Felix and the Red Rats Page 5

  They nearly had him. Nearly. Unfortunately, they hadn’t factored in the speed of the creature’s reactions. As he sensed their coming, his scowl changed to a look of alarm, and he leapt to one side like a grasshopper, at the same time putting the remote to his mouth. Immediately, there was a piercing whistle. Before Felix and Moonface could regain their momentum and spin about for a second attempt, the double doors to the Cable-car Station slid apart and more than a dozen little creatures came howling angrily towards them.

  Moonface and Felix backed up and away, but there was nowhere to go. Within seconds the group was upon them.

  They’re clones! thought Felix, thoroughly alarmed. They certainly looked like clones of the little creature, or twins, or whatever-tuplet a dozen or so identical siblings might be called. They were all dressed in the same brown leather shirts, yellow tunics and leggings, and all with dark glasses. It must be some sort of uniform, Felix thought. He was again reminded how like a wasp the outfit made them look. No, he corrected himself, not a wasp … a swarm of wasps, a swarm of angry wasps. For not only were they dressed identically, the creatures all wore the same scowling, bad-tempered expression. Several carried daggers, one or two held dangerous-looking pikes, and another couple were holding armloads of rope. With a sinking heart, Felix guessed what the rope would be for.

  Any further resistance was futile, he knew. The others realised it as well. Nervously they suffered themselves to be trussed up and then tied together so that their original captor, who seemed to be the one in charge, could lead them, bound, towards the doors to the cable-car.

  In any other circumstances, the cable-car might have been described as charming. It was red and shiny, with mullioned windows, as it sat on its level waiting for passengers. The red leather seats inside were buttoned and looked comfortable, but as the four of them were tied together like a bunch of garlic, they were forced to stand in the aisle and the seats were taken by their captor and two or three of the little clones who were apparently coming along for the ride, probably as extra security.

  And then they were off.

  ‘Where are they taking us?’ whispered Myrtle. She had stopped her heart-rending sobs, but her face was tear-stained and she was trying unsuccessfully to wipe her running nose with the back of her sleeve. This was not easy as she was yoked by the rope to Moonface who, perhaps wary of getting his own sleeve wet, was resisting her efforts.

  The cable-car had by now edged towards the slope with a rocking motion and was beginning to nose downwards. As they were standing, their view was somewhat limited, but they could ascertain already that the line was precipitous and seemed to head down at a very sharp angle for an awfully long way.

  ‘I’ve no idea where they’re taking us,’ muttered Moonface in response to Myrtle’s question. ‘I have no idea who they are. How could I, birdbrain?’

  ‘We’re going to the palace,’ said Felix.

  ‘The palace?’ asked Moonface.

  ‘Something about a regent,’ said Bella.

  ‘What’s a regent?’ asked Myrtle.

  ‘How would I know, stupid?’ said Moonface. ‘Probably some kind of bug-eyed monster!’

  All this achieved was a loud sniff and a choking sob from Myrtle.

  ‘Don’t be mean, Moony,’ said Bella. ‘Can’t you see how upset she is already?’

  ‘Stuff her,’ said Moonface angrily. ‘Stuff all of you. Stuff everything!’

  Felix was about to remonstrate with him, but realised that Moonface was actually frightened. Possibly, he was even more frightened than Myrtle.

  ‘It’s okay, Moony,’ he said. ‘We’re in this together, so we ought to try and get out of this together. You know?’

  Moonface looked over his shoulder at Felix and seemed to be about to say something even angrier, but apparently thought better of it, and gave him a tight little grin instead and held up a clenched fist.

  The cable-car ride was long. At times it cut through narrow defiles so that they could only see rocky or clay banks pressed almost up against the windows; at other times they could see the slopes of the hills around them, rock-dotted and shrub-studded, the shrubs sculpted by the wind into strange flattened and hunched shapes. On two or three occasions the car passed through dark forests, the tall tree-trunks flaky with orange bark, and every so often the car would level out at a station. On no occasion, though, did any other passenger get on, nor did any other car pass them on an upward journey, although there were several stages where the line doubled to allow such a possibility.

  They didn’t talk much. A whispered comment here and there, but mostly each was locked in his or her own apprehensions. Finally, and without much prior indication, the cable-car slowed and then levelled at yet another station.

  But this time it stopped with a weary screech of brakes and a hiss of pneumatics. The children looked at each other, wondering.

  Then with a slight clatter the doors shivered open.

  Their captor led the way as they climbed out of the car. The rope was quite long, and he was able to stand on the platform pulling them out as if drawing on a fishing line with four large fish attached. The long downhill ride had not improved his temper. If anything it had made it worse.

  ‘No funny business,’ he barked, once they were assembled in a bedraggled line. ‘There’s a considerable reward for the capture of a rebel, and I’ve managed to snaffle four at once. That’s wealth for me, see! Specie and spondulicks, see. So don’t dare put a penny of that at risk or I don’t know what.’

  ‘We’re not rebels,’ said Bella firmly. ‘We’ve told you that.’

  ‘So you’re stiff out of luck,’ said Moonface.

  ‘Quiet!’ roared the little creature. ‘You’ll do what I tell you, and be what I tell you!’

  Felix felt it wise not to say anything. All the same, if this little tyrant was typical of the rulers in this place, he all at once felt that being a rebel wouldn’t be a bad idea. He looked around the Cable-car Station, and apart from the four of them and the little bully with the rope it appeared deserted. The small security detachment and the driver, if there was one, had remained in the cable-car. The ticket office was deserted. He remembered that they hadn’t been passed by any up-going cable-car and that all of the other stations had seemed deserted as well.

  Who uses this railway anyway? he asked himself, and, of course, had no answer.

  He felt a tug on his wrist and realised that they were being led Indian-file out of the station. Moonface was immediately attached to the little creature, then Myrtle, then Bella, while he brought up the rear.

  Beyond the station, they found themselves on narrow cobblestone streets once more, but this time the streets were lined by brownstone or brick buildings. They were mainly three-storeyed with jutting out upper-storeys and this tended to accentuate the narrowness of the streets and make them dark and shadowy. Some of the buildings had pebble-glass windows facing the street, and Felix guessed these might be shops or businesses of some sort, but there was very little signage, and once again hardly any sign of people. Every so often they would see a hunched, bunched figure scurrying here or there as if unwilling to let the world note its presence. They were either short and probably one of the clones, or taller and probably not. Whatever, whoever, they were hidden by cloaks and hooded jackets.

  What is this? wondered Felix.

  The little creature thought he was probably hurrying them along but, as his legs were so much shorter, the pace was reasonably comfortable. Before long they broke free of the dark maze of streets and onto a large public square ringed by a wider road. It was a relief to have watery sunshine again after the claustrophobic gloom of the streets. There were spreading trees here, and a grassed centre-square criss-crossed like a Union Jack with cobbled paths. In the very centre was an equestrian statue. At least, it looked like an equestrian statue in that there was creature that looked not unlike a horse, with its front legs raised in a frozen prance, and riding it was a creature that looked not at all li
ke their little captor, but instead tall and willowy and human-like.

  Surrounding the square were what looked to be public buildings, set further back and with fluted pillars and broad sets of steps leading up to imposing doorways. It would have looked all very stately and beautiful except that the whole area was litter-strewn and the buildings were disfigured with ugly graffiti.

  Their captor indicated the grandest of the buildings with his thumb.

  ‘That’s where we’re going,’ he grunted.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Bella.

  ‘The palace,’ snarled their captor, as if no further explanation were necessary.

  They were led diagonally across the park. This meant they passed by the central statue. It was the green of weathered bronze and as Felix drew closer to it he realised that the mounted steed was not a horse at all but something much stockier. Coming closer still, he saw that the creature was in fact a huge pig; moreover, a huge pig with bronze wings raised in flight like Pegasus, the flying horse. He couldn’t help giggling to himself. Pigasus?

  He was able to tug at the rope to draw Bella’s attention to the oddness of it all.

  ‘Get a load of that statue,’ he whispered.

  She gave him a strained grin. ‘Yeah,’ she muttered, ‘pigs might fly!’

  ‘Quiet!’ barked their captor.

  The willowy rider in the statue was leaning forward in a saddle holding the reins in one hand to allow the other arm to be raised aloft, flourishing what seemed to be a scroll. From a distance, Felix had presumed the rider was waving a sword in the air, and was a little relieved that the statue celebrated something slightly less war-like. He was relieved, too, that the rider looked to be laughing in delight. He was beginning to think that every person in this odd place had succumbed to a plague of extreme grumpiness.

  Certainly their captor had caught that plague if there had been one. When Felix, against his better judgement, called out to him, ‘Who’s the guy in the statue?’ the little creature simply turned, gave him a venomous look and then spat on the pathway.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Felix. ‘I thought it might have been.’

  They were led up the wide steps and into a marble-tiled foyer, then through a heavy set of doors into a reception area. To one side there was a long counter with a series of glass-fronted booths rather like an old-fashioned bank. Their captor pulled them towards the only one of these that was occupied and, leaning into the circular hole in the glass, growled simply: ‘Rebels. Four.’

  Sitting behind the booth was a female version of their captor, except that instead of the usual dark glasses she had ordinary glasses with the butterfly-wing design making her look more like a moth than a wasp. They didn’t make her any friendlier, though.

  ‘So?’ she snapped.

  ‘So,’ snarled their captor, ‘I’ve delivered them safely, not without considerable trouble I might add, and I want a receipt so that I can collect my reward.’

  ‘You’ll get no reward, you scavenger, until it can be ascertained that these …’ she peered distastefully through the hole at the trussed quartet, ‘… particularly scruffy specimens have been checked and verified as genuine rebels.’

  ‘No need of that, you pernickety pen-pusher,’ said their captor, all but shoving his head into the hole. ‘Of course they’re rebels. They came through the Way Station without authorisation or tickets. So stick that in your protocol!’

  ‘I don’t care whether they came in a hot-air balloon,’ sniffed the receptionist. ‘Procedures and protocol must be observed! You’ll get no reward until they’re checked and verified, verified and checked, so a very unpleasant morning to you!’

  Their captor was beaten and seemed to know it. Still, he demanded, ‘You have to give me a receipt — I know my rights!’

  ‘You’ll get a receipt and that’s all you’ll get,’ snapped the receptionist, scribbling on a piece of paper as she said so. As soon as she was done, she flung the receipt through the hole. Their captor snatched it and studied it suspiciously.

  ‘Hey,’ he protested. ‘There’s four, here. This receipt says three and a half!’

  The receptionist pointed at Myrtle. ‘That one’s only a half,’ she said. ‘Look at her.’

  ‘She’s bigger than me!’ cried their captor.

  ‘My point exactly,’ snapped the receptionist. ‘Be off with you!’

  She pressed a button and a bell rang, and then she slammed a shutter down, closing her booth.

  Felix caught Bella’s eye and gave a tight little grin. ‘Friendly place,’ he whispered.

  ‘Really warm and fuzzy,’ she said. ‘I think we’re going to like it here.’

  The bell was presumably a summons, because not long afterwards a door opened into the reception area and a figure stepped through. Felix looked at this figure with some interest. Unlike everybody he’d seen so far, this person was tall and, like the rider on the statue, rather willowy with long fair hair and no sunglasses. Indeed, his eyes were china blue, but no warmer for that. In fact, he looked for all the world like one of their captor’s detestable humans.

  He glanced expressionlessly at the children and then studied their captor coldly. He had a clipboard and he now took out a pen.

  ‘Answer my questions directly,’ he said, ‘and without comment. If any elaboration is necessary, I will ask for it.’

  Their captor nodded.

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Spleen, your honour.’

  ‘Spleen will do. Just answer the question.’

  Their captor swallowed and nodded again.

  ‘Where did you find these?’

  The fair-headed figure gestured towards the captives, but did not so much as glance their way.

  ‘These two,’ said Spleen, pointing to Bella and Felix, ‘I discovered in the Way Station at the top of the mountain. These two,’ he pointed to Myrtle and Moonface, ‘must have found their way into the Way Station later, as they set off my alarm.’

  ‘So you are?’

  ‘I’m a Way Station attendant, your—’

  ‘I see.’

  The fair-headed figure now did look at the captives, studying each in turn as if they were scientific specimens.

  ‘And in your view, Spleen, these are rebels?’

  ‘I believe so, your—’

  ‘Why do you believe so?’

  ‘Because of where I found them. Unauthorised entry. No tickets. No papers.’

  These answers were noted on the clipboard and then the man looked up.

  ‘No papers?’

  ‘Well, this one,’ Spleen pointed at Bella, ‘had a diary, she called it.’

  ‘What was in it?’

  Spleen now looked a little uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I checked it and didn’t think it contained anything but a few smelly secrets, so I threw it away. This one,’ he pointed at Myrtle, ‘picked it up and gave it back to her.’ He pointed at Bella once more.

  ‘Who still has it?’

  ‘I should think so, your—’

  ‘Well, Spleen, that is just as well,’ said his interrogator coldly, ‘for if that diary and its so-called smelly secrets had been lost, that would have been a gross dereliction of duty, would it not?’

  Spleen nodded unhappily.

  ‘Sufficient, of course, to lose you any reward you might be entitled to.’

  Spleen nodded again.

  ‘That is, if you’re entitled to any reward. I agree, that the arrival of these visitors among us is a little, shall we say, unorthodox, but that does not necessarily mean they are rebels or, indeed, know anything about the rebellion.’

  ‘Oh, I agree. I agree.’

  ‘Good. Then, we have your details, so you can leave now.’

  And without further ado, he turned his back on Spleen and stood studying the captives thoughtfully once more.

  A walk

  Mum’s suggestion about our going for a walk up the hill must have agreed with Uncle Felix, for after breakfast he announced that, as there was not
hing much going on at the festival that required his presence, he’d rather prefer to stretch his legs and wander around his ‘old haunts’ as Mum had put it.

  ‘And I understand, David,’ he said smiling at me, ‘that you’d be happy to accompany me?’

  ‘Sure would!’ I said.

  ‘Get your jacket,’ said Mum. ‘There’s a cool wind out there.’

  For an old guy, Uncle Felix was a pretty fit walker. He wore a checked cap and a matching jacket, and his usual bright waistcoat and bow tie. This time, though, he carried a silver-topped walking stick which he swung about him to gesture with when he was talking. I’m quite certain he didn’t need it for walking. I think he just needed it for effect.

  Our place was in a relatively new cul-de-sac on the lower slopes. We wandered up a couple of streets until we got to the main road that climbed up the spine of the hill. Here the houses were much older, and Uncle Felix brightened.

  ‘Ah, these are familiar.’

  As we followed this road uphill, we passed other familiar landmarks: a stone church, a small triangular park with a roundabout, see-saw and swings, an old disused quarry. We reached the school and I pointed out my classroom.

  ‘Ah, but that’s the new school,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘The old school was further up the hill.’

  ‘Old school?’

  I thought my school was pretty old. Had there been an even older school?

  ‘Oh, yes. It was up near the top of the hill. But it was much smaller in my day, only four or five classrooms. That’s probably why they built the new school.’