Chapter Thirty-Seven
By the time they hit the tarmac (the wheelchair hit it first, and broke), Timothy wasn't in the least surprised when more started going wrong.
For the second time in recent history, he had to piggyback it as Tina hauled him down the exit ramp. Wilbur, their soggy albatross pilot, twisted around to pour rainwater out of the pockmarked sardine can serving as a passenger seat. Both mice looked longingly at the towering bulk of the nearby airliner.
"Bet they stayed dry," whispered Tina, a bit too loud as usual.
"Geez, guys, sorry about the chair-- oh, come on, don't look at me like that! I don't even have fingers! You were the ones who tied the knots." Fingers or no, Wilbur pried the goggles off his head and made a feeble attempt to dry them.
"That makes me feel a whole lot better," Timothy seethed, "but it doesn't make me any more MOBILE!"
"Hush," Tina wheezed. "I can't hear what you're saying back there, but you grab tighter when you yell!"
Timothy relaxed his grip as much as he could without slipping off. He kissed the back of Tina's ear, and burdened as she was she was still able to giggle a bit. Well, she can't hear, but at least her ears are still good for something, Timothy sighed. Both of their ears were still sore from the beating they'd endured in the hailstorm. Neither was looking forward to facing the Rescue Aid Society looking half-drowned
Wilbur paced the short landing strip, flinging water from his feathers and eyeing the approaching stormclouds with suspicion. "I'm gonna have to fly back through that. You can bet I'll be hugging the ground all the way, though." He slapped the goggles back on and flapped his wings, warming up. "Can't chat, on a schedule." He stumbled his webfooted way in the direction of the storm, which was spiking the sky with lightning. Once he was at a safer distance from the soaked mice, Wilbur called out—"Sorry again about the chair!"
Timothy slipped off Tina's neck and onto the stairs of the exit ramp as she lowered him gently. "I'll send you a bill!" he shouted after Wilbur's tailfeathers as a thunderclap struck and the rain caught up with them.
"Got it covered, good buddy," winked Wilbur over his shoulder, nearly taking a nosedive as he pointed to his own beak.
"Not that kind of bill, you flying feathered fraud," called Tina, but Wilbur finally caught the air and was swallowed up almost instantly by the tumult overhead.
It was ten minutes before the courtesy car showed up, which sort of took the courtesy out of it. Though mice themselves, it was a bit of a shock to see a mouse driving an automobile—they'd lived most of their lives in Thorn Valley, and Timothy's now-broken wheelchair had been the most advanced form of transportation there.
The limo, streaked with mud and less savory grime, looked like a prom date's worst nightmare from the outside—it had to. Like most of the Rescue Aid fleet, the only identifying marks on the vehicle were sneaky camouflage – in this case, "BIG CHEESE TAXI AND LIMO SERVICES", and a fake number that sounded like a fax line if you called it. Covert vehicles had to look like discarded toys or promotional gimmicks no one else would want—if spotted, the standing order was to 'play dead' and try to act like a very quiet piece of cheap plastic.
Rescue Aid had actually sent one of the nicer cars after Timothy and Tina. It had one-and-one-half working windows, and the front one creaked as it revealed the driver. Grinning (like a death's-head, Tina later thought), untouched by the sheets of rain, a frightfully cheery mouse in a patched and threadbare, tweed buttondown hat surveyed the bedraggled pair from behind the wheel. "Brisbys, then?" he called out.
"One and one nearly," Timothy managed to wring out.
Dennis nodded. "Tha' should add up to a convention," he said, and launched himself at the open window like a mouse-in-the-box.
Tina let out a shriek and took a step back as Dennis wriggled out and plopped onto the concrete, stood straight, and swept his hat off in an apologetic gesture. "Sarry to give ya such a tairn, miss. Driver's side door's molded clear shut. Supposed ta be a safety feature, but I won't say what I'd call it." He pulled the handle of the much-longer rear passenger door, swung it open, and waved Timothy and Tina closer. "As f'r myself, I'm Dennis. Do be careful getting in; my other passengers are a mite fragile."
"Hopefully they're waterproof," gurgled Timothy. I'm just begging for a cold, I know it--
Tina turned about, keeping a wary eye on Dennis, backed into the door of the miniature limousine, and carefully jettisoned Timothy from around her neck again. This sent him flopping onto the seat like a giant waterlogged necklace. "I'm beginning to sympathize with that poor wheelchair of yours, Timmy," Tina groaned, trying to mash her neck back into shape, then squished into the limo as well.
Dennis brushed Tina's tail out of the way (her opinion of him greatly improved at this) and shut the door. He carefully crouched by the rear wheel, pulled his cap back on, and wept bitterly.
Face to face with their hosts at last, cold and wet to the bone even through their coats, the new arrivals somehow found room in their waterlogged minds for shock. We've got into an ambulance by mistake, Tina nearly said, but just shook her head, spattering the interior with second-hand raindrops.
Bernard and Bianca looked terrible, but the fairer of the two handed Tina and Timothy a towel each. "We're so sorry, darlings, we would have been here earlier, but we had a little paperwork problem at the hospital."
"You mean, I kept bleeding on the doctor's notes," Bernard grunted sourly, and Timothy took an instant liking to him. Bernard stuck out a paw and Timothy shook it gingerly--it looked like one good shake would finish him off. The other paw was in a sling. "Nice to meet you. Easy, Timothy. They took me off the critical list a day ago."
"What on earth are you two doing out in this weather?" Tina's fur stood up in little spikes, half from the toweling and half in continued surprise. "If you've hurt yourselves worse just coming out to meet us--"
Bianca grimaced. "We'll get along. Besides, there was no one else to send."
Timothy goggled. "What about the undersecretary for Belize or something? The attaché to Antigua? Anybody but you two, all torn up and mangl--"
"--no, no," Bernard cut in, and took a deep breath. "She said, there was no one else to send. She meant it."
Blinks and blank stares all around, and the most awkward of silences.
"Rescue Aid was in full session when they did it," Bianca went on, her voice dropping low and cold.
Tina had been a little chattery thanks to the rain and wind outside, but the chill factor inside the limousine suddenly seemed far worse. "No," said Tina, firmly. "We're getting out now. We'll come back in and start over, and it'll be like they told us. You're not telling us this, not now, not when Justin and Elizabeth sent us hundreds of miles--"
"--in a hailstorm--" Timmy murmured, sinking deeper into the vinyl seat.
"--not after they sent us all this way to get help," Tina pleaded.
"You'd be surprised at what we still have to offer," Bernard growled. "After things blew up, we had a lot of angry little pieces left over. They may still add up to something."
"There were fatalities, I'm guessing," grimaced Tina. "How many?"
"It was bad," Bianca shook her head. "But serious talk on an empty stomach never did anyone good." She opened up a refrigerator built into a side panel. Timothy and Tina were barely surprised to see a condensation-misted IV bag full of blood hanging there, but thankfully Bianca reached for a large crinkly package. Someone had folded an entire American cheese slice, plastic and all, then squeezed it into the fridge.
"We've just got pre-sliced. Good enough for Brisbys?" Bernard coughed.
"Considering the circumstances, we'll relax our standards," said Timothy with a thin grin. "No offense, just a little mousetrap humor."
"I won't turn my nose up at American either. Though I keep explaining," said Tina, though it felt like small potatoes, "I'm not a Brisby just yet. I'm still a Mouskewitz. Timothy hasn't formally asked for my paw in marriage yet--"
"--it's not like I'm going to get down on one knee, but I'm working on it--"
Unfolded, the cheese slice was a bit mangled, but quite edible. Timothy had recovered enough to nibble a frowny-face mask out of his portion, and nearly got a giggle out of Tina, but she made him eat it to destroy the evidence. Feeling a little better, Timothy returned to the business at paw.
"Since we're having a fire sale on bad news, want to hear ours?"
Bernard and Bianca groaned. Bianca waved him on. "If we hit bottom, you can help us dig. Go ahead."
"Devin and Gadget are missing, presumed abducted, and injured at best. With Gadget gone and our engineer Arthur halfway out of commission from a heart transplant, Thorn Valley's security is leaking like a sieve."
"We're hardly ones to complain about security holes," Bernard noted mournfully.
"Dev and Gadget, both? That's awful to hear. What sort of black hole did we send them into?" Bianca winced. "I don't mean to speak badly of your home, you two--"
"—but it was a bad place to send Gadget She was already too close to the situation. Might as well have hung a neon sign around her neck saying 'second chance to kill me'," Bernard mused. "What a snafu this has turned into."
"I can still do part of my job," Timothy began to rummage around in his coat. From an inside pocket, he drew a wax-sealed envelope bearing the Rescue Aid chairmice's names in neat script. "It's a little sweaty but I think it survived the trip in readable condition."
Bianca snagged the letter and snapped the seal, reading, "'Dear Bernard and Bianca—thank you for welcoming my son and his companion,' –your mother still chooses her words very carefully, Timothy—'I do hope this marks a new spirit of cooperation between our organizations. There has been one change of plans in their visit, with your permission. We do not send them as mere couriers or liaisons, and do not expect their assignment to be a short one. As elected heads of government for Thorn Valley, we designate Timothy and Tina as our delegates to the Rescue Aid Society and hereby apply for membership. Our territory, facilities, and any aid we may be able to render are yours for the asking. Assuming our petition for membership is granted, please send any available military and security personnel and equipment, as quickly as possible. In short, HELP! Sincerely, Elizabeth (Justin is looming over my shoulder as usual).' Oh, congratulations, the both of you! See, you haven't brought us only bad news after all!"
Bernard cracked his bandaged knuckles, and cracked a real grin for the first time in a long while. "I like the sound of that, for sure. Let me see—as co-chairmouse of R.A.S., I hereby call an emergency meeting. Presto, change-o, you're delegates, welcome to the outfit. Say, you two, I'm not completely familiar with Thorn Valley's layout, but I've seen the map a few times. Don't you have a sort of meeting hall out there?"
Tina cocked her head. "Yes, the grand cavern. The Council meets there but it's empty for most of the year—"
Bianca put a paw on her shoulder and winked conspiratorially. "Not any more, it's not."
Button images by Keith Elder