Strange Tails

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” said the bullmastiff. He seemed sincere, contrite even. “I just wanted to take you to Coralane.”

Potbelly’s ears pricked up at the name. She and Squirrel had negotiated a stand-off with their assailant, and on the count of three they leapt to either side of him, well beyond snapping distance, wielding their weapons—Potbelly’s jagged glass, and Squirrel’s honed claws.

Their assailant turned his head from one to the other, deciding if a strike was in anyone’s best interest.

“Coral Lane?” repeated Potbelly. “But that’s what I was looking for, in the library.” By now she’d figured out how to hold her weapon to speak normally. In fact, it seemed odd to her now that she couldn’t do so before.

“She’s not in the library,” he replied.

“I can see that, I mean, I was looking for a map. To find Coral Lane.”

“Why would a parrot be on a map? You mean like a treasure map?” Despite the truce, a soft growl still edged his voice.

“What do you mean, parrot?”

Squirrel interrupted. “Oh, right. That must have been what the spider meant by not place. And bird. Coralane isn’t a place, it’s a thing. It’s a parrot.”

“Squirrel, why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Oops, sorry, forgot. Anyway, s’what he said—the spider, that is.”

“She,” corrected Gavin. For some reason best known to his parents, his name was Gavin.

“She?”

“The spider. She’s a she. Well, when I say she, Tina isn’t in a binary gender situation per se. An unusual one, that. Brilliant, though. The best.” There was something of the military in the way he spoke.

“OK then, she. We thought she meant a place, but Coralane is a parrot?”

“Yes. Is making me repeat the word parrot supposed to be ironic?”

“Why do you want to take me to her?”

“Because you’re a collaborator.”

“I am not!”

“Impossible,” Squirrel snorted. “That would mean Potbelly agreeing with someone.”

“I saw the spaceship take up the alien. I saw you run out to communicate with its absorption beam, and then run back again. When the spaceship left I investigated further and there was no sign of Tina. Don’t try to deny it.”

“I will, and I’ll succeed too!”

Squirrel coughed. Potbelly, incensed by the allegation, had unwittingly dropped her weapon. She ignored him. “That adoption beam thing nearly killed me. Squirrel too,” she insisted.

Gavin shuffled forward. Squirrel nodded and winked. Potbelly paid no attention.

“So what did you do with her?”

“I did nothing! It was the alien and its abortion beam! This Tina, she must have been in a fight with it or something. She was injured. Squirrel said it looked like she came out the side of its head, or whatever the round bit is on top. He spoke to her, tell him Squirrel.”

“Sure, let me do the talking.” He glared at her again. Potbelly glared back at him in a greater state of confusion.

“What happened next?” demanded Gavin, edging closer still.

“I pulled off her leg and then Potbelly ate it.”

“Murderers! Collaborators!”

“We had to. She told us it was important, that we had to pull her leg, but not in a funny way.”

“Yes!” chimed in Potbelly. “Then we lost it, and I wanted to get it back before the extortion beam got it. And I did! I saved it! I was bringing it to you!”

“Liar!”

“Potbelly!” shouted Squirrel. “Your weapon!”

Gavin leapt at Potbelly, teeth bared, ears pinned back. He landed full square in front of her, one inch from her face. “Oh, well, that’s alright then,” he said, his snarl turning into a toothsome, slobbery grin.

“Wh-wh—“

“I believe you. I just wanted to see if you’d crack. Follow me.” He span around with a swish of his tail, a gesture that only a moment ago would have seemed arrogant, or aggressive, but now seemed disciplined, aloof. He set off, trotting up Main Street.

Potbelly stared at Squirrel, her worried expression aging her furrowed brow by several years. An eternity in dog time. Squirrel watched a small tear well into the corner of her eye.

“I thought he was going to … ” she said.

“Me too.”

“What are you saying?” called Gavin, still walking away. “Kill you? I’m not an animal you know.”

“I guess,” replied Potbelly, “none of us are.”

They followed Gavin out of town.

***

“So where does this Coralane live?” asked Potbelly, looking up at the much taller Gavin, her legs crisscrossing in double time to keep up. They reached him as he passed city limits.

“In the Silence.”

“Oh right, yes. So why is it called the Silence?”

“Everything must be called something.”

“Is that so?” replied Squirrel. “In that case, what’s it called when you think you’re going to sneeze but don’t?”

“Uh …”

Potbelly glanced her usual shush at Squirrel, who was riding atop her again. “But surely there’s a reason,” she persisted.

“I don’t think so—but yes, in this case, there does happen to be one.”

A collective tip-tapping of dog nails on the sidewalk, and a rustle of leaves from a slight easterly wind, filled the void. Potbelly and Squirrel waited for a reply.

“And …?” encouraged Potbelly.

“And you will find out soon enough. First, you must tell me about Tina. What did she say? Why did her leg need saving?”

“It’s her DOA apparently.”

“No, remember that’s something else sweetie,” corrected Potbelly. “It’s her DNA.” She turned back to Gavin. “My theory is it stands for Do Not Answer. This is about the Silence, right? Like, do not speak or answer phones and things.”

“Well I would have thought—“

“Potbelly,” interrupted Squirrel. “It was DOA. As in Dread On Arrival. It’s warning us to be afraid of something when we get somewhere. Maybe the Silence? Perhaps we need to use her leg as a weapon.”

Gavin tried again. “No, I’d imagine—“

“You’re a silly ass,” interrupted Potbelly. “How could a spider’s leg be used as a weapon?”

“It might be small, but it would definitely tickle.”

“I swallowed it. Does it look like I’m giggling?”

“OK then, Ringworm Hotel, why would a spider rip off its own leg just to tell you to Do Not Answer? Christ, if that worked, I would have ripped mine off years ago.”

“You wanna try it now?”

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you? I could present it to you as a trophy. Potbelly, winner of this year’s Dumbest Theory Award.”

“From the man who brought us the world’s first tactical assault leg. Stand back everyone, Squirrel’s here with his one inch furry firearm.”

“Oh you want to see a furry firearm you’re going to get one darling, you flatulent tic farmer, I’ll—“

“Will you two shut up!” yelled Gavin.

“She started it!”

“Well it’s not DOA, it’s—“

“Be quiet!”

“I—“

“Ut!”

“But I was—“

“Ut!”

Gavin stopped. He turned to face them.

“The leg does not contain DOA … ”

“Told you!”

“ … and it has nothing to do with answering the damn telephone.” He glowered at Potbelly. “If I am not mistaken, the plans were encoded, somehow, within her body. The very substance of her physical being. That’s what DNA means.”

Potbelly looked at him square in the eyes, without blinking. “Well that’s the silliest idea yet,” she said. Squirrel nudged her. “I think we have a right one here.”

“Well, no matter,” continued Gavin, motioning them to walk. “Coralane will know what do.”

“So she’s a smart one, this Coralane?”

“The most brilliant mind on the planet.”

“You know a lot of brilliant people, don’t you? Tina, Coralane.”

“I do.”

“Must make you feel a bit thick.”

“Well, no … ”

“Good, good. Just thought, you know, might make you feel a little … ”

“A little what?”

“Nothing.”

“I prefer it when you don’t speak.”

“Welcome to my world,” grinned Squirrel.