Читать книгу The Ghosts of Rabbits Past - John R. Erickson - Страница 6

Chapter One: We’re Attacked By Hoodian Voles!

It’s me again, Hank the Cowdog. We’re going to take this story one step at a time and we’re going to start at the beginning. Are you ready for that? You’d better be, because the train’s fixing to leave the station, and I’ll tell you right now, it’s going to be scary.

Okay, here we go. The moment I heard the eerie scream, I knew we had a problem. I had been out most of the night, doing a routine patrol of ranch headquarters, and had returned to the office to work my way through a stack of reports. On this outfit, the work of the Security Division never ends. If we’re not walking the beat, we’re tied up with paperwork.

Maybe I had dozed off at my desk. Yes, of course I had dozed off. That’s what dogs do when they finish an eighteen-hour shift. We try to exceed the limits imposed by flesh and blood, but sometimes sleep creeps up from behind and grabs us.

I’d fallen into a light doze, is the point, but came roaring out of it when I heard the terrible screams. I leaped to my feet and hit Sirens and Lights. “Speckled starfish in the rectangular salad! Man the lifeboats and don’t forget the ketchup!”

I made a dash for the lifeboats but ran into one of the sailors in the dark. It knocked both of us to the deck. I sat up and so did the other party. I narrowed my eyes and studied his face. “Are you going to lower the lifeboats or just sit there?”

“I don’t think we have any lifeboats.”

“They’re already gone? Why wasn’t I informed? How can I command this ship if it’s sinking all the time?” I blinked my eyes and glanced around. “Are we sinking?”

“I don’t think so. You need water to sink.”

“You saw water in the sink? Where is the sink?”

“I don’t know, in the bathroom, I guess.”

“That fits, but where’s the bathroom?”

“Out in the weeds.”

“We have weeds in the bathroom?”

“We don’t have a bathroom.”

“Already I’ve found a fly in your oatmeal. If we don’t have a bathroom, we can’t possibly have a sink…and by the way, who are you?”

He grinned. “Drover. Hi.”

I looked closer and recognized his face. “Hi. We need to get those lifeboats in the water, fast.”

“We don’t have any.”

“No lifeboats? What kind of ship is this?”

“It’s our bedroom. You’re still asleep.”

I leaned toward him and whispered, “I’ll try to forget you said that.”

“Thanks.”

“Drover, where are we?”

“Under the gas tanks.”

I paced a few steps away and tried to clear the fog out of my head. “Who started this rumor about the sinking ship? I must know.”

“It wasn’t me.”

“Then who or whom does that leave as a suspect?”

“I think you were dreaming.”

“I was NOT dreaming.”

“Yeah, but there’s nobody left to blame.”

I shot him a cunning smile. “That’s where you’re wrong, son. We’ve always got the cat.”

“You mean…Pete?”

“Exactly. Don’t forget: he specializes in lies, gossip, and dirty tricks.”

“Yeah, but…”

“At this point, we don’t know how he did it, but all the evidence points at him like a flaming arrow.”

“What’s the evidence?”

“The evidence is that we have no evidence, which is irreguffable proof that a cat was behind this whole charade.”

He yawned. “I’ll be derned.”

“Please don’t yawn while I’m reviewing a case.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s very discouraging when I look out at the audience and see dogs who are yawning.”

“Sorry, but it’s the middle of the night.”

“That is not my fault, Drover. I don’t pick the times when the cat chooses to sabotage our systems.”

“Can I go back to bed?”

“No, not until we make some progress on this case.” I began pacing, as I often do when my mind is racing after the Rabbit of Truth. “Okay, make a note and enter it into the Daily Log. The Sinking Ship Episode was a fraud from start to finish, a distraction created by the cat to disrupt our systems. At our first opportunity, we will thrash the little snot and park him in a tree. Make three copies and post one on the bulletin board.”

He glanced around. “Where’s the bulletin board?”

“Drover, I deal in large concepts. You figure out the bulletin boards. Now, unless you have further questions, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Can I yawn now?”

“Yes. Yawn all you want. Fall into your yawns, I don’t care, just don’t make any noise.”

I rumbled over to my gunny sack, fluffed it up, and collapsed. Exhaustion leaped upon me like a lurking tiger. I was drifting off when I heard an odd sound. It was Drover, yawning. “Boy, that was a good one. I love to yawn. I’d rather yawn than chew a bone. There’s another good one!”

I sat up and melted him with a glare. “Drover, if you continue making noise, we will have to impose a ban on yawning. Is that what you want?”

That got his attention. “Gosh, I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t yawn.”

“I’m sure it would become a personal crisis, so yawn quietly. And don’t mutter about how much you love to yawn.”

“Okay, sorry. I’ll try.”

“Good night.”

At last he shut his beak and I began drifting out on the snorking honk of barbecued snicklefritz fiddle blossoms and spiral tomatoes…I must have dozed off, but not for long. All at once, another horrible scream penetrated the perpitude of my turpentine.

I shot straight up and staggered to my feet. “Drover, did you hear something?”

“Affirmative.”

“A scream?”

His eyes were wide with fear. “Yeah, and it wasn’t me.”

“Then who could it…” And then we heard it again: an unearthly scream that made my hair stand on end. It wasn’t Drover’s yawning, and it wasn’t the cat. “Good grief, what is that?”

Drover moved his lips but couldn’t utter a sound, until at last he gasped, “I think it’s the Hoodian Voles!”

Those words sent a scorching jolt of electricity down my spine. “Hoodian Voles! Do we have those things on this ranch?”

“Yeah, I saw five of ‘em, right over there. They’re everywhere!”

“You saw five Hoodian Voles?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Good grief. What are they? Give me a description. Facts, we need facts and details.”

His teeth were clacking together. “They looked just like twenty-five monsters, only ten times worse.”

A wave of fear washed over me. “Okay, let’s settle down. We’ve got to be professional about this.”

“Yeah, let’s head for the bunkers.”

“I agree. To the bunkers!”

And so it began. We had ourselves an invasion of…whatever Drover had said, some kind of creatures, and you’re probably worried sick. You should be. This had turned into a very dangerous night on our ranch.