Strange Tails

A few hours later Potbelly awoke. Squirrel, who had dozed on and off too, swung on the cord of the blinds to let the sun peek in its sullen, half-hearted rays. The day had turned to early evening. His friend tested her neck and found it healing surprisingly well.

“It was Gavin, wasn’t it,” said Squirrel.

Potbelly shot back her words defensively. “Who told you?” she snapped, before regretting it—Squirrel had snuck up on her evasiveness and caught it napping still.

“A little nutria. So the next step is to remove Gavin’s nuts and use them for castanets?”

“I don’t want to fight.”

“I wasn’t thinking of a fight. More a cowardly ambush. Before the bell, and with some below-the-belt punching. Followed by plenty of eye gouging. Preferably when he’s not looking.”

“I said, I don’t want to fight.”

“A spot of poisoning then? Just a tiny bit, no real harm done, except to Gavin of course. Where’s the crime in a little internal bleeding?”

“I just want to see Coralane.”

“Good idea. Report him to the authorities. There must be some sort of justice in this village of the shams. Coralane can have Snodberry remove his nuts for us.”

“I simply want to know what they found in Tina’s leg. Hopefully I’ll be satisfied then. I’m not sure what this place is, but what I saw yesterday didn’t leave me with a warm and fuzzy feeling. When we have our answers, we can leave.”

“But you’re still holding a candle for those humans, aren’t you? The only good use for a candle is setting the buggers alight, you know that?”

“Yes, it’s a disease, and maybe Coralane doesn’t have the cure, though—“ Somewhere in the distance an annoying high-pitched buzzer sounded. “By now at least they may have a general idea, so who knows, maybe … do you hear that?”

“What?”

A more urgent, lower-pitched alarm sounded.

“Now I do. Fire alarm?”

“I hope not.”

They dropped from the low bunk and padded into the hallway. They saw Michel had made it there too, alongside what looked like a mole wearing a Halloween mask.

“What’s that noise?” cried the mole-thing.

“I was about to ask you the same thing, Hector,” yelled Michel.

“The usual interpretation of an alarm is something of a not-good nature is occurring,” shouted Squirrel.

“We should probably go outside. Could be a fire drill.”

Various shrugs and unheard grunts indicated an agreement.

“Please remain where you are,” came a tinny voice through a small PA speaker hanging in the corner, as if it had been sitting there listening to them all along. “You will be safer in the compound.” The voice seemed human, presumably pre-recorded.

“Safer from what?” yelled Potbelly.

Just as abruptly, the alarm stopped.

Squirrel looked at her. “Potbelly, if you needed a sign to blow this joint we just got it at one-hundred-and-twenty decibels.”

“You’re leaving?” asked Michel, his happiness on seeing them turning to disappointment.

“Sorry,” replied Potbelly. “We don’t think Camp Kooky’s for us after all.”

“Oh,” he said, his head retracting slightly into its shell. Then it popped out again. “May I come with you?”

“Well it’s kinda tough on the road,” shrugged Squirrel.

“I have very thick skin. Tortoises are known for it.”

“I see that, and don’t think we aren’t flattered, I mean, it might come in handy to have a walking helmet, but—”

“We’d love to have you along,” finished Potbelly.

“We would?”

“OK I’ll pack. There, done, see, I travel light. And I’m quicker than I look.”

“You’re really not.”

“We’ll work it out. Of all the people I’ve met in here Michel you’re the only one who’s been kind to me and helpful.”

Squirrel coughed.

“And I include you, Squirrel. Michel comes with us.”

“OK, but you’ll be carrying him. I can’t see that skateboard making it too far through the woods.” Squirrel lowered his voice to a mutter. “Wouldn’t mind seeing him try it on the river though.”

“I’ll do just that, I’ll carry him. And you’re walking behind.”

“Hey!”

“But first I want to speak to Coralane. That stupid alarm makes me even more determined.”

The high-pitched cacophony restarted, but right then only Potbelly and Hector-the-Mole-Thing could hear it clang. The latter scurried to his room, doing his best to slam the door. Soon the same tinny and clearly pre-recorded voice repeated its recommendation, followed by the regular bell they all heard before.

“I know where she’ll be,” shouted Siobhan.

Potbelly span around, yelping slightly at the strain on her wound. “And who might you be?”

“Squirrel’s unlover.”

“Un-what?”

“No time to explain,” bawled Squirrel, and grateful for the fact. He addressed Siobhan directly. “We’re thinking of a farewell visit to Coralane. You know where she is?”

“Well, I only passed by to see if Gavin had eaten you yet, but let it not be said I’ll ignore a knight in distress. Or you, for that matter.”

“So you two know each other?”

“Intimately,” yelled Siobhan. “Well, almost.”