Hopper's Destiny by Lisa Fiedler
It was Sage who ultimately convinced them. He pointed out that as scary as it would be, it was a lot safer than taking their chances against the ferals. He also reminded them that he had ridden a train from Atlantia and had arrived in one piece.
By a stroke of sheer luck the 2 train did not rocket past them as it usually did; instead, for some reason unknown to Hopper, the serpent came to a full stop in the same dark stretch of tunnel where he had leaped aboard the first time. The travelers took full advantage of this lull in motion, clambering safely aboard the metal hitch that jutted out from the back of the last car.
“This is a gift from La Rocha,” said Temperance. “He’s used the benevolent power of his spirit to bring the beast to a halt, in order that we might board with ease.”
“I thought La Rocha was a philosopher and a prophet,” said Zucker. “Now he’s a magician, too?”
“He is a little bit of everything,” Christoph clarified, positioning himself on the hitch and grasping the metal knob.
“Yes,” said Temperance. “He guides and watches over us at all times.”
“And was he watching when Pinkie booted us all out on our backsides?” Zucker muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“I said, uh . . . that La Rocha must be a real busy guy.”
When the train started up, Temperance screamed and Christoph covered his eyes, but their panic didn’t last long. The rodent riders were soon enjoying the sensation of speeding through the shadows with the wind in their whiskers. Hopper reveled in it too. The vibration of the metal perch made the bottoms of his paws tickle.
By the time the train pulled up to the Atlantic Avenue platform, the Tribunal was cheering for joy.
“This is us,” said Hopper, jumping nimbly from the hitch. “Everybody off.”
“Can’t we ride a bit longer?” Christoph asked.
“Yes, can’t we?” echoed Temperance. “Where does this miracle of motion go from here?”
“Good question,” said Hopper. “I could tell you if I had the map, but I assume it just goes on to another platform like this one. And then another. And another.”
“Eternally!” cried Sage, liking the concept. “An infinite journey. I say we ride on and see where it takes us.”
Zucker frowned. “You sure you want to do that?”
“We have nothing to lose,” Temperance reasoned. “And if we do not find that which we seek up ahead, we can always locate this same sleek silver beast with the number two marking on its forehead and command it to return us here.”
Hopper and Zucker exchanged glances. The thought of the Mūs elders all alone and unchaperoned in the tunnel world was disconcerting. Then again, Atlantia was in such a state of upheaval that they would not be able to offer the exalted Tribunal members adequate safety, or even comfort. Perhaps it would be wise to let them go off in search of better things.
“All right, then,” said Zucker. “Bon voyage. And you know where we are if you need us.”
“And we can always look to La Rocha for guidance,” Sage reminded them.
Hopper quickly explained how they could find Atlantia, if indeed they did decide to return. He told them the exact location of the crack in the floor that would drop them into the abandoned tunnel where the city of Atlantia had once thrived. And will thrive again, he added silently, reaching into his pocket to feel the soft scrap of blue felt. He added a caveat about bracing themselves for the long fall into the lower tunnel, then gave each of them a hug.
“Good luck,” he cried as the train’s wheels began to screech against the metal track. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“We wish the same for you, dear Chosen One.”
“Good-bye, Hopper! May La Rocha bless and keep you!”
“Farewell!”
Hopper and Zucker watched as the train departed with the tiny adventurers aboard. Then the prince and the Chosen One ducked their heads and made their way through the gauntlet of human shoes, boots, and belongings. With a singular purpose they ran—full speed toward the gap between the wall and floor, the portal that would drop them back into the long-forgotten tunnel where the future of Atlantia waited.
CHAPTER SIX
THEY ARRIVED AT THE city to find the gate flung wide. Rodents streamed out, shouting, crying . . . running for their lives. The soldiers Ketchum, Garfield, and Polhemus were doing their best to exert some degree of control, but the panicked mob was having none of it.
“What’s going on?” the prince demanded. “Why are they fleeing? Is it Felina?”
“Worse,” replied Ketchum. “Exterminators!”
Hopper looked beyond the gates, and sure enough two enormous humans in coveralls were tromping through the city. Rats and chipmunks squealed in terror as they dodged the heavy boots and scampered desperately to escape. Every so often one of the exterminators would shout out, “There’s one!” and swing his heavy shovel; the shovel would come down with an earsplitting clank . . . and there would be one less screaming rat.
Zucker grabbed Hopper and pulled him to crouch in the shadow of the city wall. “Stay low, kid,” he said. “These guys are trained to kill on sight.” Then the prince beckoned his soldiers over.
“It’s madness, Your Majesty!” breathed the exhausted Garfield. “Atlantia is being destroyed!”
“What are they doing here?” Zucker asked. “Humans never come down this deep. The tunnel’s abandoned. There hasn’t been a train through here in ages. What could they possibly want with Atlantia?”
“I heard them talking,” Polhemus offered. “They said the Transit Authority sent them.”
“What’s the Transit Authority?” asked Hopper.
“We aren’t entirely sure,” Ketchum admitted. “Best we can figure, it’s some powerful supernatural force that lords over lesser humans and gives them subterranean quests and trials to perform, such as this one. These exterminators said that the Commuters—whatever they are—have been complaining to the Authority about a lot more rats on the platforms lately.”
This made perfect sense to Hopper. The freed refugees and former Atlantians who feared the tunnels must have run for higher ground in their efforts to escape the ferals.
“There is more to report,” Ketchum said to Zucker. “It seems, in the chaos, your father has escaped. The factory where he was being held was one of the first the exterminators destroyed. His guard was badly injured, and Titus fled.”
“We thought to give chase,” Garfield added, “but decided our efforts would be better spent here, helping with the evacuation.”
Zucker nodded. “Good call. Titus is no threat without Felina supporting him, and even if he goes to her for help, I doubt he’ll be able to con her into reinstating their agreement. She’d rip his head off before he even made the proposal.”
“So . . . you do not wish us to hunt him down.”
“No.” Zucker frowned. “He’ll just have to try and survive in the tunnels . . . like the rest of us.”
The sound of human voices interrupted them, thundering off the high arched walls of the tunnel.
“Look at this place, Erik,” boomed one of the exterminators. “It sure isn’t your ordinary rat’s nest, is it?”
“Sure isn’t, Buddy,” Erik agreed.
“Ya know,” said Buddy, “if I didn’t know better, I’d say these tunnel vermin had designed this nest to function like an actual city.”
Erik snorted out a chuckle. “Right. Only in Brooklyn would you find a bunch of rats that also happen to be civil engineers.” He swung his shovel again. “I think you’ve been breathing in too many subway fumes.”
“I’m not kidding,” Buddy insisted. “I saw one section of this nest that actually looked like a market. And I swear there was a coffee shop. And there’s a pile of stuff over there that looks like . . . a castle.”
“A rat castle?” Erik’s guffaw echoed over the city walls. “Well, we’d better leave that alone, then, just in case the rat king comes ba
“Zucker,” Hopper whispered. “What if Firren’s in there? What if she finished her tunnel sweep and went back to the palace to await our return?”
A storm of emotions passed over the prince’s face, then he turned and grabbed Polhemus by the front of his tunic. “Did you see her?” he croaked. “Did you see Firren in there?”
Polhemus shook his head. “No, Your Highness. I didn’t, but—”
“How about you, Ketch?” Zucker released Polhemus and turned his fiery eyes to Ketchum. “Did you see Firren?”
Ketchum swallowed hard and shrugged, then winced as another shovel hit its mark.
Zucker sprang to his feet. “I’m going in!”
At the same instant Hopper leaped up and cried, “Let’s find her!”
For a moment the rat and the mouse just stared at each other.
“No way, kid,” said Zucker. “You’re staying here.”
“Firren is my friend too,” Hopper countered. “We have a better chance of saving her if we both go.”
“I can’t be looking for Firren and worrying about you at the same time!”
“I can take care of myself.”
Hopper was surprised when Zucker grinned. “Yes, you can. You’ve proved that many times over. But this is different, kid. These guys are big. Have you not been listening to those shovels banging around in there?”
Hopper opened his mouth to argue just as Zucker nodded to Garfield and Polhemus. Before he knew what was happening, the two muscular rodents had him by the arms and were holding him against the wall.
“Zucker! Tell them to let go.”
“I will, kid. Soon as I get back.” The prince took a deep breath. “I mean, as soon as we get back. Firren and me.”
“Zucker, no!” shouted Hopper. “Highness! Your Majesty . . . Zuck-meister!!”
But it was too late. The prince’s tail had already disappeared through the open gate.
It seemed an eon had passed before the metallic rattling of cages being placed and the hollow thumps of slamming shovels finally fell silent.
In all that time the soldiers’ grip on the Chosen One’s arms had not faltered. Now, as the giants strode toward them through the decimated city, Hopper’s captors pressed him farther into the shadows of the wall.
“We’ll come back for those cages tomorrow,” Buddy was saying. “Should be a good haul.”
“Yeah,” Erik agreed. “Now how about we go for a pepperoni slice at Spumoni Gardens? My treat. And you can tell me all about this rat kingdom with its coffeehouses and rodent palaces.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious, Bud. Maybe you should quit the exterminating business and take up writing kids’ books.”
“Ah, shut up.”
The rodents stayed perfectly still as the humans approached, their leviathan boots kicking up a thick cloud of dust when they stepped over the wall. The scuffed toe of one boot missed flattening Ketchum by half an inch.
Hopper glared up at them, seething with anger. Even through the veil of dust he could see the diabolical words printed on the backs of their coveralls:
PIER ONE EXTERMINATORS, BROOKLYN, NY
WHEN IT COMES TO
E-RAT-ICATING
YOUR PEST PROBLEMS, WE’RE “PIER-LESS.”
As the human footsteps echoed away into the darkness, all eyes turned to the gate. Hopper knew they were all hoping the same hope: that Firren and Zucker would appear any second now, safe and unharmed.
But any second turned to many minutes. And still no sign of them.
“Where are they?” Garfield whispered. “Why aren’t they coming out?”
Polhemus shrugged. “Maybe they can’t come out,” he whispered back.
“Shhhh!” said Ketchum. “Patience . . .”
Hopper’s heart beat a wild rhythm as he trained his eyes on the opening in the wall; he squinted through the brownish haze. But still no one emerged.
And then . . . finally . . . motion! Two figures, obscured by the swirling dust, came stumbling through the open gate.
“Zucker?” Hopper cried. “Firren!”
“Help us . . . ,” came a dry voice from deep within the dirty cloud.
The soldiers released Hopper and ran in the direction of the plea. Hopper could see now that it was not the prince and the rebel. It was Driggs the squirrel and old Beverley. She was limping and seemed to have trouble breathing. Driggs looked dazed; there was a trickle of blood spilling from his forehead. Overall, though, they seemed hardy enough. A shiver of relief went through Hopper to know that these two good rodents had been spared.
Ketchum helped the old lady to the wall and sat her down, while the others assisted Driggs.
“Did you see Zucker in there?” Hopper blurted out. “What about Firren? Are they alive?”
Driggs gave him a forlorn look. “Hard to say, Chosen One.”
“What’s hard about it?” Hopper asked, frantic. “Dead or alive? Which one?”
“Trapped,” Beverley squeaked in a tremulous voice. “Those human beasts laid traps all over the city. Some were metal cages, others were just sticky pads, like movable tar pits or quicksand. I was trying to avoid one of those when I twisted my leg and fell down. Firren came running to aid me, but one of the beasts spotted her and used his shovel to swat her into a metal cage.”
“It was awful,” Driggs confirmed, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what he’d seen. “Firren just wouldn’t give up. . . . She kept throwing herself against the cage door, trying to get out.”
“Oh, how she fought!” cried the old lady.
“She struggled so powerfully,” said Driggs, tilting his face back so Garfield could inspect his wound, “that for a minute there I thought she might actually get out. But on her last attempt to break down the door, she hit her head against the bars.” He lowered his eyes and added softly, “No more struggling after that.”
“Then the prince came galloping in, screaming her name!” Beverley continued. “He went right for her cage, but Firren wasn’t moving. He tried to pry the door open, but the sleeve of his tunic got caught in the clasp! He pulled and he pulled. The door didn’t open, though he managed to disengage the sleeve; a whole piece of it tore away.”
“Then he flung himself at the human giant,” said Driggs, “and sank his teeth into its ankle. The giant growled and spit, then it swung its shovel. Poor Prince Zucker went flying. He crashed into the side of the cage. And then . . .”
Hopper felt tears well up in his eyes. “No!”
Driggs sighed. “He wasn’t moving. He was just sprawled there right next to Firren’s cage, perfectly still. I couldn’t tell if he was . . .”
“Couldn’t tell if he was what?” Hopper prompted.
“Breathing.”
Hopper didn’t need to hear another word. He ran for the gate.
Inside the walls the dust was settling and a deadly silence had fallen over the city. The only building still standing was the palace, but it had sustained a fair amount of damage—an entire wing of the sprawling manse had been crushed.
But the demolished buildings were nothing compared with the sight of so many trapped and wounded rodents. Hopper averted his eyes from the ones who had fallen prey to the glue pads. He knew there would be no hope for them. But those who had been forced into cages were a bit luckier; at least they were still alive.
“Chosen One!” cried a chipmunk. “You’ve come to save us!”
“Yes, but—”
“Let me out first,” begged a field mouse. “I need to find my family.”
“No, let me out!” pleaded a lanky rat. “And I can help you free the others.”
Hopper looked from one desperate prisoner to another. He didn’t know what to do. The weight of his responsibility pressed down on him like a brick. He could take the time to open these cages, but every second would be one more that Zucker lay unconscious. What if the difference between the prince’s li
“Don’t just stand there,” snarled the chipmunk. “Are you the Chosen One or aren’t you?”
“Are you a hero?” taunted the field mouse. “Or a useless phony?”
Hopper’s head spun. It was his duty to help these rodents, even as they insulted him. But Zucker and Firren . . . they could be dying.
Or dead.
And these animals were still alive.
Hopper dashed to the cage of the lanky rat who had offered his help. If two of them were working to free the others, Hopper could get to Zucker that much faster. His claws shook as he worked the clasp. It took three tries, but finally the lock came free and the door swung open.
The rat leaped out.
“Over there,” Hopper instructed, pointing toward the field mouse. “Set him free and then—”
The rat laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m not sticking around here one minute longer. Those humans might come back! Sorry, Chosen One, but I am out of here.”
Hopper felt the words like a kick in the gut. “What about the others?”
“Not my problem.”
“But you said you’d help me!”
“And it worked. I’m free, they’re not.” Then, in a final insult, the rat reached for Hopper’s sword and yanked it from its sheath. “Might need this out there,” he sneered. “See ya.”
With that, the rat sped off toward the gates, taking Hopper’s weapon with him. Hopper could only stare after him, sputtering in shock and sorrow.
And anger.
“Did he say those humans might be back?” cried the chipmunk. “Hurry! Let us out!”
Hopper was sick with fear for Zucker, but he knew that the prince would have wanted the safety of his subjects seen to before his own. Fueled by the heat of his fury, Hopper ran from cage to cage, struggling with locks, pulling open doors. Of all the rodents he freed, only one—a half-blind old rat who walked with a cane—stayed to help him.