Chapter: 22
Sewer Rats
Trixie watched, frozen, as Coach Jackson barked, "Stan, Alex, you're with me! The rest of you, go home!" The steaming gentleman had emphasized his command with a furious point of his finger. "We'll talk in the morning," he finished.
As Coach Jackson and his two followers headed for his deep blue pick-up in the parking lot, Trixie whispered to Dan, "Maybe they're leaving."
But rather than climb into his vehicle, the former naval officer reached into its bed. Pulling out an oversized equipment bag, Coach Jackson removed a ball bat and grumbled, "Come on, we'll teach the little snoop a lesson."
As the cross men started young people's way, Dan instinctually hoisted a trembling Bobby onto his back, ordering him to hang on tight. He then called out to Trixie, "Follow me, and whatever you do, don't look back! We can outrun them."
"Hey, you kids, STOP!" the leader of the advancing group ordered. "I want that camera. You hear me?!"
Oh, Trixie had heard the ugly man, alright. But she certainly wasn't going to stop. And neither was her fight-or-flight companion. Dan wasn't about to risk taking on the lumbering coach and the hulking mechanic with Bobby along. Though the more meekly Mr. Gruber would be a snap. A simple "Boo!" would take him out.
One thing was for sure, though. Neither teen was prepared to hand over Mart's camera. Not unless they had no other choice. There had to be something on it that those men didn't want to come to light.
Ducking into a darkened alleyway, Dan tightened his grip on Bob's legs, securing his hold on the child who was nearly strangling him about the neck. Trixie was keeping close on the young man's heels, although she'd already stumbled twice in those awkward flip flops, and he'd had to pause to help her up. Still, the older men hadn't overtaken the fleeing group. But it did sound as if the chasers' curses and footfall were growing closer.
The young people needed a place to hide. And fast. Glancing down the first thruway, the street-wise boy spied a taped off town maintenance blockade. That could be their ticket to freedom, and Dan snatched out and grabbed Trixie's arm, pulling her that way.
Skidding to a halt in front of the barricaded storm sewer access, Dan swung Bobby from his shoulders, then rose a "don't talk finger" to his lips. Next, as he crawled under the bright orange mesh fencing, he surveyed the situation. Yes, this would do the trick.
Lifting the stretchable plastic barrier so that the little boy and his sister could wiggle underneath it, Dan motioned for the two to join him. Following that, he led them to the open utility hole and then climbed down the workman's ladder – so nice of the maintenance crew to have left it.
As the dark-haired young man reached up to help Trixie maneuver the little boy down the hole, Bob cried out, "I can't goes down there! The sewer rats will eats me!"
"Shh!" Trixie ordered, just above a whisper. "There are no such things as sewer rats. And you are going down there. Would you rather let Coach Jackson get you?"
"Nos!" Bobby argued. "But Mart says there's big means rats down there with pointy fangs. And they'll eats me ups if I goes ins the sewer! And Marts knows everything!"
Hearing the men coming around the corner, Trixie scooped up the defiant boy and lowered him down to Dan before the child knew what was happening. Then, she hit the ladder herself.
Once all three were safely at the bottom, Dan pulled Trixie and her little brother deeper into the blackness. "Stay quiet," he whispered. "We'll wait here until we're sure they're gone, then go back up."
Trixie could hear Bobby crying, though she couldn't see him.
"I'ms scares of the dark," the child sobbed. "And I knows the rats are gonna gets me."
Bob's big sister remembered she had a small flashlight on the key-chain with her house key. It was in her purse, and she fumbled around until she came up with it. Then, flipping it on, Trixie pointed the light down the long brick and mortar pipe where they were hiding.
"Is that better?" she asked the frightened child with a rasp. "I don't see any sewer rats anywhere. We'll be fine, right Dan?"
"Of course we will," the nodding boy replied. "Now, both of you, hush."
The deteriorating storm sewer had been built sometime during the late eighteen hundreds, and the town maintenance crew had been making repairs to it during the dry summer months. There were puddles of stagnant water here and there, but the cobbled floor was dry for the most part.
It was also cool inside the long winding tunnel, which felt good to Trixie. But the odor surrounding her was musty and dank, and in the distance, she could hear the slow drip of water droplets hitting the floor.
The overall atmosphere was creepy, indeed. And it gave the unnerved girl the feeling that she was in a catacomb filled with ancient tombs. Letting out a shiver, Trixie could only hope they'd be out of there soon.
However, as she heard footsteps overhead, the alerted teen turned off her flashlight and pulled Bobby up against her protectively. Then, sensing movement in the thick air beside her, Trixie realized Dan was at her side. As he took her hand and squeezed it firmly, the grateful girl knew it was for her reassurance.
"Where'd they go?" came the gruff voice of Alex West from the alley up above. "I know I saw the brats come this way?"
"You don't think they went down into the sewer, do you?" was Stan Gruber's whiny reply. "If so, I won't be going down after them. It's filled with rats, you know."
"Sees, I tolds you!" Bobby cried out with alarm.
As the little boy tried to wriggle away from her, Trixie clamped her hand over his mouth. "Shh!" she warned him once again. But Bobby had already been heard by the men above.
"Oh, there are rats down there alright," Coach Jackson laughed so loudly that it echoed throughout the underground labyrinth. "And mark my words. They'll have to come up for air sooner or later. So we'll just wait them out."
Trixie heard Dan exhale loudly next to her, and she wondered what the young people would do now?
"I don't know if that's such a good idea," the nervous Mr. Gruber went on to tell the coach. "I hear the older boy's a juvenile delinquent of some sort. Stabbed some poor soul on the streets of New York, he did."
Trixie heard another sound coming from the young man holding her hand, but this one was an entertained snort. Dan had done nothing of the sort.
"Well, I saw the little one on T.V.," Mr. Gruber's mechanic cohort said. "That kid's being used by the Alien Infiltration to advance their agenda. That Play-At-Ease stuff he was pipin' was referring to the Pleiades. I vote we replace that manhole cover and leave 'em there to rot."
"What are you two, a couple of sissies?" the surly Mr. Jackson growled. "We are supposed to be stopping the spread, remember? That blonde girl's been infected too. At least that's what her big-mouthed brother was telling Wheeler's kid at practice the other day. So it's our mission to take care of the little 'problem'. If we leave them in that sewer, no doubt, the enemy will get them out. So buck up, soldiers. You're under my command. So we're staying."
Trixie would have laughed if the insane men weren't so dangerous. But they were. And she, Dan, and Bobby would have to find some other way out. She seriously doubted that the aliens "They" were about to come and save them.
Having been thinking the same thing, Dan bent over and whispered in his friend's ear, "Let me have that flashlight of yours. Then take Bob's hand and follow me, Trix. There are plenty of other accesses on down. I scoped out the layout when I first came to town. I thought I might need a getaway. Anyway, we'll get out of here. And Coach Jackson will be sorry he ever laid eyes on us."
As Trixie obeyed, the three young people quietly crept out of their pursuer's earshot. The channel they were passing through was about eight feet high and eight feet wide. And occasionally, Trixie could hear car tires overhead. She knew this could only mean one thing. They were now underneath a busier street.
Coming up to the first curbside storm drain, Dan gave Trixie a leg up to peer out to the street above. Bobby, still skittish, was currently holding the flashlight. And his big sister reported down that they weren't too far from Whimpey's.
"Do you see anyone walking around?" Dan asked.
"Not a soul," she replied sadly. "Let's go on a little further. There's another street inlet out in front of the restaurant. I remember it clearly because I was checking to see if I had the money for a soda once, and one of my quarters rolled down the storm drain. Boy, was I frustrated! But that's beside the point. People are sure to be coming and going from the diner, so it should be safe to call for help. Assuming the coach's baked-potato-headed troopers have left…."
"We'll pass under another manhole, along the way too," her friend replied. "We'll stop, and I'll see if I can budge the cover. They're made of cast iron and weigh about two hundred pounds, but it's worth a try. I'll need you to hoist me up so I can reach it, though, Trix. And that'll lesson how much force I can apply, I'm afraid."
"Sound to me like we're going to need beefy Einstein up on top, giving us a hand, Mr. Newton. But I'm with you; we should give it a shot. So let's go. Doing OK, Bob?" Trixie asked her little brother.
"Yeah," he said hesitantly. "But I don't likes your adventures so much."
Then, as a car went rolling past the opening above, the little boy nearly jumped from his skin and started yelling, "I just saws a sewers rat! I did, I did! I saws its big red eyes glowin' in the dark! Gets me outta here, NOW! Holps! HOLPS! It's gonna eat me; it's gonna eat me!"
Trixie reached out and grabbed her brother, but nothing she tried would calm him down. The screaming child seemed to be as terrified of rats as Honey was of spiders. And Trixie angrily blamed Mart for this.
"It's OK, sweetheart," she cooed, over and over. "There's no such thing as giant sewer rats. What you saw was nothing but the reflection of a car's taillights."
"There are SOs sewer rats," Bobby insisted wildly. "Why don'ts you ever listens to me?! They're gonna eats you toos!
Dan rested his hand on the trembling boy's shoulder. "You know Trixie," he said quietly and calmly. "Mart warned me about the sewer rats, too. But it seems to me there was a way to ward them off. If I recall, your brother had a rhyme about it? Let me see. How'd it go?"
"Ah, comes on, Dan. Thinks hard!" Bobby cried.
"I am; just give me a second," the musing boy said, giving Trixie a wink.
Then, after a brief pause, Dan said, "I remember now!"
The grinning teen then crouched down and felt along the mucky floor until he found a broken branch that had washed down from the street above.
"Here, I want you to take this," he said, standing up and handing it to the young man.
"What's it for?" Bobby asked. "It's just an ol' stick?"
"Maybe to you and me, Dan replied, "But not to a sewer rat."
"OHHH," Bobby said gullibly. "What's it to thems?"
"Well," Dan replied as Trixie suppressed a giggle. "It's all in Mart's rhyme. So if you promise to be quiet and listen, I'll tell it to you, Bob."
"Ohs, I'lls be quiet," the little boy said. "So yous can shoots away."
Dan smirked and slowly started leading the intently listening child and his sister forward.
"Here goes," he dramatically began as they carried on their way...
"Martin says beware!
Never go down in the sewer.
Unless you carry a great big stick,
To use as a sewer rat skewer.
For sewer rats are nasty,
And sewer rats are mean!
They'll eat you if you're plump.
They'll eat you if you're lean!
Most are the size of full-grown men,
With nasty pointy fangs.
And beady eyes that stare bright red,
That make your heart go bang, bang, BANG!
That make your heart go bang.
So the next time you're down in the sewer,
Remember to take Martin's advice,
And carry a sewer rat skewer,
And you'll find that the rats will be nice."
As Dan's lilting voice trailed off, a giggling Bobby pumped out his chest and held his head up high. "I gots it now!" he said.
Then waving his stick in the air, the little boy cried out into the darkness, "You's better watch yourselves, you rottin' rats! Is gots a skewer!"
Trixie laughed and smiled over at Dan thinking again what exceptional young man he was. Her friend hadn't told Bobby his fears weren't real. But instead, he'd acknowledged them. And then Dan had given the little boy a way to battle his phobia. And this, in turn, had empowered the child. Someday, Trixie thought, Dan was going to make a good father. That, or a pretty promising author of children's books!
When the young people had reached the next manhole, it was Trixie's turn to give her friend a leg up. And though Dan tried with all his might, and the lid did pop up enough to let a little street light through, he just couldn't get it open.
"We'll have to go on down to Whimpey's," he finally admitted, as Trixie's strength gave out. "Sorry about that, guys."
Taking back the fading flashlight from Bob, the frustrated young man slapped it on his hand, hoping the batteries would hold out until someone rescued them. Worse case, the young people could always turn around and feel their way along the wall, back to where Coach Jackson and the others were waiting. Maybe the men had given up and gone home. If not, Trixie could always hand over Mart's camera, and perhaps the former naval commander would let them go. But Dan had a bad feeling it wouldn't be so simple.
At the opening in front of the diner, the trio of tired travelers were elated to hear the sound of young people calling back and forth to each other above them.
As Trixie looked out the slit in the curb, she saw two boys playing with an L.E.D. flashing disc in the grassy strip where she, Dan, and Bob first encountered the Baked-Potato-Head Brigade. She recognized the boys immediately. They were Mike's nephews, who were between ten and twelve years old. With the boom in business recently, the young men's mother was helping out at the restaurant.
Trixie didn't know the boys' names. And she doubted they knew who she was. So she just called out, "Hey, fellas! Can you come here a minute?"
The spooked young men stopped their game and looked in all directions, trying to see from where the girl's voice had come.
"Do ya think it's one of those invisible aliens Uncle Mike was tellin' us about?" she heard the youngest one say.
"Nah," his bigger brother replied. "He was just foolin' us about that. You know Uncle Mike. I bet it was a ghost!"
"I'm not a ghost!" Trixie cried out loudly. "I'm just a regular girl. But I'm stuck down here in the sewer with my little brother and my friend. We need your help," she begged.
The two curious boys ran over to the storm drain.
"How'd you get down there?" the older one asked.
"Don'ts you know there are sewer rats down there?" the short one added.
Trixie let out a huge groan. "Yes, we know about the rats," she replied before Bobby could open his mouth. "And how we got in this mess isn't important. But we can't get out. So would you be able to do us a favor?"
The older boy scratched the back of his head and grinned. "What's in it for us?" he asked cunningly.
This time Trixie moaned. "Dan, do you have any money on you," she called down to the young man who was holding her up. Trixie knew her coin purse was empty.
"Not a cent," the equally aggravated boy replied. "But Bob's got ten bucks. Will that do, guys?" he called up to the pair of expectant hoodlums.
"But that's my moneys!" Trixie's little brother exploded.
Trixie had Dan let her down. "Just hand it over," she said. "I'll pay you back later."
"Oh nos, you won'ts," Bobby countered, crossing his arms stubbornly. "You's never has no money."
Dan stepped in between the quarreling pair. "It's OK, Bob," he said. "The Bob-Whites will see that you get repaid. You do want out of here, don't you?"
The little boy finally relented and coughed up his crumpled bill.
As Dan took it, he carefully tore the ten-spot in half. He'd dealt with street kids like these before and wasn't about to let them take advantage of his and his friends' vulnerability. Next, the keen teen pulled his wallet from his hip pocket and removed a carefully folded piece of blue and white gingham from it.
"That's one of our jam jar covers!" Trixie gasped. "How'd you get that?" Dan Mangan was just full of surprises today.
"I dug it out of the rubble at the clubhouse," the young man explained sheepishly, tucking the second half of the torn bill into his billfold in place of the piece of fabric. "Let's just say I was keeping it as a memento. I had to hack a lot of trails so you girls could pick those berries, you know."
Trixie did know. Her friend had not only cut paths for the girls, but he'd also scoped out all of the best bushes. Then helped the young ladies pick the raspberries too.
"Hey kid," Dan called up to the oldest boy who was peering down. "I want you to take this and give it to the red-headed guy in the baseball uniform inside your Uncle's joint." Dan handed up the piece of cloth which matched Trixie's sundress. "There should be a big blonde-haired kid with a crew cut with him. Tell them Tinkerbelle wants to see them privately out front. Here's half a ten. You'll get the other piece when you come back with our friends. Got it?"
As the boy, calling himself Steven, snatched the torn bill out of Dan's up-stretched hand, he laughed. "Got it," he said. Dan had beaten him at his own game.
Several harrowing minutes later, Trixie and her anxiously waiting companions again heard the sound of voices and rushing feet.
"For crying out loud, what are they doing down in the storm sewer?!" came Jim Frayne's exasperated voice.
"Hey, don't get mad at us," Steven replied. "We're just the messengers. If you want to know? Go ask Tinkerbelle. She wasn't talking."
Trixie heard a loud snort and knew it'd come from Mart.
"James, James, James," he said. "I should have thought that by now …."
"Trixie, are you and the others alright?" Jim interrupted as he crouched down, trying to make out his friends in the dimness.
"Yes, we're fine," she replied with a sigh. "Only we need help getting out, Jim."
As Mike's oldest nephew pushed in next to the concerned young man, the boy called out to Dan, "How about handing over the rest of our loot first, huh, buddy?"
With a frown, Dan agreed, and once boys had gone on their way, he made it clear to Jim that he wanted to get Bobby topside before he and Trixie did any explaining.
"There's a utility access about half a block from here," he told his friend. "It's cover's loose, but I couldn't get enough shoulder to it to wedge it open. I think you and Mart can probably pry it up pretty easily using the crowbar we keep in the station wagon. Meet you there in a few?"
Jim nodded and smiled down at the pretty girl who was tapping her foot impatiently. "Sounds good," the red-headed teen agreed. "Oh, and Tink," he added before he left. "Nice dress."
Finally, safely out of reach of the nasty sewer rats, Bobby wrapped his arms around his rescuer's legs and cried, "Ifs it weren'ts for yours rhyme, we mights of gotten eaten up, Marts! But Dans remembered its just in times. And he gots me a skewer."
"Is that so?" the confused boy chuckled as he unwound the child and helped Jim raise their sister out of the tunnel next.
Then, as Dan jumped up and was hoisting himself to the street, he caught sight of Trixie's heroic pirate sweeping his fair maiden into his arms.
Only Mart wasn't having any of it, of course. "Oh shame-shame!" the grinning boy scolded as he broke up the touching reunion. "Rule number three clearly states there are to be huggy-huggies, dear sister."
And as a giggling Bobby stuck out his tongue at Trixie, who was doing the same to Mart, Dan found himself smiling. For some reason, he was beginning to like Mart's rule book. Though the pondering young man seriously doubted that Jim was feeling the same.
Maybe it was best he intervened? It was storytelling time, after all.