“Whatever you say, this June turns out being!” Dale exclaimed,
addressing himself. Inspired with this deep and more importantly finished
thought, the chipmunk opened the bedroom window wide, letting the morning
breeze in. The flow of air stirred up the curtains, which badly needed
laundering, then swept over the room like some cool and dusty wave and
gradually turned into a draft and strolled through the lower floor.
“Close the window, Dale! It’s drafty!” Chip cried from
the corridor. He had just taken a shower-bath and wasn’t very pleased with a
sudden cold wave rushing by him.
“And Gadget says fresh air's healthy!” Dale shouted
in reply, still fanning dust clouds away and promising himself to wash the
curtains tomorrow.
“But that draft isn’t! Go ask her!” One cold-shuddering
Chip trotted to the wardrobe and rapidly pulled on his jacket. It would be very
foolish to catch a cold with fine weather like this. And on a long-awaited day
like this besides…
Dale coughed out his reply. “I would go and ask her if she weren’t in her
workshop all the time. Almost a month already…”
Dale’s words made Chip sigh sorrowfully. Gadget had
indeed been devoting too much time and attention to her devices. Apparently,
the many apparatuses she’d seen in Bottlebottom had impressed her so much she
decided to reproduce at least some of that equipment, if not all of it.
Certainly, the other four-fifths of the Rescue
Rangers understood that the inventor didn’t do anything for no purpose (that
is, if she didn’t get too carried away with something), but they hadn’t seen
such an all-consuming paroxysm of creative research for a very long time and
maybe not since their very first meeting. They suspected that was how the
beautiful mouse’s way of life had looked like before they met her, because the
conglomeration of all those Salesman Traps that nearly killed them at that time
could have been only the result of some very ungovernable enthusiasm.
But they couldn’t bring themselves to tell her about
it. Though sometimes Gadget showed wonders of self-control, firmness and
determination, she was nevertheless very tender by nature. Right now she seemed
separated from them by some kind of crystal wall and no member of their team
would dare try breaking through it. The razor-sharp splinters of this wall
could easily sever that very thread, that web-thin cord which made them all
something immeasurably more than just a group of two chipmunks, two mice and
one fly.
The Rangers had some very bitter experiences to prove
it. Once Gadget left, being dispirited with failures and accidents; once Monty
left, being bewitched by Désirée D'Allure’s vicious charms; Zipper left, being
offended with unmerited faultfinding; even
Dale left, dizzy and egotistical with super-powers…
Although the thread endured and everything fell back
into place, nobody wanted to take chances any more. Even Gadget with her vast
knowledge of physics, mechanics and materials resistance theory wouldn’t be
able to calculate the durability of this invisible bond way beyond the
boundaries of the physical world. She surely could say from the loftiness of
her realism that a spider’s web was twice as strong as steel fiber of the same
diameter, but it’s common knowledge that occasionally even a slightly careless
movement is enough to tear it apart…
Overwhelmed with these thoughts, Chip pulled down his
fedora over his eyes and left the room. Dale put on his Hawaiian shirt on the
move and followed him as he barely missed a collision with the door-post.
Today was Monterey Jack’s kitchen shift and as always
the cheese could be smelled all over the headquarters. Monty wore his white
apron and chef’s hat of the same color as he concocted his culinary magic over
two pans.
“Good morning, Monty!” the two friends simultaneously
said, taking their seats at the table.
Monty gave a jump as if stung, spit three times over
each shoulder and put out his tongue at his reflection in the mirror-scrubbed
frying pan hanging right in front of him. Then he grabbed some odd things from
the table, did a couple of elaborate gestures and only after all of this turned
to the confused chipmunks.
“What’s with you, Monty?” Chip asked.
“It’s nothin’ with me! But with ya! Don’t ya know how
one shouldda behave on a day like this?”
Chip thoughtfully scratched his chin. Dale no less
thoughtfully knocked at his nose and picked his ear. The Australian sniffed scornfully
but deigned to educate them.
“Today’s Saturday” he whispered as he pointed at the
big wall-high loose-leaf calendar in the corridor: “The thirteenth!”
“Oh my, and that’s all? And I thought…” laughed Dale,
who was afraid of the thirteenth day only if it coincided with Friday, a lake
and a dark forest.
“How can you believe in all this, Monty?” Chip shook
his head. “You’ve been all around the world. You saw so much we can’t ever
imagine! Different cultures, habits… Didn’t it teach you anything?”
“Yeah, ya two have to go and do all da same!” Monty
drawled. He turned back to the cooker, opened one of the pans and started
vigorously stirring its contents. Even too vigorously, for the splashes flew all
over the room.
“Where do we have to go?” Dale asked.
Chip chuckled as if saying “It’s elementary!”, though
he didn’t get what Monty meant either. But unlike his expressive friend, Chip
always tried not to show his lack of understanding. Dale can torment himself
over it; rack his brains if he wants to…
“Ya speak just like Gadget, word fo’ word!” Monterey Jack
eventually answered once he finished stirring the cheese soup and getting the
plates from the shelf.
“Has she gotten up already?” Chip wondered. “It’s
only five past eight, and considering that the noise from her workshop lasted
till midnight…”
“Till two at the morning!” Dale corrected him. “It
was two o’clock when I finished reading my ‘Super Hippo’ comic book, and the
sounds were still there…”
“I know, I barely fell asleepah” muscle mouse nodded.
He placed steaming plates in front of the friends, took off his cap and sat
down across the table. “And barely managed to get up to prepare everythin’ for
breakfast. And at seven or somethin’ like that she came to the kitchen,
swallowed a couple of sandwiches and went back to work!”
“AT SEVEN?! She’s staying in there all day long!
We’ve got to do something!..”
“Well…” Monty gave a mysterious wink at the
chipmunks, “she agreedda go to the hockey match with us!”
“WHAAAT?!” Chip and Dale shouted and sprang to their
feet, nearly turning the table over.
This game already had the note of legend long before
its start—the Stanley Cup Final featuring the Michigan Red Stars and San-Angeles
Rangers. The seventh decisive game of the series, already declared one of the
most tense and implacable in all the NHL history. This final had it all:
unscored penalty shots, holding leads while doubly shorthanded, impossible
saves, unbelievable and inexplicable goals…
This epic struggle just couldn’t be missed,
especially this time when their home city’s Ice-Dome Sports Arena was chosen to
host it. Such an opportunity just couldn’t be missed, so Monterey Jack and
Zipper found out everything about the time and the place and reserved the best
seats possible — on the upper circle of the sixth sector, from where the
panoramic view on the whole rink and two videowalls in the corners showed every
replay in gigantic glory.
And the hockey match with Gadget and the hockey match
without Gadget — that’s two completely different hockey matches…
“Are you sure?! She said that?!
You heard it right?!”
Chip started finding out.
“You didn’t confuse anything?! You sure it was
Gadget?! Weren’t you just imagining?! Maybe Zipper said it?!” Dale argued.
For a moment a shade covered Monty’s face. The tips of his sumptuous moustache lowered a
bit and his smile withered. “Well, actually…”
“What?! What?!”
“I got it that way in me head…but I’m not sure now…”
“Recount your conversation with her in full,” Chip demanded.
The euphoria that gripped him since Monty’s first historical remark after these
words completely faded away. His head cleared up and he appeared calm and
staunch, though he felt a great cold burden in his stomach as if from some grim
premonition. The premonition of great disappointment…
“There’s nothing to tell,” Monty protested. “Me standing here cooking, Gadget enters.
‘Good morning!’ I took all necessary precautions against the hex. She didn’t
even notice, though. Only when I said ‘It’s Saturday the thirteenth today!’ did
she answer, ‘How can you believe in all this? You’ve been all around the
world…’.”
Monty crossed his arms, disgust on his face. “Same as you, just like that. That’s why I
said that ya too have to go all the same so’s you’ll know… Well, what was that
about? Oh, yeah! So I ask her ‘Gadget luv, I hope ya didn’t forget about us
going to the match today?’ And all ovva sudden she agreed! I couldn’t believe
me ears! Here, here, I even wrote it down!”
Monterey Jack dashed to the kitchen sink full of
plates. After looking through them and finding nothing, he looked around
bewildered. Then, having remembered something, with a joyful scream he took the
frying pan hanging in front of him from its nail and ceremonially put it upside
down on the table. Chip and Dale stared at the pan for a moment then exchanged
puzzled glances.
“And?” Chip asked.
“Ya know, I was so startled I decided to immortalizah
words for generations to come. And there was nothing on hand but the cheese
wheel and crockeries! So I wrote them down oh the pan! Here!”
These words said, Monty turned the frying pan over
and now the chipmunks saw letters scripted in bold yellow lines.
“’Yeah, sure, that’s just what’s needed!’” Chip read
slowly.
“Great! Marvelous! She recovered! She remembers about
the hockey!” Dale went on capering over the kitchen.
Chip felt an urge to follow his example, but some
little worm of doubt troubled the leader of Rescue Rangers. His detective
instinct suggested that this situation needed careful investigation. Something
was wrong. It was all too good to be true.
“Gadget didn’t say anything else, did she?” Chip
finally asked the question which he was afraid to ask but couldn’t resist
asking.
“To me — nothing!” Monterey Jack answered quickly.
Too quickly. As if fearing to scare the beautiful fleeting image away. As if
clutching at straws. Chip sensed it so pronouncedly that he felt himself
chilled from inside out.
“Stop playing the detective, Chip!” Dale exclaimed.
Tired of kitchen jumping, he flopped down on the chair and began eating hastily,
as though it could have drawn the start of the hockey game any closer. Chip
paid no heed to his words though. He had understood everything already. It
remained only to clear up some details.
“What did she say to herself?” Chip pressed.
Monty strained his brain and squinted his eyes. “Somethin’ like ‘Maybe I should try and move…
thingy and… whazzit into the antiphase…’ I’m sorry I didn’t
remember everythin’, the words were too complicated fo’ me…”
“I got it. Thanks.” Chip took the spoon and started
slowly digging up his long since cold and thickened cheese soup.
“So ya too think that she…” Apparently Monty came to
the same conclusion as Chip did but was just as afraid to take them for
granted.
“One hundred to one she didn’t hear your words at
all. Okay, enough about that.”
“Well, maybe she’ll ‘ave everythin’ done by four
o’clock and go with us after all?” Monty wasn’t going to give up that easily.
“Do you yourself believe in it? She has so many
details and blueprints piled up there, it’ll last her months if not years of
work. Even the aircraft scrap yard has less junk!”
The Australian stayed determined. “But we must try to
persuade ‘er! She needs some rest! We’ll wait till 4 PM… No, till dinnah! She
doesn’t forget to have a dinnah… yet. But,” he glanced at the calendar in the
corridor and sighed, “I doubt we’ll get lucky on a day like this…”
*2*
Since no one could foretell when exactly Gadget would
tear herself away from working and remember of the necessity to eat at least
something, our friends knew they wouldn’t get anywhere without some efficient teamwork.
Chip, as always in such cases, took initiative into his paws and they discussed
and agreed on their plan for almost an hour, nearly as long as the actual
preparations.
The moment Gadget left the workshop, Zipper flew out
the window where he was stationed toward the gym with all his wings’ might,
where Monty idly punched the punching bag, prepared to guide Gadget into the
kitchen. But the gym window suddenly turned out to be locked from inside. He
commenced beating at the glass to draw Monty’s attention, but Australian tired
of the long wait and decided to have a snack of his favorite cheese and heard
no rattle.
Zipper realized that Monty could be influenced by
physical force only and flew into HQ through the hangar doors. But no sooner had
he entered the kitchen than he met Gadget there.
“Oh, hello, Zipper!” the cheerful mouse greeted him.
Zipper was absolutely unprepared for a one-on-one
conversation with her, so he squeaked then flew through the dining room into
the corridor. The stunned inventor followed him with a bewildered gaze.
“What’s with him?” she asked herself. “Do I look so
bad? Maybe I should go to bed earlier…”
Waiting at his room’s door, Chip heard Gadget’s voice
and froze in perplexity. How did she manage to outdistance Monterey Jack so
much? He was supposed to escort her into the kitchen so they could all meet in
there! Could Dale and Zipper have failed
to notice her leaving the workshop?
Well, be that as it may be, it’s time for his
entrance now. He must hold Gadget in the kitchen until the others came. Chip
loudly cleared his throat and stepped out of the doorway. And in that very
moment Monty’s noisy strides were heard from the stairs. The muscle mouse ran
so headily he didn’t react upon the Rescue Rangers’ leader coming out.
Chip had too little time to jump aside, and the
corridor was too narrow for them to pass by one another. They collided and barely
squeezed through the kitchen door, clearly not meant for a workload like this. In
a mass they tumbled into kitchen like an avalanche, rolled on the floor across
the room and came to rest against the cupboard. The wood cracked and crockery
rang.
Gadget was completely dumbfounded and just stood
still near the kitchen table with a sandwich in hand and her mouth wide open,
looking at her crumpled and heavily breathing friends.
“Chip?! Monty?! What the heck…” she began, but the battle
cry “Rescue Rangers, away!” was heard from behind accompanied by glass
shattering.
Gadget turned at the sound and saw Dale bound hand
and foot flying into the kitchen. He managed to swing back and forth on the
rope quite enough to break the rope and fly as far as the nearest window. The
kitchen, only a minute ago having been the embodiment of order and cleanness,
now looked like battlefield covered with debris, some wounded men and one POW.
“Oh Golly! What’s going on here?!” Gadget finally
asked when her initial stupor subsided and her gift of speech returned.
“Emm… well… you know…” Chip babbled vacillatingly
crouching from under Monterey Jack.
“Yeah, Gadgie, don’t ya pay attention, we just, to
put it that way, emm…” Monty took up.
“Came to have a snack?” the irony could be distinctly discerned in mouse’s
voice.
“Yes! That is, no!” Monty waved his hands. “I came to
drink some watah! Morning run made me so thirsty… Hey, Zippah, am I right? See,
I’m right!” He pointed at the fly nodding his head amuck.
“And me… I… got hungry indeed. So I decided to have a
couple of sandwiches…” Chip answered, carefully hiding his eyes. He couldn’t
stand telling Gadget even little white lies to her face, even with good
intentions.
“Okay, I got it. And you, Dale, you decided to wash
some windows?” Gadget asked as she helped the chipmunk out of the ropes.
“Yeah, that’s right!” Dale eagerly agreed not
noticing a trap he was falling right into.
“And where’s your duster, soap, and water bucket?”
Gadget asked innocently.
“Duster? Soap? I don’t know. There was no soap in our
plan… Oops!”
Dale abruptly stopped in confusion. Chip covered his
face with the hat. Monterey Jack pointedly clattered the plates. Zipper
pretended to study some spots on the wall.
Gadget turned to Chip, her arms crossed, and said in
the strict voice boding no good at all, “Plan? So this was a plan, huh? And
what this plan was for? Tell me, Chip! Plans are right in your line!”
Chip was silent for a while collecting his thoughts
and planning what he’d do to Dale later. He’d planned an ardent and heartfelt
address in the vein of a revered leader to his discouraged brothers-in-arms,
but now it turned out to be something like a naughty pupil’s confused
explanation.
“Gadget,” he managed at last, feeling that the pause
had dragged for too long already, “we are all very worried about you. It seems
to us that you’ve become too carried away by your work. It’s very useful and interesting,
to be sure, but it’s also—let’s say it this way, too demanding in terms of time
and effort.”
So far, no good
he thought when he saw Gadget’s unchanged expression. “Gadget, we all start feeling that you’re
becoming too estranged from us. And we are very concerned about it. I can even
say that we’re scared. We, as a team, we’ve gone through many so many hardships.
I believe that the invisible link between us is strong enough to endure even
harsher things but it doesn’t make it any less scary. With each passing day we
see you more and more seldom. And I…we rarely hear your voice, your laughter…”
As he spoke, the angry expression disappeared from
Gadget’s face, giving place first to interest, then to intrigue and finally to
deep compassion. Even Monterey Jack and Zipper stood still, listening.
Chip felt he was on the right path and inspired by
this went on. “We miss you. I miss you…”
“Come on, Gadget, let’s go to the hockey match
today!” Dale blurted out. “We haven’t been out for a very long time, and the
game’ll be fantastic! And you know, tomorrow the band A-Kha’s in town for a
one-time show! I’ve already reserved the seats! I’m pretty sure you’ll like it
…”
Gadget was just about to answer when Chip rushed up
to them, enraged by his friend’s so impudent meddling. “DALE! How could you! You
spoiled everything! You… you…”
“Oh, stop it!” Dale retorted. “Your intro was too
long and I decided to cut it short! After all, that’s why we did it anyways, to
get Gadget to join in!”
“And what’s with this concert? You think we don’t
know what kind of music you like? Shouts, screams and noises! Gadget won’t
listen to that!”
“You’re the only one shouting and screaming around
here!” Dale got deeply indignant. “You’ve never heard A-Kha’s songs, so don’t
say so!!!”
“Right, I don’t need to hear them! I had quite enough
with Iron Goose, thanks!”
“Don’t compare them!!!” Now the red-nosed chipmunk
got really mad. “You don’t know anything! A-Kha is great! They wrote the theme
song for the Dirk Suave movie!”
“So why didn’t you say it from the very beginning?!
That’s what I call the best reason to avoid them like the plague!”
Dale flew into a rage and grabbed Chip by the collar
of his flight-jacket. Chip did the same, and they raised fists to exchange
punches when Gadget seized the chipmunks by their arms, dragged them apart and
stood right between them.
“Chip! Dale! Guys! Look at yourselves! What the heck
are you doing?! Chip, you’ve said so many right and smart things about the
team, and now this?!”
“Oh, nothing, I just, simply… I’m sorry, Gadget” Chip
dropped his eyes.
Dale grinned exultantly, but then Gadget turned to
him and the chipmunk had no ground to laugh anymore.
“And you, Dale?! Start fighting at every trifle,
don’t you?! You should know that it’s impolite to interrupt others! You should
apologize!”
“Me?! Let him apologize first! This musical bore
compared Iron Goose and A-Kha!!!”
“Me?! How dare you…” Chip growled.
Gadget, having understood that this could go on
forever, without any word embraced both chipmunks. The friends instantly calmed
down and forgot about everything. For a minute or maybe more they just stood
there in silence, then the mouse between them spoke quietly.
“Guys!” Gadget said, a measure of pain in her
voice. “How could you ever have thought
that? That I’d forget you, that I exchanged you for mechanisms? It will never
happen! Do you copy?! Ne-ver!”
“Yes, we do copy,” Chip answered, now much calmer, “and
we never doubted it. I never doubted it.”
“So what’s about the hockey, Gadget?” Dale
interrupted again, but this time Chip restrained himself. First, it was
inconvenient to fight with Dale being embraced by Gadget. And second, but most
important, he himself wanted to hear the answer above all…
Gadget relaxed her arms, stepped a bit back and
looked into their eyes. “My dear
friends! After all these words, all these efforts you put forth to knock until
I heard you… After all these things said and not said… I really want to go with
you, believe me…”
“But ya won’t,” Monterey Jack standing at the
cupboard and tousling some amulet of vague shape “’Cause right now ya are at
the very crucial stage of yer research which can’t be interrupted or put off at
a latah time. Am I right?”
The inventor blushed.
“Monty, how do you…”
“It’s pretty simple,” Chip answered sadly. “Yesterday
you said the same.”
He took her hand off his shoulder and slowly went
away to the table. “And the day before yesterday. And the day before that…”
“We haven’t heard anything else from you in a month!”
Dale was harsher than Chip, but there was sorrow, not anger, in his voice too.
He walked up to the devastated cupboard and started gathering smithereens of
broken plates. It was so out of his character that there couldn’t be any doubt
of his disappointment and depression being truly boundless.
Gadget stepped forward, her whole form marking her
protest. “But listen to me, guys! When I
complete my work, our abilities will be beyond imagination! You’ll see it for
yourselves!”
“I’m sure you’re right.” Chip heaved his head. “But
isn’t it possible to make time for a break just for a single day?”
“Golly, we’ll have plenty of time when I finish!”
“But the game is today!” fedora-wearing chipmunk exclaimed.
“I understand that you can go for a picnic or to the amusement park anytime,
but the game won’t repeat!”
“And neither will the concert!” Dale kept the
pressure up. “They seldom tour in America, and they won’t ever come
here anymore after this!”
“Point taken, but…please, give me these two days.
Only these two days. I’ll cope with all of it! I’ll complete everything, I promise!”
Four Rescue Rangers exchanged glances and
simultaneously sighed heavily.
“Well, if ya say so…” Monterey Jack approached Gadget
and tapped on her shoulder. “We aren’t some beasts who don’t understand. Sure,
work on. Ya make very useful and you’ve saved ouah lives with ‘em more times
than I can count. When they worked as they should ‘ave, at least—okay, let’s go
lads! It’s time to get ready!”
Monty along with a downcast Zipper sitting on his
shoulder left the kitchen. Two chipmunks slowly followed. Already in the
doorway Chip looked back at the inventor standing alone in the center of the
wide kitchen.
“Maybe, however...?” he asked quietly.
The mouse only shrugged her shoulders. Chip sobbed
shortly to himself and left the kitchen completely robbed of spirit.
*3*
“If ya manage to finishah earlier neverth’less, well,
just suppose it, come an’ find us in Ice-Dome. Sector six, by the first stand
girder. Seat’s reservdah, no one will occupy it, we’ll see da it! The sector
numbers are marked with big numbers on the walls, so you can’t miss it. Yer
ticket’s on the table in the hall.”
With that, Monterey Jack, covered with his lucky
talismans of different shapes and sizes, stowed a bevy of snacks on the backseat
of Rangermobile. That way, there wouldn’t be an urge to go to the buffet during
the break through the crowded sports complex.
Gadget just nodded quietly. She knew that nothing
could ever hurry nature itself. The engineering procedure she had started just couldn’t
come to an end before nine that night…
The Ranger Wing wasn’t quite working at the moment,
so the friends decided to take the Rangermobile which they planned to leave in
the bushes on the edge of the park encircling the square around the Ice-Dome.
The ticket prices for the good seats were much cheaper than human ones, nevertheless
they were quite high and only such bigwigs as Fat Cat or Capone could afford
booking seats in the VIP-zone (on the roofs of the human VIP-zone and
commentary studio).
Tonight, that wasn’t a problem—during one of their
last cases the Rangers uncovered a very intricate affair and averted the
bankruptcy of Benny Hilton, chief manager of the arena’s rodent zone. And when
he was told that Monty and Zipper came to Ice-Dome inquiring about tickets, he
personally insisted on covering all expenses.
Though the Rescue Rangers always worked gratis, Monty
and Zipper concluded there was nothing wrong with complying with the old
rodent’s request and accepted his offer.
The chipmunks appeared, dressed up for the match. But
while Chip just bound a blue and red muffler with a San-Angeles Rangers emblem
around his neck, Dale decked himself out like a true ice-hockey player, lacking
only the skates. The conglomeration of various pads hindered his movements, the
hockey stick constantly tangled his legs, and his visor kept on slipping over
his eyes but like any true obsessed fan he didn’t care.
Chip, who had never missed any single opportunity to
tease his friend before, especially in the presence of the pin-up mouse
inventor, didn’t pay any attention to Dale’s self-torments at all. He tacitly
passed by Gadget and took the front passenger seat. Dale, not without his faithful
stick’s assistance, waddled into the back. Monty turned the fan on and Rangermobile
set out.
“Good luck, guys!” Gadget bid them farewell. Monty
waved his hand in response, while the chipmunks didn’t react at all, having
either not heard her voice through the fan’s din or pretended not to hear. The
mouse followed them with her eyes until they vanished, then turned around and
resolutely headed to the workshop.
“Didn’t even say goodbye!” she said angrily to
herself, going upstairs. “Like uppity children, really! I’m at the most crucial
creative stage of my research and they come up with this silly hockey game!
What did they find interesting in it? It’s just a bunch of rudeness, scuffling
and nothing more! Primitive! How can anyone like a sport where the most
complicated equipment used are sirens and light bulbs behind the nets?! Oh golly,
I completely forgot! The first stage must’ve been completed already!”
She quickened her pace and ran into the workshop
right when the timer counted down its last seconds and rang loudly. Gadget
dashed to the electrolyte bath and took out the metal plates covered with a
white film.
“Ooh, just in time!” Gadget sighed with relief as she
pulled her goggles down over her eyes and became thoroughly engrossed in her
work. The time-table was strict. Today she planned to finish off the superglue
she was making, assemble and test some pneumatic pistols for nailing up
grapples in the walls of almost any thickness, dismantle the Ranger Wing’s
engines for future modernization and put together a lightweight but very
durable frame of a future supersonic aircraft.
But the main task for today was to perfect the
technology of obtaining a much more pure liquid potassium, which then could be
used to produce ultra strong glass to protect them—in the Ranger Wing, Gyrotank,
Rangermobile, anything at all! The new glass could even serve the windows at
headquarters, especially now after one of them, well, “broke”.
That brought Gadget’s mind back to the events of the
day, and now she recalled the emotions and looks that the boys had. She tried to push it away, to file it for later
study, but the events replayed in her mind’s eye again.
“Never mind!” the inventor said to herself. “The Rangers
will win, the guys will come back content and by that time I will already have
something great to show them! And tomorrow’s concert…golly, it’ll be shown on
TV so many times it’ll become boring!”
*4*
When Gadget decided to take a short rest and turned
away from her blueprints and calculations, she found much to her astonishment
that it was completely dark already. She skidded down the spiral tire slide
into the hall, switched the lights on and looked at the clock. Five minutes to
ten.
“Wow!” she thought, “I’ve worked more than six hours
without a break!.. But where are the guys? The match must have finished some
time ago…”
The mouse inventor went down to the garage, but the Rangermobile
wasn’t there. What could have held them up for so long? She felt a cold lump
forming in her stomach. Could something have really gone wrong? It’s the thirteenth today, and Monty said…
“Golly, why am I winding myself up?! The Rangers won
and guys just went somewhere to have a snack and celebrate the victory!” she
loudly reprimanded herself. For a few
moments she felt better but the feeling of cold wouldn’t leave. She returned to
the hall, mumbling “couldn’t they just stay home for me not to worry” and turned
on the TV.
And the world broke apart.
The special bulletin caption reading “Breaking News”
all by itself caused her to freeze in more ways than one. The mournful look of
a news anchor tired after many hours of an-air marathon — she shuddered. And
his words — she desperately wanted to wake up.
“This Saturday, the thirteenth of June, is one of the
blackest days in the history of our city and all our country,” Stan Blather
reported, all the emotion drained from his voice. “As it was reported earlier today, at 5:23 PM
Pacific Time, a Boeing 747 air liner, North Pacific Avia Flight 10031 crashed
down on the Ice-Dome Sports Arena, where the Stanley Cup Final featuring the Michigan
Red Stars and San-Angeles Rangers was taking place. The flight originated in Lima,
Peru with an intermediate
landing at our city’s National Airport.
At 5:05 PM the plane took off en route to Sea-City.
“As a result of the crash, three out of twelve
sectors of the complex were completely destroyed, other sectors being severely
damaged. According to unconfirmed sources, there were no survivors among the 328
passengers and crew of Flight 10031. The victim count on the ground is being
verified, but it’s already clear that the total casualties are estimated in the
thousands.
“Our foreign colleagues report that the President
interrupted his official visit to Europe and
is heading back to this country, with his arrival at the crash site expected sometime
tomorrow afternoon. The administration continues to receive condolences from
state leaders and public organizations from all over the world.
“Norwegian band A-Kha, whose grand concert was
scheduled for tomorrow, has already declared the show’s cancellation and
postponed the event indefinitely. At the same time the lead singer of the band
announced at a press-conference that starting next week they would begin a
worldwide charity tour, all funds from which would be used to help the families
of the deceased and injured in this horrible catastrophe…”
The newsreader spoke of many different things: Of the
"go team", created by National Transportation Safety Board to
investigate the causes of this air crash. Of the telephone numbers by which one
could get information regarding relatives attending this ill-fated game. Of the
blood donation centers set up in all city hospitals and administrative
buildings. Of much more.
But Gadget didn’t hear it. She sat on the sofa rolled
into a tight ball, staring vacantly with her wide-open eyes somewhere beyond
the newsreader, beyond the TV, beyond the headquarters’ walls. Somewhere out there,
a place where only this afternoon her friends had invited her.
Gadget realized that if she sat there for a second
more she would go crazy once and for all. Like a spring pressed to its limit,
she straightened up and ran to the Wing stationed in the hangar. It was dark on
the lower floor but it only registered in her fevered mind as some shroud
covering her eyes and slowly she became aware she was crying.
But she didn’t stop. She could stop no longer.
Gadget climbed into the cockpit and powered the
engines up. Only a dull rattle responded
instead of the usual low hum. Why, why had she decided to dismantle the engines
today?! Gadget beat at the motionless yoke and all of a sudden remembered the Ranger
Plane, stored for the time being on the upper landing pad.
The inventor darted upstairs. “Golly, if only she worked…
if only she worked…” Gadget kept muttering the mantra under her breath like
some spell, running up to the tarpaulin-covered aircraft. Having torn the sheet
away, the mouse took the pilot’s seat and started pulling on the unruly levers.
“Come on, work!” she cried with all the lung power she
had, waking up a flock of sparrows which slept in the canopy over her and
sending them scattering asunder in fear at the sound of her voice. Right now
she didn’t care who and in what quantity she disturbed at all.
“Come on, dear, start, please,” she kept saying
tearfully while repeatedly rotating the starter crank. “Please, forgive me for
leaving you behind. Fly once more, please…”
Gadget pushed the crank once more, putting all her
energy into this movement. Something cracked under the dashboard—the engine
sneezed, ungreased mechanical joints started moving rhythmically, the plane
swayed and vacillatingly soared upwards.
The Ranger Plane had never been noted for high speed and
the long downtime didn’t improve the situation by any means. From Gadget’s
standpoint she didn’t move forward at all, but the plane, although slowly, was
indeed flying. Having flown out of the tree’s dense canopy, she looked around
and immediately knew where to go. The crimson glow and thick puffs of black
smoke over the city were impossible to miss.
No sooner had the mouse left the limits of the city
park than she was deafened by sirens’ wailing, previously stifled by the trees.
The streets she was flying over were packed with ambulances racing between the Ice-Dome
and the hospitals. 101st Avenue,
which led from the city’s center to the sports arena, was closed for all
traffic but emergency vessels.
Police cars and barriers were posted at all
intersections. Some ambulances rushed past accompanied by a pair of police
motorcycles — definitely carrying someone significant, for the cream of society
just couldn’t afford to miss a match like this. Ordinary drivers had to go
around. Almost each and every citizen had relatives or friends among the
Ice-Dome attendees, so everyone abandoned everything and hurried either to the
site or the hospitals. Narrow secondary streets not meant for such traffic
quickly grew jammed and complaining horns of thousands of cars rent the air.
After a seemingly eternal flight, Gadget saw the Ice-Dome—or
rather what was left of it. The palace towered above the wide square surrounded
by parks, and all the space between its walls and trees was filled with a
confusion of people and machinery.
Gadget’s attention was entirely absorbed by the
ruinous sports arena, its snow-white walls almost completely black with soot
and burn marks now, the once majestic dome partially collapsed. Smoke belched
and every now and then tongues of flame shot out of numerous windows.
Despite a host of water cannons and foam launchers
working at full capacity, the firemen still hadn’t managed to localize the
fire, let alone beat it. The fire fed on the aviation fuel poured out from
aircraft’s full tanks, reigniting again and again, and the firefighters had to
extinguish the same areas many times.
But the most terrifying sight was the tremendous
breach in the south part of the arena with the crashed Boeing’s keel protruding
from it. To the left and right from it broad and long openings punched by airliner’s
wings gaped like two deep wounds. In spite of the soot, the shape of a big
three stories high numeral eight could be seen to the left of the yawning
chasm.
Sector eight.
Gadget knew that sector numbers increased clockwise,
so she banked right toward the opposite side of the breach where sector six
must have been situated. The inventor looked for the number, and that’s why she
didn’t notice the outlines of the numeral four lost amidst the burn marks right
away. The large three farther to the right was much easier to spot, for this
part of the complex suffered less damage and she was struck by a dreadful
revelation.
Barely holding the yoke’s bottle cap with trembling
hands, she flew around the entire facility, finding all sectors except 5, 6 and
7. There could be no more doubts. The sector her friends were sitting in was in
the very middle of devastated part of the building. The plane crashed right
into it.
“No, no, it can’t be…” Gadget mumbled. Spellbound,
she peered into the flaming interior of the Ice-Dome ripped open by the fallen
aircraft, trying to notice any little movement amidst the smoke and fire, but
it was so hot even firemen in protective suits couldn’t get near.
“Maybe they left before the crash… Or came too late,
after it.”
The mouse frantically searched through all the possibilities,
persistently pushing away the thoughts about the worst. “Or maybe something
diverted them. Sure! They witnessed a crime and they’re chasing criminals
somewhere now while I’m flying here in circles. Maybe, they’ve returned to HQ
already and wondered where I went! They could be about to go search for me,
worried for me. Yes! I must go back to headquarters and everything will be
alright!’
Gadget made a steep turn, facing the plane away from
this darned place. She was already imagining herself approaching the home tree
and seeing her friends gathered at the porch, peering at the night sky. Then
they see her and shout gaily and wave their paws in salute. She lands, the
Plane’s landing gear touches the landing ground. It’s still moving, but Chip
and Dale are already there to help her out of the cockpit. “Where have you
been? We looked for you everywhere!” they ask. And she embraces them and says
“Golly, if you only knew how much I was frightened when I heard the news…”
Eerie metallic glitter in the bushes on the very verge
of the park adjacent to the Ice Dome caught her attention. From the altitude
she was flying at Gadget couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but it was as if an
inner voice told her “Land!”. The mouse
directed the Ranger Plane downward and landed in the middle of the wide clear
area between the bushes. There, in the dusk, very familiar outlines could be
seen.
Painfully familiar outlines of the Rangermobile.
Barely moving her rock-ribbed legs the inventor
approached the machine. The flash of hope that it was not the Rangermobile but
somebody else’s very similar carrier subsided the very moment she came right up
to it. It was her design and her creation, beyond any doubt—the manually
adjusted fan with two-vane propeller. The powerful accumulator. The ruby wheels with reinforced suspension.
The modified dashboard with electric current feeding regulators. And, as if in
case all the features listed above would still seem insufficient, there was
Dale’s blue-red hockey stick laying on the back seat.
He must have
left it here because they wouldn’t let him in with it.
Gadget took one more step but felt the ground going from
beneath her legs and laid hold of the machine’s polished deck edge. She closed
her eyes, unable to look at this silent monument. She started shaking and tears gushed from beneath her closed eaves.
“NOOOOO!” she shouted into the night sky. “NOOOOO! IT
CAN’T BE! CHIP! DALE! MONTY! ZIPPER!”
She cried in the dark and shouted the more, but no
one could hear her, no one answered her call.
She was alone.
Her friends weren’t there.
Stumbling against the mowed grass, Gadget ran back to
the Plane. She knew what to do. Knew where she belonged.
“Come on, bottle, start up!” mouse yelled in frenzy
at the deaf aircraft. This time the engine started at the third attempt and the
Ranger Plane flew back to the Ice-Dome, its wings creaking with strain.
“Hold on, guys!” Gadget shouted directing the craft
right into the center of the catastrophe. The poisoned air gave her a coughing
fit while the acrid smoke irritated her eyes, but she wasn’t going to put her goggles
on. It didn’t matter for her anymore. Everything will end soon, and they will
be together again.
The helium balloon split with loud plop. The Plane
twitched and started going down. Gadget was already discerning individual fire
vortexes furiously devouring the remains of the airliner and the demolished
stands. The heat became intolerable, the air was practically impossible to
breathe in. She felt herself losing consciousness.
Good.
I’m on the way.
The faster it happens, the better…
An unknown force struck the bottom of the plane
flipping it upwards and to the right. At first Gadget thought something had
exploded but then found herself flying amidst the water splashes. She hit the
water cannon’s squirt—or rather, the squirt hit her.
The blow was so powerful the little plane flew up a
couple of dozen feet high stitching the black smoke cloud all the way through.
Gadget tried to bring the plane back on the previous course but it didn’t obey.
The direct hit by the cannon broke the clutch between the engine and the wing
holders which got stuck at different angles to the hull.
Having lost both traction and its helium balloon, the
Ranger Plane began spinning slowly but steadily. But the craft turned out to
have been thrown so high up into the air by the water’s blow that she overshot the
Ice-Dome, flew over the square around it crowded with machines and men and
reached the trees on the edge of the park. Having punched through a tall
ash-tree’s canopy, the Plane broke several branches. Covered with leaves, the Plane’s remains
plopped down on a big heap of freshly-mown grass.
Gadget, thunderstruck by falling, removed the leaves
stuck to her face and, having breathed in the fresh air, coughed heavily. Her
eyes were still burning but not so badly now. She moved her hands and legs and
found nothing was broken. She got off very lightly, with only a couple of
bruises and abrasions made by the branches that lashed against her face. Her
jumpsuit was all covered with lampblack but on the whole she was unharmed.
It seemed plainly impossible after such a flight and
crash. Her safety belt saved her. Gadget didn’t remember having put it on. It must’ve been reflex, she mused. Saved
by a pile of grass, a seat belt and a water cannon—and I hate every one of
them.
Half heartedly she tried to wind the engine up again
but this time it showed no sign of life at all. She scrambled out of cockpit
and examined her vessel. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to comprehend that
without a full overhaul the Ranger Plane would never fly again. Her hull was cracked
open and the bow together with the engine got almost fully detached from the
rest of the craft. The wing-driving mechanism was completely destroyed, the wing
holders torn by the roots from the hull. Next to nothing remained of the right
wing, the helium balloon had vanished and now its lost pieces burned somewhere
among the Boeing’s wreckage.
“Why? Why am I so unlucky?!” Gadget exclaimed and
kicked the broken plane. “I can’t even die and burn in a crash when I want to!
Not one little scratch! What the heck is all this for?!”
Gadget sat down on the grass heap clasping her head.
Maybe it was a curse. After all of this one could easily become as superstitious
as Monty… Monty. She remembered her old
comrade who had befriended her father so long ago and started crying again.
“Excuse me, miss, do you need help?”
The loud voice came so unexpectedly that Gadget froze
for a second. She hadn’t heard any noises and thought she was hearing things.
But when she lifted her eyes she saw the wide muzzle of a straw-colored
Labrador Retriever right in front of her. He was a rescue dog wearing a red and
white uniform jacket along with a gas mask dangling off his neck that was
connected to a silver oxygen cylinder on his back.
Gadget looked back at the rescue dog from the grass
heap, even with his eye level. “No, thanks,” she wept, “I’m alright…”
“Well,” the dog smiled sadly, “good to see that at
least one of today’s air crashes went without casualties. Small bright spot, at
last. My name’s Luke. I saw you falling down. Are you sure you weren’t hurt?
There’s blood on your forehead…”
“Really?” Gadget passed her hand over forehead and
winced with pain. “Never mind, it’s just a scratch. I’m Gadget, and what’s your
name...? Oh, sorry, you seem to have said it already…”
“You know, I saw your flight from the very sports
complex, and I hope you don’t mind if I ask. Are you looking for someone?”
Gadget felt a faint gleam of hope appearing again. “Yes!
I’m looking! I’m looking for Chip, Dale—oh, sorry, their names will hardly tell
you anything. They’re two chipmunks, an Australian muscle mouse and a small
fly. Have you seen them?”
Luke scratched behind his ear.“No, unfortunately, I
don’t remember seeing anyone like that anyway. You should ask Vader, our unit
commander. I arrived here later on, while he was among the first. He would
know.”
“Golly, that’s great!” Gadget exclaimed gaily. “Where
can I find him?”
“Climb onto me.” Luke lowered his head on the grass
near the mouse. “It’s such a pandemonium here that even humans sometimes barely
escape being run over. And if you get in the way nobody will even notice!”
Gadget gripped Luke by the collar and climbed on his
neck. The dog straightened up and ran in the direction of the Ice-Dome by long
leaps, looking to his sides every now and then. He stopped a couple of times to
give way to ambulances passing by with a deafening wail, and in such moments
Gadget had to grip his collar with all her strength in order not to fly over the
dog’s head and fall right under the wheels. If she tried to cross the square by
herself at such a speed she would certainly be crushed by a wheel or someone’s
leg.
Luke moved forward confidently and it was obvious
that it wasn’t his first run in an environment like this. Finally they got to a
large red-and-white van with a red Labrador Retriever wearing the same uniform
as Luke, sitting near its back doors. The red-haired rescue dog was looking
raptly at the group of men-rescuers standing not far from the van, so Luke’s
and Gadget’s appearance went unnoticed.
“What’s the news, Chewy?” Luke asked as he approached
his fellow canine. Chewy turned his head and Gadget saw tears in his big brown
eyes.
“Luke,” Chewy said quietly and dropped his head, “Oby
died. In sector three…”
“How?!” Luke asked and flinched so strongly that
Gadget nearly fell down.
“The ceiling collapsed. Frank rushed to dig him out
but then everything around started coming down and he himself was barely
dragged out. All of us almost got killed there.”
The dog pointed his head back at the group of people
and only now Gadget noticed the aged man in an undone red-and-white jacket
sitting on the emergency vehicle’s footboard unaware of the others. He
continuously stared at the broken dog lead he was holding and other rescuers
time and again glanced at him and, as if apologizing for the intrusion, averted
their eyes.
“My condolences…” Gadget uttered quietly.
“It’s nothing. We all know it can happen. Thanks.”
Luke answered, swallowing a lump that formed in his throat. “He was my mentor.
Taught me everything…”
“Who are you talking to?” Chewy asked.
“Oh, sure,” Luke lowered his head and the mouse inventor
clambered down to the ground. “Chewy, meet Gadget. Gadget, here is Chewy, my
old friend and fellow trainee.”
The red Labrador
nodded civilly.
“Gadget’s looking for her friends—” Luke began but the
Rescue Ranger interrupted him.
“Have you seen two chipmunks, an Australian muscle
mouse and a small fly? Maybe they’re here somewhere, helping the injured?” She
waved her hand towards the arena ruins.
Chewy shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I would
have certainly remembered such a crew. You need to speak to Commander Vader. Oh,
there he and Bronson are!”
Gadget looked where Chewy pointed and saw a big black
Labrador in a gas mask slowly walking alongside
his owner, the chief of the rescue unit. Bronson patted his four-legged partner
on the back and went towards Frank, while Vader headed to Luke and Chewy.
Having stepped up to them he wearily sat down and pulled his gas mask away,
revealing deep wrinkles and two wide swaths of gray hair stretching from the
tip of his nose to the corners of his eyes.
“Don’t limp, guys,” old dog began right off the bat.
His voice was hoarse, shrill and gruff. “Oby won’t return, but that’s better
than of age or arthritis. Who the heck is this?” he asked Luke as he pointed at
Gadget, as if having noticed her just now.
“Her name is Gadget, Commander,” Luke answered,
“she’s looking for her friends.”
“Do they all consider us some lost-property office?”
Vader spoke through set teeth. He addressed nobody in particular, but his
remark hit Gadget like a thunderbolt. She was about to say something irate and
suitable for the moment, but then Vader looked right at her and the words got
stuck in her throat.
“Okay lady, come on, tell us everything—who, how
many, and where. But please be quick.
We’ve got a fire deal with, you know.”
“I… I’m looking for two chipmunks,” Gadget managed,
wondering how many times this recital would continue. “An Australian muscle mouse and a fly. Their names are Chip, Dale, Monterey Jack and
Zipper. Their seats were in the sixth sector.”
“In the sixth sector?” The black Labrador
gave a short unpleasant laugh. “That’s what you should have begun with, my
dear. Just think about it. Don’t you see what’s going on here? Look around,
open your eyes! There is NO sixth sector. It doesn’t exist. It vanished. Sank
into oblivion.”
“But I thought, maybe somehow…” Gadget muttered
slowly.
“Somehow what? An aircraft crashed there, mind you.
It’s such a big thing, you know? With wings. It flies. Sometimes poorly, just
like today for example. There is no fifth, sixth or seventh sector anymore.
Black hole. Inferno. We haven’t got there yet and likely won’t before morning.
I’m sorry—as they say, nothing personal, but if I were you I would start
searching for new friends.”
Gadget couldn’t believe the casual cruelty of it.
“What did you—how can you!” She covered
her face with her paws and burst into sobs, feeling herself turned inside out
by Vader’s words.
“Right, here come more hysterics,” Vader grumbled.
“How many have we seen today already? I lost count long ago. All right, then. You
can check the hospital out but I don’t think it’ll help.”
“What…hospital?” Gadget asked, still unable to
control herself.
“What do you mean ‘what hospital’?” Vader rolled his
eyes. “Are you just out of hibernation? The Small Central
Hospital
for rodents on Portero Avenue.
It opened nearly a month ago. There’s chaos in there, for sure, but it’s worse
here so the change will be for better. But if your friends were in sector six
when it happened, then here are my heartfelt condolences. I can only say that
they didn’t suffer. Their light was just switched off. Not so bad, actually.”
Vader turned his attention back to his duties. “Luke, Chewy! Be at the sector two entrance
in five minutes! We’ve sat here too long, time to work! Don’t be late!”’
The gruff canine dashed up and headed to his human
partner sitting next to a mourning Frank. Chewy sniffed and glanced at the
crying mouse and, having murmured “duty calls, sorry” went after the commander.
“I am sorry…” Luke added, still next to Gadget.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!!! GET AWAY FROM ME!!! DARN ALL OF
YOU!!!” the inventor wailed and rushed away, her paws covering her eyes.
Run.
Run anywhere,
if only as far from here as possible.
How could he?!
And he calls
himself a rescuer?!
He is…he is…
“GADGET! LOOK OUT!”
Gadget stopped instinctively at Luke’s shouted
warning and suddenly something grabbed her by the jumpsuit collar and lifted her
up. She screamed and started fighting back, but her tooth and nail effort hit
empty air alone. Then a thundering roar came from the left and a gigantic
four-axle hoisting crane drove past some few inches from her.
The torpid inventor followed the clearance lights and
all of a sudden felt herself back on the ground again.
“Oh-ho, that was close!” Luke said having unclenched
his teeth and let Gadget’s overalls go. “It was careless on your part, upset or
not. Please, forgive Vader. Don’t think of him badly, he isn’t always such a—well.
Today is just a truly unlucky day.”
“But that’s no reason to have said that! ‘Look for
new friends’! Doesn’t he understand…?”
“Please, Gadget, let me finish. I know what you
thought and how you took it. Forgive the old dog. It’s professional cynicism. Sometimes
it’s impossible to go without it, if only to avoid the mental hospital.
Sometimes you see a lot of things and besides, he’s been up the whole week. One
emergency call after another—fires, an oil truck accident, explosions,
flames. And now this crash. They’ve
roused everybody still capable of moving.
“And now Oby’s death. Vader and Oby were friends from
childhood; their families had been friends long before their birth. They
trained together, worked together. I assure you that when all this is finished
he will lock up somewhere and his howling will shatter all the windows around.
And besides, he’ll insist on telling Oby’s family the news…”
The labrador’s words moved Gadget to the very depth
of her soul. Perhaps Luke's right. She
too acted under duress, after all, but she still couldn’t forgive Vader. His
words were just too painful and scary. A rescuer must never say things like
that. Chip would never allow himself to say them.
Golly, if only
he and the guys were okay!
“Thank you,” she nodded, “you are very kind, Luke.
And thanks for saving my life. I really didn’t see or hear anything at all.”
“Never mind. It’s our job, after all.”
“And what’s about that hospital Vader was talking
about? You know, I very rarely left my house this month…”
“Small Central
Hospital?
That’s a medical center opened by Harold Bucksup the third inside of Central
City
Hospital.
1001 Portero Avenue
is the address. They're huge white buildings, you won’t miss it. If you get
lost, ask. Many are heading there now. I hope you’ll be fortunate enough to
find your friends there…let me take you to the park gates, or, God forbid,
you’ll have to dodge some heavy truck once again.”
“Thank you, Luke. I would've been surely gone without
you.” Gadget said, occupying her already usual place on the dog’s back. “Oh,
could you please take me to the park path in front of the sixth sector? I have
the Rang—a car there.”
“Aircraft, car…you are very resourceful girl, I must
say!” Luke tried to cheer her up at least a bit, but Gadget didn’t even smile.
She was too depressed with emotions that overwhelmed her the moment she thought
of the Rangermobile—emotions so intense that the mouse inventor wasn’t even
able to resist when all the energy seemed to drain out of her and she fell
asleep right there in that mass of warm fur.