7

 

 

 

Nathaniel had learned that all things die, but had never experienced what it was like to be present for another’s death. Only days ago he had composed that little song in which he said, “Everything you love, you will lose,” yet he did not fully appreciate the impact of these words until now.

He sat looking at Jid for a while in the very dim light of the utility room. Jid lay frozen in the glue of this unimaginable and torturous trap. His one visible eye was half-open but lifeless. Mr. Leach had told him a long time ago that when death occurs, what animates a creature abandons the package that contained it. As Nathaniel looked at Jid, he felt he understood this better. There was no doubt in his mind that Jid, or whatever it was that had animated him, was now gone. These questions now weighed heavily on Nathaniel because all of this was so fresh, so all-consuming at present. Had what animated Jid simply abandoned his body, or was it extinguished and gone now too? Just as he thought he was beginning to understand, he knew he understood very little.

In a fog of exhaustion, emotional stress, and just plain fear, Nathaniel contemplated what he would say and to whom. Suddenly it all felt like a heavy burden laid on him, to tell a child that he was to be the new Jid for the community. As he rested for a moment, his eyes growing heavy, the sound of footsteps just outside the door alerted him to scramble. The utility room was suddenly flooded with light. Nathaniel hid behind the vacuum cleaner, hoping he had not been seen.

“Got one!” the older McCorkle called out. He leaned in and picked up the trap with Jid stuck to it. “Throw this in the trash.”

“Ugh, it’s probably full of disease. Disgusting!” the younger McCorkle said.

“If there’s one, there’s more. We have an infestation. But we’ll get them. They picked the wrong house to seek refuge in, that’s for sure! The ones the fire missed, we’ll be sure to take care of.”

The older McCorkle took another trap from the package and tore open the plastic. It was just like the one that Jid had walked onto. He set it down on the floor so close to Nathaniel he could smell the attractive scent that must have drawn Jid to the first one.

“I want to set the rest of the traps and put out the poison tonight. We’ll have this cleaned up in a day or two.”

After McCorkle closed the door, Nathaniel slipped down the pipe into the crawl space.

It was almost certain he would encounter Wendel and there would be questions about what Jid had said, and Nathaniel felt boxed in and just wanted no part of it. He should never have promised Jid that he would help Wendel become Cielo Creek’s new Grandfather. He was too young. C’mon, he thought, the boy can’t even see and has just been through the trauma of the fire. It was unfair to the boy. Sure, he asked himself, what makes you the authority on leadership in mouse colonies? But that didn’t matter. This was all a matter of common sense.

As expected, Wendel heard him slide down the pipe and appeared moments later, looking expectantly for news of Jid. Very soon a few others joined them but waited a distance away out of respect. Then a few more dropped from the insulation and scurried to where the mice seemed to be gathering. The greater the number of mice that gathered, the less confident Nathaniel felt about what he should or would say. In a matter of moments, it seemed there were mice everywhere. The crowd of them waited and watched Nathaniel, who felt increasingly uneasy and unsure of what to say.

Nathaniel looked out over the collection of mice, which still seemed to be growing. He saw that they looked no more the same than he looked like other rats. All of them were individuals with a strong instinct for survival and a desire to raise their children. He was touched by the worried expressions they wore, and a palpable throbbing anxiety that ran through the gathered colony, who seemed on the verge of it all being simply too much to bear.

“And Jid?” Wendel’s question signaled that the moment Nathaniel most dreaded had arrived. All of the mice had their eyes fixed on his, anxiously anticipating news of their Grandfather.

“I’m so sorry,” he began, “but Jid is gone.”

The mice of Cielo Creek had anticipated this news but still were shaken to hear the words spoken. Jid had been Grandfather to all of them. It was nearly impossible to imagine he was gone. Nathaniel watched as some shed tears. Others fretted and wondered aloud about their future. Still others, curiously, wanted details of his death.

A mouse who Nathaniel knew was regarded as a gasbag, braggart, and conspiracy theorist, a fellow named Ricketts, an imposing and handsome mouse, made a point to offer a long-winded expression regarding how moved he was by the news of Jid’s death. But he also wasted no time as he made his way among the other mice, offering encouraging words and urging them to keep in mind the need for a strong new Jid who could take charge of Cielo Creek. Nathaniel watched him pandering to the mourners and politicking for the role of Jid, and how it especially seemed to aggravate Pip, when simply letting the poor mice grieve should have been the highest priority. And there was the other matter of Jid’s dying wish that Wendel be made the new colony Grandfather. Nathaniel was feeling that this would have to wait, but he wondered what had Pip so stirred up.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked Pip.

“Are you kidding? The idea of a power grab disgusts me!”

“Don’t worry, Pip. I’ve got this,” Nathaniel told her reassuringly.

Pip did not answer Nathaniel, only shot him an icy look. But many were clearly feeling rudderless, and handing over leadership to a young, inexperienced, and blind mouse might make a power grab all the easier to pull off.

Then Nathaniel began to speak. “By now you have heard of the hideous sticky traps set out by the Exterminator,” Nathaniel continued. “There are many, and I expect they will be deployed tonight. And I also anticipate the Exterminator has other means for disposing of what they call pests, other ways to address this terrible infestation, that are even more gruesome than the sticky traps. I can hardly imagine what these may be, but I urge caution. You must come to realize that, like me, we are all regarded as pests to be exterminated. Your circumstances are of no concern to the Exterminator. They want to eradicate you. I believe you face no option other than to leave your home and find a safe haven.”

A plaintive murmur rose from the mice, and Nathaniel could hear snippets of their complaints.

“Move? We can’t move.”

From the back of the group, one of the mice shouted, “Where would we go?”

Ricketts rose slowly and dramatically to speak. He was polished and possessed the gift of a golden tongue. He never raised his voice, and his positions were always well articulated, even if they were long-winded and self-serving. Everyone knew Ricketts was fiercely ambitious, egged on by his peculiar sycophant sidekick, Rutger Loft, a tall but quite thin and uncomfortably hunched mouse who made a point of being close enough to whisper a steady stream of advice in Ricketts’s ear. There was no doubt about it. Ricketts was good, beginning his speech with a request for all to observe a moment of silence in honor of Jid. The mice nodded, and they all bowed their heads until Ricketts recommanded their attention.

“We find ourselves in a most challenging but also curious situation. We have lost our Jid, which means we are without a leader. What makes the situation curious, or perhaps we might even say tenuous, is that our Jid died with only a rat present. Who will be Jid’s successor? With respect—” Ricketts turned to Nathaniel, bowing deferentially “—a rat can hardly be the means by which the Jid communicates to the community the identity of his desired successor.” Again Ricketts turned to Nathaniel, asking, “Sir, did our beloved Jid designate a successor before he departed this world for a better one?”

“Well, I … I … I’m not sure. Right now, it’s all a blur. I need to think. Like many of you, I am troubled by this moment and not thinking clearly.” Now he had done it, Nathaniel thought. He had lied and withheld the selection of Wendel as the new Jid from among Cielo Creek’s members.

Pip drew in a sharp breath loud enough for Nathaniel to hear. He glanced in her direction, wondering how to read this.

“I need to settle down and take some time to reconstruct our conversation. I will let you know in a few days. I’m exhausted and again, like all of you, have myself suffered a trauma of sorts, watching poor Jid die,” Nathaniel explained nervously.

Rutger Loft clumsily whispered in Ricketts’s ear, loud enough for Nathaniel to hear. “See, boss, there is no successor. Remind them that big oaf is a rat! Remind them that rats eat mice!” Then, smiling, Rutger Loft slithered back behind Ricketts.

As for Ricketts, he smiled and turned to the assembled crowd. “Well!” he huffed. “That was indeed an interesting response from our rat friend, wasn’t it? I should say our new rat friend, who has taken a curious interest in our community.” Then, turning to the crowd, he added with a skeptical smile, “As he says, he needs some time. He has been traumatized by the death of our Jid. We understand. We’ll just wait to hear from the rat. OK, everyone?” Ricketts’s words dripped with sarcasm.

The crowd mumbled skeptically about the reliability of anything said by Nathaniel.

Nathaniel could almost watch his credibility dissipate and so quickly announced, “In the days to come, I’m sure we will be able to resolve the matter of leadership.” With that, Nathaniel hastily dismissed himself, telling Wendel he would return shortly, after he had seen Birgit. He needed the sanctuary of his home, the unwavering love of Birgit, and the stress-free atmosphere of his nest.

Wendel seemed confused, but in the end clearly opted to let it go for the moment. He suggested to Cielo Creek members that they set aside several days to grieve the death of their beloved Jid before taking up matters of leadership and a new home. In the meantime, they knew what the traps looked like and should be careful to avoid them.

 

 

 

Pip was shocked and angered that Nathaniel had withheld the information, and as hard as she tried, she could come up with no good reason why he might do this. He had betrayed Jid’s trust, which he had promised to honor. He had betrayed Wendel? She stared hard at Wendel, wondering what he was thinking.

“What is it, Pip?” Wendel asked, looking forlorn. Before she could answer, he said, “We grieve first, then deal with matters of leadership and a new home.”

“OK,” she responded softly, as she could only guess what he was thinking. He had changed so much in such a short time that it was all a bit disorienting.

 

 

 

Nathaniel could not get home fast enough. His mind was awash in dizzying doubts and questions about death and whether he had provided any comfort to Jid. The image of Jid stuck in that horrific glue seemed burned into his consciousness. His heart ached and his thoughts were confused. And he had lied—to Jid, to Wendel, to Pip … to everyone.

It was then he remembered the words to the song that he’d sung after Wendel had been burned in the fire. He didn’t remember exactly what he’d sung, but it was something about a mouse and a liar. At the time, he’d wondered whether it was he who was the liar, and now he knew, and it felt so wrong. Why had he held back the truth about Jid’s selection of Wendel to be his successor? The whole thing made him feel sick, and once again he found himself running for the sanctuary of his home and Birgit.

“You look like you’re in quite a hurry, heh heh. The fire’s been out for quite a while now, Nathaniel.” Mr. Leach’s familiar voice called to him just as he arrived at the juncture of the dusty driveway and the dirt road. There he was, as if on an afternoon stroll, and their paths just happened to cross. Coincidence surrounded all relationships with Mr. Leach. He should know to expect it now that he and Mr. Leach had renewed their companionship.

“So.” Mr. Leach stretched the word for some time, which signaled to Nathaniel that the old possum knew more than he thought. “You have engaged with some new friends, Nathaniel. How do you like it? Heh heh heh.”

“Oh, Mr. Leach, I have never done anything harder in all my life,” Nathaniel said, exasperated.

“Hmm,” Mr. Leach grunted in understanding. “Friendship can be a real drag on one’s life.”

“Cielo Creek has nowhere to go because of the fire, so they did the logical thing. They sought shelter and asylum in the nearest home,” Nathaniel explained, nervously pacing back and forth.

“Mm-hmm. Seems reasonable enough, heh heh.” Mr. Leach shrugged.

“Well, the McCorkles think these mice are, you know, pests and have infested their home, bringing disease and eating their food,” he said, disgusted, shaking his head in disbelief. “And so they are determined to exterminate every one of them.”

“Oh yes? They have brought in the Exterminator? They must be very afraid of these mice. That is serious.”

“The community’s Grandfather, who they call Jid, was trapped in the most hideous manner imaginable. He was enticed by the smell of food to a small tray that was filled with glue that …”

“Hmm,” Mr. Leach grunted again. “A tray full of glue, you say?”

“That’s right. Worse than glue. Stickier. Impossible to get free from.”

“And you say he got into this tray of glue?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Well, what did he do that for?” Mr. Leach bellowed, incredulous and obviously annoyed with the old mouse.

“He was hungry, Mr. Leach! All of them are hungry and getting desperate. Please try to understand!” This was the first time ever that Nathaniel had raised his voice to Mr. Leach, although Mr. Leach himself didn’t seem to notice.

“The Jid himself walked right onto the glue tray?” Mr. Leach asked again, with a hint of disdain. “Oh dear! The poor old fool!” He sighed. “Go on.”

“Right … um, but that glue actually seemed to devour him a little at a time until, so exhausted, he just gave up and died.” Nathaniel tracked the expression on Mr. Leach’s face to see if he was moved one way or the other. Instead, the old possum simply waited without comment for him to continue. “I stayed with him. I stayed with him and kept watch. We talked, and I tried to comfort him, but honestly, I don’t know if my words or my actions did anything at all.”

“Ah, you’re a good fella, Nathaniel. Yes, yes, I think I understand. Sometimes it’s difficult for us to discern who we are actually comforting, I suppose—ourselves or those we are keeping watch over. And you may never know with certainty whether your words had their intended effect. But you were there, Nathaniel. You were there. And that means—”

Nathaniel interrupted. “Then Jid asked me to tell the blind young mouse Wendel that he had selected him to be Cielo Creek’s new Jid.” Nathaniel again waited a moment to gauge Mr. Leach’s grasp of his story so far. Satisfied, he continued. “And I said I would do this.”

“Granting a dying creature’s request is honorable, and I commend—”

“I didn’t do it, Mr. Leach! I didn’t tell them. I think the boy is too young. He has suffered a terrible accident and is now disabled. Taking on a leadership role would be too much for him. I only want to protect him and do what’s right for him,” Nathaniel complained defensively.

“Hmm … yes, that’s the young mouse who was badly burned.” Mr. Leach stared at his front paws. “Nathaniel, you told Jid you would do something, which you have failed to do. Your words and demeanor suggest to me you are not at peace with the approach you took with regard to this matter. Is this not correct?” Mr. Leach’s words were presented with a sympathetic smile. Still, there was nothing of the whimsical or playful Mr. Leach visible in his expression. Instead, he continued to stare intently at Nathaniel, waiting for him to answer.

“I actually am at peace with it, because I have engaged with Wendel and this community, and I believe I know them well and what is best for them. I have done as you said: engaged and extracted a good understanding of what’s best for them.” Nathaniel’s voice was tinged by a defensive tone as he spoke to Mr. Leach.

“Mm.” Mr. Leach nodded his head slowly. “I understand. You came to this decision through engaging. And the truth you have extracted through this intense engagement is that you, a rat, would be a better Jid to the community than Wendel, because he is too young, too weak, and, let’s not forget, too disabled to bear the burden of leadership.”

“Exactly,” Nathaniel said, relieved that he had clearly made his case.

Mr. Leach smiled at Nathaniel. “Well, certainly, you are prepared to assume the mantle of leadership of the mouse community.”

“Thank you,” Nathaniel said as he looked humbly at the ground.

“I bet it feels pretty good … and, well, sort of natural for you to step into this new role.” Mr. Leach raised his brow and widened his eyes, waiting for Nathaniel to answer.

“It does feel pretty good. You know, I’m helping these little guys. It’s very …” Nathaniel put his paw to his chin and scratched, thinking. “It’s rewarding, you know?”

“Mm, right … rewarding. Engage and extract, Nathaniel. You haven’t engaged with anyone but yourself, so far as I can tell. And what you have extracted is the perfect conclusion to such a self-centered engagement. But it’s good to know that you are feeling less used up and depressed than you were before. So the way events have unfolded has been, shall we say, helpful to you … We might even say therapeutic for you.”

Nathaniel frowned at Mr. Leach. His first thought was that he was annoyed with the old possum for seemingly mocking him. Mr. Leach was a very wise creature, but Nathaniel felt in his heart that he had gotten this right, that he had made the right decisions.

Mr. Leach sighed, then spoke in a measured manner. “You have only begun to engage, Nathaniel. To extract the riches from this engagement will take time and work. I hope, dear brother, you don’t feel you are finished.” Nathaniel stared at him blankly. So Mr. Leach continued. “Extracting the riches from this engagement may entail weighing your values against Jid’s and perhaps the boy’s. I think you will have to ask yourself many questions before you can feel confident that you have arrived at the truth.”

Nathaniel opened his mouth to explain but was met with Mr. Leach’s outstretched arm, intending to silence him. Then the old possum spoke in a manner that communicated very well both his disappointment and the end to this conversation. “Go home,” he said. “Go home to see Birgit. Go home so you may remember you are loved already and that you do not need the adulation of the mouse community to cure your melancholy … your ennui … or to banish your blues. Go home to discuss solutions. But then hurry back to your friends—not your subjects—who are presently in a life-threatening crisis. Glue traps are only one of the many terrible ways the Exterminator destroys. Even now, you can be sure the Exterminator is devising his final solution for these pests. The mice will not want to leave, but they will all die if they don’t. You know what to do, Nathaniel. I know you do.”

“But, Mr. Leach—”

Again Nathaniel’s words were met with Mr. Leach’s outstretched paw as he commanded, “STOP! I hope you listened very carefully to what I have said. Now … I will be keeping an eye on you, Nathaniel.” Mr. Leach turned to walk away, then stopped abruptly and swung around to face Nathaniel once again. “Oh, one more thing. Has it occurred to you that you may not be the only one who knows of the promise you made to Jid? You never know who might have been listening and so was a witness to your promise.” Mr. Leach turned and began walking. “Bye-bye for now, Nathaniel.”

The thought that someone else may have heard the promise Nathaniel had made shook him to the core and made him feel sick. He just wanted to get home.

When Nathaniel arrived home, Birgit squeaked and warbled anxiously about where he had been, and insisted he sit, rest, and tell her everything he had done.

“Husband, I am so moved by the passion you have shown for your vulnerable friends. Indeed, rarely, if ever, have I seen you so moved by the misfortunes of others. But I have worried so about where you were.”

Nathaniel felt all warm inside too when he thought about the good deeds he was doing for the mice and how he would save them from the Exterminator and see to it that poor Wendel was protected from burdens he was not equipped to deal with.

“How can we help?” Birgit asked, interrupting Nathaniel’s reverie.

“What do you mean, we?” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. It was a low blow.

“Your family, Nathaniel. That’s what I mean when I say ‘we’!” she said through clenched teeth that betrayed her growing impatience.

“Well, I don’t know … uh … exactly how you can …” His words drifted off. Nathaniel felt vaguely uneasy about her offer of assistance. He wasn’t proud of this, but it felt a little like she was trying to horn in on something that was his. He had, after all, spent considerable time engaging and extracting with the mice of Cielo Creek, and now he wondered just exactly why she wanted them to share this experience. Surely she must understand that the respect he had was earned among the mouse community. “How can you help? Let me have a few minutes to think about that, Birgit, OK?”

He knew immediately that he had upset his wife. He wandered about their nest, avoiding Birgit as best he could, but all that came to him were the words to another song.

 

Woke up this morning

feeling bad. Went back to sleep.

My wife called me to breakfast,

said, “Baby, you gotta eat.”

But I said I wasn’t hungry,

at least not for normal food.

I need somethin’ for my soul

that’s gonna lift my mood.

I got to banish these blues.

I got to banish these blues.

Can’t go on like this forever.

I got to banish,

banish these blues.

 

Nathaniel steeled himself for a confrontation with his wife. His thinking on this had become selfish. He realized this. But at some level, he really wanted to own the experience alone rather than share it with his wife or, for that matter, anybody. He wasn’t so sure why he felt so possessive, but Birgit seemed to have worked it all out in her head.

“Nathaniel, Cielo Creek has become your little project, hasn’t it? You ask all the questions and provide all the answers … kind of like God. Are we looking for solutions that will help Cielo Creek, or are we engaged in a little personal-growth exercise for my despondent husband? Honestly, I’m surprised that you didn’t welcome my offer of support. I wonder what’s going on with you.”

Nathaniel had taken a deep breath and was blowing it out very slowly as he considered his response to Birgit’s words. “Ouch, Birgit! That hurt!”

The two sat facing one another in silence. Nathaniel was sure he could wait her out, but this time she seemed absolutely unwilling to relent and continued to look at him expectantly.

Finally Nathaniel sighed wearily. “Well, you do have a way of getting to the point when you want to, Birgit, and it’s generally true that I love you for that … although you might have been a little more patient with me on this one,” he said, smiling. Then he laughed and asked what she had in mind to help the community.

“There is no time to be patient. Your friends are dying, starving, slowly being exterminated. What you need is food that doesn’t require the mice to leave the crawl space. Right? You told me that the closet was where Jid was trapped and so most likely where other traps will be set. If we could get them a supply of food, they could remain in the crawl space and avoid the traps. Nothing too fancy. Just bring them food.” Birgit shrugged and waited for Nathaniel’s response.

“Where would the food come from, and how would it get to them?” he asked.

Birgit nodded her head in the direction of the fruit trees, which had nearly no fruit left at this time of the year. “OK, so the plan is imperfect, but there is enough fruit to hold them over for a short while, and I will ask our children and their children to help deliver it. This would even give you the opportunity to see your children!” Birgit offered enthusiastically even as it caused Nathaniel to wince.

 

  

 

Birgit sensed Nathaniel’s ambivalence, which she had come to know would result in his slow-walking everything, so she took charge. She warbled out orders to Nathaniel about the fruit that remained edible below the trees and grain in the storage while she lumbered down the branches of the shrubs to enlist the help of Gertie, their eldest daughter. It was a relatively short walk to Gertie’s nest but long enough to give her time to ponder her husband’s behavior, which she found perplexing. Why would he be reluctant to accept help from her and their family if his aim was to care for his poor naive friends. What, she wondered, was he keeping from her, but then she immediately dismissed sinister intentions as preposterous and simply antithetical to Nathaniel’s character.

Birgit smirked as Gertie appeared to become increasingly puzzled as her mother explained what Nathaniel had been up to. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, looking worried. “Well, I think he’s found a cause, and honestly, it’s probably good for him. He’s been quite a bit more active than the rat he was, sleeping till all hours of the day.”

Birgit saw that she had won over Gertie, even if her help was simply to appease her mother. She agreed to gather other members of their family and assist with assembling an emergency food caravan to save the mouse colony, who by this time were choosing to starve before they would venture out to find a new home.

 

  

 

That evening, Nathaniel tossed and turned in bed as he tried to come to grips with his handling of Jid’s request and the lies it had spawned. Then the music and the words began to come to him, fast and painful.

 

Carry round this burden,

just as heavy as can be.

Thinkin’ no one else can do it

near as well as me.

I got the self-deception blues.

The self-deception blues.

Birgit set me straight tonight.

She said, “You’re too big for your shoes.”

 

The burden is a secret.

I’m the only one who knows.

And since I kind of like this gig,

I thought I’d steal the show.

I got the self-deception blues.

The self-deception blues.

Jid said, “Boy, you’re not the one I want.

It’s Wendel that I choose.”

 

 

Wendel had a growing awareness that the death of Jid had consequences that went beyond simply being left leaderless. The spirit of the Cielo Creek colony was shaken, and the mice twitched with anxiety over their future. He listened thoughtfully to the rumors spread among the colony, of torturous traps being set by the Exterminator, and learned many of the mice were afraid to leave their nests. Some shared tales of how Jid had died, slowly drowning in a pot of scalding hot olive oil the Exterminator had dropped him into. Still others manufactured even more hideous and outlandish stories of his death and the dim prospects for their community’s future. Wendel knew they were a high-strung collection of creatures to begin with, and introducing a traumatic death and an uncertain future into the mix only served to underscore this reality.

Wendel, however, was an outlier of sorts, seeming to draw energy from the crisis. The more intense the circumstances became, the calmer he grew. In the days before the fire, Wendel had been like the other mice, naive and impulsive and beginning to think about a mate. He had been trying to get to know Pip better but lacked confidence and was afraid of being rejected. But since the fire, everything had changed. There was a sense of urgency to most any task he undertook, including his pursuit of Pip. He was humbled by her bravery and smitten with her looks, which he admitted to himself he could now only vaguely recall. He liked her “can do” spirit and her feisty demeanor. So, even as busy as he was, Wendel decided he would make every effort to spend as much time as possible with Pip, asking her advice about the McCorkles, about moving, about almost everything.

“Wendel, I have to speak to you.” Pip’s voice conveyed a sense of urgency.

“What is it?” Wendel answered, unintentionally with a note of impatience. He was awash in a jumble of feelings he could not clearly decipher. Was he grief-stricken, depressed, or angry about Jid’s death? At the same time, he wondered whether he was falling in love with Pip. It was a strange collection of conflicted feelings, because even as he grew increasingly more confident as a leader, he still felt caught by the whirlpool of feelings that spun him every which way, causing him to question his newfound confidence.

Pip took a deep breath and jumped right in. “Look, I’ll just say it right out loud exactly as I heard it. Wendel, Jid’s dying wish was to see you named as Cielo Creek’s new Jid after his death.” She spat out the words as if the burden of carrying them had simply become too much.

“What are you talking about? That’s crazy, Pip. The Jid is old and wise and the father of many, many children.”

“No, it’s true. I heard their conversation, and Nathaniel didn’t know I was there.”

“Were you spying?”

“No. You asked me to be there, or have you forgotten?” she responded with a slight edge in her voice. “As I entered the utility room, I heard them speaking with one another and felt I should keep quiet out of respect. But when I heard Jid say he wanted you to be his successor, I decided I’d stay hidden. He asked Nathaniel to promise to tell you and the community that he wished for you to succeed him; he wanted you to lead the community, Wendel.” She took another deep breath, then continued. “So why did I hide? you’re wondering.”

Wendel cocked his head and looked unseeingly at Pip with what she felt was suspicion.

“Well, I’ll tell you why! Nathaniel is a rat, Wendel, and I don’t know … I just thought his sudden interest in our colony was … I’m sorry … odd, unusual. Actually, I thought it was suspicious. I just … I just didn’t trust him, and I thought he might demand my silence or, worse, make sure I could never tell anyone, if you get my meaning.”

Wendel listened quietly, absorbing her words.

“Jid said your encounter with … well, he didn’t put it this way, but he seemed to feel your personal tragedies had matured you beyond your young age, and the loss of your sight had provided you with new gifts that would serve you well as the new Jid. That was the way he put it. He said your experiences would have broken many, but you … What did he say?” She paused briefly, reaching for the right words she knew she remembered Jid using. “He said you redeemed the experience.”

“What does that mean? I wonder,” Wendel asked cautiously.

“Well, he said that you had created something of value from something that was tragic.”

Wendel repeated the words to himself and then again out loud. “I created something of value from something that was tragic. Huh. Like trading something of lesser value for something of greater value. Mr. Leach said something like that. He said I paid with my sight to acquire my vision.”

“But, Wendel, that’s not all he said.” Pip spoke enthusiastically, afraid that Wendel was getting side-tracked by things like Mr. Leach’s comments. “He said this would enable you to become a fine colony Jid. He talked as if you were someone really special. And you are. I’ve always known that, Wendel.”

Wendel sat silently for a while as Pip watched him tipping his head one way then the next, as if weighing up his alternatives.

Then, speaking to Pip, he said, “Look. He’s become quite attached to the fortunes of Cielo Creek. It was the fire, and that old rat saved my life. It’s created a kind of special bond between us that I hope he’ll never betray. I really believe this is something he and I will need to wrestle with. But my hope is that he will conclude that he should share this information with me. I don’t want him to think that he has simply been caught lying to us all. That will just drive him away from us and leave everyone feeling bad about this whole experience. I don’t want that for him or for us. Let’s wait to see if we can better understand what he’s up to.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Wendel. I didn’t want to damage your friendship. I just wanted to be careful and wanted to be sure Jid’s wishes were carried out.” Pip looked down at the crawl space floor, ashamed, while Wendel gazed sightlessly past her.

Finally he said, “It seems everyone feels they need to look out for my interests, as if I cannot. We’ll see where all this leads us, won’t we, both of us in our own way?”

She nodded, “Yeah, we will.”

Wendel smiled. “Pip, do me a favor. Let’s keep this between us for now.”

That evening, Wendel was especially aware that the mice of Cielo Creek were on edge because they were hungry but afraid to go up the pipe to where they knew the food to be. As is the case in most every community, Wendel knew there were the fools and nonbelievers who chose to understand the story of Jid’s death in a sticky trap as nothing more than some sort of conspiracy theory designed to frighten them into leaving the McCorkle house for a better place. This was signature Ricketts, he believed, and it conveniently capitalized on the numbers of them who simply did not know what to believe. It fed their fear of straying far from the nest, supported their anxiety about the unfamiliar and new ideas about how mice were capable of choosing to leave what was dangerous and seek out a better life. He concluded he needed to stop thinking about all this and get some sleep. As Wendel and Pip were preparing for bed late that evening, they were startled awake by a loud SNAP sound.

“What’s that, Wendel?” Pip asked, now alert and on her feet.

Wendel cocked his head, focusing his attention on the direction from which the sound had come. “I don’t know.”

Then another SNAP. Then a weak groan of a mouse in distress.

Pip and Wendel scrambled from the insulation to the floor of the crawl space, and Pip led Wendel toward the pipe to the floor above them. Before arriving at the pipe, they found Albion and Mebane lying in a pool of their own vomit on the floor of the crawl space and writhing in pain.

“Ohhh, help us, Wendel. Pip? Please help!”

“What happened?” Wendel asked. “What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Mebane appears to be unconscious, and Albion is quite sick,” Pip explained to Wendel.

As Albion suffered between fits of retching, he explained that he and others had gotten so hungry they’d gone in search of food. They had avoided the sticky traps, but there were small boxes with food pellets scattered around the crawl space and above. “They tasted fine and seemed safe to eat, but now I’m sure we have eaten poison.”

“Poison, yes,” Wendel said calmly.

“Maybe. I never thought … Others also ate …” Albion murmured, a barely discernible whisper, before losing consciousness. He and Mebane lay next to one another.

Wendel lowered his head close to each of them to determine whether they were still breathing. Neither was. Wendel sighed and bowed his head momentarily before saying, “Let’s go!”

As they neared the PVC pipe to take them to the floor above, they discovered still others, also gone, foam at their mouths. Puddles of vomit vividly captured just how violently they had suffered before dying.

As they explored the utility room, Pip seemed to become angrier as Wendel grew more focused and steadier. When they came upon the mousetraps, Pip described the gruesome scene to Wendel, and he was certain these were the source of the loud snap noises they had heard. She explained the device and the small broken body trapped under the steel bar, and Wendel responded, “I know what a mousetrap is and what it can do.” When Pip complained she didn’t understand, Wendel explained how it worked and took advantage of the impulsive and appetite-driven natures of their species.

“Dumb!” he said, gritting his teeth. “I should have warned everyone about these old but very deadly things. I wasn’t thinking!” Then he looked in Pip’s direction and quietly whispered, “We need to get us all out of here.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew he had no idea where they might find sanctuary.

As the two returned to the crawl space to contemplate plans for leaving, a rustling noise at the hatch, to the crawl space drew their attention. Pip watched the hatch and squeezing through the crack, Nathaniel appeared, smiling, and announced, “We have food!”

Pip sneered hard at Nathaniel, which she thought seemed to unnerve him. But Wendel greeted him enthusiastically. “Food! Excellent, Nathaniel! You said ‘we.’ Who exactly are ‘we’?”

“Them,” he answered, nodding back toward the hatch to the crawl space.

A torrent of rats poured through the small crack, and Nathaniel initially named them each for Wendel as they came through but quickly seemed to stumble over the names of many and must have thought it best to keep quiet. The last rat, Birgit, was able to get herself halfway through the crack before recognizing that was as far as she was going to get. “Oh dear. Nathaniel! I’m stuck,” she warbled. And indeed she was stuck.

Pip shook her head with an undisguisable look of contempt but was quickly upbraided by Nathaniel. “That’s my wife, Pip! Don’t be too quick to judge the one who organized the food for the mice of Cielo Creek.”

Pip hung her head and quietly said, “Sorry, Nate.”

Wendel snapped into a problem-solving mode, thanking Birgit for the food and explaining their situation, then directing Pip to roust all mice from their hiding places in the rows of insulation above, explaining Nathaniel’s family had brought food.

Meanwhile, Birgit’s children had managed to pry her loose and help her inside the crawl space. The food remained on the other side of the crawl space door. Nathaniel asked his family to fashion a bucket brigade and get the food inside.

 

 

 

As the mice began to assemble, Pip explained to the diminishing Cielo Creek community about the enhanced tactics of the Exterminator, which now included poisoning and deadly old-fashioned mousetraps. “Eat only the food that Nathaniel and Birgit have brought. Do not, I repeat, do not go up the pipe or eat pellets from any box. After you have eaten, we have some decisions to make. In the meantime, I want to show our friends what we are up against.”

“Where is everybody?” Nathaniel whispered to Wendel.

“I’m about to show you.” Wendel answered loud enough for Birgit and Pip to hear him. “Come with me.”

He was deadly serious, and soon the visitors understood why. There must have been ten mice who lay dead in the remote sections of the crawl space. Nathaniel’s heart ached, and he had the sickening feeling that he was somehow responsible, although he tried to persuade himself that logically this didn’t make sense. Still, he felt vaguely nauseated at having second-guessed Jid’s wishes.

“Let’s go up the pipe to have a look around.” The entourage headed up the pipe and were horrified by what they discovered. There were at least four mousetraps that had brutally killed members of the Cielo Creek community.

“The Exterminator!” Pip exclaimed as she turned to explain to the rats.

Birgit began to weep, at first quietly, then becoming louder and louder. Soon she was wailing and hyperventilating, and Nathaniel, attempting to comfort her, said, “I know. I know.”

“No,” she said, “you don’t!” Nathaniel looked hurt. “My foot!” she said. “This is how I lost the better part of my own foot!”

“Oh no!” Nathaniel said, and he, too, began to weep as he held his wife.

Pip seemed to visibly soften and cautiously patted Birgit on her back like she was petting an angry dog.

“I had forgotten,” Nathaniel lamented as he continued whispering apologies in Birgit’s ear.

“I’m so sorry you had to see this,” Pip offered.

There were other traps that were still baited and ready to kill.

“Be careful!” Wendel warned. “Let’s go back down the pipe, and if anything at all looks or seems unusual, steer clear of it.”

When they returned to the crawl space, the remaining members of Cielo Creek were huddled together, just finishing the food.

“Did you save something for Wendel?” Pip asked impatiently.

The mice looked up, embarrassed, but said nothing.

“I’m fine,” Wendel said.

“Then I am too,” Pip said defiantly, and moved beside him.

Wendel called for everyone’s attention and then turned to Nathaniel. “You said you had something you needed to say. Is that right, Nathaniel?”

Nathaniel did have something to say, although he had not planned on saying it before his own family and the mouse colony. “Well, I had hoped that—”

“No, please, Nathaniel. You’re a trusted friend of Cielo Creek, and your words are very important to us.” Pip nodded encouragingly even as Nathaniel considered the words of Mr. Leach, who had warned him about taking comfort in the belief that he and Jid had been alone.

Nathaniel took a deep breath, then began to speak. “Just a short time ago, I lay in bed, depressed and angry about growing old and feeling all used up and worthless. A wise old friend who I had not seen for a long time and I ran into one another and he offered me counsel, urging me to live a life of engagement. He told me to extract from experience the lessons life wants me to learn.” He stopped a moment and laughed gently. “I wasn’t and still am not sure I understand what that means, but I agreed and was just going about living my life when I stumbled onto your community, Cielo Creek. I watched the community from a point where I couldn’t be seen.” He hesitated, recognizing this sounded peculiar. “I guess you might say that I was spying on you all.” Nathaniel heard the whispering between some of the mice and immediately regretted having made any reference to spying. “It wasn’t sinister. Really, it wasn’t,” he insisted. “I was curious and honestly fascinated to see all this life and activity within your community. Me? I felt so lifeless, and you all seemed so … full of life.” Tears began to well in Nathaniel’s eyes, which he angrily willed to stop. “Still, I was reluctant … no, afraid to engage with you, until the fire, when I simply acted on instinct. That was when I encountered a badly burned and lost pup named Wendel.”

Wendel interrupted Nathaniel. “That was when Nathaniel saved my life.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “That was when we both got these lovely pink patches and Wendel lost his sight,” he said, gesturing to the hairless, burned areas on his face. “As I engaged with Wendel, I found my world beginning to get a bit bigger than the world I had been living in, which consisted of me and my bed and, to some extent, my wife. It was exhilarating! It was the connection that brought me life. It was the experience of being needed that brought me back to life. I rediscovered I could be passionate about something other than me. I know … sound’s boring … pathetic. But I was thrilled that I hadn’t somehow lost that ability in my old age.

“Then, when Jid was caught in the sticky trap, I stayed with him alone …” He laughed quietly and added, “Or maybe I wasn’t alone. It doesn’t matter, I suppose.” Nathaniel glanced over at Pip, who offered an encouraging smile. “I have never ‘kept watch’ while another creature’s life ended in my presence. I didn’t know what it meant to ‘keep watch.’ But I think I understand it better now. I think keeping watch means ensuring another is free in the final moments of their life to learn its final lessons. But keeping watch, I thought, was also about the life lessons they offer you. All of this led me to believe that there was nothing more important than helping those who suffer. I wanted to keep Jid from suffering but couldn’t … I wanted to protect Wendel from suffering but didn’t … It’s what I wanted to offer my wife and family but haven’t done very well.”

Pip now interrupted Nathaniel. “No, Nate. You’re wrong. You did help Jid, and you have helped Wendel become the wise and wonderful leader he is.” She flashed him a big smile and a thumbs-up.

Nathaniel chuckled and shrugged, expressing the ambivalence he felt. “I don’t know. I don’t really think so. I thought I could stop your suffering. You see, I really began to believe that I knew what was best for everyone. I was on a mission to save the Cielo Creek community. Only now can I see the arrogance behind the ideology I was pursuing.

“Jid asked me to promise him something before he died.” All ears pricked up, and the murmuring among the mice captured the tension in the crawl space. “He asked that I convey to all of you that it was his dying wish that Wendel be named Jid.”

There were a few gasps, while both Pip and Wendel remained expressionless.

“I wanted to protect Wendel from the burden of becoming Jid at such a tender age and after a tragic accident, but I was wrong to do this. It was his accident that made him strong. It was the loss of his sight that gave him the vision to lead. Again, you see, I believed I knew what was best.”

“Wendel,” one of the mice called out. “Our new Jid!”

Nathaniel looked over at Wendel and smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. There is a time for everything. And now was the right time for you to speak. Not before.”

It was readily apparent that Ricketts was fuming. “Hold on! This is a sham! Are we going to take the word of a rat as authoritative in something as consequential as the selection of a new Jid? He’s already admitted that he withheld valuable and important information.”

“It’s a sham … It’s fake news, boss. Tell ’em it’s fake news!” Rutger Loft could always be counted on to loyally pile on what Ricketts had said already.

“No, it is not fake news. It is the truth. I was there, Ricketts! Wendel had sent me to be present for Jid’s death, and I was, but I remained hidden,” Pip shouted across the assembled group of mice.

“And you expect us to believe this now?” Ricketts said. Then, taking a deep breath, Ricketts smiled. “Look, Wendel, Pip, and the rats want us all to leave here. I say to you who want to leave, just go!” Then he looked to his side at Rutger Loft hunched over but smiling up at him. “It’s fake news, friends! This is our home …” He paused and scanned the audience, bearing a toothy grin. “I think this tragedy is over, or nearly over, and for some reason, these three are committed to disrupting our efforts to restore peace and harmony to this colony … to our beloved Cielo Creek.” He paused again and scanned the crowd, mimicked by Rutger Loft.

Then loudly he bellowed, “Mice don’t leave their homes, and Wendel and Pip, you know that. Asking us to leave will be more traumatic for Cielo Creek than our getting through the winter here, where it is warm, after which we can return to the fields. It’s ridiculous to abandon the area we have called home for so many generations.”

The murmuring made it clear to Nathaniel that most of the mice were sympathetic to Ricketts’s position. Mice did not like to leave their home, and hoping that everything would be OK, even as unrealistic as Wendel, Pip, and he thought this notion was, it was such an appealing sentiment that everyone seemed drawn to the optimism it reflected, and it somehow amazingly suppressed any negative thoughts.

“Wait!” Nathaniel spoke up. “I believe I know a place where you will always be safe, where there is plenty of food and shelter during the cold season.”

Birgit heard the tittering among some of the mice. “My husband has spoken the truth. Did you enjoy the fruit my family brought you to keep you from starving or eating poisoned food?” The mice all agreed it was welcome and tasted delicious. “Well, the fruit is from the place of which my husband speaks.”

“I see!” Ricketts said suspiciously. “Are you going to save us all now, sir? And how far must we trek to reach this ‘promised land’?” Ricketts laughed, and Rutger Loft giggled, mocking the whole exodus notion as preposterous.

“It is a day’s journey,” Nathaniel said. “Sleep on it. Stay here tonight, but be careful, because the Exterminator has devised many ways to be rid of us pests.”

“Oh dear, Nathaniel simply cannot help himself,” Ricketts said drolly. “He’s going to protect us all!” he said, mocking Nathaniel’s bold claims. “Three cheers for the rat!” Ricketts said, not quite loud enough for anyone besides those closest to him to hear.

Nathaniel sat off to the side, away from Ricketts’s mockery, holding his head in his paws. Now they would engage in arguments that would put at risk the future of Cielo Creek. He was convinced that he was more than partly to blame for all this. That was when Birgit signaled to the extended family that it was time to leave, which only accentuated Nathaniel’s perceived impotence. The mice simply stared blankly at Nathaniel, Birgit, Gertie, and the stream of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren who followed, leaving through the crack in the crawl space hatch. Nathaniel wondered what he would find if he returned tomorrow.

Of course, a song would be his solace, and it came to him faster than he’d anticipated, even before he had left the crawl space. 

 

Humbled and ashamed,

I stood before the crowd.

A defect in my character,

I shared it right out loud.

I had to put it right.

I had to make things right.

Put it right or

toss and turn all night.

The role was not for me.

 

That evening, there were heated discussions within the Cielo Creek community that an outside observer might suppose would split them into the leavers and stayers. For his part, Ricketts began by making the case that the rat possessed no standing in their community. Moreover—and he made this point numerous times—Nathaniel was, after all, a rat, and rats were certainly known for eating mice.

“Not exactly the kind of so-called friend I’d be inclined to trust!” Rutger Loft sniveled.

“Indeed,” Ricketts bellowed self-righteously. “A little research will show you all what my colleague and I have believed all along. You will recall the nest invasion by a rat who went by the name of Elwood? Two of Elodie Pickle’s children were eaten. And, um … just one more thing. It seems Mr. Elwood was a friend of our guardian angel, Nathaniel. Interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

Then came the so-called argument from nature. “Could a creature whose instincts inclined them to be tied to a particular territory survive if they left that territory?” Wendel asked.

He continued by arguing that no creature was a prisoner to their instincts. Therefore, he said that while it may be true that some rats ate mice, Nathaniel had demonstrated by putting his own life on the line that he was not a prisoner to any instincts. “And by extension, my fellow members of the Cielo Creek community, neither are we prisoners to an instinct that inclines us to remain in one place. What, I ask you, is the greater instinct? Is our hunger for the familiar and our distaste for anxiety so strong that we would choose to put all our lives in jeopardy, including those of our children, by remaining in this very dangerous place? Or can we reach down inside ourselves to discover the courage necessary to face our fear of the unfamiliar with hope for a better future for ourselves and our children?”

Back and forth the arguments flew until the mice finally grew tired and little by little made their way up into the pink puff clouds of insulation, where they waited and watched.