The Mysterious Abductions (12 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

SHELL-SHOCKED

“W
e are doomed! Done for! Goners!” The sugar glider thrashed around on the floor of the chamber, wailing at the top of his lungs.

“Bismark, stand up,” said the fox. “There's not enough space for this right now.”

The room was crowded indeed. After Boris's outburst, the Crocs sealed the exits and seized all the animals. Every nocturnal, from the kiwis to the coyotes, had been marshaled into one of the cave's smallest
chambers. There was little room to stand, and the heat was becoming unbearable.

“How long will he keep us here?” asked Cora. She put a comforting paw on her brother's quivering shoulder.

Dawn shook her head. There was no way to know.

“I don't understand,” said Tobin. “Why was Boris calling himself a coacher?”

“
Oui
! I am tired of not understanding what he means half the time,” said Bismark. The sugar glider was still lying on the ground. “He's gone
loco,
I tell you. The croc has gone
loco
!”

“What was that?” roared a voice.

The boulder blocking the entrance rolled aside.

Boom. Boom.

In stomped Boris, his eyes gleaming with fury. Behind him were the five other crocs. Shoulder to shoulder, they stood blocking the passageway.

Dawn stepped forward.

“Don't you move!” yelled the croc.

The fox paused. Something was different about Boris. She took another step forward.

“Stop that!” Boris screamed. “Don't you come any closer! I can't let you leave, don't you understand?”

“We had a deal,” said Dawn.

“Yes. A deal,” he repeated. The crocodile paused and turned his head. He opened his claws and stared down at the red tube, as if it held all the answers. He tossed it up in the air.

This was it. A brief moment of opportunity. A chance to regain control.

Instinctively, the fox pounced.

“Grrrr!” Dawn snarled. She leapt across Boris's chest, and then, with a swipe of her paw, she snatched the red tube in midair.

“Hey!” Boris cried. “Give that back!”

Dawn raced toward the rear of the room and mounted a stone. “Give our freedom back and I will!” The fox looked at the object. “Tell me, Boris—what is this?”

“Stop! Be careful! Don't break it!” Boris was whimpering now. “It's—it's all they left me!”

Dawn turned the tube over in her paws, inspecting it closely. It had a certain unnatural quality, as if it did not belong in their world.

“Please,” begged the crocodile. Boris fell to his knees. “It's from the coachers.”

Dawn climbed down from her stone and approached the crocodile. “Boris, these ‘coachers'…what did they do?” she asked.

Boris's breathing was heavy, and his shoulders
were shaking. Tears dripped onto the hard white marble. “It was last winter,” he said. “I woke up from a nap, and everyone was gone. Everyone. My mother, my father, my brothers, my sisters. The coachers took them, because they saw them playing the game out on the swamp ice.”

Dawn nodded. She looked again at the tube.

“We've practiced all year,” Boris said. “But they never came back. They never came for more players….” The crocodile choked back a sob.

The room buzzed with whispers. The animals were conflicted. Boris had taken them prisoner, after all. But now, as he cried, it was difficult not to feel a little sorry for him.

Boris looked at the hundreds of captives. “That's why I took you all,” he said. “I had to find my own players and form my own team. I had to become a coacher!”

Dawn stood before Boris. Despite the sympathy welling up inside her, she knew she had to remain firm. “We cannot help you, Boris.”

“But you can!” he insisted. “I just need a good team! When I've got that, those coachers will come to take them, and I can trade my squad and get my family back! Don't you see how simple it is?”

Dawn bowed her head. “It was not ‘coachers'
who took your family, Boris.” Suddenly, everything made sense to the fox. She remembered a word she had heard spoken in whispers when she was just a pup. A word that went hand in hand with another: death. The red cylinder in her paw had taken on a different meaning.

“What are you talking about?” asked Boris. “The coachers left that behind. The other crocodile families kept saying that it was a ‘sure sign of coachers,' that the coachers must have come and taken my family.” He paused. “That's how I figured it out. That's how I know it's all about the game. The coachers took them because they were such good players.”

“Boris,” said Dawn. She rolled the red-and-gold tube to his feet. “Your family was taken by ‘poachers,' not ‘coachers.' I'm not sure why you confused those two words. You must have misheard. But I know this. Your family is gone.”

Boris opened his mouth to protest, but Dawn spoke first. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I'm sorry for what you have been through. But now you've taken us from our families, our homes, our lives. How are you any better than those poachers who have harmed you?”

Boris stared at the red cylinder on the floor. He looked up and saw the faces of all those he had wronged: the kiwis and the coyotes, the wombats and the jerboas.
Harry. It had all been for nothing. “But… but….” His entire body trembled in protest, but he could no longer deny what was true.

The crocodile snatched up his false treasure. His flawed symbol of family and hope. Then, slowly, he closed his claws. He locked his teeth together and clenched his fist. The shell dropped to the ground with a sound that seemed too small, too light, for what had happened.

Chapter Thirty-Two

A CHANGE OF HEART

B
oris sniffled and wiped his long, tear-streaked snout. Then, without saying a word, the crocodile slumped toward the door, his tail dragging behind him.

“Boris,” said Dawn.

The reptile glanced over his scaly shoulder.

“You don't have to do this anymore.” She paused. “You don't have to be alone.”

The crocodile hung his head. “I have no choice,” he insisted. “My family—”

“No,” said the fox. “A terrible thing happened to you, that is true. But we all must face hardship and pain. Look at these animals.” She gestured to the silent crowd around her. “Everyone here has been challenged. But they have dealt with this challenge together.” She took a step forward. “They are together. We are together. You are only separate from us because you've chosen to be.”

Boris looked at the room full of animals. They were tall and short, thick and thin. He saw bristly feathers, silken fur, and tough scales. Some hailed from the plains, others from the forests, some from the valleys. They were different, all of them. But they stood together.

“It couldn't be true.” Boris sobbed and sobbed. “Maybe a part of me knew the truth all along, but I just couldn't let it be true! I had to believe it was about the game.” The crocodile sank to the floor, overcome with exhaustion and shame. “I'm sorry,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry.”

Dawn rested her paw on Boris's shoulder. “We must all face our truths,” she declared. “If we don't, we can never move on.”

There was a long, thoughtful silence as the animals considered these words.

“I have a truth.” A soft voice filled the air.

Everyone turned. It was Cora.

“This might be silly, but, well….” The wombat gulped. “I kind of liked playing that game.”

The fox raised her brows. Boris sniffled and wiped his eyes.

“Now that you mention it,” said the mink, “so did I.”

“I did, too!” added Audrey, the coyote. “Though I hated the way we were brought here.”

There were shouts of wholehearted agreement.

The honey badger raised his paw. So did Ajax and Julian. One by one, a wave of others did, too. Then Harry crept forward.

“With all due respect,” said the tarantula, rubbing his bruised exoskeleton, “I absolutely despised it!”

The animals could not help but laugh.

“We did, too!” Twelve worn kiwis agreed with Harry.

“How about you, Tobin?” The fox looked at the pangolin. He was rubbing his claws together. “Did you like it?”

“Oh g-goodness,” he stammered. “I…I liked parts of it.”

Dawn nodded. “As did I,” she admitted.

“Have you forgotten about
moi
?” asked
Bismark, clutching his chest as if gravely wounded. “I was kidnapped, too, you know! Does my opinion not matter because I was not down on the floor? I tell you, being the announcer is hard work. The game cannot be played without the
maestro
calling out every goal!” He flourished his cape. “Though I suppose I did quite enjoy it.”

“Well, I, for one, would keep playing,” said Audrey.

“Yes,” the honey badger agreed. “So would I. And I bet my sister would love it too, if I could leave this place to go get her.”

“I'd keep playing,” said Julian.

“Me too,” grunted Ajax.

“So would I,” said the mink.

“I'm in!” said the possum.

An excited buzz filled the room.

Boris stood back on his feet. “You mean, you'd stay?” asked the crocodile. “You mean, you might…forgive me?” The crocodile looked hopefully at the crowd of nocturnals.

“Not so fast,” said Ajax.

“That's right,” agreed Julian. “You don't go from captor to comrade so quickly!”

“But,” said the fox, “there is no reason you cannot stay.”

“We'll just have to appoint a new coach,” said the mink.

“And a nurse!” said the possum.

“I could do that,” offered Audrey. “And I could mend the broken equipment as well.”

“No way!” balked the kiwis. “We're not your ‘equipment' any more. We're leaving!” The birds riffled their feathers in protest.

“Me too!” said the spider. He cradled his sore seventh leg. “I'm outta here!”

“Well, maybe you could use sticks instead?” Dawn suggested. “And rocks instead of Harry.”

“Thought of that,” said a kiwi. He rubbed his beak. “Believe me… thought of that.”

“But alas,” said another. “Sticks break too easily on the marble. You'd need a near-endless supply.”

“Same with the rocks,” Harry said. “They'll split open every other game.”

Everyone mumbled and sighed, disheartened by this apparent dead end. Everyone, that is, except Dawn.

“Boris,” she said. “Would you like to stay here with everyone?”

The crocodile nodded vigorously.

“You're strong and you know these caves well.”

Again, Boris nodded.

“Why don't you become head of equipment? It'd be your job to gather rocks and sticks for the games,” she suggested.

“We'd need a continuous supply,” said Ajax.

“That's right,” said the fox. “It would show real solidarity. Real valor.”

Boris exhaled through his nostrils and considered all he had done. He looked at the crowd of nocturnals whom he'd napped, held captive, and threatened. He thought about their proposition. Serving as head of equipment would be hard, grueling work. Endless treks up and down from the surface. Heavy, unwieldy loads of sticks. But, strangely enough, this thought made him feel less tired. Less burdened. Less lonely.

“I'll do it!” he cried. “Please, let me do it!”

“Will you work honorably?” asked the fox.

“I will,” promised Boris. He placed a claw over his heart in respect.

Dawn nodded, confirming the crocodile's new post.

Ajax flashed a cheeky grin. “Well, what're you waiting for? Get us some sticks!”

Chapter Thirty-Three

ARRIVEDERCI, AMIGOS!

“P
layers and spectators! Athletes and
amigo
s! It is with great sadness, and significant inner conflict, that I resign my post as announcer. As much as I would like to entertain the masses, the Brigade must go. There are others who need our help! I bid you
adieu
.” Bismark took a deep bow. “
Au revoir
!
Adios
!
Arrivederci
!”

Jerry hopped to his side. “Maybe I could take over?”

“
Excusez-moi
?” said the sugar glider. “Don't
be ridiculous! Oh, my silly, miniscule mate, you could not be the
maestro
! Only I possess that rare talent.” With a flick of his paw, Bismark dismissed the jerboa. “
Solamente yo
!”

“Oh, well, I just thought…”

“You thought wrong,
mon ami
!”

“Jerry,” said Dawn. She approached the rejected jerboa. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Yes, yes! Of course!” Jerry glanced at the sugar glider. “I can be useful.”

Dawn pointed at a mound of lomandra leaves. “I'd like you to use these to form a trail through the caves,” she explained. “That way, the path out will be clearly marked. All animals, players, and spectators should be able to come and go as they please.”

“Yes, ma'am!” replied Jerry. The jerboa started at once, motioning for a few friends to assist him.

Bismark breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, a moment alone with Dawn!

“You know,
mon amour,
my lovely Dawn, I have been meaning to speak with—”

“Look out below!” called the bats. They dove down from the ceiling, splashing Bismark with a faceful of blue water as they landed in the glowing pool.

“Ahhhh, that feels nice!” sighed a bat.

The foursome scrubbed off their referee colors.

“Looks better, too,” said another.

“Stripes are so last season,” said a third.

“
Svor
.”

Tobin giggled at the yammering bats. They were having fun—how long had it been since he had seen anyone having carefree fun?

“I still can't believe how beautiful this place is.”

The pangolin turned to see Cora. She was standing beside him, gazing at the glimmering pools. He smiled. “Yes,” he said. “It really is.”

The wombat bowed her head, attempting to conceal her flushed cheeks. “Are you…leaving?” she asked.

Tobin nodded. “Are you…staying?”

Cora nodded as well. “Joe is here,” she explained. “I need to be with my family.”

“And I, with my Brigade,” said the pangolin.

For a moment, the duo stood silent, absorbing their pending departure. Tobin reached under his scales and pulled out a piece of snakeskin that had fallen loose from his cape.

“So you remember,” he said. Carefully, the pangolin tied a comfortable knot around Cora's wrist.

The wombat smiled at her new snakeskin
bracelet. She gazed up at Tobin. “I could never forget.” Cora stood on her toes. Then she leaned toward Tobin, turned up her nose, and planted a little kiss on his cheek.

Wearing a smile the length of his tail, Tobin watched Cora run toward her brother. “Oh goodness,” he sighed.

“Pangolin!” shouted the sugar glider. “Don't you agree it's impossible?”

“Hmm?” asked Tobin, snapping out of his daydream. “What's impossible?”

“To replace me as the announcer!” Bismark sighed with exasperation. “Jerry thinks he can do it, but that's
absolument
absurd. Just a meaningless rodent fantasy. Jerry as
maestro
,” he scoffed. “They would be better off with nobody doing the job!”

As if he had been summoned, the jerboa scurried up to the group. “All set for you, ma'am!” he announced. “The path is being marked as we speak.”

“Good work,” replied Dawn.

The little animal grinned.

“And Jerry,” Dawn added, “thank you. Thank you for staying with us.”

“Might stick around some more!” the jerboa mumbled. “I hear there's a job up for grabs.”

The sugar glider rolled his big, round eyes.
“Yes,” he snapped. “Always need spectators.”

Jerry twitched his nose, and then hopped away toward the stands.

Boom. Boom.

Boris came thumping down the hall.

He dumped a bundle of long sticks onto a growing pile.

Miss, Bee, Hay, Vee, and Orr marched behind him, each carrying an armful of rounded stones. The work seemed to be doing them good. The crocodiles were smiling and laughing.

“Well,
ça va,
my
amigos
!” said Bismark. “We came, we saw, and we conquered.”

Tobin looked at the roomful of animals, happy, joyful, and free. “We did it,” he said.

Dawn glanced to her left at the pangolin, and then to her right at the sugar glider. There they stood. The members of the Nocturnal Brigade. The bold and fearless three. “Yes,” said the fox with a smile, “we did.”

“Shall we then?” said the sugar glider. He pointed to the path leading out. “Onward and upward!”

Without waiting for a reply, Bismark began his ascent toward the surface. Tobin crept slowly behind him, shuffling along the lomandra leaves. But the fox lingered behind.

The pangolin glanced over his shoulder. “Aren't you coming?” he asked.

Reluctantly, Dawn nodded. But just as she lifted her paw to leave, the fox felt a presence behind her. She turned. There he was, the regal coyote.

“Dawn…” started Ciro.

“Ciro,” Dawn finished.

Neither animal knew what to say next. Instead, the canines stood in silence, their heads close and eyes locked.

“Ahem!” Bismark interrupted the scene from above. “Dawn? My lady? My sweet? What's going on down there? The carnivore's not coming with us, is he?”

“Not this time,” she said. With her eyes still on Ciro, the fox slowly stepped back. “It's just us Brigade-mates for now.”

Ciro smiled and watched as the fox caught up with her friends. “For now,” he repeated. Then, with a whoosh of his wiry, gray tail, he trotted toward his fellow coyotes.

Back in their threesome, the Nocturnal Brigade reached the outcropping where they'd first laid their eyes on the shiny floor.

“It looks different, doesn't it?” said the pangolin.

Dawn peered over the edge to see animals bustling across the marble. Already, the wombats and the coyotes were running new drills on the floor, while the jerboas cheered from the stands. Meanwhile, near a pool, Miss, Bee, Hay Vee, and Orr were rehearsing the rules of the game for their jobs as referees. Boris was running full-speed, gathering more supplies.

With everyone free and together, the cavern felt vibrant and warm. Even the glow of the Sea Sparkle seemed to shine a bit brighter.

Dawn gazed at the scene one last time. Then she turned to her two, loyal friends. “We are not alone,” she said. “Any of us.”

With heads held high, the Brigade made their way toward the surface. As they squeezed into the tight tunnel that led to the riverside, a faint voice echoed up from below.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the game!”

Bismark punched the dirt. “That scoundrel!” he yelled. “That imposter! Up to his old tricks again, I see!”

Tobin padded up to the sugar glider. “Don't worry,” he said reassuringly. “He doesn't have your special talents!”

The sugar glider took a deep breath. “You're
right, of course,
mi amigo.
The jerboa lacks my unique flair! A true announcer needs wit! Worldliness! An extensive and complex vocabulary.”

The pangolin and the fox nodded. Then the voice rang out once again.

“I am Jerry,” said the jerboa, “your multilingual
m-maestro
!
Hola
!
Bonjour
!
Sh-sh-shalom
!”

Bismark's jaw dropped in horror. “My goodness! My gracious!
Mon dieu
!”