Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry (17 page)

“I don't care.” Emmy stuffed the patches rapidly into the bag. “I don't want Miss Barmy to get her paws on
any
of these, bad or not—”

She stopped with her paw in the sack, frozen, as behind the screen a shadow grew suddenly large.

Emmy's mouth went dry. Miss Barmy must have had more patches lying around …
lots
more.

Emmy took a step back, stumbling, and hid the bag behind her. “Rocco,” she cried, sick with dread as Miss Barmy, human and tall, headed straight toward them.

Rocco grabbed the Bunsen burner and held it like a flamethrower, sweeping it from side to side to make an arc of protection for Emmy and himself. Miss Barmy stopped and smiled nastily.

The front door burst open with a splinter of wood, a screech of hinges, and a manly grunt from Cheswick. He dashed out into the windy night, but after a few moments, he came back in, slowly.

“Well?” said Miss Barmy, never taking her eyes off Emmy and Rocco.

“No luck,” Cheswick said. “The bats had the kissing rat in some sort of sling, and they flew up as soon as they saw me.”

“Never mind,” said Miss Barmy. “I heard the bat say they were going to the train station. We'll follow them. And, Chessie?”

“Yes, my little turtledove?”

“Is there any way to shut off that annoying Bunsen burner?”

“Why, of course!” Cheswick Vole reached under the counter and turned a knob on the propane tank.

“Excellent,” said Miss Barmy, and her smile widened as the flame sputtered and died.

Rocco dropped the useless Bunsen burner and flitted up as Miss Barmy's left hand reached out to grab him. Then, quick as a snake, her right hand snatched at Emmy and caught her by the tail.

Emmy squeaked—she couldn't help it—and clutched the bag of patches to her chest as Miss Barmy lifted her by the tail and dangled her in the air. Rocco fluttered fiercely about Miss Barmy's head, but he was just one bat, and the woman simply ignored him.

Emmy twisted in a frantic effort to free herself, as Miss Barmy's fingers pinched tighter.

“Go, Rocco!” Emmy cried. “Keep Sissy safe, and make sure they bring Gussie to Ratmom for the tears!”

Rocco swooped off toward the open door. Emmy squealed helplessly as she was swung around and dropped.

There was a metallic scrape; there was a click.

She was locked in a cage. And Miss Barmy had the key.

E
MMY STARED
at Ana's face, which looked out plaintively from the poster on the train station wall. MISSING, it said above the picture, and below was a lot of small print Emmy couldn't read from her cage.

She wished she had Manlio's skill at lock picking. But even if she did, it would be hard to pick the lock while Cheswick was holding her cage to his chest—and harder still to get out of the train station with its heavy doors and bright lights.

“What do you mean, there are no trains to Grayson Lake this time of night?” Miss Barmy demanded. “I
know
there are night trains. I've
heard
them. They have a very
distinctive
whistle.”

“They sound like this,” said Cheswick helpfully. “Whoooo … whoo whoo whooooo …”

The stationmaster looked at him over his half glasses.

“Well?” Miss Barmy tapped her fingernails against the ticketing booth.

“You must have heard a freight train,” said the stationmaster, shuffling through a stack of papers. “They only stop here to pick up crew; they don't carry passengers. Is there anything else I can help you with?” He looked up, and his bored expression changed. “Are you allergic? Your nose seems to be … twitching.”

“Another patch, Cheswick!” Miss Barmy cried.

Emmy slid into the wire wall of her cage as Cheswick set it on the ticket booth ledge. He dug in the carryall bag slung over his shoulder, pulled the backing off a patch, and pressed it against Miss Barmy's neck. Her nose, which had turned pink, moist, and twitchy, subsided into a more human aspect, and the light coating of fur that had begun to sprout behind her ears disappeared.

The stationmaster blinked.

“I have a medical condition.” Miss Barmy pulled a hand mirror from the carryall and glanced at it with satisfaction. “It comes and goes.”

“I see,” said the stationmaster faintly. He stared at Miss Barmy and adjusted his glasses.

“When does the train to Grayson Lake pick up crew tonight?” Miss Barmy's voice was smooth as syrup as she tucked the mirror in the bag once more.

The stationmaster stared at her, seemingly fascinated. “I don't know that I should tell you. There are rules about giving out information to the general public, and regulations …” He extracted a paper from the pile before him and held it up. “See?”

Jane Barmy leaned forward, ignoring the list of rules. “But I just love trains, and I so
admire
anyone who
knows
about them …”

“Hey!
I
know about trains—
eep!
” Cheswick's voice cut off abruptly as Miss Barmy kicked him beneath the counter.

“Could you possibly tell me?” Miss Barmy ran a finger along the edge of the ticket booth and lowered her eyes, smiling. “I can see you're the kind of man who decides things for himself. You look so terribly
strong
. Do you work out?”

“Er …” The stationmaster flushed pink and loosened his necktie.

“Perhaps we can watch the train together!” Miss Barmy fluttered her eyelashes. “Nighttime arrivals are so exciting, don't you think? And then after it goes away, you can explain the policies, and show me
all
your regulations.”

 

Emmy gripped the metal bars of her cage, hanging on by her claws. Cheswick Vole was not a smooth jogger. With every lurching stride, the cage banged against his leg, giving Emmy a jolt that she felt in her stomach. She tried very hard not to throw up.

The small drawstring bag was loose in the cage. It sailed past her head and she ducked, glaring at it. If only she hadn't wasted time collecting that last batch of bad Sissy-patches! They weren't worth getting caught by Miss Barmy, that was for sure.

And now what? She could hardly think. Almost every idea she'd tried so far had gone wrong, starting with not telling her parents about Ana and Aunt Gussie. She should have just let her mother and father take care of everything.

But no. If she had done that, then right this minute Ana would be living with people who didn't want her and Aunt Gussie would be dying in a nursing home.

The cool night air blew through the bars and ruffled Emmy's fur. Was it any better, she wondered miserably, for Ana to be without a home at all? Or for Gussie to be four inches tall and dying in Joe's pocket? Or for herself to be locked in a cage, with no way out?

Cheswick slowed to a walk, and then stopped, breathing hard. He set the cage down and conferred with Miss Barmy in a low voice.

Emmy rocked on her hind legs as Cheswick picked up the cage once more. They were in a dark section of town, between streetlights. There was a sound of sliding gravel, and the metal floor tilted—they were going uphill—and then branches scraped her cage as they pushed through a belt of undergrowth.

She knew she should have tried to explain to her parents about the rodents. She could have shown them, the way she did with Aunt Melly, and they would have had to believe her. They would have understood about her messy room then, too.

But Aunt Melly had been willing to keep the rodents' powers a secret because she, herself, had a secret she needed kept in return. Emmy's parents had no such reason to keep quiet. And what would happen to Sissy and Ratty and Ratmom if the world found out there were rats who could shrink people and make them grow—not to mention a rat whose tears could make someone young again?

Emmy knew exactly what would happen. Raston's teeth would be worn to nubs, Sissy's lips would never heal, and Ratmom would be forced to cry for the rest of her life.

The cage leveled. Miss Barmy whispered something to Cheswick that Emmy didn't quite catch. Hands fiddled with the lock on Emmy's cage.

All at once Cheswick reached in and grabbed her around the middle. Swiftly he forced her mouth open while Miss Barmy wedged a shoelace behind her gnawing teeth and between her jaws, tying it tightly behind her head, and then around her front paws. Before Emmy had time to realize what was happening she was back in the cage. The lock clicked shut.

Miss Barmy looked in through the top of the cage, sneering. “Just to make sure you can't warn your friends … if they
are
your friends. They abandoned you, didn't they?”

Emmy, tied, gagged, and caged, with the taste of shoelace in her mouth, felt a rising fury and despair that almost choked her. The floor of the cage tilted beneath her like a ship at sea as Cheswick moved forward and Miss Barmy whispered at his side. Emmy swayed back and forth with each stride, hardly caring that she couldn't understand what they were saying. Even if she did hear their plans, what could she do to help herself or her friends? Just exactly
nothing
.

It seemed a long time before Cheswick set the cage silently on the ground and squatted beside Miss Barmy. Emmy rubbed her muzzle with her tied paws and looked out from behind the crisscrossed bars. Just ahead, untrimmed trees swept their branches low to the ground. Beyond the open lacework of leaves were twin rails, gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

The station lights were not too far away. For just a moment Emmy was confused—surely they had walked farther than that?—until she realized what must have happened. Cheswick and Miss Barmy had gone a long way down the line and then had come back secretly, downwind from the station.

There was no train that she could see.

There were bats, though. She could see them huddled near the steel rails, and she could hear them somewhere in the shadows on the other side of the tracks, high-pitched and squeaking. Standing out was Rocco's voice, even higher than usual.

“Let me take the boys and go back for her, boss! Bat honor does not permit us to leave even
one
behind!”

Emmy glanced quickly up at Miss Barmy. Had she heard?

But Miss Barmy, peering through low-hanging branches, was turned away, her whole body tense as she looked down the long tracks. And Cheswick, the carryall slung on his shoulder, was watching Miss Barmy for the first clear signs of approaching rodenthood.

Emmy let out her breath softly. Perhaps the bat voices only seemed loud to her sensitive rodent ears. She wished she could tell Rocco to be quiet. It was nice that he wanted to rescue her, but if he kept talking, Miss Barmy would find Sissy for sure.

“No.” Manlio's voice was piercingly high, too. “We must to send away the sweet fuzzy one safe, no? And the old sickly one, she must to go also, with the harness—”

“But, boss! We can do that
and
pick up Emmy, too!”

Emmy looked up at Miss Barmy and Cheswick in alarm. They
must
have heard that …

But no.

“Later, Rocco,” said Manlio. “No time now—the train, she comes soon.”

Emmy pricked up her ears. It had been so gradual that she had hardly noticed, but now she realized she had been hearing it for a while—a low hum, a distant rumble, growing in volume as she listened. And then came the sound of another voice from the shadows—Joe's voice.

“Hey, you guys!” Joe's whisper carried clearly. “I can hear the train!”

Miss Barmy turned her head at once, clenching Cheswick's arm. The two of them stared in the direction of Joe's voice, their eyes searching the shadows.

Emmy's whiskers stiffened. There was something here she didn't understand. Why could Miss Barmy hear Joe's voice—but no one else's?

There was a high snickering from the bats near the tracks. “
We've
been hearing the train, like, for
ever
!” piped a young voice. “Doesn't he ever listen to the rails?”

“Hush! For shame!” An older bat voice overrode the thin, peeping laughter. “Never make fun of those who are less fortunate! Not
everyone
can have bat ears!”

“
Scusi,
” piped the young bat. “Sorry. But at least I didn't say it so the humans heard me.”

“Very noble,” said the old bat dryly. “Now, lower your pitch. It's not polite to talk about people at a frequency they can't hear.”

Emmy nearly choked on the shoelace. That was why Miss Barmy and Cheswick hadn't heard the bats! Bats could speak at a higher pitch than humans could hear! And now that she was a rat, she could hear that frequency, too. Could she speak at that high pitch, too? Not with a stupid shoelace in her mouth, she couldn't …

“Here is what we must to do.” Manlio's voice from the shadows was low enough for humans to hear. “Dry your tears, my sweet fuzzy Cecilia. We
will
to rescue Emmy Rat—but
first
we see you off safe on the train, we send a message to Guido to expect a so large package, we take care for the old sick one, no? And then—”

“And then,” finished Rocco, “we will mount a bat attack! For honor! For
famiglia
!”

“Emmy's like family to
me
,” came Raston's voice. He sneezed twice.

“I don't want to leave without her,” said Sissy.

The train's rumble grew louder. But Miss Barmy paid no attention. She gripped Cheswick's sleeve, her body rigid, as she listened to the conversation she could now hear.

“But you must, sweet fuzzy,” said Manlio. “Leave all to the bats. We will to outwit the Barmy person!”

Unnoticed in her cage, Emmy worked her paws together, trying desperately to hook one of her claws in the shoelace knot. If she could get her paws free, she could untie the gag. Then she could warn her friends that Miss Barmy was there and listening to every word.

“We promised we'd get the aunts to Rodent City and find Ratmom,” came Ana's voice from the shadows, “but if Emmy's a
prisoner
—”

Joe's voice tumbled over hers, rough with worry. “Are you
sure
you and the bats can deal with Miss Barmy?”

Manlio chuckled. “We make her the offer she can't refuse, see?”

“I can't leave Gussie … but how can I leave dear Emmy?” Aunt Melly gave a terrible sob. “After all, I'm her great-aunt, even if I am a rat now. And I still don't see,” she added, her thin tones quavering up the scale, “why you had to turn me into a rat. I simply can't get used to these
whiskers
.”

“I have explained this already, no?” Manlio sounded impatient.

“She didn't hear,” said Ana quickly. “Aunt Melly, it's
safer
if we're rodents.”

“It's dangerous for
people
to hop a freight train,” Joe put in. “But rodents are quicker and way more agile—”

“They can leap, and climb straight up, and fall fifty feet without getting hurt,” Ana said.

“And flabulous rodents (I name no names),” said Raston, “can leap even farther, and climb higher, and—wait a minute. We're talking fifty
rat
feet, right?”

“Er …” said Ana.

“Plus it's illegal for humans to hop a freight,” Joe went on, “but there's no law against a
rodent
doing it. Not so far, anyway,” he added.

“I'm afraid,” came Gussie's voice, weak and low, “I'm causing you all … far too much trouble.”

“Don't worry about that,” said Joe swiftly. “Manlio, are you sure the train is going to stop here?”

Manlio grunted. “If Stefano says it stops—then it stops.”

The earth trembled and a whistle sounded piercingly, two long tones, one short, one long again. A bell clanged—ting
ting
, ting
ting
—and around the curve a dark looming shadow appeared, with a bright headlight high and centered, lighting up the track before it. The engine passed them with a roar and a clatter, the great steel wheels singing, and then car after car went by in a screech of metal and a clanking, hissing sound of brakes. At last, with a sliding sound as of something heavy dragging, the train stopped. But still the engine hummed and whined, breathing as if it were a live thing.