After much pulling and prying and levering and grunting, Mouse and the others had cleared away the barrier that closed off Podge’s old pantry and in they went, Mouse’s head scraping the roof. A cold breeze blew from a hole in the opposite wall, the hole where Podge had broken through into the Creepscreech’s lair. They set to again, clawing and digging and scooping away sufficient earth to make the hole big enough to crawl through.
For the journey ahead, the Under-gardeners had collected handheld lanterns and a coil of rope; some of their larger tools would come in handy as weapons. For his own protection, Mouse selected a hefty length of wood from Podge’s barricade. He hoped he wouldn’t get an opportunity to test it, but just having it made him feel safer. At intervals along the rope, Alkus made loops for each of them to put an arm through. “Don’t want anyone to get lost,” she said. “I want us linked together all the time we’re in there. Now, a quick roll call. Snick and Snock.”
“Here,” the deer mice answered, for once in unison. Stepping smartly forward they saluted together, one with the left arm, the other with the right.
Alkus made a mark on the clipboard and called, “Chuck!”
“That’s me,” answered the groundhog, waddling forward.
“Yes, I know it’s you.” Alkus sounded irritated. “Please answer in the approved fashion.”
“Oh, pardon me,” said Chuck haughtily. “He-re!”
“That’s better,” said Alkus. “Podge!”
“Hummh?” mumbled Podge, pulling his head in from the opening into the Creepscreech’s lair.
“Please answer when I call your name,” said Alkus.
“My name? Why, Podge!” Podge sounded puzzled.
“This is a roll call,” explained Alkus patiently. “Podge!”
“Yes?” said Podge.
“Here,” shouted Alkus.
“Where?” said Podge, giving a startled jump.
Mouse intervened. “She wants you to answer ‘Here’ when she calls your name.”
“Does she, by gollopers?” Podge looked at Alkus. Then he looked back at Mouse. “Why didn’t she say so? Tell her—here.” He moved into the line as Alkus muttered to herself.
“Qwolsh!” she continued.
“Here,” said Qwolsh, taking his place.
And “Here,” said Mouse, stepping into the line as his own name was called.
Alkus placed herself in front of Mouse, who could see the logic in this arrangement. Snick and Snock, the smallest, were at the front; the tallest, Mouse, was at the back; the others were graded in between according to height. This way, each could see over the heads of those in front and had a clear view of whatever danger might lie ahead.
The lanterns were lit. As though on cue, each took a deep breath at the same time. Mouse pulled his pajama top tighter around him, set his shoulders and took a firm grip on his wooden cudgel. Somebody said, quietly and determinedly, “Breath in our bodies.” All took up the call. “Breath in our bodies!” they whispered fiercely as they moved toward the dreaded hole.
Although Snick and Snock were in front, they weren’t so much leading as being pushed. Chuck gave them a boost with an upward swing of his snout. Leaping forward with a shared “Oof,” they disappeared into the dark on the end of the taut rope.
The tunnel was quite small, not nearly as large as the tunnel that Digger had fallen into, so they decided this was most likely a ventilation shaft—or perhaps a drain, for it seemed damp. Far off in the distance, the tiniest glimmer of bluish light showed, and with Snick and Snock reluctantly leading the way, they headed in that direction, their flickering lanterns casting madly dancing shadows in the gloom about them as they went.
Reaching up, Mouse could just touch the curve of the roof; under his bare feet was a coating of something that felt damp and vaguely slimy, and there was a musty odor in the air. As the sickly blue light drew nearer, the deer mice became even more reluctant to lead and dawdled and drifted from side to side. “Get a move on, you two,” urged Chuck when they had got under his feet for the umpteenth time.
“Wouldn’t you…
…rather go…
…first?” they wanted to know.
“Scared, eh?” muttered Chuck.
“Not…
…at all,” they said. They paused briefly and looked at one another. Then they chipped in again. “Tired…
We’re tired, that’s…
…all!” They yawned and let their heads hang as though they were so exhausted they could no longer hold them upright.
“Want me to carry you?” Mouse asked.
“Oh, yes…
…please, Mouse…
…Mountain. Whee…
…eee!” They ran back toward Mouse, all thoughts of looking tired forgotten. They also forgot that they were looped together by the rope and ran one each side of Chuck, tripping him.
“Agh!” The sound was driven from the groundhog as he toppled to the ground. By the time he had grumbled himself back onto his feet, Snick and Snock were snugly standing in the breast pocket of Mouse’s pajamas, looking like happy passengers at a ship’s rail.
Then they all heard it. From the direction of the light came the sullen rumble of a disturbed beast. “Let me go first,” said Mouse. No sooner had he said it than the deer mice lost all interest in their new mode of transport and were seized by a sudden urge to walk again. Scurrying down to the ground, they moved unobtrusively to the back. The lanterns were extinguished and, heart pounding and clutching the cudgel, Mouse edged slowly forward, going on hands and knees for the last few yards.
The sound was much nearer now and getting louder every second. The odd thing was, it seemed vaguely familiar to Mouse. His head came out slowly into the Creepscreech’s lair, and right before his horrified eyes was a pool of what looked like blood. We’re too late, was the thought that flashed through his mind before the lights suddenly went out. From the darkness came a grating squeal and then… silence.
Mouse drew back instantly. “I think,” he whispered, “we may have set off an alarm of some sort. Don’t move.” They huddled close and listened. Not a sound came from the tunnel. Cautiously Mouse eased his head out for another look. Blackness. Not total, though, because as his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he saw faint light in the distance. A silvery shimmer on the ground in places suggested watery pools. Water dripped monotonously in the cavern. Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drip was followed by its ghostly echo. Dri…pip. Dri…pip. Dri…pip.
Then there came a distinct cackle of laughter and they heard a voice say, “Ah-ha! From his tail I have taken the sting.”
“That sounds like…” began Alkus.
“…Digger, by gollopers!” finished Podge, in Snick and Snock fashion.
“I’ll go and check,” said Chuck, drawing breath past his bared teeth.
“All right,” said Alkus, “but hold on to the end of the rope.”
The groundhog set off with the rope end between his teeth, Alkus paying out the slack behind him as he went. The animal’s rotund form quickly disappeared into the gloom. They waited in silence, eyes straining into the darkness. The coil of rope in Alkus’s hands got smaller and smaller and had almost run out completely when they heard a cry and a thud from the darkness as though someone had been hit.
“Take that, you monster!” It was Digger. Stifling a desire to cry out with joy, they all ran quietly forward, stumbling over each other in their haste.
“Why did you—ow!—hit me?” came Chuck’s pained voice.
“Chuck? Sorry, Chuck, didn’t know it was you. Expecting the Creepscreech I was.” Digger was all apologies. “Who’s that?” he suddenly asked the darkness anxiously.
“It’s only us,” said Alkus, lighting a lantern. The sudden flare of light hurt their eyes for a second; then they got a good look at a disheveled and bloodied but still feisty Digger, and at poor Chuck, who was tenderly feeling his punched snout and knuckling tears away from his eyes.
Forgetting the danger they were in, they gathered in a circle around Digger and all began talking at the same time. What happened? Did the Creepscreech bite you? How big is it? Where is it now? Did you fight it off? Poor Digger was almost ashamed to admit that he hadn’t been close to the Creepscreech at all, that he had only seen its eyes in the distance and that the cut on his head wasn’t a bite from the creature’s terrible fangs.
“I gashed it when the ground I hit,” said the mole, feeling the top of his head gingerly. “It seems now to have stopped bleeding. I called and called but only an echo replied. And then the monster thundered around the bend. Oh, I was sure I was done for. In the dark I felt something sticking from the wall. I grabbed it and pulled, thinking it was something I could as a weapon use, but all just went black and I was covered with shooting stars. The Creepscreech went silent, but I did not know if it had stopped or was maybe sliddering toward me in the dark.” Digger shuddered as he recalled the fear and despair he had felt at finding himself alone in this awful place. “That was why I punched you. I thought maybe you were it.” He looked apologetically at Chuck, who was gently massaging the end of his muzzle.
They were all delighted to see Digger safe and sound and began bombarding him with questions, but Alkus decided it would be better to continue the discussion in the safety of one of their own tunnels and began hustling them back the way they had come.
Meanwhile Mouse was examining this tunnel. He felt the smoothness of the walls. It wasn’t earth; it was…stone. This Creepscreech must be quite a brute if it could chew through stone. He didn’t have much time to puzzle about it, however, because coming toward them, cutting off their retreat, was a cluster of dancing lights.
Alkus quickly blew out the lantern and they huddled together in the dark. As the lights came nearer, Mouse and the Undergardeners retreated as silently as they could. Back over the sharp stones they went. Back past where Digger had been knocked flat by a shower of stars. Mouse stumbled and, putting out his hands to steady himself, found what he thought was an opening to another tunnel. He pulled everyone in, but to his horror the opening didn’t lead anywhere—it was just a little alcove a few feet deep. It was too late to escape because now the lights were close, clustered around where Digger had seen the shooting stars.
“Here’s the problem,” said a voice.
“The switch is open,” said another.
There was a clunk, a few sparks, and pale blue lights lit the tunnel. There was a squeal and the eyes of the Creepscreech opened and began to move closer. The Undergardeners shivered with fear.
“It’s coming,” they chattered.
“It’s seen us,” they cried.
“We’re done for,” they whimpered.
“What’ll we do, Mouse?” they pleaded.
Mouse began to laugh. A quiet chuckle at first, which grew in volume as the monster thundered toward them. It became louder as it got closer, gathering speed as it came. Then it screeched past in a swirling blast of cold air and dust. The dust got in his throat and stopped Mouse’s laughter briefly, but after a couple of coughs, he started again. All the Undergardeners were clinging to him— and one another—with their eyes tightly closed. Alkus was the first to open hers. She glared at Mouse. “Have you gone… why are you laughing?”
“We’re in a tunnel. A train tunnel,” Mouse managed to gasp. “The Creepscreech is a train. Look, there are the tracks.”
The three workers who had closed the big electricity switch were walking away from them between the tracks with flashlights in their hands. Two men and one woman. Three ordinary-looking workers in yellow hard hats and work clothes.
Mouse explained what a train was and told them that sometimes trains went through tunnels like this one. “Digger must have pulled the main switch and cut off the power; that’s why it stopped. But we should get out in case any more trains come because even though it’s not the monster you thought it was, it’s still dangerous. Apart from the possibility of getting run over, that rail,” he pointed, “carries the electricity that powers the train. It can kill. Now, let me see. We don’t have to go back the way we came; we can go this way. I can see moonlight.”
Alkus relit her lantern and made a note on her clipboard. Send a work crew to fill in the hole outside the Ancient Rhymer’s cave before it causes more trouble. And seal Podge’s pantry again.
As the grateful Undergardeners thanked Mouse for revealing what the Creepscreech really was, he found out how the myth had come into being. Back when the tunnel was being built, some of the Undergardeners in those olden times had been killed in the blasting. The generations of Undergardeners that came after never went near the tunnel again, and the myth of the monstrous Creepscreech grew and grew. Digger shook his head ruefully. “Fear has a big shadow,” he said, “but he himself is very small.”
Podge drew himself up on his hind legs and shook himself gleefully, his own spiky shadow looking huge and menacing in the light from the lantern. “You did a splendid night’s work, Mouse,” he said, his monocle glinting. “By gollopers, yes. You’re a hero.”
Everyone agreed cheerfully, and Mouse felt proud. A hero, by gollopers, he thought as he led the happy Undergardeners along the tunnel toward the circle of light he knew was the night sky. They streamed out into the moon-bright, open-to-the-sky, outside world.