EIGHT
“No way,” Robert said.
“Why not?” Ms. Lavinia asked.
“I’m not sending my pets behind those walls. Anything could be back there.”
“Exactly. We need to know what’s happening.”
“And how do you expect them to tell us?”
“Ah,” Ms. Lavinia smiled. “That’s the fun part.”
They returned to her office in the library. Ms. Lavinia approached her shelves of audiovisual equipment and pulled down several boxes of supplies: webcams, flashlights, wire, pliers, Velcro, glue. She spent the next fifteen minutes at her desk, stitching parts onto an old leather glove. Finally she called for the rats to join her.
“All right, boys, step up.”
Pip and Squeak hopped onto her desk. Ms. Lavinia fitted a tiny webcam on top of Pip’s head, fastening a tiny strap of Velcro under his neck so that he wore it like a helmet. “A perfect fit!” she exclaimed. “By connecting this camera to a laptop computer, we can see everything Pip sees. A rat’s-eye view of the ventilation ducts.”
“What about light?” Karina asked.
“That’s where Squeak comes in.” She fitted a second helmet on top of Squeak. This one was equipped with a small but very bright LED bulb. “He’ll illuminate the vent so we can see.”
The helmets were secured by the split leather glove that the rats wore like a jacket. They seemed amused by the outfit, as if they were dressing up like characters in a play. Pip opened his mouth in a hideous snarl while Squeak aimed the headlamp at his twin, casting terrifying shadows on the wall.
“You see?” Ms. Lavinia said. “They love it.”
The group returned to the nurse’s office with the laptop computer and a hundred-foot-long yellow cable. “This wire transmits the camera imagery to the computer,” Ms. Lavinia explained.
“What if we run out of wire?”
“We’ll give it three sharp tugs. That will be their signal to turn around and come back. Until then, they just need to follow the bugs as far as they can.”
Robert knelt down and explained these instructions to Pip and Squeak. It was the strangest thing: he had found he could give the most complicated directions to his pets, and they always understood exactly what he wanted. He assumed it was because they had two brains, that they were twice as smart as an ordinary rat. Sometimes Robert had only to think what he wanted, and his rats would obey the order.
But this afternoon, he needed to be a little more persuasive. Pip and Squeak glanced into the duct and shook their heads. Maybe you should crawl in first, they seemed to be suggesting.
“You’re the only ones who can fit,” Robert said. “If there’s any trouble, I’ll grab the wire and reel you in.” He pulled on the cable to demonstrate, raising them off the floor. Pip and Squeak flailed their legs until he set them down again. They were not amused.
Warren powered up the laptop and started the camera program. A grainy image of Robert’s face appeared on the computer screen. This was because Pip and Squeak were looking at him, and the camera was transmitting everything the rats could see.
“Perfect,” Warren said. “All systems go.”
“All systems except Pip and Squeak,” Karina observed. She had spent enough time with the rats to know their moods. “They still look scared.”
Don’t be scared, Robert thought. I’ll be watching the whole time. I won’t let anything bad happen.
He knew Pip and Squeak could hear his thoughts and he knew they trusted him. He had always been a loyal parent to them; he changed their litter once a week, he sneaked them vegetables from the dinner table, he let them sleep under his blankets on cold nights. If Robert said the ducts were safe, then Pip and Squeak believed they were safe.
His rats approached the trail of insects, hissing loudly, and bugs scattered out of the way. Pip and Squeak cut in front of a stinkbug, then looked over at Robert and seemed to grin.
“They’re doing it!” Warren said. “You convinced them!”
Karina looked at Robert. “What did you say to them?”
He shrugged. “They just needed a pep talk, that’s all.”
The rats followed a black beetle into the duct and soon they were swallowed up by the darkness. Everyone turned to look at the shaky image on the laptop computer. The rats were still following along behind the black beetle—only now, seen in extreme close-up, it looked like a lumbering rhinoceros. As Pip and Squeak crept along, Robert fed out more wire; Warren was measuring every handful. “That’s about fifteen feet.”
Ms. Lavinia consulted a map of the school. “They’re moving east. Toward the swimming pool.”
The helmets were working perfectly; the flashlight illuminated the entire duct. From the rats’ perspective, it appeared to be a large, boxy tunnel with brushed aluminum walls.
“Twenty feet,” Warren counted. “Twenty-five.”
As they watched, Robert began to relax. Pip and Squeak were doing fine. The duct seemed safe and well lit. Maybe the task wasn’t so dangerous after all.
Eventually, the rats arrived at an intersection. The passage divided into three ducts, one of which was much larger than the others. The bugs were moving into this new, larger passage, but Pip and Squeak hesitated.
“Go on,” Warren whispered. “Follow the bugs.”
Yes, Robert thought. Follow the bugs.
Pip and Squeak stepped forward, turning left and climbing into the new duct. This one was three times the size of the original duct—large enough for a person to squeeze through. It seemed to be sloping downward.
“Fifty feet,” Warren counted.
“Where are they going?” Robert asked.
“Downstairs,” Ms. Lavinia said.
“There’s a downstairs?” Robert’s copy of the student handbook included a floor plan of Lovecraft Middle School, but it didn’t mention anything about a basement.
“It’s off-limits to students,” Karina explained. “There’s a mechanical room with boilers and air vents. The drains for the swimming pool. All the machines that keep the school running.”
“Seventy-five feet,” Warren said.
“Maybe we should call them back,” Robert said. “I didn’t know there was a downstairs.”
“Just another minute,” Ms. Lavinia said. “Let’s see how far they can go.”
The rats traveled a full ninety feet before stopping. They appeared to have reached the edge of a chasm. The duct continued on the other side of a three-foot gap. Pip and Squeak peered down into the void, but their headlamp revealed nothing except a yawning black pit. It seemed bottomless.
“End of the road,” Robert said. “Time to turn around.”
Pip and Squeak were looking across the chasm. The duct continued on the other side, and the bugs were having no trouble getting across; they simply climbed over via the walls and kept going. Pip and Squeak stared after them, anxiously pacing from side to side.
“They see something,” Warren said. “Is there any way to make the camera zoom in?”
Ms. Lavinia laughed. “I built streaming-video camera helmets for a two-headed rat in fifteen minutes, and you’re complaining that they don’t have a zoom lens?”
Pip and Squeak stepped closer to the edge of the gap, as if they were contemplating a jump.
“Forget it, guys,” Robert called into the duct. From their rat’s-eye perspective, it looked like a leap across the Grand Canyon. “You’ll never make it.”
“It’s too bad,” Warren said. “They’re so close.”
Robert tugged three times on the wire, the signal for the rats to stop and turn around. But they ignored his call. They seemed to be calculating the size of the gap.
I’m serious, he thought. Come back right now. I know you can hear me. Pip and Squeak backtracked several steps, and Robert relaxed. Thank you.
Then the rats sprinted forward, a running start.
“No!” Robert shouted.
Pip and Squeak hit the edge of the chasm and launched themselves across the opening. For a moment, the camera feed was a blur. Robert was so nervous, he forgot to breathe.
Then the image slammed into focus.
For a split second, he saw two claws gripping the edge of a metal precipice, desperately trying to lift themselves to safety.
Then the image was all blurry again.
Before Robert could even think, the camera wire whipped through his fingers, popped out of the computer, and disappeared through the vent.
The screen went dark.