A Taste for Rabbit Page 7

  “No, thanks. I prefer to travel alone.”

  “Are you sure? The weather is terrible and will probably continue. I’ve been a little apprehensive about it myself. A slip on an icy path, a broken bone, the cold — better to have a companion under such circumstances, don’t you agree? Why not give it some thought?” Gerard stood up. “Thank you for sharing your table.”

  Harry stood up too. “I’ll let you know,” he said.

  Gerard’s footsteps echoed in the empty room.

  Harry sat down again, trying to put the pieces together. It seemed Gerard was working for his brother, sent to spy on Harry, perhaps to be sure he didn’t spend the money and return with a false but plausible story to explain the disappearance of the scouts. That was why Gerard wanted to travel with him. Instead of relaxing for a few days at the Inn, Harry would be continuing through the snow with the irritatingly phony Gerard watching his every move. It was outrageous.

  “Damn it! Isaac should have trusted me,” Harry said aloud. “I’m his brother!”

  He would have to formulate a new plan, one that would take into account the presence of Gerard and his function as a spy. A spy can be given wrong information, misled. Gerard could not be on guard all the time. He was older and clearly less agile. Perhaps Harry could lose him in the forest.

  Harry had to be sure about Gerard. He left the dining room and walked quietly down the hall toward the lobby. There was the weasel, seated in front of the fire, elbows on his briefcase, talking to the badger. He seemed to be telling the poor fellow his life story. Harry felt certain Gerard would be there for quite a while. He turned and walked back down the hall until he came to Gerard’s room. On a hunch, Harry tried his own room key in the lock. The door opened easily. Allison, you sly boots, he thought. He went inside.

  It had stopped snowing and a gibbous moon shone brightly on the snow-covered forest, reflecting a silvery light through the window and making a surprisingly bright, oblong patch on the bare floor. Everything in the room seemed outlined in silver — the bed, the table, the lamp — and the large carpetbag that lay half open on the unmade bed. Harry rummaged through it with a practiced paw, returning each item to its original place. He didn’t know what he was looking for — a sign, an indication of certain proof that Isaac had sent Gerard — and then his paw closed on something.

  The stairs creaked. “Where’s my key?” said Gerard’s voice. “Oh. Found it!” The latch clicked.

  “Damn!” Harry breathed. He flattened himself against the wall as Gerard walked into the room, groped his way to the bathroom, and closed the door.

  Harry hurried to the window to look at the object in his paw: a paper envelope imprinted with the letters FB and stuffed with bills. A note inside read: “Remember: I trust you.” — IF. It was Isaac’s handwriting.

  Harry hastily returned the envelope and the note to the carpetbag. In a moment, he was back in his own room, breathing hard. He lit the lamp and closed the shade. The envelope had come from FoxBank, the note from Isaac. It couldn’t be more clear.

  Gerard was a spy.

  Quentin sat in his living room and stared into the crackling fire. He’d left Zack abruptly a few hours earlier to make his way home, his chores forgotten. Zack had offered to come along, but Quentin had said no. “I’ll be all right,” he’d told Zack. “Really. I’ll be fine.”

  He’d poured himself a large glass of plumbo, the recently forbidden beverage that he and Zack had managed to get from an underground source, and was almost finished with the first glass.

  Drafted. This changed everything. He was absolutely certain he could not join the army. He could barely stand the discomforts of guard duty — what would the real military be like?

  Quentin got up and paced the floor, then parted the curtains and stared out the tall window. The light was fading fast, and the wind now blew with periodic violence that rattled the panes and caused the building to rumble, as if in the midst of a thunderstorm. Snow and sleet blew against the glass, sounding like handfuls of tiny gravel. He was glad to be indoors.

  He closed the curtains and resumed his pacing, then stopped to stare blankly at the books, neatly arranged in alphabetical order by author, that lined the room. Quentin reached for more plumbo, then retrieved some matches from the kitchen and lit a dozen candles, flooding the room with a flickering, warm light. It didn’t help.

  There was a pounding at the front door.

  “Q! Let me in! It’s Zack! Q!”

  “Coming! I’m coming.” Quentin put the glass down and walked to the door unsteadily. It took him a moment to negotiate the lock. Zack pushed his way past him, blown by the wind.

  “It’s freezing out there,” Zack said. “Another terrible night.” He slipped out of his jacket, tucked his mittens into his pockets, and, rubbing his paws together, walked over to the fire. He looked at Quentin. “How are you doing?”

  “Oh, I’m great, just great. Want some plumbo? I’ve been working my way through this bottle and there’s more in the cabinet.”

  “I’d love some. We’re going to need more if this weather keeps up — and even if it doesn’t. Is Frank here yet?”

  “No. I’m surprised. It’s almost curfew and he’s usually on time.”

  Zack followed Quentin into the kitchen. Quentin poured the clear liquid into a tall glass, splashing some on the surface of the table. He wiped up the spill with a paw and licked it, refilled his own glass to the brim, and drank deeply. The liquid burned deliciously in his throat, and the fragrant combination of berries and fermented rhubarb left a lingering tartness on his tongue.

  Back in the living room, Quentin raised his glass. “Long ears and long life,” he said gloomily.

  Zack clinked his glass with Quentin’s. “Friendship. Long may it wave.” He swallowed. “So, how are you, really?”

  Quentin shook his head. “Terrible! I didn’t realize how much I was dreading this.” He gulped down the plumbo and looked around for the bottle. Returning from the kitchen, he tilted it to his mouth, finished the last few swallows, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

  “Never seen you do that before,” Zack said in surprise.

  “Never been drafted before.”

  Quentin sat down and leaned back in his chair, holding the empty bottle on his lap. The room was spinning gently around him. He closed his eyes.

  Zack, who was sitting opposite him, leaned forward. “Listen, Q. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  “What?”

  Zack reached into a pocket and held out a piece of paper. “I have guard duty tomorrow night.”

  Quentin opened his eyes and put the bottle down. “You’re joking. Let me see that.” He glanced at the notice and handed it back to Zack. “I bet Wally’s behind this. Or Dan.”

  “It crossed my mind.”

  “It’s too coincidental. And it’s not even your turn yet. They’ve just started on the Rs.” Quentin sat back in the chair. “What a mess.” He closed his eyes again. “I should never have provoked him. It’s all my fault.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. I’m sure my sarcastic comments to Dan the other night didn’t help. Listen, Q, don’t go to sleep. We need to talk about this.”

  “Not sleeping. Resting my eyes,” Quentin mumbled. “What’s there to talk about? We’re doomed.”

  “I don’t think so. Look at me!”

  Quentin looked. Zack was standing in front of him. “You are to be inducted into the military and I have guard duty — both on the same night. This is more than a coincidence. This could be an opportunity!”

  “What do you mean? Oh. I see. You’re going to try to leave so you don’t have to get up there on the wall. I had a feeling that was it.”

  “Not just me. You — the two of us — maybe the three of us!”

  “What?” Quentin stood up and made his way unsteadily to the bookshelves. He shook his head. “Zack, wait. I can’t just leave. It’s out of the question. What about school? Don’t you want to finish …? And …�
�� The thought occurred to him. “What about all the others who will have to serve? What about trying to protect Stonehaven? You heard what those rabbits said the other night! Maybe there’s a good reason for the draft and guard duty. We have to do something, don’t we? And why should others have to risk their lives and not us?”

  “Hold on!” Zack put his glass down and walked over to Quentin. “The others who have been called can follow their conscience, if they choose. I need to follow mine. And besides …” He put his paws on Quentin’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “You know you’ve been thinking about it.” He stopped. “Do you really want to be on the same side as Wally?”

  Quentin was silent. It would be just like lower school, only much, much worse. “I’d rather die.”

  “What?”

  “I’d rather die than be on the same side as Wally,” Quentin said emphatically. “I mean it.”

  “Well, then …?”

  “But just leaving everything …”

  There was a pounding at the door again. Quentin opened it to a blast of freezing wind and snow. Frank stood in the doorway, without a coat or scarf.

  “Quentin! Help me! Let me in!” He fell heavily against Quentin, who staggered back. Zack jumped to his feet and the two rabbits led Frank into the living room. Quentin dashed into the bedroom, returning with a blanket; Zack ran back and pushed the door closed.

  Frank fell into a chair, shivering. His fur was soaked from the snow and matted about his face, which was a mask of grief.

  “Here. Try this.” Zack offered him his glass of plumbo, and Frank took it, trembling.

  “They’re gone,” Frank said, his voice breaking. “They’re gone.” He handed the glass to Zack and buried his head in his paws.

  “Who?” Quentin asked.

  “Mary and my children,” he said in a muffled voice. “They’re gone.” He broke into deep sobs.

  “For the gods’ sake, what happened?” Quentin touched Frank’s shoulder gently. “Frank. Talk to us.”

  Frank lifted his head, his eyes red. “After I left you, I didn’t go home right away. I stopped at the bakery to pick up some apple turnovers — my little Charlie loves to nibble on them — and it was cold, so I sat for a while with some hot tea and a few muffins. By the time I left the shop, it was late. Oh, gods, why did I stop? Maybe if I’d been home I could have prevented this!”

  Zack went into the kitchen and returned with another bottle.

  “It was just like all the other disappearances,” Frank went on. “The door was open; there was no sign of struggle. I called their names, to tell them I was home, but there was no answer. I ran upstairs, I looked in every room — even the root cellar. Gone, just gone. I’ve been wandering through the streets, I went to the park….” He slumped over in the chair and covered his face.

  Zack filled their glasses. “Drink more of this,” he said to Frank.

  “Thanks.” He looked up and wiped his eyes. “I have to find them. If they’re alive they’ll be terrified. If not … I must know what’s happened to them. I can’t live the rest of my life without knowing.”

  “Of course, of course,” Quentin murmured, his mind numb. Frank walked over to the fire, still wrapped in the blue blanket. Zack and Quentin exchanged looks.

  “I wish there were something we could do to help,” Zack said. “But I have guard duty tomorrow night, and Quentin’s been drafted. He has to report tomorrow, as well. We were just talking about it. We think Wally may be behind the whole thing.”

  Frank turned, looking distracted. “Drafted? And guard duty? I knew that Wally creature would get even, Quentin. I’m sorry. That’s a tough break.”

  “I was saying I see it as an opportunity,” Zack began cautiously.

  “I don’t follow.” Frank walked to the window and pulled the curtain back. “It’s so cold out there,” he murmured. “I hope Mary had time to find her hat and mittens, and to get the babies into their little boots. Charlie always needed more help….” He broke off and buried his head in his paws again.

  “Maybe this isn’t a good time,” Quentin said, gesturing to Zack. “We need to help find Frank’s family. This other matter can wait.”

  “No, it can’t,” Zack mouthed the words to Quentin, who just shook his head.

  “Frank, what can we do?” Quentin said. “Tell us.”

  Frank lifted his head. “There might be something.”

  “Really? What?”

  “What did you mean by ‘an opportunity’?” Frank asked Zack.

  “I was saying we could leave Stonehaven tomorrow evening,” Zack began, looking at Quentin, “just before Q is scheduled to appear at the induction office downtown and before I appear at my tower on the perimwall. We could sneak past the curfew guards and supervisors, find some path into the forest, and …” He grew silent as Frank turned away again.

  The wind whooshed outside the windows, and the panes rattled.

  “Wait a minute,” Quentin said after a moment. “Evading the draft or guard duty is a criminal offense. If we’re caught we could be thrown in prison for the rest of our lives. Have you thought of that? And if we did manage to get out, what would we do for food? What about shelter? And where are we supposed to be going? The nearest Newrabbit colony is at least three weeks away — and that’s in good weather.”

  “I was assuming we would not get caught, obviously,” Zack said somewhat defensively. “And I was hoping we’d find … a cave or something. And we could bring food to last us for a while.”

  “Maybe we’d learn to love tree bark and dead roots,” Quentin said. “This is crazy. And by the way,” he added sarcastically, “how are we supposed to escape? By jumping off the perimwall?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. By jumping. Why?”

  “For the gods’ sake, Zack, I was joking! Forget it,” Quentin said, horrified. “I won’t do that. As I said before, we are doomed.”

  “What other way is there? Strolling out the entry gate in the middle of the night while the guards wave good-bye? What do you think, Frank?”

  Frank took out a pocket handkerchief and blew his nose, then turned to face them. “I’ve got to get out there and find my Mary and my children,” he said. “Whatever we do, we can’t waste any time! I’ll tell you what I know and then you can decide.” He took a deep breath. “It was no coincidence that we met at the café today. I was looking for you.”

  “Why?” Zack asked. “And why the restaurant? Why not come here?”

  “I wanted a neutral place in case I was followed,” Frank said. “I needed to be sure I could trust you — both of you.” He dropped the blanket on the couch and sat down. “I’ve been in touch with the rebels.”

  Quentin walked unsteadily to the leather chair. “The rebels?”

  “Yes,” Frank said. “I’ve met with them twice. I’m sure that’s why my family has disappeared. I’m probably on a dissident list … it’s what I was telling you about this morning. I should have been more careful. I should have …” He looked at Quentin. “I’m not a violent creature, you know that. I’ve never knowingly hurt anyone in my life. But I swear I’ll kill whoever’s responsible if I find out they’ve …”

  “But why come to me?” Quentin asked.

  “You’re the smartest rabbit I know,” Frank said, “and the most rational. I thought you could help me sort it all out.”

  Quentin’s mind was reeling. I must stop drinking, he told himself, but the plumbo seemed essential to understanding the turmoil around him, even as it was increasing his confusion. He poured himself another glass and offered one to Frank. He thought about the exchange with Wally on the perimwall. Why was I so childish? Why do the most innocent mistakes always have the most terrible consequences? My life, which has been so orderly and predictable, has veered off course, like those pine cones that float calmly on a quiet, lazy river and then suddenly tumble and disappear in the thunder of a raging waterfall.

  “Thanks,” he said, closing his eyes. “But to
tell you the truth, I’m not feeling very smart or rational at the moment.”

  “Why did the rebels contact you?” Zack asked Frank. “And how?”

  “They’re former residents, at least one of them was,” he replied. “They were given a day pass through the gate. Anyway, it’s not predators who are taking our families. The rebels say they have evidence that … our own government may be behind it all. They wanted me to join them because they need a larger force if they are going to be able to fight this. That’s why I was trying to find you.”

  “You were planning to leave your family?” Zack said, surprised.

  Frank nodded. “Yes, just for a short time, until we could find out more. I never made a definite commitment, though,” he said. “I wanted to be sure Mary and the children would be safe.” He shook his head. “Gods, what have I done!”

  “Go back a bit,” Zack said slowly. “You’re saying that the government gets rid of those who object to its repressive measures … which it has instituted to protect us from the strange disappearances … for which it is responsible? Sorry, Frank. This can’t be right. It makes no sense.”

  “I know. I agree. But the rebels say they have proof. They just don’t know why. I think they do know but …” His voice broke. “It’s too terrible. They’re not saying.”

  “I can’t believe the Leader is involved in something like this,” Quentin said, opening his eyes and sitting up.

  Zack looked at him incredulously.

  “Oh, all right,” Quentin said. “Although why it’s unreasonable to expect our own government to have our best interests at heart —” He sighed. “I want to help,” he said to Frank after a moment of silence. “What can we do?”

  “I think we should leave tomorrow, just as I said,” Zack replied before Frank could respond. “Except now we’ll be able to connect with the rebels, who can provide us with food and shelter. No tree bark and dead roots, Q, at least not for the moment,” he added. “If we’re careful we won’t get caught. They can help us find Mary and the children. Right, Frank?”