Chapter One
A pinpoint of light, and mercifully a whiff of air, leaked in through a small hole high in the rock. There really wasn't much for the light to reflect from, save a few chips of mica glittering in the stone, and tears sparkling wetly in a pair of eyes that had seen far too much that day. Far too many things bound to break the mind and spirit.
The eyes were blue, though reddened from crying. The soul looking out from behind them, one Gadget Hackwrench, was a mouse in torment. She cast her gaze down at her young charge, an orphaned squirrel already more than half her size, sleeping fitfully with his head resting on her lap. His dreams were echoes of horror, made worse by the touch of poison he'd suffered. "Was it worth it?" Gadget thought to herself, stroking Runner's headfur with her aching, scraped paws. "Of course," she answered herself out loud, and inside her heart and mind, her friends agreed without blame or bitterness. "After all," she could hear them say, "that's what a Rescue Ranger is for!"
The one exit to their tomblike cave was absolutely, firmly blocked. Gadget let herself imagine a slow end, withered by thirst, madly climbing the walls in a last attempt to reach the light--and shook her head. No sense in fearing that--the job ahead was easier than digging straight through solid rock, though it would be a heartbreaking task. She brushed an arm across her eyes, lowered her work goggles, and gently moved Runner so that he lay against one wall of the tiny space. She said a silent prayer of thanks that the young squirrel slept on, so he would not have to see.
A huge, still, silent form blocked the way out. Gadget had always felt a little crowded with Monterey Jack looming over her in the Rangermobile, but at that moment she would have given anything to have Monty riding and wisecracking beside her, instead of lying cold and lifeless in a tunnel far underground. She picked up a sharp chunk of rock, pulled a hammer from her backpack, and began chiseling his body free.
Monty had backed in, and could have just barely fit into the cave with Gadget and Runner, but he'd refused. He had pressed against the sides of the tunnel like a peg in a hole, sealing it off from the air in the labyrinth of pathways beyond, and instead of squeezing on through, had dug his feet in. To the last, Gadget had begged him not to throw his life away, and had pulled with all her might on his powerful legs. The big mustached mouse, down to his last coughing, labored breath, had insisted that he was not throwing away his life, but giving it up for his friends. When his booming voice, muffled as it reverberated through the earth, had finally fallen quiet forever, Gadget had broken down in tears.
Gadget forced herself back to the task at hand. Guessing from what she knew of poison gases ("too much," she decided), the air in the tunnels was probably safe again, so she whittled around her big friend with the sharp rock and the hammer. She tried hard not to tear his clothes, snag his fur, or gash his skin--but whenever she slipped, she just gritted her teeth and kept going. The Rescue Rangers had scattered throughout the maze of holes and hollows when the gas started, and against all odds Monterey, Gadget, and Runner had found each other again, just in time for Monterey to make his sacrifice. Gadget knew that somewhere out there in the dark, the others could have found a way out, or could still be alive but unconscious. The gas obviously affected smaller animals quicker, judging by Runner, and Gadget gulped nervously as she thought of the heroic housefly Zipper, the smallest Ranger. He had speed on his side, and was the most likely of any of them to have made it out--but she felt sure that he would not have left his friends behind.
Shoving aside loosened rock, her paws swelling with fresh blisters, she wedged her makeshift chisel between the side of the tunnel and Monterey's body. When she pulled the rock out, she was rewarded with a small puff of air escaping in from the blackness beyond. Ready to plug the small gap again if she had to, she cautiously inched her nose forward. The medicinal, chemical smell of the gas was very faint--in fact, Monterey's cologne (he had favored Old English) overpowered the traces of that horrible substance. At this, Gadget choked back a sob, wrapped her arms as far around Monty as she could, and gave him a hug that came from somewhere very deep inside her. "Thank you, Monty," she whispered. Then she started to shove.
Artwork by Keith Elder
She thought it over, and left Runner where he was for the time being, covered with a blanket from her backpack. If she'd pulled Monterey into the cave, she wouldn't want Runner to wake up to that sight, but instead she'd half-dragged, half-rolled her sad burden into a side tunnel and covered him over with rocks. She would make a marker later, she determined, and made a mental note. In her sadness, she realized that her calculating, matter-of-fact side was really ticking her off. Still, she knew she needed all her wits to find Chip, Dale, and Zipper, and comforted herself with the knowledge that her razor-sharp focus was part of the way she grieved. Shifting the goggles onto the top of her head, wrapping Monty's scarf around her neck to keep out the underworld chill, she set her mouth into a hard line and moved on.
Carrying a map of the way back to Runner only in her mind, she hurtled through the dark, calling out her fellow Rangers' names. Sometimes the sound would bounce back quickly--after slamming into the first wall and badly bruising an arm, Gadget realized she was using echolocation, and avoided the mistake. After what felt like hours, she saw a faint light off to her left.
The twists and turns of the tunnels made it difficult to figure out where the light was coming from. She nearly ran off a cliff when it seemed she was getting closer, and had to backtrack around a chasm so huge that her calls were lost in it. Finally slipping through a tight space, she found the light, which was now beginning to flicker on and off.
Gadget picked up the flashlight and shook it. Some of its brightness returned, though the battery was obviously going. "After all, a triple-A battery only has so much juice in it," she sighed, and shone it around hopefully. Nothing. If the others were out there, they were wandering blind. Gadget was about to head back the way she had come, when she saw the marks.
They started out as pawprints, but then dragged into an unidentifiable blur. Gadget gasped. There was a scuffed spot with blood and fur--she could tell someone had fallen on the rocks--then pawprints again for a short while, with long furrows showing that one of her friends had been dragging another. Then the trail ended with a short drop-off. Gadget could see the tunnel floor below, but could not make out anything beyond. The flashlight began flickering again.
When she had clambered halfway down the drop, the flashlight clenched in her teeth went out all the way. She cursed around the useless thing, thought about putting it in her backpack, but let it drop. Repair tactic number one worked this time--the bulb did not break, and instead blazed into brilliant life. Fearing what she might find, Gadget reached the floor, her back still away from the light. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths, and turned around.
In their time, the Rescue Rangers had seen some terrible sights and taken a beating. Sometimes Rescues went wrong--Dale once broke both legs and crawled back through a swamp, Monty lost an eye and Gadget had to fix him up a glass one, and Gadget's sister--the good one--had died in her arms. None of that could have prepared Gadget for the horror and unfairness of the sight she faced.
Zipper had indeed stayed with his friends. He almost looked asleep, resting on Dale's lap. There was no familiar buzz of Zipper's trademark snore, though. Dale cradled him tenderly, his own head tipped back and mouth open, slumped against a jagged rock. Gadget crept closer, and could tell from several feet away that neither Ranger was breathing. Dale's Hawaiian shirt stood out against the gray of stone, a splash of color in the gloom. Gadget hated Dale's shirts. They always hurt her eyes. She would have swum to Hawaii to bring Dale back; she would have bought stock in a Hawaiian shirt factory. She dropped to her knees, putting her hands over her face and letting the tears flow. Her sobs fluttered around her like lost spirits.
Chip's left handpaw was clenched in a fist. He was turned toward Dale, determination plastered on his face, and Gadget could tell the last thing he'd done was to reach over and place his own Indiana-Jones-style hat on Dale's head. His right paw still rested on his friend's shoulder. Chip had always been unreasonable about the hat, and had slapped Dale silly once--not that it was too far a trip for Dale--for daring to try it on. Gadget saw freshly-dried blood streaked from Chip's deeply scraped left shoulder on down to his broken forearm, as deep red as the roses he'd given her on her birthday. He'd been the one who tripped. Gadget's mind leaped to thoughts of splints and bandages, for she'd bound so many of her friends' wounds before.
All science seemed to flee from Gadget. Against all her training and empirical knowledge, she put her paws on the two chipmunks and shook them, begging them to come back. She kissed their cold cheeks and slumped between them, her tears flowing through their fur and her own. She picked up Zipper--so light, so empty. That so much energy and loyalty could just roll away into nothingness--she put him back on Dale's lap. Reason came to her again, though she tried to push it away--she could not sit down here in the dark. The young squirrel Runner needed her now, and he was the only one she could do anything for. Down here, the earth was too hard for her to even think of burying the others, and there was no loose rock to cover them. Still sniffling, she stood and looked at her friends. Debating for a moment, she took the goggles from her head, stuffed them into her backpack, then gently removed Chip's hat from Dale's head and placed it on her own. She gently tore a strip from Dale's too-bright shirt and tied back her long yellow headfur.
"Guys," she said to silence, "I'm going now. You've been the best friends I could have ever wished for. I--"
Suddenly, she turned and began climbing, hardly able to breathe for sorrow. Raggedly, for she found herself very tired, she lunged at pawholds and hung on, not wanting to look back. She did, though, and her mouth formed the words. She forced air into the effort. "I loved all of you," she said, and pulled herself up the rest of the way.
Button images by Keith Elder