the city?” she asked, wanting to get right down to business.
“Haffen't heard that,” he answered honestly, offering Dee a seat as he returned to his own, “Didn’t know we had poisonous toads around here.”
“We don’t,” Dee confirmed, “but that’s not the point, they’re just frogs painted to look like poisonous toads. Apparently it’s an effort to get away with stealing things without anyone interfering... I’m just here to tell you that the tribal police shouldn’t hesitate to apprehend them since there’s no danger of being poisoned, my fiancé is informing the city police as we speak.”
The Chief nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll get the word out,” he agreed, “We’ll probably haff to work out with the city prosecutor whose jurisdiction they fall under for trial purposes... I guess it depends who they stole from.” Dee gave a nod and stood to leave, but before she could even get all the way up the Chief spoke up, “Now, I don’t know whether you were aware of it or not, but your predecessor neffer offered her endorsement for my being Chief...” He intentionally trailed off, hoping his guest would get the message.
“And you want mine?” Dee inquired somewhat annoyed. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in ‘tribal business’ when she hadn’t even decided whether or not she intended to keep her office.
“I would appreciate it,” the Chief replied, a little surprised by her tone.
“Do you need it?” Dee inquired further, looking for a way out.
“Well, no,” the Chief answered awkwardly, “I already haff the endorsement of most of the Clan Mothers so it’s not a necessity.”
Dee thought through things quickly and replied, “Well, since I’ve never met you before today and this meeting has only lasted a minute or so I think it’s a little early for me to make such a decision.”
As the lady turned to leave, the Chief began speaking again, “Maybe we could arrange some time to discuss matters then, get to know each other, give you an idea of how my administration has contributed to the well-being of the tribe?”
“I’m a little pressed for time,” Dee pointed out, turning back around. Crossing her arms in a way that made it impossible to miss the engagement ring she wore, as she felt the Chief’s interest was more social than professional, she explained, “I’m meeting up with my fiancé and his friends to go speak with a rat about his drawing smutty pictures of my sister.”
“You have a sister?” the Chief inquired as much out of surprise as interest. Dee rolled her eyes and proceeded to leave. “Esgöge:ae’,” he called after her as she left.
“Yeah,” drawled the reluctant Clan Mother as the door closed.
Carol, who had been waiting outside the Chief’s office for the latter part of the meeting, had made herself scarce when matters came to a close. Waiting for her niece to be well out of sight, she proceeded in to meet with the Chief herself. For the Chief, she was a welcome site, especially after the rather chilly back and forth he had just had with the newest Clan Mother... Carol never failed to be friendly to him in a good way. “Hae’!” she chirped, hopping up to sit on the corner of his desk.
“Good efening, Ms Halfshell,” the Chief greeted his new visitor with a broad smile. “How can I...” he became distracted momentarily as Carol crossed her legs which, considering the rather short skirt she had made sure to wear for this visit, gave him a rather good view of her thighs... which weren’t bad for a mouse of her years, “h-help you?”
“I wanted to talk to you about some poisonous toads,” she opened.
“Ms Hawkfeather already spoke to me about them,” the Chief pointed out, “I was about to issue an order for the tribal police to apprehend them if they’re found stealing anything... they’re apparently just painted frogs.”
“That’s what worries me,” Carol said, “How do we know all of them are? Some might be frogs trying to take adfantage of the situation by slapping some paint on themselfes in hopes of getting in on the looting.” As Carol playfully kicked her foot in the air, she continued to state her position, “I mean, are the worldly possessions of our citizens worth the lifes of our tribe’s peace officers? Would you want to haff to explain to their families, ‘Well gee, I thought they were just painted frogs’... Possessions can be replaced, lifes can’t.” Carol regarded the Chief as he rolled the matter around in his mind. She decided to bring up another purpose for caution on his part, “Can you imagine the reaction on the part of our people if our officers start dropping like flies? The kind of outcry there would be, the kind of pressure we, the Clan Mothers, would be under to find a replacement for the person who needlessly sent so many of our officers to their deaths?”
“The city officers are being told the same thing concerning these ‘toads’,” the Chief countered, “The city’s likely to act on this information pretty quickly.”
“If the city officers all jumped off a bridge should ours do it too?” Carol asked rhetorically, “If their officers wind up dead that’s their problem, not ours. You’ve shown that you always put the good of our tribe first... Is this really worth the lives of our citizens?”
“I guess you’re right,” the Chief conceded, “I’ll inform the officers to hold back and to tell the people to secure their homes but not risk their lives over this.”
“Oh, nya:weh!” Carol cooed, hopping off the desk, bending down and giving the Chief a peck on the cheek. “Esgöge:ae’!” she waved as she sprightly walked towards the door.
“Oh, uh, dinner this Friday at 7? Red Garter?” the Chief asked before Carol could make her exit.
“I’d luff to!” she squeaked, “See you then!” As Carol made her way from the Tribal Administrative offices, she shook her head, “If the other Clan Mothers were male I’d own this tribe.”
Chapter Seventeen
Chip and his fiancé arrived back at the workshop very nearly simultaneously. They both reported success in convincing the local authorities to take action against the painted frog epidemic that was plaguing the community. With that issue presumably aside, matters turned to how best to deal with Philippe and his apparent interest in tampering with the local water supply.
“I say we all go, rush the blighter, and put him in traction before he can even get all his pieces in place!” Monty declared boldly.
“Monty,” Gadget chided gently, “He may be genuinely unaware that what he’s doing could cause any harm... for that matter, we don’t even know for sure that he actually does intend to tamper with the water supply.”
“I say I go in and break his paws so he can’t keep drawing smutty pictures of you,” Dee responded to her sister’s pacifistic rebuke.
“Aye!” Monty agreed readily, “But I want in on the action too.”
“I’ll take his right paw, you take his left?” Dee offered in a civil manner.
“Hold it!” Chip interrupted, “Before we decide to resort to arbitrary use of random violence-”
“What random?” Dee broke in, “We made a consensual agreement to specifically target his paws.” Chip fixed a gaze on his love that made it clear that this wasn’t the time for such humor. “Sorry,” she conceded.
“As I was saying,” Chip continued, “Before we decide to use force, we should be sure it’s necessary. We’ll talk to Philippe about the matter... and go from there.”
“Given the reception we received when we went to speak to him earlier,” Gadget began, “it seems unlikely he’d be open to granting an immediate audience.” For a brief moment, she pondered the possibility of going alone, given Philippe’s infatuation with her he might readily speak with her. However, even though her dislike of him was nowhere near as visceral as her sister’s, the thought of being alone with him and his frogs made her skin crawl.
“If we go in force and make it clear that we intend to speak with him about important matters,” Chip suggested, “we may be able to pressure our way in to meet with him.” Dee let out a little whine and gazed at her fiancé with large, expectant eyes. For a moment, Chip wasn’t sure what she was up to... then it occurred to him. “No crossbows,” he told her.
==
The passengers of both the Ranger Plane and Ranger Wing disembarked within walking distance of the entrance to Philippe’s studio. Chip, Dale, Gadget, Monterrey Jack, Zipper, Dee, Raven and Snoop approached the clearing as a group, and were nearly out in the open when they noticed the wall of green.
“Looks like the welcome wagon’s out to greet us,” Dale commented upon seeing the mass of frogs arrayed in an orderly formation blocking the entrance.
“I don’t think that’s the type of greeting we’d want,” Gadget added when she spotted what the frogs were holding.
“Crikey! Where’d they get the cutlery?” Monty inquired, referring to the paring knives, sharpened forks, steak knives and letter openers Gadget had spied.
“Probably came from the armory,” Snoop offered.
“What armory?” Chip asked the weasel.
“The one that rat has in his studio,” Snoop clarified.
“Philippe has an armory?!” Chip asked in obvious annoyance. Snoop nodded his head.
“Why didn’t you tell us he had an armory?!” Dee asked, even more peeved than her love.
“No one asked,” Snoop stated plainly. Dee promptly proceeded to throttle him.
“Wait!” Chip shouted as he pried Dee’s paws from the mustelid’s throat. “We don’t strangle other members of the team!” he scolded her once Snoop was free.
“I say we rush ‘em!” Monty declared, “I’ve taken longer odds than this... though they weren’t armed.”
“That’s not an option,” Chip shot back, “At least not yet.” Feeling compelled to explain his hesitancy, he pointed out, “We don’t know how many more frogs might be inside if we get past the ones standing guard, and we can’t even be certain we can get past them... with those weapons we’re not only outnumbered we’re outgunned.”
“Out-knifed, achully,” Gadget corrected.
“Knives-shmives,” Raven remarked as she bolted towards the clearing. Dee was already getting ready to act upon hearing the tone of her daughter’s voice. Raven hadn’t gotten more than a few strides before something pulled at her. She tried to stop but her forward momentum caused her to advance just far enough to slip out of her cloak. Looking back in confusion, she saw her mother standing there, clutching the cloak in her paws. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Raven shouted.
“See how easy this came off?” Dee practically snarled at the youth, shaking the cloth article with one paw, “In the kind of brawl you were about to get into this cloak is more of a liability than anything else!”
“It’s not like it’s a weapon,” Raven countered angrily, “I can fight perfectly fine without it!”
“Against fifteen or twenty opponents,” Dee gesticulated towards the green guardians, “once this slides off in their grip all those knifes become a fery real danger, and I will not see my daughter carfed up like a Christmas ham!”
“Fine!” Raven hissed as she returned to the group. Grabbing her cloak with one of her paws, she was startled as her mother quickly grabbed her wrist and squeezed... hard.
“If I gif this back to you and you charge those frogs again,” Dee growled through clenched teeth, “I will not safe you!”
Raven had never heard her mother’s native accent before, and for the most part was never really cognizant that she would have one. The strange voice combined with the pain in her wrist and Dee’s intense stare meant that she, for the first time since being reunited with her biological mother, was actually frightened of her. Raven had no way to know that her mother was even more terrified than she was and on the verge of tears. “Alright!” the girl squeaked in compliance. When her mother released her grip, Raven held her cloak in her paws and stared at the ground for what seemed like quite a while from her perspective. Then, very self consciously, put her cloak back on.
“Well, I suppose we should head back to the workshop and work on the best way past those frogs,” Chip sighed.
“Wait, I have an idea,” Gadget stated cautiously as she walked towards the clearing, “You remember how Philippe responded the first time we were here?” As Gadget slowly walked towards the frogs, she hoped Philippe’s hearing was as acute as it appeared to be during that first visit. When the guards caught sight of her and turned to face her, weapons prepared for use, she figured that was as close as she could get safely. Raising her paw to wave, she prepared to say, loud enough to be heard in the studio, ‘Hi! May I speak to Philippe?’. However, no sooner was her paw raised than the first line of frogs charged at her screaming. Leaping back, Gadget began to hop sideways towards the cover of the surrounding foliage, preparing to run. Seeing her withdrawal, the amphibians halted their advance. Slowing to a walk, Gadget continued her sideways retreat, not wanting to turn her back on her potential attackers.
“Can we return to the workshop now?” Snoop inquired nervously once Gadget was safely concealed by the shadows.
“Yeah, let’s go,” confirmed Chip.
Once airborne, the team was met by Foxglove and Fangs. “Did you have any luck?” Dale inquired of the two.
“A little more than the rest of you,” Fangs commented.
“We found what looks like the pump near the reservoir,” Foxglove elaborated, “and we noticed the guard frogs blocking your way.”
“Looks like ‘avin a polite talk with Philippe is out of the question at this point,” Monty pointed out.
Once all had returned to the workshop, Chip laid out the situation. “Philippe clearly intends to put that stuff into the water supply no matter what. Regardless of why or whether or not he knows the consequences of what he’s doing, he has to be stopped.”
“What if we go in and destroy the pump,” Dale offered, “we could do something like that from the air.”
Dee let out a delighted squeal. “I installed missile racks on the Banshee over the winter!” she explained excitedly, “Now I have an excuse to build some missiles!”
“Are all the females in your family this belligerent?” Chip asked.
“I’m not,” Gadget replied.
“Heh, tell that t’ Bubbles!” Monty laughed remembering how sweet little Gadget took on the thug’s army of ninjas alone.
“I don’t really think that counts, Monty,” Gadget countered, “Those were very different circumstances and a single incident whereas Dee and Raven have both repeatedly demonstrated-”
“Luv,” Monty interrupted, placing a paw on her shoulder, “I was only joking.”
“Oh, ok,” Gadget acceded, “But, back on the main topic, there are two problems with Dee’s plan to strafe the pump... ‘A’, Philippe could just build another, and another after that if we destroy that one. [/i]He’s[/i] the one that has to be dealt with. And ‘B’, since we don’t know how far along his pump actually is, a missile attack could result in an uncontrolled release of the chemical into the reservoir, causing the very thing we’re trying to prevent.”
“Meaning we still have to get past the frogs,” commented Gadget’s sister.
“Seems t’ me,” Monty began, quite thoughtfully, “Considering the response of that frog Raven accosted earlier, the courage of the ones guarding the studio may be all in their weapons, not in their hearts. If we went after them with somethin’ their knives can’t handle they might drop their weapons and head for the hills.”
“What about the wolves?” Chip asked, looking to his fiancé.
Dee thought it over for a few seconds. “I’d really rather not,” she replied slowly, “Virginia’s already sore over Romulus and Honker following me to the city on my vacation, and if I start asking him or any of the others to risk discovery by the humans for things like this... well, she would not allow the survival of the pack to be put at risk over something like this.” There was a pause before she added, “Besides, I don’t want to further the image of me as being someone who has the pack do my bidding.”
“What if we built something that could scare the frogs?” Gadget suggested.
William, who was lingering in the vicinity and following the back and forth, stepped in. Addressing his employer, he made his proposal, “May I suggest something made from your ‘special’ stockpile? I am sure such materials could be quite disconcerting if employed properly.”
“What do you mean, ‘special’ stockpile?” Dale inquired.
“Hey!” Dee thought out loud, before answering Dale’s question, “He means my collection of skeletal remains.” As she and her assistant left for an adjoining room, the others followed out of morbid curiosity.
“Why would you collect skeletons?” Fangs asked, not entirely sure he wanted an answer.
“Certain bones have structural qualities that can’t be bested by artificial materials,” Dee explained, “The Banshee itself was partially constructed by specially treated bird bones. I’ve asked the wolves to save me some deer bones from their kills, I keep some of them here.” Pulling a lever, a panel on the floor slid aside and the clanking of gears and creaking of cables heralded the ascent of a hidden platform from below. The first sight was a set of antlers rising from the hole. They rose higher and higher till they towered over the rodents. Beneath the antlers, the deer’s skull rose forth, facing the assemblage. Given the dreary darkness that pervaded the storage area, it’s appearance was indeed disconcerting. As the platform came to a sudden halt at floor level, the vibrations dislodged chunks of old electronic components which tumbled down towards the skull. A random spark, left from when the parts were still part of a functioning item, leapt out and ignited the collection of cob webs that had collected within the empty skull. Flames shot forth form it’s gaping eye sockets.
Dale, who had been approaching the remains, nearly jumped out of his fur with a startled yelp... and landed in Monty’s arms. “A lot less scary when it’s in the movies, eh lad?” the Aussie joked.
“I wasn’t scared!” Dale protested as he climbed down, “I was just... startled.”
“It’s beautiful!” Dee shouted, having been struck with inspiration. “It’ll be a marvelous monster! We can hook up some fuel lines and have flames shooting from it’s eyes,” she declared, gesturing wildly with her arms, “We can use the ribs like spider legs,” she continued, dropping to the floor and scuttling about as best she could with only four limbs, “And sounds... it needs a hideous cackle! Yeh-heh-heh-heh-heh!” Dee scuttled out of the room, still cackling, to start drawing up plans for her monster. Gadget politely followed.
“Y’ know, I think I saw Daffy Duck do that once,” Dale remarked. “I’m a fiddler crab!” he shouted, dropping to the floor and imitating Dee and Daffy, “Shoot me! It’s fiddler crab season!”
Chip quicky bonked him on the head. “Do that again and I might,” he scolded, realizing such a scene was a great deal more creepy in real life than in a cartoon.
Gadget and her sister worked well into the evening designing and then constructing their mechanical monstrosity. The endeavor, for the most part was free of ‘oops’, ‘uh-oh’s, ‘it-should-work’s and explosions. There was only one major, nearly calamitous incident that occurred when Monty, spurred on by curiosity, wandered into the assembly area. As he entered, a screaming deer skull came tearing in his direction. He fell on his backside as it came to a screeching halt only a foot away.
Dee and Gadget’s heads popped out of either eye socket, Gadget from the left and Dee from the right. “What d’ya know,” Dee remarked to her sister, “Those brakes you came up with do work! I owe you a soda.”
“Sorry about that, Monty,” Gadget called down, “If we had anticipated anyone coming in during the accelerator and brake tests we would have gone in a different direction, after all, it’s not exactly polite to scare the living bejeebers out of one’s friends, even more so when one isn’t adequately certain of the functionality of the braking-” Gadget’s apology was cut short as Dee grabbed her collar and pulled her back inside.
“Strike me starkers!” Monty gasped as the skull spun about and rolled off, “That’ll replace the cat-zombies in my nightmares!”
As night embraced the land, one by one everyone retired to makeshift beds set in the workshop. With most of the work finished on their freakish fabrication, Gadget and Dee bid their monster good-night and went their separate ways- Dee to her cot and Gadget to a personal project she hoped to have completed for the next day.
The sun had barely been up more than a few minutes before the dedicated inventors began putting finishing touches on their creation. Chip waited anxiously; he wanted to work out a ‘plan of attack’ while he waited but knew any plan was dependent on knowing the capabilities of the monster the ladies were assembling which wasn’t yet finished. However, just as it seemed Chip’s wait was over, as the ladies called everyone’s attention, there was a knock at the door. Matters were put on hold as William escorted a male mouse inside.
“Ms Hawkfeather?” the visitor addressed her as he approached, “Could you talk to the Chief about those toads? The city’s cops are out in force... not like there’s any reason, though, all the toads are in the areas where there’s only Seneca mice! And you know the city cops, they stay out of those areas ‘cause they’re afraid Halfshell ‘ll start causin trouble again, saying the city’s trying to take ofer!”
“I talked to the Chief,” Dee pointed out, somewhat confused by the matter that had been presented, “Yesterday I talked to him, he told me he’d get the cops out on the street immediately!”
“Well they’re not on our streets!” Dee’s guest replied.
“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that idiot,” Dee growled, “I’m gonna hafta pay him another visit!”
“Should we hold off the unveiling?” Gadget asked.
“Nah,” Dee replied quickly, “We shouldn’t waste time waiting on me, just as long as I’m back in time to storm Philippe’s place.” As she strode for the door, she yelled, “Mom told me not to get infolfed in tribal politics, dammit!”
A minute or so after the door slammed shut, everyone’s attention returned to Gadget. Standing before a large oil and paint stained curtain, she proceeded with the presentation. “William, could you pull back the curtain?”
“My pleasure,” the squirrel readily agreed. As the curtain was pulled to one side, Gadget held up a small improvised control panel.
Revealed to the waiting rodents, chiropterans and insect was a ghastly vision seemingly wrenched from the infernal underworld itself. Protruding from a dark brown, hairy, elliptical body was the deer skull complete with the lower jaw, and eight of the deer’s bowed ribs spread about like spider’s legs. Gadget depressed a button on the control panel and the monster came to life. The ‘legs’ rose and fell as if it were walking in place. A soul-splitting, shrieking cackle filled the workshop as the skull reared up, shaking form side to side with it’s horrible maw hanging open and flames leaping from it’s eyes. Everyone involuntarily stepped back.
“Neat, huh?” Gadget spouted happily as the creature returned to it’s previous calm, “We named it Frog Stomper!”
Everyone continued to stare at it for a moment, before Chip hesitantly offered, “Uh, yeah, neat.”
“Achully, ‘Frog Stomper’ is an acronym,” Gadget pointed out, “It stands for ‘Fully Remotely Operated, Gyroscopically Stabilized, Terrestrially Oriented, Mechanical Panic Evoking Resource.”
“Which came first?” Monty inquired, getting over his initial awe of the monstrosity, “The name ‘Frog Stomper’ or... whatever it is?”
“Dee wanted to call it ‘Frog Stomper’, but I didn’t think it fit since it’s not designed to actually ‘stomp’ the frogs,” Gadget explained, “So we came up with a name that was appropriately descriptive yet could still work out to be ‘Frog Stomper’.”
“Think we could take this home with us?” Dale asked developing a wicked grin, “I’d like to introduce this thing to Fat Cat!”
==
The Chief was startled by a loud banging on his office door. “Come in?” he replied cautiously. The door swung open as Dee stormed in. Quickly slamming the door behind her, she stared at the Chief as he sat in his chair.
“I know I said I’d order the tribal police to deal with those toads,” he eventually began, deducing that was the most likely reason for the visitation.
“Frogs,” Dee corrected.
“Alleged frogs,” the Chief countered, trying his best to seem confident, “After you left last efening it occurred to me that...” He paused, trying to find a way to explain his position in a way that didn’t make it look like he’d been led around by the nose by a third party. “A bunch of frogs painting themselves isn’t normal, they had to have gotten their inspiration from somewhere... like actual poisonous toads they’d seen breaking into people’s homes.”
Dee was about to loudly berate him for his idiocy but was interrupted by a knock at the Chief’s door. “Joseph,” June Redtalon called out imperiously, “I need to speak to you on a matter of the greatest urgency.”
“Listen,” Dee hissed at the Chief, leaning over his desk, “I’m late for an invasion so I won’t waste time debating. There’d better not be any painted frogs on the streets when I get back!” Standing upright, she called back to the other Clan Mother, “Just a minute.” Walking to the door, she opened it and stepped out.
Just as Dee began to pass her colleague, June gently blocked her path with her cane. “Painted frogs?” she quietly inquired.
“Oh yeah,” Dee nodded, “I told him about this yesterday!”
After allowing Dee to leave, June motioned her assistant to wheel her into the office. “You can wait outside,” she told him once they were in. Alone in the office with the Chief, she held out her cane, brandishing the head at the mouse across the desk. “Do you know what this is?” she asked.
“Your cane?” the Chief replied.
“The speckles,” June clarified, “the little colored speckles on it.” The Chief, leaning forward to take a closer look, merely shook his head. “IT’S PAINT!” June bellowed, slamming the head of her cane onto the desk. The Chief fell backwards into his chair. “One of those frogs tried to take a wheel off my chair while I was sitting in it,” she recounted calmly, “I clocked him a few times and his paint started to come off. Doohickey told me she told you about this yesterday... It’s fairly obfious you didn’t do anything about it.” The Chief opened his mouth to explain, but June cut him off, “I don’t care what your excuse is, so don’t bore me with it.” Not wanting to waste further time, she spelled things out clearly, “I know you don’t have Doohickey’s endorsement, you’re about to lose mine, and you know Charity usually agrees with me... all we need to do is confince one more Clan Mother and you’re out on your ass.”
“Those frogs will be off the streets by the end of the day,” the Chief complied obediently.
“They damn well better be,” June warned.
Chapter Eighteen
“That was quick,” Chip commented as his fiancé returned to the workshop.
“I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation,” Dee explained glumly. Then, brightening up considerably, she asked, “So how do you like our monster?”
“It should do nicely,” Chip replied, “and we’re just about ready to get underway, just waiting on you and Gadget. By the way, I’m not sure we should take Snoop along with us... William’s already agreed to keep an eye on him while we’re gone. Also, what about Raven... is she staying here or going with us?”
Dee thought the matter over. She wasn’t comfortable about how reckless her daughter had been behaving recently, but also didn’t want to leave her behind without any guarantee when or even if they would return. “We’re all going in?” Dee eventually asked.
“With the exception of Snoop,” Chip confirmed.
“I can be armed?” Dee inquired further, to which Chip answered with a nod. “Ok, I’ll let her know she can come.” As she departed to find her daughter, Dee came upon her sister leaving a side room. The way Gadget was fidgeting with her jumpsuit caught her attention. “Ants in your pants?” Dee asked.
“Hm?” responded Gadget, who wasn’t sure at first what Dee could possibly have meant. “Oh! You mean why I’m acting like I have something in my clothes?” she realized, “It’s because I do... I used that cell phone I found a couple days ago to create a miniature recording device to carry on my person, unobtrusively concealed within my clothing so as not to get in the way or arouse suspicion.”
“A wire,” Dee summed up.
“Exactly,” Gadget concurred, “I figured it could help in a variety of manners. This little expedition will be the trial run.”
After a final check of equipment, they were off. Due to the size and weight of the mechanical monster they were to employ, it had to make the trip under it’s own power from the workshop to Philippe’s studio... and, for the sake of convenience, served as transport for those who couldn’t fly. Any concern that humans might interfere upon seeing the bizarre creation were dismissed as the few pedestrians that were encountered along the way quickly gave it a wide berth. Finally clearing the last of the human employed routes, the monster came to a stop. Foxglove, Fangs and Zipper landed nearby for any final instructions.
“Ok, the three of you should keep watch over the pump,” Chip charged, “Don’t bother with any frogs you might see around it, but confront anyone else that gets near it... If it’s Philippe, tell him what we know about that chemical he’s planning to use, if it’s anyone else, find out why they’re there... use your own judgment from there.” The chiropterans and insect acknowledged their orders and departed. “Everyone else,” Chip stated, turning to his fellow passengers, “Let’s get ready to frighten some frogs.”
Dee became responsible for creating the chaos by default, being the one in possession of the remote control after having steered the monstrosity through town. She and the others took up a position behind a small rise near the edge of the clearing. Laying face down on the mossy mound, they peered over the top at the phalanx of frogs. Activating the legs and locking their movement into the speed of the actual propulsion system, Dee guided the monster towards it’s victims.
The frogs’ attentions were drawn towards a small bush as it shuddered and it’s leaves rustled. Expecting a dog or rabbit, they were, initially, confused by what they saw. At first it wasn’t moving in their direction, and the frogs watched more out of curiosity than concern. That’s when it looked at them. Slowly, the head twisted till it faced them. It’s jaw flexed as if it were contemplating something. The frogs gave each other worried glances. A groan, almost a questioning sound, emanated from the beast, which then turned to face the amphibious assemblage full on. It gave an amused laugh, a giggle, then it’s head reared up and gave a psychotic, screeching cackle. Flames poured from it’s hollow eyes as it glared at the frogs and began to charge them.
The frogs trembled, quaked, then began hopping for their lives. Some carried their weapons, some dropped them as they fled, others hurled their weapons at the fiendish creature before racing away with their compatriots. Much to the delight of the mammalian witnesses, the amphibians fled as a single panicked mob. For awhile, Dee took great pleasure in chasing the army around the clearing, matching their turns as they attempted to evade the monster. Unfortunately, she got a little rough with the remote.
“Oh, farglesnot!” Dee cursed as the device crumbled in her paws, “The thingy broke!”
“Thingy?” Chip asked.
“I warned you the glue wouldn’t hold under stress,” Gadget needlessly reminded her sister.
“Farglesnot?” Chip questioned.
“Just as well,” Monty piped up, “It looked like them frogs had given up on outmaneuvering the thing and just ran- er, hopped off in a straight line. I don’t think we’ll be seeing them for awhile.”
“At least not until the batteries run out,” Gadget clarified.
“Then let’s get moving!” Dale anxiously called out.
The Rangers, Dee and Raven quickly crossed the clearing and soon descended into the burrow. “Stay alert everyone!” Chip cautioned the others. However, remaining alert to potential trouble ahead did little to prepare them when the roof fell on them. As quickly as the weight of the wood panel was transferred through their bodies the floor beneath them caved in. Tumbling into the darkness, they came to a stop only a foot down. Had they not been chattering randomly to each other attempting to assess the well being of their companions, they would have heard the hissing of a gas being released. They were, however, cognizant of the scent, but before the nature of the gas could be identified, they lost consciousness.
Slowly, each came to. As they did, they became aware of a very alarming fact... they couldn’t move. Adding a bit of confusion to their predicament was the fact that, though they knew they were upright, they couldn’t feel any surface beneath them. Looking about, it was revealed that they were bound with twine and suspended from hooks by said twine.
“I see that you are awakening,” Philippe proclaimed when he caught sight of his captives’ movements. “You ‘ave my apologies for having to put you in such restraints, but zey were necessary to ensure you could not, in your typically American ignorance, interfere in ze preparation of my art.”
“Philippe, that chemical you’re using, that ‘belch sauce’,” Chip began, “If you put that into the city’s drinking water it wall kill thousands of people!”
“Ah, you demonstrate your ignorance for me!” Philippe declared arrogantly, “Ze chemical, she is perfectly ‘armless!”
“It’s only harmless in pure water, you idiot!” Dee shouted.
“Hah! ‘Ow would you know?!” the rat defiantly challenged the mouse.
“It’s true!” Gadget joined in, “We had a sample analyzed. When the carbonation cycle is completed the resultant molecular chains recombine with the impurities present in the local tap water in a way that creates a toxin that is lethal, even in small amounts!”
“Eet eez true,” Philippe willingly conceded, now that Gadget had stated it to be fact. He became quite thoughtful as he rolled the new information about in his mind.
“That’s why we came here,” Chip explained, “Not to prevent you from creating your art, but to prevent thousands of people from dying.”
“Ze people, zey will still belch, non?” Philippe asked.
“They will still belch, yes,” Chip confirmed.
“Zen zey will die?” the rat inquired further.
“Yes!” was the collective response.
Philippe smiled broadly as he clapped his paws together. “Zen my masterpiece shall be greater zen even I anticipated!” he declared, “But ‘ow could eet not, for I ‘ave created eet! I, ze greatest artiste in ze world!”
Exasperated, Chip asked, “Are you cuh-razy?!”
“Non, I am a genius!” Philippe responded, “Zough ze ignorant often confuse ze two. You see, when ze people die, eet will be a stunning commentary on ze American disposable culture, wiz your one-use contact lenses, coal furnaces and disposable cameras... Now, I will show the inevitable progression of your wasteful attitudes... disposable people!”
“Don’t you care about all the people who are going to die?!” Gadget asked.
“But zey will not ‘ave died for nozing,” Philippe stated softly as he drew near to the blond mouse, “Zey will ‘ave given zeir lives for ze creation of art, just as in Guernica.”
Gadget fervently hoped that Philippe’s obsession with her was a match for his obsession with his art. “I could never love someone who could be so cold and heartless!” she declared.
“Ah, but you are yet young and naive,” Philippe responded with unexpected calm. He reached up and gently caressed her cheek as he explained, “When you ‘ave seen my creation you may better understand.” Gadget couldn’t contain her outrage and spit in the rat’s smug face. “Somezing to treasure,” he responded lovingly as he turned away. “Now, I must go and ensure I ‘ave achieved ze proper volume of my ‘special paint’,” he remarked as he departed down one of the side tunnels.
“That looney’s certifiable!” Monty declared.
No longer distracted by her captor’s bizarre logic, Gadget noticed a disturbing sensation. “Uh-oh!” she blurted out.
“What?” Chip asked.
“Something’s wrong,” Gadget elaborated.
“What?” Chip repeated, hoping for greater clarification of the apparent problem.
“Oh, never mind, everything’s fine,” Gadget cheerfully corrected.
“What’s fine?!” Chip demanded.
“I was feeling an unusual vibration in my clothing,” Gadget explained, “Then I realized it was the wire I’m wearing... Philippe must have activated it by accident when he was tying me up.”
“That better be all he did,” Dee growled, beating Monty to the sentiment.
“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Gadget reassured her, “If he had been up to anything inappropriate he would probably have discovered the wire and removed it.”
The captives’ attention was drawn to the sound of someone walking over a wooden platform, that having been the false roof that had fallen on them and then subsequently used as a cover for the pit they’d fallen into. Everyone expected the newcomer to be a frog, though the footfalls seemed oddly out of step for an amphibian. As they watched the entry tunnel, a female mouse emerged.
“Aunt Carol?” Dee asked in surprise.
Noticing the row of restrained rodents, Carol commented, “Gee, you and your friends certainly are in a bind aren’t you?”
“Hurry, you have to untie us!” Dale pleaded, “Philippe’s nuts and there’s no telling what he’s going to do to us!”
“Uh, Dale,” Gadget interrupted glumly.
“She’s on his side, isn’t she?” Dale realized. The others nodded.
“You must’ve been the one who spiked the corn soup at the Powwow!” Chip declared accusingly.
“And let me guess,” Dee joined in, “You were also the one who convinced the Chief to hold back the tribal police.”
“I hardly efen had to try” Carol remarked to her niece, “That bozo’s so hard up for female attention that just a little bit of thigh will get you anything you want. But, then again, you know all about that.”
“He’d have to be pretty hard up to be turned by your thighs,” Raven sneered.
“But why are you helping Philippe?” Gadget inquired, distracting Carol from contemplating how hard she should strike the bound brat.
“Why not?” Carol responded, “Effer been with an artist? It’s wonderful! They have such passion! It’s such a pleasant break from my normal diet of drunken morons. Besides, I get to take part in creating his greatest masterpiece!” Though she was attempting a french accent, pronouncing masterpiece ‘MAST-er PACE-uh’ made it sound like butchered Italian.
“Yeah, well his ‘mister pizza’ is going to cause mass murder!” Dale pointed out.
Carol rolled he eyes. “What are you talking about?” she inquired in a clearly annoyed manner.
“That chemical he’s using turns into a lethal poison when it’s mixed with tap water,” Monty explained, “After everyone’s done burpin’ they’ll be droppin’ like flies!”
“Everyone who drinks the city’s tap water will die?” Carol asked point blank.
“Yes,” Dee confirmed, “Over fifteen thousand people, including most of our tribe. If you have anywhere near the love of our tribe and our culture as you claim, you’d help us stop Philippe from carrying out his ‘work of art’.”
Carol was clearly thinking things over, and, as before, everyone hoped that she’d come to her senses where Philippe had chosen not to come to his. Carol’s eyes widened. “All the other Clan Mothers and the Chief depend on the city’s water supply,” she stated to herself out loud, “If they’re all dead I’ll be the only one left in a position of authority...” A grotesque sneer consumed her face, “And with most of the rest of the tribe dead with the rest desperate for guidance, I’ll finally haff all the power I deserfe! The entire tribe will be mine... and with most of the city dead as well, the entire city can be mine! Y’know, that bloated freak ‘Bruin-Hilda’ would make a lovely badger skin rug for my throne room...”
“What?!” Dee cried out in disbelief.
“Oh, thank you all so much,” Carol drawled, “Now that I know what’s going to happen, I can be ready.” She gasped as inspiration struck her, “I’ll haff to get Philippe to send one of the other remaining frogs to tell my associates to store up some fresh water! No sense in wasting such a golden opportunity!” The traitorous Clan Mother practically skipped out of the studio in search of her co-conspirator. “Philippe, darling!” she called as she left.
“She’s even worse than Philippe!” Chip declared.
Soon, a frog hopped through the studio on his way to convey the ominous message. Carol then gingerly stepped into the studio. Deliberately walking up to her captive niece, she addressed her with a disgusting smirk, “Now, there is one Clan Mother who won’t be drinking the tainted water, so I’ll haff to take care of that on my own.” All of the captives were distressed by the disturbing turn of events, Chip and Doohickey foremost among them. Carol scanned the studio for anything that could serve her needs, and soon fixed her gaze upon her niece’s crossbow. “Philippe couldn’t possibly haff made this,” the murderous mouse intoned, “It actually looks like something useful.”
“You treasonous bitch!” Dee cursed, “You’d do this to your own family?!”
“It’s not like you’fe ever done anything for me,” Carol offhandedly remarked as she examined the weapon, “Besides, I was neffer able to giff your mother what she had comin’ to her, so this’ll haff to do.” Approaching the captives, she casually continued, “And while I’m at it, I’ll get rid of a couple half-breeds that shouldn’t haff been born in the first place.”
“Leafe Rafen out of this!” Dee hollered, “She’s only a child- Let her go!” Her pleading was not only out of maternal instinct, she was quite confident Raven could easily take her aunt in a fight.
“What kind of idiot do you think I am?” Carol asked rhetorically, “If she’s anything like you she’ll try to tear my throat out the instant I untie her... That’s pretty much what she’d likely do efentually after me and Philippe are done with our little project anyhow.”
“Philippe!” Gadget shouted, “Come here, quick!” Carol was stunned when she realized Philippe was responding so quickly to Gadget’s call for help. Hearing him plod down the tunnel, she quickly hid the crossbow behind her back. “Carol was going to kill me with my sister’s crossbow!” Gadget explained in as innocent and disarming a manner as possible.
Walking up to Carol, Philippe intoned condescendingly, “You silly, jealous girl!” Gently taking the weapon from her paws, he scolded her, “Zis eez not ze time for ze bloodshed. Now, go keep watch over ze equipment so zat no intrusive locals damage eet in zeir ignorant curiosity.” Callously tossing the weapon aside, Philippe patted Carol on the bottom, shooing her on her way. She glared at Gadget as she departed.
“Now, you see?” Philippe asked as he turned to Gadget, “I would never allow harm to come to you.”
“But killing thousands of innocent people would hurt me!” Gadget implored, still hoping she could turn the rat’s heart.
“You may think so now,” Philippe responded kindly, “But you will learn eventually. And besides, zere are no innocents in zis world, we ‘ave all committed ze sins against anozer at some time,” he explained, then, in a dramatic fashion, longingly pointed out, “even you, for you ‘ave stolen my heart!”
“Well you can have it back you disgusting, murderous monster!” Gadget spat in response.
Philippe appeared to take Gadget’s venomous rebuke almost as a compliment, as if merely hearing her voice was heaven itself, regardless of what the voice was saying. Turning back around to return to his ‘art’, his attention was drawn by the sudden darkening of the entry tunnel. He cocked his head to the side as he pondered what that matter could be. An odd ‘snuffing’ sound was coming from within the tunnel, followed by the sound of creaking wood. As everyone watched, captor and captive alike, the distinctive features of a badger became visible in the dim light the studio cast into the near end of the tunnel. Sniffing intently at the walls and floor, it slowly advanced... then stopped and began frantically sniffing the air immediately ahead. With the intrusion of the predator into his studio, Philippe froze where he stood. His captives, on the other hand, were quite pleased, especially once they recognized the intruder. That is, all except one...
Monty held his breath, desperately trying to avoid adding to the scent of cheese in the air in a way that would give away his location. However, he couldn’t hide his appearance and he was soon spotted. As the predator’s eyes widened and a broad smile graced it’s features, he knew he was doomed. “Oh no,” the mouse lamented.
“I knew I smelled my meaty mousy man in here!” Charity proclaimed cheerily as she began to frantically squeeze through the rest of the tunnel.
“Oh-ho no!” Monty pleaded, “Please, this is neither the time or the place, luv!” Not that she heard him over the combined chattering of the other captives, of which it was nearly impossible to discern specific words or requests.
Charity quickly closed the distance between herself and her handsome prey and was soon preparing to depart with her catch. And she would have done so had it not been for Dale shouting out over the others, “HEY BRUIN-HILDA!” The others fell silent as the badger stopped dead in her tracks, still clutching her prize. Dale continued in a volume more appropriate for conversation, in a remarkable facsimile of Philippe’s accent, “What eez eet you are carrying in zat moldy sack behind you? Rotting cherries? But I see eet eez not a moldy sack you drag behind you on ze floor, but eet eez your derriere!”
Charity slowly turned to look behind her, lips curling back over her fangs. She had been completely taken in by Dale’s expert ventriloquism, perfected over many years of infuriating Chip with childish pranks. As Charity glared over her shoulder at Philippe, he cried out in a panic, “I deed not say zose words!” It did not help his case that the pitch of his panicked speech almost perfectly matched Dale’s normal speaking voice. “I would never say such things to a lady,” the terrified rat continued to plead as Charity gently set Monty on the floor, “E-especially one a-as marvelously zaftig as y-ACK!” His pleas were cut short as a large paw wrapped itself around his neck.
==
Foxglove, Fangs and Zipper all bade their time keeping watch over the small clearing in which the pump sat by hanging from or sitting upon nearby branches. The monotony of waiting for some signal from their comrades wouldn’t have been nearly so unnerving if it weren’t for the fact that just hanging around with nothing to do left plenty of time to worry about what was going on in the tunnels nearby. The two bats had just started playing a word game to distract themselves from their anxiety when Zipper alerted them to movement below.
Emerging from a bush was a mouse, and from the walk, apparently a female. The sentries took flight and approached the rodent. As they grew closer, they recognized her. “What’s Dee’s aunt doing here?” Fangs asked his companions.
“Let’s find out,” Foxglove responded, preparing to land between Carol and the pump. Carol came to an abrupt halt when the two bats situated themselves directly in her path. She stood there, her gaze passing from one to the other. “Ms Halfshell,” Foxglove greeted in a neutral tone, “Would you mind explaining what you’re doing here?” Both chiropterans noticed a sudden jump in the female’s heart rate and breathing, she was clearly nervous about something.
Fangs, always conscious of how his very appearance can cause concern in others, was about to explain that they had no ill intent, but that went by the wayside as Carol charged at him. The vampire easily leapt over the rushing rodent and landed facing her back. He was just in time to see Carol grab a metal bar, about the length of her forearm, from somewhere on the pump assembly and come about swinging. When Fangs leapt clear the second time, he opted to remain airborne, well out of the reach of Carol’s club.
Foxglove, too, swiftly took flight. “Looks like she didn’t just stumble upon this place by accident,” she commented to Fangs.
Zipper, who had made the point of staying out of Carol’s line of sight during the initial encounter, dove in from behind. Grabbing fistfuls of her long, black hair near her head, he yanked her upward, briefly lifting the mouse from her feet. No sooner had Carol let out a squeal of shock than Zipper released her, allowing her to land rather ungracefully. The awkwardness of her return to the earth caused the terrestrially bound rodent to drop her improvised weapon. Foxglove, capitalizing on the situation, swooped in to grab the rod with her feet.
As Carol finally got to her feet Fangs dropped in behind her and quickly had her in his grip. The mouse soon discovered that she was no match for the sheer upper body strength of a bat. Far from accepting defeat, though, Carol wildly jerked about, slowly bringing her and her captor closer to the large pump. Confident she had situated Fangs between herself and the sturdily constructed equipment, Carol put all her energy into bashing the bat between them.
Finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his grip as he was repeatedly pounded against the pump, Fangs wracked his brain for a solution. The only one which he could conceive of was a tactic that he sorely wished not to use, if for no other reason than not wanting to further a harmful stereotype... but, given the circumstances, it seemed acceptable. Hoping he had his attack timed properly with just enough restraint, Fangs opened his mouth and bore down on Carol’s neck.
Fortunately for Carol, the vampire had indeed timed his lunge and judged its force with appropriate care. The mouse instinctively froze as she felt several sharp teeth bare down on her throat. Standing stock still, staring straight ahead in mortal terror, she saw the other bat come to a landing before her.
“I suggest you not make any sudden moves,” Foxglove warned, “With teeth as sharp as his, he may not be able to react in time to keep you from doing yourself serious harm.”
“W-what are y-you going to do?” Carol asked, seriously unnerved by the feel of Fangs’ hot breath coursing through her fur.
“We’ll wait,” Foxglove responded, folding her wings smugly. “Zipper,” she called, “Go keep an eye on things, let us know when you see the others.” With a sharp salute, the fly departed.
“Ok,” Carol smiled, supreme in her faith that Philippe had everything under control within, “Let’s wait.” After a few moments, Foxglove’s hearing alerted her to the approach of company long before Zipper had spotted their movement. Turning towards the sounds, she unknowingly alerted Carol to the visitors. Not able yet to discern who it was, the person or persons still concealed by the shadows of the surrounding foliage, Carol asked rhetorically, “Someone coming?”
“Mm-hm,” Foxglove acknowledged quietly, preparing to take an acoustic sounding of the interlopers.
“This should be fun,” Carol confidently drawled.
“You have no idea,” Foxglove smiled, quite pleased at the signatures she heard.
Carol looked with anticipation towards where she believed her rescuer would emerge. However, instead of a tall blond rat, it was a squat fedora wearing chipmunk who strode triumphantly out of the shadows. The criminal’s eyes widened as Chip was promptly followed into the clearing by the other ‘captives’, the way her niece smiled at her while caressing her crossbow sent a chill through Carol. Her mouth fell open when she witnessed Charity plow her way through the shrubbery with an unconscious and bound Philippe slung casually over her shoulder.
“Way to go!” Chip greeted Foxglove, Fangs and Zipper, “I was hoping the three of you would keep her away from the pump, but you went one better and took her into custody.”
“Well, when she attacked us out of the blue we kind of figured something was wrong,” Foxglove explained.
“Monty, would you do the honors?” Chip asked.
“Sure thing, pally,” the Aussie replied, producing a coil of twine from beneath his coat and approaching the captive Carol. “Now, if you just hold still we can avoid getting you bound up in an uncomfortable position,” Monty advised her. Fangs, who by this point had long since withdrawn his teeth from Carol’s neck, released his grip so Monty could tie her up. The would-be detainee made the best of the opportunity... Grabbing one of the vampire’s wings she flung him around and sent him careening into Monty’s mid-section.
As Carol made a brake for the bushes, Dee prepared to skewer her with a crossbow bolt... but having Chip obscure the shot as he grabbed at the fleeing criminal put the effort on hold. Carol spun about to pull Chip into her and kneed him in the gut as hard as she could. Chip fell away as Dale took hold of the fugitive’s shoulders. Carol reached up to grab Dale by the fur of his cheeks and promptly gave him a head-but. Not necessarily having been the wisest tactic, this left Carol a little stunned herself, which meant she wasn’t completely clear on who it was that grabbed the front of her shirt. Undeterred, Carol lashed out blindly with a fist at her most recent assailant. The guttural growling that the impact of her fist evoked helped her focus somewhat. As her vision cleared, she realized she’d just given Charity a bloody nose... and that Charity was by no means pleased by the fact. The last thing of which Carol was aware was being flung bodily against the pump. Monty had little trouble tying her up after that.
“Dale, you ok?” Chip asked as Foxglove helped her sweety to his feet.
“I’m fine,” Dale chirped, “You musta’ given me a hard head what with bonking me on the noggin all the time.” Seeing Chip still nursing his gut, he asked, “You gonna hurl?”
“If I can keep down your chocolate-jellybean casserole I can handle a little knee to the stomach,” Chip laughed.
“Who’d think someone that old would put up that much of a fight?” Fangs asked as he brushed himself off.
“One thing the boys around here learn pretty quickly is to not get into a fight with the girls,” Dee pointed out, “It’s not so much a matter of being polite, mind you, it’s just safer that way.”
Chapter Nineteen
With Philippe and Carol no longer in a position to do anyone in the community any harm, the Rangers and company faced a long walk home... though it technically didn’t apply to three of them. Charity toted the subdued criminals as the others carried all the documents they could find that seemed to pertain to the pump and the ‘belch sauce’. As the group made their way across the clearing which led into what had been Philippe’s studio, only a casual thought was given to the chaos which had taken place there earlier in the day.
Having given the discarded weapons a final glance, Dale pondered aloud, “I wonder whatever happened to Frog Stomper?”
“It should be getting low on power by now,” Dee pointed out, “That is, assuming it didn’t break down, crash or anything.”
Everyone’s attention was drawn to a small rumbling sound off to the side. If anything, it sounded like a couple rocks tumbling down the hillside. Pausing out of curiosity, they turned in hopes of catching site of whatever it was making the sound. And there, careening down towards the embankment into which the studio had been dug, was Frog Stomper. Most of its ‘legs’ were missing, the brown rug covering its body was torn back in a couple places and the head was somewhat off kilter, but it appeared to still be moving under its own power.
“Well there it is,” Raven needlessly pointed out. No one at the moment was particularly concerned, given it’s trajectory it appeared due to continue on down the hill well past them. However, as the machine dropped down over the steep embankment it landed at an awkward angle, causing it to turn. It took a few moments, but the realization set in that Frog Stomper was rolling straight towards them.
Everyone logically took flight to get clear of its path. Gadget didn’t get further than a single step before catching a toe in a worm’s hole. Her ‘oof’ drew the attention of her companions, of which, Dee quickly came about to help her sister. In the split second it took to do the estimate, the rest realized neither lady could get clear of the monster’s path in time. But, as they watched (or, at least those who hadn’t shut their eyes) a stray feather drifted down between the mice and the machine and get sucked into Frog Stomper’s inner workings. The creepy contraption came to a shuddering halt, just short of its would-be victims. It sat there, a rhythmic grinding sound the only evidence it was still ‘alive’.
With the time the feather’s intrusion bought, Gadget righted herself, after which both she and her sister clambered into the machine. There was a cacophony of clattering, clanking and ‘sproinging’ as the mechanically inclined mice rendered their creation lifeless before further havoc could be caused. As they pulled the last few wires and connections, Dee was granted a good look at the article that had spared them. “Hey, it’s Gramma Asani’s feather!” she stated in surprise. As Gadget turned to look, the wire she had pulled loose, which still carried a charge, brushed against a metal fitting, conducting the electricity to the fuel tank in the rear.
BANG!!
The sharp detonation caused the after end of the beast to blow out, leaving a swirling cloud of fumes, grass and carpet fuzz. On the other end, the sudden jolt sent both mice and the feather shooting out the front. Everyone rushed forward to aid the two ladies.
“Dee!” Chip shouted, “Are you hurt?”
“Nah,” the raven haired mouse moaned as she sat up, “Just a little startled.”
“Gadget, luv, you still in one piece and all?” Monty asked as he hoisted the blond mouse from the ground, setting her upon her feet.
“Sure, I’m fine,” Gadget related, “The equipment inside absorbed most of the kinetic force of the explosion and any shrapnel.”
“Where’s the feather?!” Dee asked as she clambered over what was left of the monster.
“Golly,” Gadget commented as she looked about, “The explosion must have knocked it loose and the expansion and subsequent contraction of the air in the immediate vicinity must have created sufficient lift to blow it away.”
“Did anyone see it take off?” Dee asked.
“Sorry, luv,” Monty replied, “I was so concerned about whether the two of you were all right that I didn’t see much of anything else.” A similar sentiment was raised by the other witnesses of the incident.
As the group neared the workshop, they diverged in three directions. Dee and Charity departed to deliver the captive criminals to the tribal prison and formally press charges against Carol for her misdeeds, Chip headed off to the city’s rodent run court house to detail what had occurred so they could press whatever charges they deemed necessary while the rest unwound at the workshop.
Chip’s return was warmly welcomed by Monty who threw an arm around him and led him towards a mess of papers. “C’mon, pally, you gotta take a look at this!” the portly mouse stated cheerfully.
“We were looking through those papers we found at Philippe’s studio and found one which we thought you’d like to see,” Dale explained as Chip arrived at the pile of papers. “Most of it has a bunch of technical gobbledygook that Gadget tried to translate for us,” he continued, “But what we found at the top and bottom was real interesting.”
Chip was directed to the paper in question. It was a sheet obviously meant for human use and folded several times for easy portage by small mammals. The bulk of the page was strewn with scribbling and what he assumed were molecular diagrams and equations... by their size it was clear they were the work of man. At the very top was a letterhead that read: The Marvelous Mental Machinations of the Positively Peerless Professor Norton Nimnul. “It figures he’d have personalized stationary with a header on it like that,” Chip remarked.
“Now check the bottom,” Dale demanded, “In the red pen.”
At the bottom, below all the diagrams and illustrations, in red pen, was scrawled: “Note to self: It’s the only copy and you know you’ll never remember this formula... SO DON’T LOSE IT!!!”
Below the red ink, Chip spotted a note in pencil written in a rodent’s sized script. He could tell it was French, and even recognized a few words, but not nearly enough to translate it. “Anyone figure this out?” he asked, pointing to the French.
“Way ahead you, there, Chip,” Monty joined in, “It says, ‘Sorry, my friend, but I have greater plans for this than you could imagine with your pathetic human intellect!’ followed by what I’m pretty sure is Philippe’s signature.”
“Looks like Philippe was stealing from more than just the locals here,” Foxglove opined.
“You know,” Dale began slyly, “Since this is stolen property, do you think we should return it to it’s rightful owner?”
“Nah!” everyone responded together.
Before Chip could begin to leaf through the rest of the documents, Dee stormed into the workshop. There was no mistaking the fact that she was in a bad mood. “That IDIOT!” she hollered, “How the hell did he convince the Clan Mothers to make him Chief?”
“What happened?” Chip asked.
“After I had explained everything that had happened today, including what Carol had said and almost done,” Dee passionately proceeded to explain, “Instead of placing Carol in a cell like Philippe, he places her under house arrest! Why? Because everything I’d said were ‘unproven allegations’ and that because she’s a Clan Mother she ‘deserves the utmost respect’ until proven guilty!” After cooling down a little, she conceded, “But at least he finally took action against those frogs... not that it matters anymore.” Dee was quiet for a while, then continued, “For a moment, for a brief moment, I considered trying to sweet-talk him into doing my bidding like Carol did... But I did not spend the last thirteen years teaching myself not to behave like that just to go back to the way I used to be!”
“I’m sure once Gadget has that recording of her’s ready for playback you’ll be able to change his tune,” Monty pointed out hopefully.
“Either that or convince the other Clan Mothers it’s time for a new Chief,” Chip added.
Dee nodded in agreement. “By the way, did Gadget say when it’ll be ready?” she eventually asked.
“By sometime tonight,” Chip answered, “She said she couldn’t be more specific because... well, she made all kinds of technical statements about how tricky it was for a first attempt, and that’s why it would take that long.”
As the afternoon proceeded along, Chip continued pouring over the documents from Philippe’s studio. Gadget worked on her recording. Most of the others busied themselves with whatever they could find to do. Dee, per Chip’s request, found something to work on that would take her mind off things.
A knock at the door heralded a visit by June Redtalon, come to speak specifically to Dee. After explaining that she’d heard Carol had been arrested, June wanted to hear the whole story. Dee obliged and went into animated detail about that days events, saving her most colorful language for describing her contempt for the Chief’s behavior. Given the volume of Dee’s story and the increasing profusion of vulgarity in both English and Seneca, she soon accumulated an audience beyond her fellow Clan Mother. “People keep asking me why I don’t want to be a Clan Mother,” Dee eventually ended her narrative, “That’s the reason! It may not be the original reason, but it is now!”
“That’s why I really came here after hearing about Carol’s arrest,” June finally spoke up calmly, “I had a feeling you might be a little disenchanted about your position considering your interactions with your Aunt. Why do you think your Clan chose you to lead them?”
“Because they just figured I’d threaten to have the wolves eat them if they didn’t,” Dee cynically joked, “Listen, I know you’re going to try to convince me to stay a Clan Mother but the answer is no.”
“Sajë:h,” June commanded, motioning with her cane to the work stool Dee had been pacing next to.
“There are probably plenty of females in my Clan who would be better able to put up with having to prod idiotic Chiefs, make deals, or whatever,” Dee continued, ignoring her fellow Clan Mother.
“Sajë:h!” June reiterated.
“I didn’t want this job,” Dee went on, “I have no intention of doing this job...”
“I said SIT!” June bellowed angrily. Dee sat. Everyone else also glued their backsides to whatever seat was nearest. “They didn’t choose you because they thought you’d haff them eaten if they didn’t,” she proceeded to explain, “Remember, it was your predecessor who recommended you. Why would she recommend you? Your mother always used to say you were so much like your Aunt Carol. But that changed... you changed. You put as much distance between that old you and who you wanted to be as possible. They chose you because they trusted that you wouldn’t haff them eaten, that you wouldn’t be like your Aunt Carol... and that you’d stand up to her. When Carol bullied her way to the top of her Clan, it wasn’t just her Clan that suffered, she put pressure on those who married into her Clan, which hurt their relatiffs who were members of all the other Clans. The last thing they wanted to see was their Clan Mother knuckling under to someone like Carol and efryone in their Clan winding up under her heel. Your Clan wouldn’t haff that problem if you were their matriarch, they knew you’d neffer let her push you around, and, if anything, might actually push her right back because she embodied efrything you hated about your own past.”
“But Carol’s not going to be any trouble much longer,” Dee pointed out, “There, I did my job of pushing her back and it didn’t take my having to be a Clan Mother.”
“Really?” June replied skeptically, “Supposing she does get what she deserfes... and giffen what you’fe already seen of the Chief’s behafior you should haff some doubts about that... How can you be sure someone won’t get it into their head to follow in her footsteps.” Leaning closer to Dee, she emphasized the next point, “How do you know there isn’t someone in your own Clan hoping you’ll step aside so they can come forward... Maybe playing off the Clan’s feeling of betrayal, promising neffer to turn her back on them the way you did... And when she starts her own reign of terror a la Carol Halfshell, who will your Clan blame? Her for being a tyrant, or you for letting her come to power? And not just letting her come to power, letting Carol get away with setting the example that being self-serving, capricious, and greedy are acceptable behafiors in our tribe. Whether we like it or not, being a matriarch means setting an example of good citizenship... Right now you could set an example: by helping others who seek guidance and a fair judge, or by turning your back on those who trust and have faith in you and tell them that you couldn’t care less about their problems. You may not want that power, but they entrusted you with it and haff faith in you that you won’t abuse it... or them for that matter.”
“Khaless the Unforgettable said that true leaders do not seek out power,” Dale sagely advised, “But that power seeks them out.”
“I have no clue who Khaless the Unforgettable is,” June began, “but he hit it right on the head.”
Dee, who had worn a dourful expression throughout June’s sermon, couldn’t help but crack a smile at the outlandish direction Dale had sent the matter. The smile belied the fact that she was still debating the matter in her own mind. She found many of her original reasons for shunning the unwanted title suddenly seemed rather trivial, in some cases even childish... but there was still one left. “I’ll have to think about it,” she eventually explained to June.
“That’s really all I can ask of you,” June replied, “But try to decide soon. Carol has to put on trial, and the longer it’s put off because the Wolf Clan is lacking an acting Clan Mother the more time Carol has to incite trouble.”
That last comment stirred up new concerns in Dee’s mind. She had assumed simply getting Carol locked up was enough. But even then, she wasn’t actually locked up. Dee knew Carol was in a position where she could still cause trouble, which given her nature, was a given. But upon reflection, Dee realized her Aunt had little chance of beating the charges against her, or even surviving once the truth about her activities got out. Carol would run, she was sure of that. Her own father, Carol’s brother, fled when it came time to face up to the consequences of his actions... and these consequences were far more severe.
Dee left to keep watch over Carol’s ‘house arrest’. She told only Monty what she was up to as she knew Chip would insist on going along. Monty, himself, insisted on going, but Dee convinced him that it was best that someone outside the tribe not be involved if anything happened... but if Gadget finished early with her work, she was perfectly welcome.
It was well after sundown when Dee arrived at her Aunt’s residence, a rotting tree stump in the far corner of a poorly kept yard. She was dismayed to see that the guards keeping watch made a poor deterrent, both stood near the front door without any consideration for the other means of egress. Dee ‘plugged the hole’ by taking up a position within sight of the only window. The position, just up the side of a small mound comprised of rocks, gravel and loose dirt, gave her a view down into the room. Just as Dee expected, Carol soon arrived to remove the chunk of glass that kept out the elements. As Carol busied herself hauling her body through the small square opening, Dee descended the hill to confront her.
“Going somewhere?” Dee asked when her aunt finally got all the way out. When Carol stood there staring at her in surprise, Dee continued, “I figured you’d run, just like Dad did. But I figured I’d make sure one of you was finally held accountable for your cowardly behavior.”
Carol never tolerated anyone calling her a coward. It didn’t matter that she was a coward who rarely dared fight someone without the odds being decisively in her favor, as long as people were afraid of you... that’s what mattered, that’s what gave you power and influence. Letting anyone get away with insulting you made you look weak, and no one fears the weak. And fleeing trial wasn’t weak... letting yourself be hauled before a public tribunal so that your cowardly acts could be laid bare for all to see, that was weak. She had to fight, fight to hide her shameful acts. If others were told of what she’d done, she could claim the charges were manufactured by the real traitors, the ones who consort with outsiders. Carol knew there were people stupid enough to buy that, people who might even aid her, maybe create a ‘resistance’ movement... That was it! That’s what she would do, cultivate the myth of a rebel hero, let her naive followers bear the burden of the fight while she stayed safely hidden away, supposedly directing the war. Then be greeted almost as a messiah when the fighting’s over. She could control the tribe without having to poison most of them... and since Philippe had been the one behind that scheme in the first place, he could be cast as part of the fictional conspiracy to frame her... he was a perfect fit, a foreign rat. But one thing stood between her and her destiny... an obnoxious niece, a potential protégé who went soft... soft and weak.
Dee’s aunt reeled back her fist, preparing to lay into her. That’s when Carol felt something grab her elbow... then there was a paw pressed into her back. Carol was wheeled about and slammed face first into the side of the tree stump.
“Did I say you could hit my sister?” Gadget growled down at her. She had finished early with her work and had raced all the way over, arriving just as Dee confronted Carol.
Carol was not going to face trial, she was sure of that. And she felt she had something that could even the odds a little. Quickly pulling a dagger from her belt, she took a swipe at Gadget. As Gadget leapt back, Dee tackled her aunt. Carol managed to roll Dee off of her and righted herself. Facing both Hawkfeather girls, her knife at the ready, Carol lunged at Gadget... but it was only a feint. Dee leapt forward to disrupt the apparent strike at her sister, just as Carol hoped, but didn’t see the closed fist till it was too late. Her own forward momentum added to the strength of the impact and Dee fell backwards, striking her head on stone. She was out of the fight for the time being.
This left only Gadget. Carol charged at the blond mouse. Fortunately for Gadget, this wasn’t the first time she’d faced such an attack and deftly dodged the knife thrust. Grabbing Carol’s wrist, Gadget tried to loose the weapon from the it’s owner by bringing her free paw down on the restrained arm. But Carol immediately grappled with her opponent, preventing the blow from being made. The two ladies writhed in an effort to achieve an advantage over the other. Though Carol was growing weak, and by no means a match for Gadget in matters of attrition, she was desperate... very desperate. In an effort to end what was clearly becoming a one-sided wrestling match, Carol threw all the strength she could into just breaking Gadget’s hold on her.
With a feral howl, Carol wrenched off her fetter. Gadget lost her balance and careened sideways into a stone. The impact with it had little detrimental effect on the young mouse, but the mouse’s impact on the stone jolted it free from it’s placement. That would have had no significance if it had not been supporting much of the face of the gravel and dirt mound Dee had been perched upon earlier. Gravel, earth, stones and a few very confused insects all spilled down onto the prone mouse before she could get clear. Gadget found herself pinned face down beneath the debris with only her head and right arm free... for all intents and purposes, she was defenseless.
“Good,” was all Carol hissed at seeing her opponent’s misfortune. Stamping one foot onto Gadget’s free arm, Carol bent down to finish her off. Something, Gadget couldn’t see quite what from her position, swooped in and jabbed Carol in the eye as she raised her dagger. Carol staggered away, nursing her eye. That’s when the feather that had caused the disruption settled gently onto the pinned Gadget. She couldn’t be sure, and felt it highly unlikely, but Gadget wondered to herself if it was Gramma Asani’s feather... again.
Gadget had little time to ponder as a large blur plowed into Carol. Shortly afterward, a young male mouse knelt by her side and checked her face just long enough to determine whether she was conscious before calling out, “You got her, Jared?”
“Yeah,” came the reply. Gadget was just barely able to see the torso of a large rat wearing a tribal police uniform where the voice had come from.
“Let me get you out of here,” the young mouse offered, placing the feather aside before starting to burrow Gadget out of the pile of debris.
“My sister, is she ok?” Gadget asked.
“Jared?” the young mouse called back to his partner.
“I see her,” Jared replied. “She’s breathing,” he added as he began to rouse the unconscious Dee.
“Gadget?!” Dee called out as she got her wits together.
“I’m fine,” came the reply.
“Where’s Carol?” Dee then inquired.
“She ain’t goin’ nowhere,” Jared assured Dee, motioning to the bound captive.
Dee walked over to her aunt who was lying on her stomach, her face intentionally buried in the moss and dirt. She considered kicking her, hard, just once. However, Dee found a matter of pleasure in restraining herself. Doing so demonstrated her superiority, her greater control... an act of pointless petty revenge against a bound captive was something from her youth, something Carol would do... she was above that.
“It’s a good thing one of you yelled earlier,” the smaller officer remarked, “If we hadn’t heard that we wouldn’t haff come around to see what was up.”
“Achully,” Gadget proceeded to point out, “That was Carol.”
“You mean she wound up alerting us to her own escape?” Jared asked. The two officers couldn’t help but share a laugh at Carol’s expense.
Turning to Gadget, Dee realized the smaller officer had all but finished the excavation and her sister was already brushing off her jumpsuit. That’s when Dee noticed the feather nearby. As she lifted it from the ground, Gadget inquired, “I know the possibility is astronomical... though come to think of it I would have thought so about the earlier incident when I was saved by a feather... But, could that possibly be the family feather?”
Dee went over to the window for the better lighting. “Damn!” she exclaimed, “It is!”
“I guess Gramma Asani has been watching over me,” Gadget replied, “If that feather hadn’t hit Carol in the eye she likely could have killed me before the officers got here.” She though for a moment before remarking, “But I still don’t see how that’s possible.”
“You’re the one who helped free a ghost from a centuries old curse, liberated leprechauns from the Queen of the Banshees and encountered a race of metamorphic space aliens,” Dee listed off, “Compared to that, a wandering feather is practically mundane.”
Hauling Carol off the ground, Jared remarked, “Looks like we’ll be adding ‘attempting to flee jurisdiction’ to the list of charges.”
“Plus attempted murder of a tribal citizen,” Dee pointed out in reference to her sister’s close call, “and keep her in a locked cell.” Looking at the feather in her paws, Dee offered it to her sister, “Well, it’s yours, you’re the oldest daughter.” As Gadget took possession of the ‘family feather’, continuing a generations old tradition and accepting the inherent responsibilities, Dee found herself revisiting the decision she had to make about whether to continue a centuries old tradition and accept the inherent responsibilities that came with it. “Did you get a successful playback on your wire thingy?” Dee asked.
“Yep!” Gadget practically chirped, “The alterations I made to compensate for frequency variances worked perfectly, it recorded everything said in Philippe’s studio.”
“Great,” Dee smiled, “I’ll get in touch with the other Clan Mothers, tell them to meet us at the Chief’s office... That recording’s going to have an audience.”
Chapter Twenty
Originally intending to assemble in the Chief’s office, the meeting place was moved to a more spacious locale once Charity arrived... there had been no one larger than a rat in the tribe prior to the adoption of the Rose family, so no provisions had been made to accommodate badgers. The new site chosen for the audience was the Council Chamber, a cavernous auditorium used for both tribal ceremonies and trials. At one end was the Matriarchs’ Gallery, a semi-circular solid wooden table with a podium rising from the center and four places set out to either side, on the side of the table facing the rows of public seating were carvings of the eight animals for which the Clans were named, each delineating the seating for the Clan Mothers... the podium in the center bore the Great Seal of the tribe. By the time the Chief finally showed up, Gadget and all of the tribe’s Clan Mothers, with the obvious exception of Carol Halfshell, had gathered together. The Chief, who had not been told of the full nature of the meeting, was noticeably shocked by their combined presence... he knew something was up, and hoped it wasn’t going to be his time as Chief.
“This better be damned important,” he blustered, hoping an assertive attitude would avail him well in whatever was going to be thrown his way, “I was just getting ready for bed.”
“I was already in bed, and I had to go through a lot more to get ready to go out than you did and you don’t hear me whining about it,” June replied sharply, “So sit down and shut up.”
The seats meant for the Clan Mothers that were usually kept in their places in the Gallery, but had been moved for this particular meeting closer together for convenience. They were still arrayed in a semi-circle and were set facing a single seat, that seat was the one in which the Chief sat for this meeting.
Once the Chief had taken the seat left open for him, Dee began the proceedings. “You remember what I told you about what happened earlier today?” she asked.
“Yes,” the Chief acknowledged in an annoyed fashion.
“And you said that everything that Charity and I based our charges against Carol on were unproven allegations,” Dee recounted, “Well, we have proof.” She continued, for the sake of those who had yet to be made aware, “Earlier today, I, my maternal sister and her friends, the Rescue Rangers, went to speak to a French rat... We had reason to believe he intended to impregnate the city’s water supply with a chemical that would have been lethal if consumed. In a zealous attempt to ensure he was not prevented from carrying out his ‘work of art’ he set a trap... which we fell right into. As it happens, my sister, Gadget, had manufactured a small listening device, a wire, which she was wearing in anticipation of giving it a trial run during our visit with said rat. As he was tying us up, that rat, Philippe, unknowingly activated the wire... it recorded everything that followed.” Dee gave a nod to Gadget who activated her device to play back the recording. All who were present listened as the playback opened with the last few lines of ‘Que Sera, Sera’ as sung by Philippe as he finished tying up the unconscious Gadget.
When the recording finished, all the Clan Mothers cast their eyes on the Chief. He felt angry, humiliated and betrayed. He was also terrified that the Clan Mothers would hold him accountable as an accomplice for letting Carol use him. The Chief realized his only hope was complete compliance. “What do you want?” he asked the assembled matriarchs.
“That you stop protecting her,” Dee started, “She will stand trial for treason, assault and attempted murder of tribal citizens and attempting to flee prosecution.” Aware that the Chief likely hadn’t heard of the attempt, she pointed out, “She did try to escape tonight, and in doing so attacked me and tried to kill my sister.”
“Since we’re throwing out suggestions,” June joined in, “The other elder Clan Mothers and myself all haff lists of names of people who haff been acting as Carol’s enforcers within her Clan. Since she stated she was going to warn them of her part in this conspiracy to poison the community, they can and will be taken into custody for their infolfement. Once they’re safely off the streets, I’m sure there will be a flood of information from members of the Turtle Clan about Carol’s flagrant abuse of power... You can expect to see charges of abuse of power and any other charges concerning what Carol ordered her thugs to do to maintain control ofer her Clan.” The other elders all nodded in agreement.
“And what about the city?” the Chief inquired, “They’re going to want to put her on trial too, who gets her first? Giffen what she’s tried to do it’s unlikely they’ll let us prosecute her first for all the comparatifely little crimes she’s committed against the tribe.”
The Clan Mother’s all exchanged looks with each other, searching for a suggestion. The slightly overweight matriarch of the Beaver Clan stepped forward with an idea. “I say we kick her out,” she stated bluntly, “Expel her from the tribe, then let the city haff her.” Everyone seemed to like the idea.
“Considering all the trouble she’s tried to incite between members of our tribe and the rest of the city residents,” the thin matriarch of the Heron Clan began, “Publicly stripping her of her tribal citizenship and expelling her in complete disgrace, making her one of them, would be fitting punishment.”
“And there’s no one in the city that’s going to suggest going easy on her,” the tall matriarch of the Deer Clan pointed out, “She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t wind up getting a harsher sentence than that Philippe character.”
“This will haff to be done in pubic,” June advised, “And that recording will be played for everyone to hear, so there will be no lingering doubts about Carol’s true loyalty.”
“I can talk to the city prosecutor about letting us go first,” Dee offered, then continued, smiling broadly, “I’m sure once he hears what we intend to do with her, he’ll be more than happy to wait... they’ll finally get her without the fear that anyone will accuse them of ‘going after’ our people, she won’t be our people, Carol would be completely within the city’s right to dispose of her as they choose.”
==
With matters in the city no longer requiring immediate attention, Dee and her guests retired to her mill for the rest of their vacation. A day later, returning form business in the city, Dee found her fiancé atop the mill, watching the afternoon clouds go by.
“How did it go?” the relaxed chipmunk inquired.
“Better than I thought,” Dee remarked, “Mr Bentwood was practically gleeful that we’re going to banish Carol from the tribe. He said as long as she was completely divested of any political or legal advantage that would give her an edge compared to any other criminal, we could take as long as we needed to do it right.” After a brief pause she continued, “He may ask that her trial be closed to the public, at least when Gadget’s recording gets played... Playing that before a packed courtroom during her trial would be asking for a riot. Having Carol torn apart by an angry mob wouldn’t help the city’s image.”
“You really think people outside the tribe hate her that much?” Chip asked in surprise.
“Beats me,” Dee replied, “But Daryl’s not willing to take that chance.” An awkward silence befell the lovers. Dee eventually broke the silence, “So... what about us?”
“What about us?” Chip asked.
“Well, with me being a Clan Mother I can’t exactly move in with you if we get married,” Dee explained with obvious concern.
“When we get married,” Chip replied, taking her paw gently, “we’ll work something out. Monty’s parents haven’t lived together for years, but they still make it work. If anything, it may actually do us some good.”
“How?” Dee asked, not seeing Chip’s point.
“For one thing,” Chip began, “We both like having our way. People like that who spend too much time together can wind up having their relationship fly apart at the seams. And if we are apart, we’ll appreciate the time we do have together so much more.” Looking at the beauty beside him, Chip asked, “So, do you really think you want to return your ring?”
“I never really thought that,” Dee answered with a blush and a smile, “I just didn’t want to invest my heart into a relationship if it was going to fall apart at the last minute because we didn’t thoroughly examine potential pitfalls before we’re faced with the ‘I do’s.”
Chip allayed any of Dee’s lingering fears as she pulled her into a loving embrace, silencing any unwanted ‘what if’s with his lips. This was his vacation, he didn’t want to spend it over-analyzing things.
The End
