 
Table of Contents

Title Page

Outline

Chapter 1 – The Whitecoat Gang

Chapter 2 – Showdown At Lawnmower Hill

Chapter 3 – Manny and the Greycoats

Chapter 4 – The Armoured Cars

Chapter 5 – Aerial Reconnaissance

Chapter 6 – The Rescue

Chapter 7 – The Race to Teesdale's Island

Chapter 8 – The Great Sea Battle of Oildrum Pond

Chapter 9 – Keeping Under Trouble

Chapter 10 – A Gathering of the Clans

Chapter 11 – Decisions, Decisions

Chapter 12 – Moving On

About the Author

### A ROLINGTON RATS TALE

By Peter Miles

Copyright 2019 Peter Miles

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyright property of the author, but may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form

# OUTLINE

'A Rolington Rats Tale' is an adventure story written for readers primarily in the 9 -14 years age group. It relates the struggle for survival of a group of escaped laboratory rats living in the heart of the Rolington Municipal Dump. The plot details the rats' endeavours to find food and fight off the unwanted attentions of rival gangs and animals in the dump, using courage, teamwork and ingenuity to do so. The story is thus full of action, peril and adventure, as well as a few lessons on life.

The story was written for the enjoyment of the young, or the young-at-heart, though it contains lessons on leadership, friendship, equality, pacifism and recycling. It is a short novel, with potential for illustration to enhance reader understanding, and even animation in a different form of media.

# Chapter One – The Whitecoat Gang

The air over Rolington Municipal Dump was filled with silence. Night had fallen, and the swallows, sparrows and other feathered creatures had flown off to roost in their tree homes, rekindling their energy for another day of food gathering and play. Down below on the dump, however, another world was coming to life; the world of the night creatures. Food gatherers who were too small, or too scared, to come out in the daylight hours were now rousing from fitful sleep and preparing themselves to venture out into the night.

Deep in the heart of an old vinyl and foam sofa, once some human's pride and joy but now torn and discarded on the junk pile, the Whitecoat Gang was stirring. The Whitecoats were rats, not your every day, common, garden variety rats, but escaped laboratory rats. One night, not too long ago, they had gnawed their way out of their cages and made a run for freedom, ending here in the sofa hideout in Rolington Municipal Dump. Now, safe from human experiments, they had joined the animal kingdom, and the constant struggle for food and life.

The leader of the Whitecoats was Boony, a handsome white rat with a long pink tail and pink ears. Actually, most laboratory rats looked exactly like Boony, but somehow he managed to stand out from the rest. He was the fastest of the rats and, back in the laboratory, had broken all records for finding his way through mazes, and also set the top speed on the running wheel. Boony was also a good leader, and it was he who had masterminded the escape from the lab. Now, in the dump, it was natural that he took charge.

Boony's gang of runaway rats was made up of a strange mixture of characters. Second in command was Manny, a big, tough rat who had shared a cage with Boony back at the laboratory. Manny loved to fight, and had very little patience. In the laboratory, he couldn't be bothered finding his way through the mazes to seek the hidden cheese, but chose instead to gnaw his way through the walls in order to take a shortcut. This made the humans very angry, which made Manny very happy. When creatures were angry, they liked to fight, and as I said before, Manny loved to fight. Luckily for Boony, Manny respected him as a leader, so the two never came to blows. Boony liked Manny's courage, and for this reason he had chosen Manny as his deputy.

Teesdale was a runty little rat, much smaller than others in the gang and possessing very little strength or speed. At the time of the escape, Manny and some of the other rats hadn't wanted to bring Teesdale with them, but Boony insisted he come. Boony was a kind rat, but this wasn't the only reason he let Teesdale join the gang. Teesdale was a brain. He was good at maths and science, and he was especially good at inventing things. When Boony was first planning the laboratory escape, Teesdale had told him that water spilt on the wooden cage floor would soften it, and allow it to be eaten away. Boony had followed the advice, which was why the rats were now in the sofa and not in a cage. He felt that Teesdale had rightfully earned a place in the gang and would prove useful in the future even if he was a weakling physically.

Wanda was the only female rat in the gang. At the time of the escape, when Boony opened the cage with the female rats in it, she was the only one with the courage to leave. The other females, along with several of the male rats, had chosen to remain in the laboratory, preferring the promise of a nice warm cage and regular meals to the insecurity of the outside world. Even Boony's insistence that they would probably die in human experiments hadn't been enough to bring them out of their cages. Wanda was as strong, and braver, than most of the male rats and if Manny hadn't been such a good fighter, Boony would have chosen her as his deputy.

The last three rats in the gang were very similar in nature and looks, mainly because they were triplets. Dugan, Duncan and Dalton were your average laboratory rats, not too big but not too small, not too handsome but not too ugly. Their main concern in life was that their stomachs were kept full, and they went along with whatever Boony said, provided there was a promise of a substantial meal at the end of it. Whereas Boony was a born leader, they were simply followers. This doesn't mean they weren't important, for what good is a Chief without Indians? Without their support, Boony could never have put his survival plans into action, and the Whitecoat Gang would never have survived on the dump.

Tonight, as the rest of his gang stirred deep below him in the foam, it was Boony alone who emerged into the night air and climbed on to the damp vinyl surface of the sofa, stretching his long pink tail. He stood up on his hind legs and lifted his nose high into the air, wiggling his nostrils and taking a good sniff of the dump. He could smell rotting vegetation, decaying meat scraps, and stagnant polluted water. He looked around him at the mounds of rusting cans, plastic bags, broken toys, rotting paper and other human household waste.

"Oh, it's wonderful to be alive," he thought. "So much beauty, so much wealth."

He headed back down the hole into the depths of the sofa, anxious to get the rest of his gang out of their beds and up to the surface, where they too could appreciate the fruits of their freedom. There were treasures out there to be found, and the gang had to move into action quickly if other greedy hands were not going to get them first. For the Whitecoat rats were not the only residents of the Rolington Municipal Dump.

# Chapter Two – Showdown at Lawnmower Hill

"Okay guys", said Boony, "the plan is this. A new load of rubbish has been dumped just over the other side of Lawnmower Hill, down in Tyre Valley." The landmarks of the dump had been named by the gang after the pieces of notable rubbish that littered them. Lawnmower Hill was a pile of dirt and rubbish with a rusty lawnmower on the top, and Tyre Valley was a ditch with a few old car tyres dumped in it.

The rats were in the briefing room of their hideout, surrounding a table formed by putting a piece of cardboard onto match boxes. Boony stood at one end, using a matchstick pointer to identify landmarks on a tissue paper map spread over the table top.

"We've got to get into that valley", Boony continued, "take out as much food as possible and then get out again without meeting any opposition. Manny, you've had a quick scout around. Can you fill us in on the latest rubbish deposits?"

"Sure, Chief", said Manny, standing at the opposite end of the table. "I had a quick sniff from the top of Lawnmower Hill and I picked up traces of rotten apple, pumpkin, banana and lettuce. It looks like the fruit market has been dropping off food supplies for us again".

"Wow", piped in Dugan, Duncan and Dalton together. "What a great feast that will be". They did most things together, including thinking and talking.

"Don't get too excited yet, boys", warned Boony. "Wanda, any information on the enemies in the region?"

Wanda was the intelligence officer, responsible for keeping up-to-date information on what happened around the dump, particularly the activity of the enemy forces. She responded to Boony's request by opening a new map and laying it out over the first map.

"Well, last week, when we were picking up supplies after the pie shop drop in a similar area, there were two of the Mangey Moggies roaming about." The Mangey Moggies were a gang of stray cats who also inhabited the dump. They tended to fight amongst themselves a lot, and hadn't presented too much of a threat so far.

"As we were leaving", Wanda continued, "the Greycoats started to appear, which leads me to believe they may have moved their base closer to the area. I see this as our greatest threat on this mission."

The Greycoats were also rats, but not of the same variety as the Whitecoats. The Whitecoats were laboratory-bred, and thus of sheltered and educated upbringing, but the Greycoats were common European rats, from a background of scavenging, stowing away on ships, living in sewers and generally getting into mischief. The Greycoats had an aggressive nature, perhaps as a result of having grown up in a 'kill or be killed' environment. Unlike the Whitecoats, they lacked the fine white coat, instead having thick pelts of coarse grey fur. They also grew larger than the Whitecoats, which was a worry to Boony, but Manny insisted that the bigger they were, the harder they would fall. This theory had not been proven as yet, as the gangs had managed to keep their distance to date.

When Boony and his gang arrived at the dump after their escape, the Greycoats were living on the side of the dump closest to the sewerage plant, prime real estate with good views and smells. Sensing the possibility of trouble, Boony had deliberately made his base at the opposite side of the dump, and it had been a good move. Unfortunately, it now seemed that the Greycoats were making moves of their own, and into his territory.

"Why do you think they've moved?" Boony asked Teesdale, who had been listening with interest beside him.

"My guess", Teesdale said confidently," is that their food supply has run out. There's been bulldozer activity over that way lately, meaning they're filling in that part of the dump. No dumping means no food, so they are being forced to travel further afield to find it. I doubt, though, that they have moved their base. Would you leave your home if it was right next to a sewerage plant?"

There were mutterings from the other gang members, indicating that was probably the last thing they would do. Most of them dreamed of one day having a home in such a location, and in fact, when the Whitecoats first arrived at the dump, Manny had wanted to fight the Greycoats and take over their base. It taken a great deal of convincing on Boony's part to change Manny's mind. Boony knew, however, that Manny still pondered the idea, savouring the thought of one day fighting the Greycoats.

"Well," Boony concluded, "if they are still living at their old base, then it's going to take them a bit of time to travel as far as Tyre Valley. There is Oildrum Pond to get around, and that's after they have crossed the Bottle Ranges and Ironing Board Hill. I think we should have enough time to get in and out without encountering them, provided we leave now."

There were nods of agreement from all the rats.

"Right then, let's get moving. Manny, as usual you're leader out front. Dugan, you and your brothers can bring the Chuckwagon." The Chuckwagon was an old plastic ball that had been thrown away by some human because it had a hole in it. The Whitecoats would roll it to the food-gathering area, fill it with food scraps through the hole, and roll it back to headquarters. It was easier and less time-consuming than simply carrying small scraps by mouth, and only one return trip was needed to get almost half a week's food supply. It was Teesdale's idea, of course.

"Wanda," Boony continued, "you and I will follow at the back. I will leave you at the top of Lawnmower Hill, and there you'll act as lookout. Teesdale, you remain here, and when we leave, pull the security door closed and don't open it until we signal you."

There was an understanding in the gang that Teesdale did not go out on missions, except on excursions close to headquarters when the Whitecoats were gathering vital components for his inventions. He was too weak to defend himself against attack, too slow to run away from danger, and his mind was too valuable to lose. His role in the gang's survival was vital, as shown with the Chuckwagon, so he was left behind to look after home base and think up new inventions. To prevent the possibility of invasion of the base during the others' absence, an upturned empty tin can was pulled into the sofa's entrance hole, thus forming a metal security door, able to be opened only by Teesdale, pushing from underneath in response to the gang members' secret knock.

The Whitecoat gang filed out of the sofa and into the night. There was a full moon rising in the sky, which made their white fur glow in the darkness. It was both a blessing and a curse, making it easy for them to see each other as they travelled, but also making it just as easy for the enemy to spot them in the darkness. Had the need for food not been so great, Boony might have scrubbed the mission, but instead he sent Manny off into the night, followed a little later by Dugan, Duncan and Dalton, pushing along the Chuckwagon. Then, with a farewell to Teesdale and having checked that the security door was closed, he and Wanda headed off on the hunt for food.

The Whitecoats, spread out in their allotted positions, scurried through the darkness, over small piles of broken glass, aluminium and tin cans, old electrical appliances and other refuse that spilled from split garbage bags. The gang had already extracted the worthwhile edible material out of these, though there still remained a wealth of bits and pieces for decorating home base or to be used in Teesdale's inventions. There simply hadn't been time since the escape to gather them. And the smells coming from the bags were like perfume. The Whitecoats could never understand why the humans threw away such wonderful bags of goodies. Perhaps they were being generous to their animal friends.

As they scuttled noiselessly towards Tyre Valley, each of the rats was lost in his or her own thoughts. Manny was thinking about slaughtering a few Greycoats, and secretly hoped that one or two of them might turn up while he was gathering food. Dugan, Duncan and Dalton were thinking about the feast that lay ahead and hoping that there would enough time for a snack after the Chuckwagon had been filled. Wanda, running beside Boony, was thinking about the other female rats back at the laboratory, and feeling annoyed that they had been too scared to leave. 'It's a man's world out there', they'd said, but Wanda knew otherwise. If you used your head and showed a bit of courage, the world was yours, male or female.

Boony, like Manny, was thinking about the Greycoats. He wasn't thinking about killing them, however, but rather about how he was going to keep the Greycoats from killing his gang members. He felt directly responsible for the survival of his friends, having led them out of the laboratory and into the real world. At the time it had seemed a good idea, and the sensation of freedom was incredible, but he had soon found that there seemed to be more danger in being free than in captivity. In the laboratory there was one great enemy – the humans. In the dump, there were many, including birds, cats, dogs, humans and the weather. And now it seemed that the Greycoats were bringing danger right to his doorstep.

Manny scaled Lawnmower Hill without seeing any danger, which disappointed him a bit, and waited at the summit for the three brothers to arrive with the Chuckwagon. He could see the boxes of rotting fruit lying at the bottom of Tyre Valley, just below the hill. There was no movement around them, so he took the time to sit back and savour the sickly sweet odour that drifted up the slope with the gentle night breeze. He was soon joined by the brothers, grunting and snuffling as they pushed the empty ball up to the top of the hill. They too stopped to saviour the smell, and the saliva dripped from their huge front teeth as they imagined the feed they were going to have.

Suddenly, down below, there was a small movement, and the four rats dropped to their stomachs. As they lay there, barely breathing, their sensitive hearing picked up the sounds of scratching and scrabbling. Cautiously, Manny shuffled forward to the edge of the hillside and peered down at the rubbish pile below. He then slid back to the others.

"It's a Mangey Moggy," he whispered. "It's in the middle of our food. I saw it knocking an apple around with its paws. Don't those Moggies know not to play with their food?"

"It's our food," hissed Dugan, Duncan and Dalton together. If there was anything that made them mad, it was having a meal interrupted or postponed. "What'll we do?"

"If it was up to me," boasted Manny, "I'd jumped off the top of this hill, land on top of that cat, and then bite its ears off. Then I'd grab it by the tail and....."

Just then, Boony and Wanda arrived on the top of Lawnmower Hill, and looked with surprise at the four gang members lying on their stomachs.

"Boony, there's a Mangey Moggy down there, and he's got our food," moaned the triplets, thunder rumbling from their bellies.

The two newcomers moved quietly to the edge of the slope and glanced down into Tyre Valley. There below, a large ginger cat was playing amongst the fruit boxes, throwing about and chasing pieces of loose fruit and vegetables.

"It's the same ginger tom that I saw last week," whispered Wanda. "It's only playing."

"Let me at it," urged Manny, who had moved up beside Boony. "One good bite from me will send it on its way."

"And one good bite from it will send you on your way," retorted Boony seriously. "No, we can't go down there until that cat has gone. I don't want to lose any good rats to a Mangey Moggy."

"What about the food?" queried Dugan, Duncan and Dalton.

"They're right, Chief, " agreed Manny, still eager to have a go at the cat. "If we hang around and wait for him to go, the Greycoats may arrive on the scene."

Boony knew a decision had to be made quickly and began to wish he wasn't the leader. He stared in thought at the Chuckwagon standing nearby. Somehow they had to get rid of the cat and fill that Chuckwagon, but without any of the gang members being endangered unnecessarily. An idea came to him in a flash.

"Wanda, stay here at the edge and keep an eye on the cat. Boys, give me a hand with the Chuckwagon. We are going bowling."

After a brief explanation from Boony, the five male rats moved behind the ball and pushed it carefully to the edge of the slope. They stopped just before it toppled over, and while the other four remained in their positions, Boony joined Wanda at the edge.

"The key," he said quietly, "is to push it when the cat's right below us. The Chuckwagon probably won't hurt it much, but it'll get a heck of a fright."

"And if we miss?" she asked.

"I guess we lose the Chuckwagon and go hungry for another day. But we won't miss. We'll just wait until the cat is right below us before we push the wagon over the edge."

So the six Whitecoats waited on the summit of Lawnmower Hill, as the Mangey Moggy played around below. The minutes began to tick by, but still the cat came no closer to where the ball might head. Meanwhile, the risk of the Greycoats appearing was growing greater and greater.

"It's no use," said Boony finally. "We could be here until dawn waiting for that stupid Mangey Moggy to move into the right position. One of us is going to have to lure it there."

Manny volunteered immediately, keen for a chance to get into a fight. Boony, however, had already decided that he himself should go, as he was the fastest of the gang and most able to outrun the cat. Besides, as the leader, it was up to him to set an example of bravery and courage for his rats. Manny wasn't too happy that Boony was going to have all the fun, but his protests were quickly silenced.

"Good luck," the other Whitecoats whispered as Boony started down the slope of Lawnmower Hill and into Tyre Valley.

"Just make sure you push the Chuckwagon down at the right time," he whispered back, then was gone down into the darkness.

"There goes a brave rat," murmured Wanda in admiration. The three brothers nodded agreement.

"Lucky is more like it. I still think that I should have gone," grumbled Manny.

Boony descended slowly and quietly into Tyre Valley, all the time keeping his eyes on the dark shadowy figure of the cat as it played down below. He considered the plan of action in his mind. The trick was to get as close to the Mangey Moggy as possible, capture his attention long enough to interest him, then sprint back to the point on the hill where the Chuckwagon would come rolling down. With the cat following, he would climb back up the hill, by which time the Chuckwagon would bounce down and hit the cat, scaring it off into the darkness. Boony knew it was going to be a close thing, for the Moggy had much longer legs than him and therefore would be faster, especially up the hill. There was also the danger that the Chuckwagon would hit him instead of the cat, in which case his dump days were over for good.

Too soon, Boony was into Tyre Valley. It was darker in there than on the slope of Lawnmower Hill, for the moonlight was blocked by the tall valley sides and the tyres and fruit boxes which filled much of the valley floor. Cautiously Boony made his way in the direction of the ginger tomcat, keeping so low to the ground that his stomach dragged along in the dirt. The cat was too busy playing to notice him, and he was able to get within three metres, just outside the normal pouncing range of the average cat. Boony took a deep breath, and readied himself for action.

"Squeeeeeeeeak!" shouted Boony in a high pitched voice, and the Mangey Moggy got such a fright it sprang straight upwards. By the time it hit the ground again, Boony was off and running, heading at top speed for the bottom of the hill below the Chuckwagon. The cat was quick to follow, taking huge strides as it chased a potential hot meal. It was within a few metres of Boony and closing fast when he reached the foot of the slope and began the steep ascent to the top.

With head down and heart thumping wildly, Boony was out of breath and tiring fast as his little legs drove him upwards towards his waiting friends. He hadn't told them exactly when to let go of the Chuckwagon, but hoped that it was going to be soon, for he could almost feel the cat's hot breath on the tip of his long tail. He could actually hear the excited yowling of the Mangey Moggy, and it sounded almost above him. It wouldn't be too long before he felt the sharp pain of claws digging into his back. This thought gave him an extra burst of energy, and he gained a little more speed, closing his eyes and gritting his big front teeth to fight off the pain in his legs and lungs.

A rumbling sound coming from above made Boony open his eyes and look up. Approaching fast was a huge object, the Chuckwagon, picking up speed on its journey down into the valley. He could feel the tremors in the ground beneath his racing feet as the ball bounced over bumps in the hillside. He also felt the pounding of the cat's paws on the earth close behind him, a signal that the cat had almost caught him. The Mangey Moggy, lacking the great intelligence of the rat, had not noticed the ball careering down the hill towards it, for its eyes were locked on Boony's white coat, bobbing only centimetres ahead in the moonlight.

The ginger tom had just opened its mouth to grasp Boony's tail when the Chuckwagon reached the two running figures. Boony, being low to the ground as all rats are, was able to duck and avoid it as it bounced overhead. It was a close thing though, for he felt its spinning plastic surface brush across the fur on his back. The Mangey Moggy, however, was unable to get out of the ball's path. It hadn't seen the ball coming, and even if it had it was too big to duck out of the way. The Chuckwagon connected with the cat right on the nose, forcing its open mouth to slam shut, not on Boony's tail as it had hoped to do, but on its own tongue. The force of the ball also sent the cat flying backwards down the hill, howling painfully as it went. When it regained its feet in Tyre Valley, the Mangey Moggy no longer thought of playing with rotten fruit or chasing defenceless rats. Instead, it took off at great speed into the dark landscape of Rolington Municipal Dump, heading for some dark corner where it could lick its wounds.

High pitched cheering rang out from the top of Lawnmower Hill, floating down the slope to the breathless Boony, who was lying on his stomach recovering from exhaustion and shock.

"Are you okay down there?" came the worried voice of Wanda.

"Sure," Boony managed to shout back between deep breaths. "Hurry up and get down here. We've got a job to do." He would have liked to have rested longer and bathed in the glory of his bravery, but as a true leader, he knew that the gang's survival and safety came first.

Four figures scurried down through the darkness to join their leader, Wanda remaining behind as lookout, and the five male rats descended into Tyre Valley to retrieve the Chuckwagon from its resting place and push it to the waiting food supplies. The ball had not been damaged in its downward track, which was a relief, and it wasn't long before the Whitecoats were pushing pieces of rotting fruit and vegetable through the hole to fill its hollow insides. The Whitecoats were going to be eating well in the days to come.

# Chapter Three – Manny and the Greycoats

Wanda, the Whitecoat lookout, stood nervously up on top of Lawnmower Hill, surveying the darkness around for signs of danger. Far below, in Tyre Valley, her five food-gathering companions worked busily, stocking up the Chuckwagon from a huge pile of fruit and vegetables that lay around them, their excited talk drifting up the slope to her ears.

"Wow, this is great," squealed Dugan, Duncan and Dalton together, each using one paw to pick up food for the Chuckwagon, and the other to shovel food into their mouths.

"If you fatsos don't stop eating," growled Manny, "you are going to be too full to push the Chuckwagon back up Lawnmower Hill."

"He's right, boys," agreed Boony. "We'd better fill this thing and get out of here quick smart. I've got a feeling that we won't to be alone for long."

As if to confirm his words, there was a high pitched warning squeak from the summit of Lawnmower Hill. It was Wanda's danger signal, and meant that trouble was approaching.

"That's it," shouted Boony, "we're out of here whether the Chuckwagon is full or not."

The five rats moved in behind the ball and began to roll it using their heads, out of Tyre Valley and up the slope of Lawnmower Hill. The Chuckwagon was no longer a hollow plastic shell, light and easy to move, but a sluggish, solid mass that required the strength of all five rats to keep it moving slowly upwards. If one of the rats slipped, there was a possibility that the ball would roll backwards over all of them and back down the slope. Each step was carefully taken, and accompanied by grunts and groans of protest as the weight of the Chuckwagon pushed against neck, back and leg muscles.

More high pitched squeaks rang out from the summit, these ones more urgent than the first, and then the figure of the Wanda came rushing down the slope to join the toiling rats.

"It's the Greycoats!" she squealed urgently. "They're just entering Tyre Valley now. They are bound to see us."

"Quick, Wanda," urged Boony, "get in and push with us and we may be able to get the Chuckwagon over the top before that happens."

Using every muscle in their little rat bodies, the six rats slowly moved their bounty of food closer and closer to the top of Lawnmower Hill. The sounds of excited squeaking carried up to their ears from the valley below, signalling that the Greycoats must have found the fruit boxes.

"They are eating our food," moaned Dugan, Duncan and Dalton, as if they hadn't just filled their stomachs and weren't pushing half a week's supply of food in front of them.

"Don't worry, boys," consoled Boony. "There will be other great food drops in the future."

The rats pushed on, with the top just ahead. Once they reached it, the going would be easy, for the Chuckwagon could be rolled down the other side and then pushed over the short, fairly flat stretch to the sofa headquarters. But as they were nearing the summit of Lawnmower Hill, the squeaking grew suddenly louder from below.

"Wanda, see what's happening down there," ordered Boony, and the five male rats took up the strain as she left her post to survey the activity in the valley.

"Oh no, Boony, they've seen us. Some of them are starting up the hill."

Boony wasn't able to turn his head to look, but he could imagine the large, grey, evil figures surging up the slope, eager to steal their treasure and maybe their lives. They were so close to making it out of danger, but not close enough. It was a desperate situation, calling for desperate measures. A diversion was needed, something to keep the Greycoats away until the Chuckwagon was over the top of the hill.

"Wanda!" yelled Boony, "get back here behind the Chuckwagon. Manny...."

Boony didn't need to say anything more. Manny knew what the situation was, and he knew what was required. He left his post and stood briefly beside Boony.

"Thanks, Chief. I'll make sure you guys get home."

"Just make sure you get home too, Manny," Boony told him seriously. "Good deputies are hard to find. Good luck."

"Who needs luck?" laughed Manny, and then he was gone, back down the slope to meet the rapidly advancing Greycoats.

The remaining five rats pushed silently onward, each in his or her mind hoping that Manny would make it through, not just for their own safety but for his sake as well. The Greycoats had never been fought before, so their strength and tactics were unknown. If Manny survived, he would bring back vital information on how they could be beaten in future battles, thus helping to safeguard the survival of the Whitecoats. If he died, a good rat would be lost, their food supply would be cut off, and the future of the Whitecoats in the dump would probably be very short.

As they finally rolled the Chuckwagon onto the summit of Lawnmower Hill, the sounds of fighting drifted up the slope to their ears. There was snarling, squealing and growling, and cries of anger, excitement and agony. Someone was obviously getting hurt down below, but the five rats at the summit could not tell who it was.

"Let's go back and help," insisted Dugan, Duncan and Dalton, for once not thinking about food.

"No," replied Boony firmly. "We owe it to Manny to get this food back to base. Anyway, I'm sure he can handle things on his own." Secretly, Boony wasn't so sure and also wanted to go back to help Manny, but the survival of the rest of his gang came first. It was the life of one rat versus the lives of six others, so Manny lost out.

The five rats pushed the Chuckwagon over the other side of the hill, and raced down the hillside after it. As usual, a small amount of food had spilled out through the hole on the way down, but this time they didn't stop to pick it up. Instead, they quickly retrieved the ball and pushed it onward to base, rolling it around some of the bigger piles of rubbish and dirt to keep it on flat ground, where a faster speed could be maintained. It wasn't long before the sofa was reached.

Boony climbed on top and gave the secret knocking signal on the tin can security door. There were sounds of scrabbling below, then the tin can was pushed out of the hole and Teesdale emerged.

"Goodness, you've been away a long time. What happened?"

"Later," Boony replied firmly. "Let's empty the Chuckwagon into the base first. And quickly."

"Where's Manny?" Teesdale continued inquisitively. His scientific brain was always asking questions, at least when it wasn't inventing.

"He is coming," insisted Boony. "Now cut the chatter and start working." They were harsh words, and Boony didn't like saying them, but he also didn't want to talk about Manny either. There would be time later, and hopefully with Manny there to help explain.

The members of the Whitecoat gang, minus one, quickly unloaded the Chuckwagon, and carried the food deep into their headquarters to the special food storage area they had gnawed out of the foam. It was one of many rooms they had formed with their teeth, including individual sleeping holes, the briefing room, and general eating and meeting rooms. It was much more comfortable than the wood and steel cages back at the laboratory. The interior of the sofa was soft and warm, whereas the cage floors had been hard and cold. The foam also absorbed their body odour, waste and dirt, giving their home a nice lived-in smell and look. In the laboratory, their cages had been washed out nearly every day, and therefore had always looked clean and smelled of freshness. The Whitecoats could never understand how anyone could live for long under such terrible conditions.

With the pantry full, the Whitecoats pulled the security door closed again. It was a safety precaution, in case the Greycoats came looking for them, but they all knew it also shut Manny out.

"What if Manny is tracked back here by the Greycoats? He won't be able to get in," Wanda had asked.

"If he is chased, he won't come back this way," Boony had replied knowingly. Manny was a good soldier, and would never give away the location of headquarters, even if his life depended on it. It was just one of the reasons he had been chosen as deputy.

About an hour after their return to base, the Whitecoats heard tapping on the door. They listened carefully, trying to determine if it was their secret signal or some stranger trying to find the way in. They all breathed a sigh of relief when they picked out the familiar pattern.

"It's Manny," said Boony calmly, though inside he was excited and extremely relieved.

The door opened, and the large figure of Manny climbed down through the hole, smiling broadly. When the door was once more closed and welcomes were over, the entire gang made its way into the briefing room, to hear Manny's account of his adventure and to discuss the whole food-gathering mission.

"It was fantastic!" Manny exclaimed excitedly, when Boony asked him to recount his adventures. "I ran down the slope and there were five Greycoats coming up to meet me. They were much bigger than I expected."

There were looks of horror from his audience, which was exactly what Manny wanted. Not only was he a good fighter, but also a good storyteller.

"It occurred to me then," he continued dramatically, "that I had bitten off more than I could chew. Five of them versus one of me. So I looked for a weapon, and found a piece of wire about so long." He indicated the length using one hand and the tip of his tail. "When the first Greycoat came at me, I wacked it with the wire. I think I hit it in the left eye. It ran away and I don't think it was very happy. The other four weren't happy either - they looking pretty cheesed off."

"What did you do then?" asked the three brothers anxiously, expressions of terror on their faces.

"Well, I grabbed the wire in both hands, sat back on my hind legs and spun around as fast as I could, swinging the wire. Any Greycoats who tried to get near me got a good wack on the face or body. Then, still spinning, I slowly made my way up Lawnmower Hill. By the time I reached the top, those Greycoats were hurting so much they gave up and ran away." Manny laughed out loud, remembering the great relief he felt at seeing the Greycoats leave. The entire battle had been a very scary experience, and one he thought he wouldn't live through.

"How long did the fight last?"

"Oh, not long. About 10 minutes I'd guess."

"And the rest of the time, I suppose, you've been finding your way home via a longer route, misleading any following Greycoats," Boony concluded.

"Exactly," agreed Manny, but this wasn't actually the case. He had been so dizzy after spinning around with the wire, he was unable to walk in a straight line for quite a long time afterwards. He struggled back to the base via a series of zigzags, with occasional rest stops to get back on the right track. But Boony's explanation sounded much more heroic.

"Well," sighed Boony after the excitement of the story had died away and Manny had received all the congratulations he deserved, "we learnt some important lessons today. The Greycoats have definitely moved into the area, and we are not strong enough to fight them, or other enemies like the Mangey Moggies, alone. If we are to survive here, we need weapons."

There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of the gang, and then a cough came from Teesdale, who had listened to Manny's account of the fight with great interest but no comment. Now all eyes turned to Teesdale.

"It's funny you should mention weapons, Boony," began Teesdale in his little squeaky voice. "While you were away, I drew up a few plans, in case we ever had to fight the Greycoats ..... "

# Chapter Four - The Armoured Car

In the days following the Tyre Valley mission, the Whitecoat headquarters and the area of dump immediately around it were a hive of activity. With the food supply at the base topped up, there was no need for further food gathering missions, and with the Greycoats hanging around, it was just as well. Instead, the Whitecoats went in search of materials to be used in the inventions that Teesdale had designed. A large range of human rubbish was collected, including bottles, plastic bags, cotton reels, plastic detergent bottles, ice block sticks, piecess of wire, shoe boxes and books. These were carried or dragged back to headquarters and dumped in a pile outside. Teesdale sorted through them carefully to ensure they met his standards, and then with the assistance of the others, he began to create the Whitecoat gang's weapons of warfare.

When the time came for the Whitecoats to venture out on another food-gathering mission, they were well prepared to take on the Greycoats. That night, they gathered once again in the briefing room to discuss the mission and to receive their weaponry.

"Tonight," began Boony, getting things underway,"we venture back into Tyre Valley. Manny, what can we expect to find there?"

"Chief, my nose picked up very strong traces of stale bread, mouldy cheese, and slimy salami. My guess is that the Deli has made a drop."

Boony scratched his head in a thoughtful gesture.

"Strong traces, you say. That means every Greycoat and Mangey Moggy in the dump will be out there tonight. Well, I suppose it'll be a good test of our new equipment. Teesdale, what would you recommend?"

All eyes shifted to Teesdale. The success or failure of the mission now depended on the choice of weapon, and whether the weapon chosen actually worked as it was supposed to.

"The armoured car, Boony," he replied without hesitation. "It will fight off anything they can dish out."

There was a murmur of excitement among the gang members at the mention of the armoured car. It had been one of Teesdale's more adventurous inventions, and was a highly technical piece of equipment that required many materials to build. Three of them had been built, and though all the Whitecoats had test-driven in them in practice, they were as yet unproven in battle.

"Okay, Teesdale, armoured cars it is. Manny, you and Wanda can take Car 1. Dugan and Dalton, Car 2. Duncan, you're with me in Car 3. We'll stay in single file until we reach the top of Lawnmower Hill, but split up on the way down into the valley. Manny, are you happy to lead?"

"No problems, Chief. I might get the chance to test the guns on a few Greycoats or Moggies."

"Don't fire unless you have to," Boony warned. "Our supplies of ammunition are limited at the moment. Wanda, it'll still be up to you to signal if there's trouble. One long squeal for Mangey Moggies, two short squeals for Greycoats. And if it's anything else, just squeal continuously and get the heck out of there. We won't be far behind."

"Okay, Boony," Wanda responded. "If we do encounter trouble, I'll try and get an idea of their strength, and identify any leaders. It might prove useful."

"That'll be fine. Dugan and Dalton," Boony continued seriously, "remember that this is a food-gathering mission, not a food-eating one. The armoured car doesn't carry as much food as the Chuckwagon, so we need every scrap we can get. Who knows how long it might be till our next mission. Duncan, I'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Yes Chief," the three of them responded together, a little unhappily.

"Right, then that's that. Let's get out of here."

"Good luck," Teesdale wished them as they left the briefing room.

The rats filed once more out of the sofa, pausing on the top for a minute to survey the armoured cars parked below. From the outside they simply looked like shoe boxes turned upside down, with pieces of drinking straw stuck out the sides in various places and sharpened ice-block sticks poking out of the top and sides. Actually, that's exactly what they were. The shoe box was the armoured body, the drinking straws were the pea-shooter guns that fired toothpicks, and the ice-block sticks were swords, deterrents to stop the enemy from jumping on top of the car or pushing against the side walls. The shoe box body was supported on cotton-reel wheels, and the inside walls of the box were lined with small plastic bags, some empty to carry food and some filled with toothpick ammunition. The armoured car ran on rat power, with the rats sliding into harnesses inside the box to pull the car along. All the rats needed to do was drive the box to the food, park on top, pick up the food and put it in the bags, and then drive away.

The six soldier-rats climbed down off the sofa headquarters and moved to their allotted armoured cars. One rat lifted each box while the other crawled under, and then the inside rat held up the box for his or her partner. Once inside, the rats slid into their harnesses, side by side, and prepared to move off. The air was full of excitement, and little rat paws tapped the ground nervously, waiting for the order to move out.

"Let's go," came Boony's muffled voice from inside one of the boxes, and the three vehicles began to move with Manny and Wanda in Car 1 taking the lead. Dalton and Dugan moved in behind them, closely followed by Boony and Duncan, and the convoy headed off into Tyre Valley, steered by looking through small holes cut in the front of the boxes. The cotton-reel wheels rumbled on their wire axles as the cars trundled along, driven by their two rat-power engines, passing over the small clumps of dirt and rubbish that were the foothills to Lawnmower Hill. The speed dropped as the hill was reached, and slowly the three vehicles climbed towards the summit, the drivers leaning forward and pushing hard against the slope to keep the convoy together and moving upwards.

The summit was finally reached, and then the armoured cars began to build up speed as they travelled down into Tyre Valley. They moved from single file to side-by-side positions, and this time the rats had to lean backwards and use their legs as brakes to prevent their vehicles from racing out of control down the slope. Dugan and Dalton appeared to lose control of their car about halfway down, and the other rats watched in horror as the shoe box raced ahead and disappeared into the darkness of Tyre Valley. From below there came the sound of clattering cans, then silence, and the occupants of Car 1 and Car 3 feared the worst. They started to speed up a little in the passage down the slope, anxious to find out what had become of their friends.

When the two vehicles reached the bottom, there was no sign of the missing armoured car. A small pile of tin-cans lay where the car should have been, but there was not a trace of Dugan, Dalton or the shoe box. The strong smell of nearby food was present, however, and Boony decided that investigation of this food might solve the mystery of the missing car. The two armoured cars moved off cautiously down the floor of Tyre Valley, the ears of the drivers listening for the sounds of their friends or the enemy. They passed around a small bend and came upon the food pile, on which was perched Car 2. Excited sounds could be heard coming from the inside, the sounds one normally hears at a party. Dugan and Dalton were obviously sampling the goodies they were parked upon.

"I should have known your brothers would be up to no good," Boony said to Duncan, harnessed beside him. "I'll bet they deliberately raced down the hill just so they could get here before us."

Duncan didn't reply. He was jealous of his brothers, and cursed his luck at having Boony as his co-driver. There wasn't much chance of his getting anything to eat on this mission.

Car 1 and Car 3 joined the other car on the food pile, and after Boony had a quick but firm word with the occupants of Car 2, the six rats began to fill the food bags on the inside of their vehicles. It was a slow task, for rat paws don't hold very much, but one by one the bags were filled. When all cars were ready, Boony gave the order to head for home. All three cars moved off again, this time much slower under the weight of the salami, cheese and stale bread that filled the interior bags. Inside the cars the smell was overpowering, and it took plenty of concentration and willpower for the six rats not to stop for a snack.

The three armoured cars had not travelled far back down Tyre Valley when the sound of other rat voices greeted their ears. The Greycoats were on their tails. The six Whitecoats tried to speed up, but the weight of the cargo was too great to allow them to travel at more than a slow trot. The voices grew closer behind, and Boony realised that there was no chance of outrunning the Greycoats. He gave the order to stop.

"Load your guns," he ordered quickly, and six pairs of rat paws took toothpicks from storage bags and slipped them into drinking-straw gun barrels. "Don't fire until I give the word."

Mouths poised next to the drinking straws, ready to blow out their deadly contents, the Whitecoats waited for their commander's order. Through small holes above the guns, they could see the large grey figures of the enemy approaching, and could hear their tail-curling war cries. Paws began to shake nervously, sweat began to pour from brows, and little rat minds began to pray that Teesdale's inventions would work. If they didn't, there was very little chance that they would live to tell him what went wrong.

When the Greycoats were only metres away, it was easy for the Whitecoats to pick out which of them was the leader. One rat was larger than the rest, and ran slightly ahead of them. One of his eyes, the left one, was covered with a patch made out of cloth.

"That's the first one I wacked with the wire," Manny whispered from his armoured car, as the three cars sat side by side, waiting for the Greycoats to reach them. "I'll have to get his other eye this time."

The Greycoats were about a metre away from the cars when they came to a sudden stop. It was obvious from their expressions that they were puzzled. They could smell the Whitecoats and their food cargo, but all they could see were the upturned cardboard boxes with straws poking out. Slowly, the Greycoats moved forward to investigate the strange boxes, aware that danger lay somewhere ahead but not sure how or why. When they were only about 30 centimetres from the armoured cars, Boony shouted his order.

"Fire!", and six rat mouths closed over the ends of the gun barrels and blew as hard as possible. Toothpick arrows shot out of the straws and flew into the grey bodies of the luckless Greycoats in front. The air was filled with squeals of pain, and the Greycoat gang beat a hasty retreat, toothpicks sticking out of several of them.

"Yee-hah!" shouted Manny. "We got the suckers."

"Looked at them run," chipped in Dugan, Duncan and Dalton.

The Greycoats had disappeared around the bend in the valley, their cries of pain still ringing and echoing in the darkness.

"Do you think they'll be back?" Wanda asked out aloud from her car.

"I'm sure of it," Boony replied. "Reload your guns and then we'll move off closer to home. When they do come, they'll probably be extremely mad and out for revenge."

The Whitecoats hurriedly loaded fresh toothpicks into their gun barrels, then scurried off down the valley, trying to get as close to home as possible before the next attack. They were just starting to climb up Lawnmower Hill when the distant sound of approaching Greycoats reached their ears.

"I don't think they'll run away as easily this time," Manny concluded happily. "We might get a decent fight at last."

"Don't wait for my orders when you want to fire," Boony informed his rats as the angry Greycoats grew nearer. "You're on your own this time. Your duty is to get your car back to base any way you can. Try and keep moving slowly up the slope as you fight."

The Greycoats came charging up the slope of Lawnmower Hill. There were a few less than before, but the Whitecoats were still hopelessly outnumbered.

"The odds must be 3 to 1," Boony whispered to Duncan beside him as they slowly backed their way up the slope, watching the advancing Greycoats below them. "To beat them, each of us has to knock out three of them." They seemed impossible odds to Boony.

Led by Patch, their leader, the Greycoats charged up the hill at the three cardboard boxes which had caused them so much pain earlier on. They were full of revenge and out for Whitecoat blood. This time they didn't slow down as they drew near, but kept moving at full speed to attack the boxes. Once more sharp toothpick arrows greeted them as they closed in, and several of the smaller Greycoats dropped out of the pack through fear or injury. The larger and braver ones didn't flinch, however, and reached the cars while the Whitecoats were still reloading their guns.

Three of the Greycoats jumped onto the tops of the armoured cars, only to be gouged in their stomachs by the sharpened ice-block sticks mounted there. They shrieked in pain and rolled off, tumbling down the slope of Lawnmower Hill. The Greycoats who moved too close to the sides of the cars also felt the sharp points of the ice-block sticks that projected from the walls, and hurriedly drew back. Unfortunately, when they moved away from the cars, they then became targets for the reloaded guns, and experienced the agony of toothpicks striking their thick skin. It was too much for them to take, and they hastily withdrew back down into Tyre Valley, leaving only a handful of Greycoats on the hill, surrounding the Whitecoat vehicles at a distance outside the range of the guns.

Slowly the armoured cars climbed up the slope of Lawnmower Hill, the eyes of the occupants glued on the remaining Greycoats. They knew it was only a matter of time before they were attacked again. Sure enough, there came a grunted signal from Patch and the remaining Greycoats charged again. The Whitecoats, except for Duncan, once again manned their guns and began firing arrows at the enemy.

"Why aren't you shooting, Duncan?" Boony squealed in surprise at his co-driver, who was sitting back relaxed as the battle raged around him.

"You said the odds were 3 to 1," Duncan replied. "I got my three Greycoats in the last attack."

Boony didn't have time to argue with Duncan, but realized he needed to explain a few things to his rats when they got back to base. Meanwhile, he set about reloading and firing his gun to make sure they actually did get back to base. He noticed that some of the Greycoats had pulled out an ice block stick sword from one of the other cars and were using it to stab through the shoebox walls of Car 2. He turned his gun on them, urging Duncan to help his brothers and do the same. Under their combined fire, the Greycoats were forced to retire, and only just in time, as they left behind a large hole through which Dalton and Dugan could be seen. Car 2 was obviously not going to survive another attack.

"Manny, bring your car up against the side of Car 2," shouted Boony desperately, as the Greycoats once more surrounded the Whitecoats at a distance, licking their wounds. "We'll come up against the other side of them."

The two undamaged armoured cars sandwiched the damaged car between them, blocking the gaping holes in its side.

"Dugan, Dalton, are you okay?" Boony asked as his car drew alongside.

"Just a bit scratched," the two brothers answered. "But they've holed some of the food bags."

"Wanda, how strong do you think the Greycoats are now?" Boony asked his intelligence officer in the far vehicle.

"I think they'll only last one more attack, Boony," she replied, "which is about how long our ammunition will last."

"We're going to have to watch our swords, Chief," Manny added when Wanda had finished. "They are using them against us, and these cardboard walls just won't survive long against them."

"You are right, Manny," Boony agreed. "Pull all the swords into your cars and stick them in the ammunition bags. It'll mean we can't use them to keep the Greycoats away, but at least they won't be able to break through our walls with them."

The Whitecoats hurriedly modified their car defences, taking away the ice-block sticks swords. All they had left to fight off the Greycoats were the blowguns, and the few toothpick arrows that were left. Car 2 couldn't defend at all, being sandwiched between the other two. If the Greycoats weren't scared off in the next attack, the Whitecoats were in serious trouble.

The armoured cars, locked side by side to form one large vehicle, had just reached the summit of Lawnmower Hill when the last of the Greycoats attacked again. Having successfully damaged one of the cars in the last attack, the Greycoats were hopeful of a victory in this attack, despite their many injuries. They surged into the hail of arrows fired at them and those that endured this then drove their bodies into the sides of the cars or leapt on top of them. This time there were no painful swords to cut them and they squealed excitedly. But then they realized they had no weapons to use to pierce the hard shells of the cars. Desperately they tried to rip the box walls with their teeth, or scratch through the cardboard with their claws. This method of attack was extremely slow and all the while the Whitecoats were pushing their vehicles across the summit of Lawnmower Hill, toward the downward slope that led back to base and safety.

Some of the Greycoats were just starting to break through the car walls when the Whitecoats finally reached the top of Lawnmower Hill.

"Full speed ahead and stay close," shouted Boony, and the three cars plunged over the edge and began to race down the slope, the Whitecoats' little rat legs moving as fast as they could go. The Greycoats on top of the cars were taken by surprise. Some leapt off in fright, others slid from their slippery perches as the cars plunged down the steep hillside. Only Patch, their leader, remained upon the speeding vehicles, holding on with his teeth dug into the cardboard. He did not stay there for long, however, for the armoured cars hit bumps in the slope and soared briefly into the air. They landed with a thud further down the slope and Patch was shaken off, left lying dazed in a pile of rubbish and with a piece of torn cardboard between his teeth.

Tired, scared, breathless and bruised, the six Whitecoat rats continued their rush down Lawnmower Hill, and on to the flatter ground beneath. Unable to look back and see that all the Greycoats had gone, they dragged their battered cars in and out of the rubbish mounds, trying to shake off any followers. Only when they were well hidden from any viewers on Lawnmower Hill did Boony finally give the order to stop, and the six rats slumped gratefully to the dew-covered ground, panting and wheezing.

The Whitecoat convoy of soldiers and cars was a sorry sight, and much different to the one that had set out earlier in the night. The rats' coats, normally clean and shiny, were now coated with dirt, blood and sweat, and their sharp claws were blunted and broken. The armoured cars were now torn and holed, with split food bags and missing cotton-reel wheels. There was little chance that any of the three cars would ever see action again.

When the Whitecoats regained enough energy to complete their homeward journey, the rag tag convoy set off again, winding its way through the dump to the vinyl and foam sofa that the Whitecoats called home. Each rat was relieved and happy, looking forward to enjoying a good meal, swapping stories about the battle with the Greycoats, and snuggling into a foam cubby hole for a good day's sleep. Only Boony had any worries on his mind, for he was thinking about the next encounter with the Greycoats. They'd probably have weapons of their own next time, and if they could almost beat his gang without weapons, what would they do with them? It was a frightening thought, even for a courageous rat like Boony.

# Chapter Five – Aerial Reconnaissance

For night creatures to venture out in the daytime, there must be special, life threatening circumstances. Homes must be endangered, offspring or mates missing or food scarce to break their normal sleeping habits and bring them from the security of their well-hidden dwellings. In the case of the Whitecoat gang, a combination of three of these factors sent them out on a daring daylight mission.

Three days after the armoured car raid on Tyre Valley, the Whitecoats' food supply was running low again. Boony had forbidden any further missions in the days after the original one, despite the rich supply of food that still remained after his gang had filled their food bags. Boony knew that the Greycoats would be hanging around, looking not only to increase their own food supplies but also to catch the Whitecoats when they returned. Boony was also very sure that the Greycoats had weapons to fight with, for even the most stupid animals, humans, would have learned their lesson after tangling twice with the Whitecoats and their weaponry, let alone an animal as intelligent as a rat. The Whitecoats had always been disadvantaged by their smaller size, and now they had lost the advantage of being armed.

Manny was not as sure as Boony that the Greycoats would be looking for trouble. He couldn't believe that anyone would be as brave as himself, and felt certain that his own bravery, and that of his gang members, had scared the Greycoats away for good. His confidence was infectious and many of the Whitecoats were beginning to believe that perhaps Manny might be right, and that Boony was simply being over cautious. The rumble of their empty stomachs when the food supply began to run out only added to the argument, especially for Dugan, Duncan and Dalton. Even the intelligent Teesdale, normally a firm supporter of Boony's leadership, wouldn't support Boony's opinion about the Greycoats' weapon development. The success of his early weapons had brought a swelling of his pride, and Teesdale began to think that no other rat could have the brains to invent weapons such as his. Only Wanda continued to have faith in Boony's reasoning.

On the day that the last of the food was eaten, Boony formed a new and desperate plan. The morale in the headquarters was poor, he felt sure mutiny was close at hand, and with the food gone something had to be done. He didn't want to send his rats out on a mission without knowing what the Greycoats were up to, but he knew that food had to be gathered, so he sought out Teesdale. Together, the two rats discussed Boony's plan, and Teesdale quickly drew up the blueprint for a new invention. He still had several untried inventions outside the headquarters, but this one was a rush job, and took immediate priority. He and Boony worked through the night constructing the new piece of equipment on the vinyl sofa top, and about an hour before sunrise it was completed. Boony called a brief meeting of the Whitecoats.

"I realise some of you are worried about our lack of food, and want to find more supplies. And with good reason. I also realise that some of you think the Greycoats are no longer a threat, which as yet isn't proven." Boony gave Manny a long, hard stare. "Well, we are about to kill two birds with one stone. At the crack of dawn, a mission will be launched that will help to locate the food supplies and also determine the weapon status of the enemy. This mission will then open the way for further food gathering missions."

There were murmurs from all the gang members other than Boony and Teesdale, the only two who as yet knew what the plan involved. The rest were concerned about undertaking a mission in daylight, and also unsure of how they would get close enough to the Greycoats' headquarters to see what weapons they had. It was a long way to travel and, even in darkness let alone broad daylight, the journey was fraught with danger. Several began to think that Boony had lost his senses.

"The mission will involve only one rat," continued Boony, silencing their thoughts, "and that rat is me. And I won't be travelling very far from home to carry it out either. Well, not in ground distance anyway. You see, I'm going to fly."

There were outburst of disbelief from the gang members. Rats couldn't fly, they all knew that. Boony had obviously lost his mind, overcome by the pressure of leadership, and now thought he was some kind of super rat. Manny decided it was time for him to take control.

"Boony, what are you talking about? There is no such thing as a flying rat. If God had meant us to fly, he would have given us wings. But he didn't. He gave us four strong legs instead. Please, come to your senses before you embarrass yourself any further."

Boony laughed and winked at Teesdale.

"I think it's time to show these rats of little faith your flying machine, Teesdale," he concluded. "Come on, follow me to the surface and your questions will be answered." He left the briefing table and walked out of the room, followed closely by Teesdale. Wanda began to follow too, but the other four Whitecoats remained for a moment, looking at each other in disbelief.

"Hurry up!" she growled at them. "He's still the leader, so give him the chance to prove himself. Wait until you've seen what's at the surface before you start planning your takeovers." And with that she left, angry not only at the lack of faith of the others, but at her own doubts . Had Boony really lost his mind?

The four remaining rats reluctantly followed Wanda, each expecting to find nothing when they reached the surface. They were greatly surprised, therefore, when they emerged from the entrance to find Teesdale and Boony standing next to a large and very strange contraption. It consisted mainly of a diamond shaped piece of plastic garbage bag, attached to a thin wooden cross. To the human eye, it was easily recognisable as a kite, but to a rat's eye, it was new and very strange. Below the middle of the cross, a small harness had been fastened to carry a rat-sized passenger, and there was a string attached above this that led to several cotton reels on the ground, joined to form a winch. Wanda, Manny and the three brothers wandered warily around the flying machine, eyeing it suspiciously. None of them knew anything about flight, but it was apparent that this machine was not going to make a rat look like a bird. It didn't even have any feathers.

"How is this thing going to move through the air?" asked Manny doubtfully. "I can't see any flapping wings, and once you're off the ground, if you get off the ground, you won't be able to push it with your legs." He felt he had found the flaw in the plan.

"It uses a wind power," replied Teesdale, a little annoyed at the ignorance of most of his fellow gang members. Was Boony the only other intelligent rat in the group? "In the morning, as the sun comes up, so too does the wind. This wind will carry the flying machine skyward, after it has been pulled into the air by that tow rope." He indicated the string attached below the harness. "Once in the air, the tow rope is anchored and more rope is let out, so the machine can fly higher and higher."

"How can you get to the food supplies or the Greycoats' base if you are tied to the ground by a rope?" exclaimed Manny. He was a good fighter, but unfortunately his thinking skills were not of the same high standard.

"Boony is not going to go to the food or the Greycoats' base," Wanda replied, having worked out what the plan was. "He is just going to climb high enough in the flying machine to look down on the dump, spot any food piles and also have an aerial view of the Greycoats. He'll be able to see what weapons they have lying around their base, without getting close enough to be in danger from them. It's a brilliant plan!"

There were murmurs of agreement from the other rats, and even Manny was forced to nod his head in agreement, but he still doubted that the flying machine could get off the ground. He wasn't alone in this either, for both Teesdale and Boony were unsure whether the ideas they put on paper would stand up to the test in the real world.

"Right, enough talk," concluded Boony. "The sun is almost up, I can feel a breeze, and I want to be up and down as soon as possible, before all the day creatures are out. Teesdale, you can help me with the launch. The rest of you, take the winch down onto the ground. I am going to take a run-up from here, and you are going to run as hard as you can with the rope. When you have pulled me high enough, I'll signal and you can anchor the winch to the ground. Then start letting out more rope until I signal that I've reached sufficient height. I'll look around for a little while, then signal you to pull me down. Everything clear?"

The others nodded their heads in agreement. Manny was beginning to think that perhaps the plan might work after all, and was jealous that he wasn't going to be the first rat to fly.

"Boony, don't you think this mission is a little too dangerous for you to go on?" Manny asked hopefully. "After all, you are our leader and we can't afford to lose you. Maybe I should go."

"Thanks for the concern, Manny," Boony laughed. "Funny thing, I could have sworn you were ready to replace me as leader only minutes ago." Manny cringed in embarrassment. "I appreciate the offer Manny, but I think I'll stick with the flying machine. Now get going with that winch, and I'll see you after the flight."

The rats took up their allotted positions prior to the launch of the flying machine. Boony and Teesdale dragged the flying machine to its starting position at one end of sofa, and Boony climbed into the harness. Teesdale took up his position at the tail of the machine, keeping it off the ground so it wouldn't drag during take-off. The pair waited silently, feeling the gentle breeze that began to sweep across the dump and watching as more and more of the dump landmarks were illuminated by the rising sun. The breeze was lighter than expected, and the two pioneer rat aviators hoped it would be enough for their plans. Down below, the rope pullers awaited Boony's take off signal.

"Good luck and good flying," Teesdale said quietly as he felt the breeze building.

"Thanks, Teesdale," Boony replied nervously. "I wonder if birds get this anxious on take-off."

A strong puff of wind hit Boony's face and he squeaked his take-off signal. Holding the flying machine above him, and with Teesdale in furious pursuit, he sped across the sofa's vinyl surface towards the edge. Boony could hear the flying machine's plastic surface flapping in the wind and felt occasional pockets of lift that tried to pluck him from the sofa. Below, the rope pullers were running in the same direction, carrying the burden of the winch.

"Don't forget to let go of the tail, Teesdale!" shouted Boony, and then he stepped out into space. The flying machine soared upwards, then lost speed and began to drop towards the ground. At that point, the running Whitecoats took up the slack in the tow rope, and under their power the flying machine once more began to climb skywards. Boony could feel the wind racing past his face and through his fur, and watched with a mixture of both horror and wonder as the ground began to drop away below him. He was climbing heavenward, into the realm of the birds.

Boony looked down at the figures of his running gang members and realised it was time for them to anchor the winch. They were already quite a distance from the security of home base, and venturing any further would place them in potential danger. At his signal they stopped running, but before they could start feeding out more rope, Boony began to feel the flying machine sinking back towards the ground. The breeze was not strong enough to keep the rat and his machine in the air without the pull on the tow rope.

Helplessly, Boony watched as the ground rushed up to meet him, signalling an early end to his mission. The tail struck first with a thud, then the machine toppled forward. Boony's impact with the ground was not too bone-jarring, but the flying machine lay on top of him, preventing him from climbing out of his harness. He was forced to remain trapped until the rest of his gang came and lifted the flying machine from him. He was an extremely disappointed rat.

"The wind's not strong enough to keep us up," Boony grumbled despairingly to the gang, and Teesdale in particular. "We are just too heavy for the light breeze. I guess..."

"Correction, Boony," Teesdale cut in. "WE are not too heavy for the light breeze. YOU are too heavy. We need a lighter pilot."

There were mutterings and murmurings among the rest of the Whitecoats. Manny knew immediately that he was not a potential candidate, for he was the largest and heaviest of the rats. Dugan, Duncan and Dalton thought they might have been candidates and were not too happy about the idea, but they needn't have worried for they were far too overweight for the job. That only left two possible pilots -Teesdale and Wanda.

"I'll go," volunteered Wanda. "I am the intelligence officer and it's my job to know what the enemy is up to. I'm also lighter than Boony, so I'm ideally suited." She didn't mention the fact that she was scared of heights and even more scared of the idea of flying.

"No," said Teesdale firmly, "I'm going. No offence, Wanda, but you are not much lighter than Boony, whereas I am easily the lightest. I also designed the flying machine, so I know how it works, and I also may be able to recognise some of the Greycoats' weapons better, if they have any. Besides, we only have enough time for one more attempt at flight today. Let's get it right this time."

Boony knew that Teesdale was right, and besides, there was no time to argue. He didn't want to risk his top brain, but there seemed no other way.

"Okay, Teesdale, the bird is yours. Wanda, give me a hand to get this machine back up to the launch position at the base. The rest of you, wind up some of the tow rope and bring the winch back to the starting position. We haven't got a second to waste."

The Whitecoats sprang into action, and it wasn't long before the flying machine was once more ready for launch. The breeze was still only light, but the sun was well and truly up, with one or two birds in the sky. Teesdale was in the harness, but was too weak to support the weight of the flying machine on his own, so Boony and Wanda were holding it up on opposite sides of Teesdale. Down below them amidst the rubbish, Manny and the three brothers were ready to go.

"We are cleared for take-off," shouted Teesdale, which was his technical way of saying "go", and the three rats on the sofa began to run. The rope pullers also began their race through the rubbish, trying to keep the tow rope tight to pull the reluctant flying machine and its cargo into the air. Teesdale, small and weak as he was, was having trouble keeping pace with Boony and Wanda, and was just at the point of collapse when the edge of the sofa rushed up, and he and the flying machine were thrust out into nothingness.

As with Boony's launch earlier on, the flying machine climbed suddenly, than lost speed and began to drop towards the ground, only to climb again when the slack in the tow rope was taken up. It began to soar upwards under the pull of the tow rope, cutting its way into the sky like a rocket. Boony held his breath at the moment the towing party came to a stop and anchored the winch, expecting to see Teesdale drop out of the sky the way he had done. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the flying machine was not sinking, but instead was gradually clawing its way heavenward as more and more rope was released from the winch. The mission was now past the crucial first stage.

Wrapped in the flying machine's harness, Teesdale was shaking uncontrollably with fear. He had not opened his eyes since the horrific moment when the machine had carried him off the edge of headquarters, and the flight to date had simply been a series of sinking and rising feelings. Now, as he climbed skyward, his scientific brain was telling him that he had to open his eyes if he was to successfully complete the mission. He was out there to look for food and Greycoat weaponry, not examine the back of his eyelids. Reluctantly he opened one eye, and then the other, and his trembling increased in speed and strength when he saw his actual position. The flying machine had carried him high above Lawnmower Hill and all the other landmarks in the dump, except for the old yellow crane that the humans used to move large pieces of rubbish. But as more rope was released, he climbed above even this, and could soon see all of Rolington Municipal Dump.

Once the flying machine had stopped rising, and he had accustomed himself to the great heights he was at, Teesdale began to take more notice of his surroundings, and his fear began to decrease. The world below him was a vast area of waste, of rust, decay and pollution. It was truly a beautiful sight for any rat.

"This flying isn't too bad," he squeaked to the one or two small birds that flew past, apparently unconcerned by the presence of a rat in their domain. "Snobs," he added when they didn't reply.

Teesdale looked down at his friends far below. From his position, they seemed very small, though their white coats stood out against the dirt and the general greyness of the dump. He waved a little paw at them, though his brain told him that they probably wouldn't see his wave from that distance, so he quickly stopped and decided that he had better get on with his job. He could already see some human activity on the road that passed the dump, and he didn't want to capture their attention. That wouldn't have been hard either, he realised, for after all, it wasn't every day that you saw a flying rat.

Thinking and sightseeing over, Teesdale got down to the real aim of his mission. Considering the rumbling in his stomach, which was also still full of nervous butterflies, he decided that finding food was most important. He scanned the dump, looking for the tell-tale signs of a fresh food drop - intact garbage bags and boxes bearing pictures of fruits, vegetables or baked goods. From his aerial viewpoint, he could see that Tyre Valley had received no new food drops. There were a few new piles of bags over near Carbody Mountain, however, as well as some promising boxes lying on the other side of Oildrum Pond, near the foot of Ironing Board Hill. This was well into Greycoat territory, Teesdale realised, and recovery of such food would require a great deal of bravery and care. It would also require an understanding of what the Greycoats were up to, and Teesdale shifted his attention to studying the Greycoat headquarters.

The Greycoats lived amongst a series of discarded cement drainpipes on the other side of the dump, beyond the Bottle Ranges. The drainpipes had been left over after the construction of the sewerage plant, which occupied the land immediately beside Rolington Municipal Dump. The position of their base had once been ideal, for the dump had originally started on that side, with regular food supplies being brought in to meet the Greycoats' needs. Unfortunately the passage of time brought progress and the dump had been expanded to meet the needs of Rolington's increasing population. Old dumping areas, close to the Greycoats, were gradually filled in, to be replaced by new dumping areas further away. The Greycoats still had the best views and smells in the dump but they were now forced to travel far afield to get their food supplies. And whereas once they were the only rat colony in the dump, the arrival of the Whitecoats had brought competition. Life in the dump had become a rat race.

Teesdale scanned the drainpipes and the surrounding area, looking for signs of weapons that the Greycoats might have made to use against the Whitecoats. He didn't expect to find anything as sophisticated as his own weapons, for the Greycoats couldn't possibly have had a brain even half as intelligent as his. He was therefore annoyed when he spotted what looked like a poor copy of one of his armoured cars.

"That's my invention!" he exclaimed loudly in anger, though no one could hear him. "What a bunch of copy rats".

Beside the armoured car was what appeared to be at pile of ice-block stick swords, copies again of Teesdale's weapons . The other weapons present were a few long sticks, the purpose of which Teesdale could only guess at. His theory was that they were battering rams, to be used to tip over the Whitecoats' armoured cars. With that sort of weaponry against them, it looked like the Whitecoats wouldn't be using their armoured cars anymore. It was back to the drawing board for Teesdale.

His mission over, and with his mind already beginning to design new weapons, Teesdale signalled to his friends below to pull him down. The signal, a series of long squeaks, successfully captured their attention and they began the hard task of winching in the flying machine. Unfortunately, Teesdale's squeaking also captured the attention of another creature, passing high above at that moment. At the unfamiliar sound, a large black crow dropped its head and its keen eyes spotted the flying machine and its small rat passenger. Sensing the possibility of a hot breakfast, the crow tucked its wings close to its sides and dived down, a silent messenger of death, upon the unsuspecting Teesdale.

Far below, amongst the rubbish of the dump, Boony had joined his fellow rats in the slow task of winding in the flying machine. He was feeling a lot happier now that the mission was nearly over, as were the other male rats as they strained, heads down, at the cotton-reel winch. Working in plain view in daylight was too dangerous, besides being something they had done in the laboratory days which therefore brought back bad memories. The sooner Teesdale was on solid ground and they were tucked up in their sofa again, the better.

A squeal from Wanda, standing lookout back at headquarters, grabbed the Whitecoats' attention away from the winch. Looking to Wanda, they saw her pointing skyward, and lifted their eyes to the flying machine, still quite a way up in the air. Teesdale was waving happily at them but this was not what caught their eyes, nor brought the knives of horror stabbing into their little rat chests. It was the huge black figure dropping down upon the flying machine, body streamlined in the dive, claws extended.

"Quick, winch him in," screamed Boony, but even as he said the words, he knew there was no chance of getting Teesdale down in time. Still the rats strained away with all their might, their eyes glued on the black figure streaking towards the flying machine. The distance between the two decreased rapidly, and suddenly the crow was upon the machine.

Teesdale realised that something was wrong when he saw his friends look up at him, ignore his waving and begin working feverishly at the winch again. Getting him down was important but not as urgent as they made it seem. He looked below him at the rest of the dump for an answer but found no obvious threats, so he turned his attention to the skies. It was only moments before the crow reached the flying machine that he saw it and, helpless to prevent the collision that was about to occur, he closed his eyes and prepared to die.

Having dived from considerable height and over considerable distance, the crow struck the flying machine with great force. Luckily for Teesdale, its sharp claws dug not into his flesh, but rather into the wood just above his head and the plastic covering around it. The impact was enough to knock him senseless however, and also enough to snap the string that linked flying machine with winch. The lifting assistance of the winch thereby removed, the crow suddenly found itself supporting the entire weight of its own body, the flying machine and the small rat. This was too much for its wings, powerful though they were, and in the brief moments before it plummeted to earth with its cargo, the crow decided that letting go was the best idea. It did so, and the flying machine began to drop from the sky, the dazed Teesdale harnessed with it.

Boony watched in horrified amazement as the events unfolded above him. He saw the sickening impact of the bird with the flying machine, though from his angle it looked as if the bird had struck right on top of Teesdale, not above him. With alarm he watched the string break and fall to earth, and held his breath as the crow struggled to fly off with the flying machine in its claws. There was a cheer from the other rats when the crow lost its battle to hold on to the machine, but the cheers quickly became gasps of horror as, robbed of the lift-giving wind, the flying machine dived earthward with Teesdale its helpless passenger. They watched as he dropped, building up speed under the pull of gravity.

What happened next was a miracle to the rats, but it was really just science at work. Wind is just moving air, and you can create your own wind by moving fast enough through still air. The flying machine was moving extremely fast as it dived towards the ground, so it created its own wind and this wind brought with it lift. Instead of crashing into the ground, the flying machine suddenly pulled out of its dive and began to soar about above the heads of the Whitecoats, with the stunned Teesdale hanging below in his harness. It seemed he hadn't just invented the first rat kite, but also the first rat hang-glider. The Whitecoats below looked up in wonder, both shocked and excited at what they were seeing. They had prepared themselves for the sight of Teesdale being smashed into the earth, and now there he was floating around above them.

A hang-glider, unlike a kite, must keep moving through the air to stay aloft, and that's what Teesdale's hang-glider did. Rather than stay above the Whitecoat headquarters, it began to glide around in circles over the dump, moving further and further away under the influence of the gentle breeze. The rats below, led by Boony and forgetting any danger that might be around, chased after the wayward flying machine, scuttling over rubbish and dirt piles with their eyes fixed on the strange sight above them. The flying machine passed over Lawnmower Hill and Tyre Valley, gradually losing height all the time. As it disappeared behind the hill, the Whitecoats raced up to the summit, anxious to find out what was happening to their friend. Boony, being the fastest, reached the top first, just in time to see the flying machine and Teesdale splash down in the middle of Oildrum Pond. As he watched the machine floating there on the surface, the rest of his gang joined him.

"Any sign of life, Chief?" Manny asked breathlessly.

"None yet, but there is still a chance."

"Didn't you have trouble getting out of that harness when you landed?" Manny continued. "And you were on land."

Boony didn't answer. He had a horrible picture in his mind of Teesdale struggling with the harness underwater, running out of air. Perhaps, he thought positively, Teesdale might be able to get out more easily because he was smaller. Or perhaps, he thought more negatively, he was already dead before he hit the water.

"There he is!" shouted Wanda excitedly. She had left her lookout position as soon as the crow had released the flying machine and had joined her male gang members in the chase.

"He's heading for the island," added Dugan, Duncan and Dalton.

The Whitecoats watched as a tiny white head cut its way through the scummy surface of Oildrum Pond, and then the bedraggled body of Teesdale emerged from the water and climbed onto the small cluster of oil drums that formed the island in the pond. A cheer arose from the group.

"Well," concluded Boony, "we know he's alive. Now all we have to do is rescue him before the Greycoats realise one of us is camped in the middle of their territory. It looks like we're going on a mission tonight."

Boony turned away from surveying the pond and began to move off in the direction of home. Each rat realised what a dangerous, if not impossible, mission lay before them. But each of the Whitecoats was determined to try it, for the sake of a small weakling colleague that most had originally wanted to leave behind in the laboratory.

# Chapter Six - The Rescue

"Hurry up, guys," urged Boony, as the small party of rats trekked across the wasteland of the dump, their path through the darkness lit by the Moon. "Teesdale can't survive for long out there on his own." Nearly 12 hours had passed since Teesdale's splashdown in Oildrum Pond, during which time the Whitecoats had attempted to sleep, but more importantly gathered their materials and planned their rescue mission.

The Whitecoats were divided into small groups as they made their way towards Oildrum Pond. Wanda was out in front on her own, as usual the lookout, while the male rats were involved in other tasks. Not far behind her were Boony and Manny, carrying a large 4 litre plastic ice cream container between them. From the sides of the container protruded drinking straws and ice-block sticks, in the same fashion as the armoured cars. Not all the ice-block sticks were sharpened however, as some of them had bottle tops stuck to their ends. These were the oars, for the plastic container was, in fact, a boat. It was one of Teesdale's pre-flying machine inventions, as yet untested. Teesdale had realised that one day the rats would have to venture over water in the quest for food, be it over Oildrum Pond or a flooded Tyre Valley. He would never have guessed that his inventions would be used in a rescue mission, especially not his own.

The three brothers followed closely behind Manny and Boony, supporting between them a large, empty, clear plastic, two litre detergent bottle, complete with screw-on cap. In one side of the bottle, the downside, nine small holes had been cut in a precise pattern, eight of them allowing small rat legs to protrude from the inside of the bottle. These legs would be used by the two rat passengers to propel the bottle forwards, but not over land, for this was not another type of armoured car. It was, in fact, Teesdale's own design of rat submarine and another of his untested pre-flying machine inventions. With cap screwed in place, and a few stones added inside for ballast to help weigh it down, the submarine could carry its two rat passengers just below the surface of the water, driven by the movements of the rats' legs. Because the bottle was sealed, the air inside the bottle kept the water out and also provided the passengers with enough air for quite a long journey. That is, if the rats were small enough to get into the submarine, and brave enough to actually take it out into the water.

The Whitecoat headquarters had been a hive of activity when the Whitecoats had returned from their chase of Teesdale and his flying machine. In the journey back, Boony had already made his plans for Teesdale's rescue, but there was much discussion needed with his gang members before the mission could be launched. Manny and the three brothers were given the boats to use in the rescue attempt, whilst Boony and Wanda were to take the submarine. Manny was too big to climb through the narrow neck of the bottle, and Dugan, Duncan and Dalton were too scared of the submarine to be useful crew members, so the decision was easily made and well accepted. Both vessels, once launched, were to endeavour to reach the collection of drums where Teesdale was marooned, which everyone now referred to as Teesdale's Island. In the event of enemy attack, however, if the Greycoats could actually attack on water, Manny was to abandon the rescue and take on the Greycoats, creating a diversion so the submarine could sneak through and rescue Teesdale. The submarine was unarmed, and thus not of much use in battle, whereas the boat had the drinking straw guns and ice block stick battering rams and, of course, the boat also had Manny, who just loved to fight. With such details settled, the rescue squad had retired to their quarters for a brief sleep, and at the crack of dusk, had set out to save Teesdale.

The trek to the edge of Oildrum Pond was a slow and tiring one for the Whitecoats, all of whom had had very little rest in the last 24 hours, and absolutely no food. Occasionally, as they wound their way up and down the rubbish hills, in and out of small valleys, their sensitive noses would catch traces of food in the air and their little stomachs grumbled loudly in the night silence. Boony was glad that Dugan, Duncan and Dalton had their hands full with the submarine, for they would have otherwise taken off in search of food without such a burden to keep them busy. Had one of them been in Wanda's position, out in front and guiding them through the dump, he felt certain they would end up at a food pile instead of the pond. He had chosen his gang and their roles well, however, so there were no delays in reaching their destination.

By human standards, Oildrum Pond was not very large or deep. It was just a small area of low ground where dumping holes had been poorly filled by the bulldozer, and where the run-off of recent rains had collected. By rat standards, however, it was a vast expanse of water, deep, dirty and uninviting. In the centre lay a small group of rusting oil drums on which Teesdale was sheltering, whilst on the other side of the water, beyond hills of rubbish and a large pile of glass bottles, the Greycoat headquarters lay. The prospect of crossing the water and the closeness of the Greycoats was enough to make even the bravest of the Whitecoats shiver in the warm night air.

"Right," said Boony finally, after the rats had surveyed the pond in silence for a couple of minutes, "I guess it's time to get out there. Manny, give Wanda and me a hand with launching the submarine, then you and the boys can head out. Try and keep the splashing of the oars to a minimum, and no chatter."

"No problems, Chief," Manny responded happily. "And if those Greycoats turn up, we'll hit them with guns blazing."

"Boys," Boony continued, addressing three brothers, "it's up to you to keep Manny out of trouble. I hope there won't be any but if it comes, give it everything you've got. Teesdale will be counting on you and so will I."

"Aye aye, skipper," Dugan, Duncan and Dalton replied, already beginning to feel like seasoned sailors, even though they hadn't entered the water yet.

"Good luck, everybody," Boony concluded. "Let's go get that flyaway rat of ours."

Boony, Wanda and Manny carried the submarine to the water's edge. Boony unscrewed the plastic cap, which was attached to the bottle by a short piece of string fastened on the inside, and helped Wanda climb aboard. He handed a few ballast stones in after her, and prepared to climb aboard himself. At that moment, Manny gave him a slap on the back.

"I'm sure hope this thing works, Chief," he laughed.

"You are not the only one," replied Boony nervously, then he slipped through the entrance and was inside. Once there, he turned and pulled the cap back to the top of the bottle with the string, then grasped the small handle which Teesdale had installed on the inside of the cap and screwed the top closed with his teeth. The bottle sealed, he and Wanda took up their side by side positions, feet through the holes in the floor, and with Manny pushing from the outside, took the submarine into the water.

For a brief moment, as Boony and Wanda headed out into the pond, their feet touched the bottom and they were able to walk forwards. Then, suddenly, the bottom dropped away and the submarine began to sink. Instead of stopping just below the surface of the pond as it was supposed to, the submarine kept going down, and Boony realised that he had put too many ballast stones aboard. Thinking quickly, he left his station beside Wanda, grabbed a few nearby stones, and pushed them out of the ninth hole that was cut in the submarine bottom, for this very purpose. The submarine's descent slowed but did not stop completely, so Boony grabbed another stone and threw it out. This time the submarine's downward journey came to a slow halt, as the weight of the rats and the flotation of the bottle was balanced. Breathing a sigh of relief, Boony returned to his place beside Wanda, whose face was fixed in an expression of terror.

"No worries," Boony reassured her confidently, hoping that his whiskers weren't shaking too much as he said it. "Enough of the fun, let's get this thing back up towards the surface and get on with the mission."

Their legs driven by plenty of nervous energy, the two rats were quick to bring the submarine up from the depths of the pond, and after briefly bobbing up to find their bearings, headed off just beneath the surface towards Teesdale's Island.

On the surface of the pond, not too far behind the intrepid submariners, the four sailors were steering their ice cream container boat away from the safety of solid ground. Manny picked up the skill of rowing very quickly, but Dugan, Duncan and Dalton were slow learners, waving their oars wildly, splashing and spraying water about, succeeding only in rocking the boat and spinning it around in circles. In frustration, Manny made them stop and gave each one an individual lesson that wasted valuable minutes of rescue time. Even then, Dugan was unable to pick up the correct action, and was banished to the front of the boat to act as lookout.

The training over, Manny and his crew set off in earnest to rescue Teesdale, little rat legs thrusting ice block stick and bottle-top oars through the oily water, sending off ripples that shimmered in the moonlight. Progress was slow but sure, and Manny couldn't help but feel confident that the Whitecoats were about to complete another successful mission, provided of course that Teesdale was fit and well and still on the island.

Manny need not have worried about Teesdale's health, for in fact he was feeling quite good, except for the odd bruise gained in the mid-air collision with the crow. After his dunking in the pond upon landing, Teesdale's soaked fur had quickly dried in the heat of the day, though it was matted with the oily scum that covered the pond's surface. Teesdale had spent most of the hours since his dawn flight hiding between the drums, keeping out of sight of the large birds that hunted for food in the dump in daylight hours. Occasionally he had popped his head up to see the activity around him, and to look hopefully in the direction of home base. He knew, of course, that any rescue mounted would not come until the night hours, but it kept his confidence up just to look that way and think of his friends. His biggest fear was that they had not seen him land and scramble to safety, for if they thought he had drowned they most certainly wouldn't bother launching a mission just to pull his body out of the pond. He didn't like the idea of spending his last days starving to death on an island of drums. It was a sad fate for a rat with such a promising future.

Teesdale shouldn't have worried about being stranded, for rescue was close at hand. He would have been worried, however, along with the other Whitecoats, had he known that there were four vessels making their way towards his island that night, and not just the two he had invented. His flight, crash landing and survival had been watched not only by his friends, but by a member of the Greycoats who was late returning from a food-gathering mission. Now, using shoe boxes originally meant to be armoured cars, the Greycoats were slowly paddling across Oildrum Pond, determined to capture the stranded Whitecoat, for revenge, information and a hot, meaty meal. They, like the Whitecoat rescuers, didn't realise they were not alone on the pond, but it wasn't going to be long before they found out.

# Chapter Seven – The Race to Teesdale's Island

It was Dugan, lookout in the Whitecoat boat, who first sensed the presence of the other boats on Oildrum Pond. He didn't actually see the Greycoats vessels, but he felt that they were there. There was no breeze that night, and so the surface of the pond should have been flat and smooth apart from the ripples that Manny, Dalton and Duncan were creating behind the boat. The submarine, being just below the surface, would make few ripples at all. Yet Dugan could feel the boat rocking more than it first had, and he could also see small swells rolling across the surface, generated by something other than his friends.

"Stop for a moment," he hissed to the other crew members. Surprised, they stopped rowing and the boat became still in the water. "I don't think we're alone out here."

The four rats stood still as the boat gently rocked, listening carefully. There was the soft slap-slap of the water against the sides of the boat and, for a moment, nothing else. Then, from the far side of the island, splashing of oars could be heard, mingled with occasional grunts of effort.

"Greycoats," Manny hissed excitedly. "They must be going after Teesdale. They sound close too."

"We'd better hurry then," the three brothers concluded together.

"Too late for that. What if they get there first? Bye bye Teesdale." Manny could feel a fight coming out. "No, boys, we're going to have to distract them away from the island before they get there, just like Boony said."

Before the brothers could say anything in protest, Manny launched into his Greycoat-distracting tactics.

"Hey, you lousy Greycoats!" he shouted into the stillness of the night, "come here and see how a real rat fights, you bunch of no-good chickens!" He paused and listened for a response, but there was no reply, so he continued.

"You Greycoats are useless. The only reason you have tails is so we can tell the difference between you and the other waste that floats down the sewers. And boy, are you ugly. You are so ugly that I can't tell whether you are coming or going!"

Manny stopped to catch his breath and this time the night was no longer silent. The four Whitecoats could hear the excited, angry squeals of the Greycoats, sounds that appeared to be getting louder and louder with each passing second.

"They are on their way, boys," Manny whispered with a mixture of fear and satisfaction. What had he gotten them into, and more importantly, could he get them out of it again?

"What now?" asked Dugan, Duncan and Dalton nervously.

"Well," replied Manny, making his plan as he went along, "we'll lead them towards shore a little bit, and away from the island, then we'll see what comes up."

As the Whitecoat sailors began to get their vessel underway, the two Greycoat vessels came into view. Each was manned, or should I say 'ratted', by four Greycoats, pulling away on oars made from scrap timber. Because the Greycoats were bigger than the Whitecoats, and because their shoe box vessels were more streamlined than the Whitecoats' ice cream container boat, they gained on the Whitecoats rapidly, despite Dugan joining in to help the other crew members. Manny realised, with more than a little joy, that there was no hope of reaching shore without a fight first.

On Teesdale's Island, Teesdale was now well aware that things were happening on Oildrum Pond. He had been dozing between the drums when Manny's cries of abuse rang out across the pond and woke him. Excitedly, he had run out into the open to signal his friends, only to duck back into shelter as he saw Greycoats pass below him only feet from the island, rowing crude shoebox boats. He realised three things in that instant. One, his friends were trying to rescue him. Two, the Greycoats had come very close to capturing him. And three, the Greycoats' cardboard boats weren't going to last very long in the water. The last fact made him want to laugh as he once more emerged out into the open, but the urge died when he saw the Greycoats heading away from the island in pursuit of his friends, who were also heading away from him. What chance was there of rescue now?

Teesdale was just starting to feel sorry for himself when a scraping sound from below captured his attention. He looked down from his oildrum perch at the small dirt beach below him, and was surprised to see the form of a clear plastic detergent bottle emerging from the water, with two shadowy forms inside. It took his scientific brain a few seconds to register what he was seeing, but when he recognised the submarine, he gleefully ran down to greet his friends. Boony already had the screw-cap off when Teesdale reached the beach.

"It works, my invention works!" Teesdale shouted down the neck of the bottle at Boony and Wanda inside. They were making no effort to climb out.

"Yes, it works, but we haven't got time to talk now, Teesdale," Boony replied quickly. "We don't want to attract trouble. Get in."

Teesdale scrambled in through the neck of the bottle and over his two friends. The submarine was really only designed for two rats and, though Teesdale was much smaller than the average rat, it was still a tight squeeze, even with all the ballast stones thrown overboard.

"Sorry, Boony, you're right, we haven't time to talk," apologised Teesdale once he had settled into a comfortable position. "I just got excited. I hope Manny hasn't attracted more trouble than he can handle."

Boony and Wanda were unaware of the plight of Manny and his crew, for they had seen and heard nothing during their underwater journey. When he saw the confused expressions on their faces, Teesdale realised they knew nothing of the chase going on out on the pond, and quickly explained what he had heard and seen.

"Then we've got no time to lose," concluded Boony when Teesdale had finished talking. "Manny won't be able to hold off two boatloads of Greycoats on his own. Unarmed or not, we have to help him. Let's get this submarine into the water."

Boony and Wanda backed the submarine into the water again. Boony hoped that Teesdale didn't prove to be heavier than the ballast stones they'd thrown out, for three rats sitting on the bottom of Oildrum Pond was going to be no help at all to Manny and his crew. Thankfully, as the bottom dropped away, the submarine did not sink suddenly, but settled just below the surface. Teesdale had to shift his position so that the submarine didn't lie on one side or poke its nose in the air, but eventually a balance was reached and the trio set off across the pond, in the direction the Greycoats were last seen heading.

"It sounds like Manny is doing exactly what you told him to do, Boony," Wanda said reassuringly as they got underway. "He should have things in hand. "

"I'm sure he has, Wanda," Boony replied. "Unfortunately, with Manny, having things in hand usually means fighting one enemy with his left hand and another with his right. That's what I'm afraid of."

# Chapter Eight – The Great Sea Battle of Oildrum Pond

Boony wasn't far wrong in guessing what Manny's situation was. Despite vigorous rowing from the four Whitecoats, the Greycoat boats caught up to them with the shore at least five metres away, which in the ocean-going rat terms is a long distance. The two Greycoat vessels split up and approached on either side of the Whitecoat boat, staying about two metres away to begin with. Manny and the three brothers began to feel like the meat in a sandwich as the Greycoats slowly brought their boats in closer. The big advantage, however, was that their boat was armed with drinking-straw cannons and ice-block stick battering rams, whereas the Greycoats had no weapons other than their claws. If the Greycoats could be kept at a distance, the four Whitecoat sailors had a good chance of survival. Unfortunately, supplies of toothpick ammunition were limited and it would only be a matter of time before hand-to-hand fighting would be necessary.

As the Greycoats drew closer, Manny and his rats manned their guns, two rats to each side of the boat. Filling their lungs with air, they blew the toothpicks from the plastic gun barrels, across the short stretch of water and into the approaching enemy. The first few shots bounced harmlessly off the cardboard sides of the shoebox vessels, but the following volleys were more accurate and the agonised screams of injured Greycoats began to fill the air. Still the Greycoats drew nearer, ducking low in their boats to avoid the lethal Whitecoat projectiles.

"Aim for the waterline," shouted Manny, who had noticed the cardboard of the shoe boxes at that point was soaked with water. Dugan, Duncan and Dalton followed his command and the toothpicks began to find their mark, piercing the softened sides of the boats. When the Greycoats tried to pull the toothpicks out from the inside, leaks sprang up and the boats began to slowly fill with water. Unfortunately the holes were so small that it would have taken 30 minutes or so for the boats to sink from the leaks. The Whitecoats ran out of ammunition after 2 minutes, and the Greycoats, toothpick-jabbed, soggy and very angry, moved in for the kill.

Manny still had one more ace up his sleeve. He had the battering rams, the sharpened ice-block sticks that protruded from the sides of the boat. If he could drive these through the sides of the Greycoats' water-sodden vessels, he could tear holes big enough to sink them in a matter of seconds. The secret to success lay in getting up enough force to pierce the cardboard walls. If the Greycoats were allowed to pull up slowly alongside, as they were attempting to do now, there would be no chance of puncturing the boats and the Greycoats would leap aboard. If, however, the Whitecoat boat was rowed rapidly towards one of the vessels while it was still a distance away, the Greycoats would have time to take evasive action and avoid the collision. It was a difficult situation, and Manny searched his mind for a solution. Then he caught sight of Patch, the Greycoat leader, in one of the approaching boats and remembered his spinning wire trick from their first encounter. The solution was found.

Manny quickly whispered his plan to his crew and each of the rats took up his rowing station. Closer and closer the Greycoat boats came, but the Whitecoats remained steady at their posts, shaking nervously but taking no action to prevent the approach of the large, bloodthirsty, grey rats. When it seemed that the Greycoats could almost jump into the Whitecoat vessel, and only about 20 centimetres separated the white rats from the nearest enemy vessel, Manny shouted his order.

"Now!" he screamed, and each of the white rats pumped crazily at his oar. It was as if they had all forgotten the basic skills of rowing, for instead of propelling the boat forwards, they were simply spinning it around on the spot like a merry-go-round, getting faster and faster. The Greycoat crew of the nearest boat were taken completely by surprise and, under the force of their own oars, drove their vessel into the spinning Whitecoat boat. They didn't reach its plastic sides, however, instead meeting the tips of the battering rams as they circled about with the boat like spinning blades. The effect on the cardboard box walls was like that of a buzz saw through wood, and a large cut was ripped through the Greycoat boat near the waterline. Water gushed in and it quickly foundered, dumping its grey rat crew into the scummy pond water.

Two of the Greycoats in the water, probably the strongest, began immediately to swim for shore, whilst the other two weaker or more injured Greycoats made for the remaining vessel, which had moved away following the sinking. They almost tipped it in their attempts to climb aboard. As it was, with six rats aboard, the sodden shoebox was not a very seaworthy ship, rocking dangerously and very low in the water. Patch, its Greycoat captain, was still determined to press home the attack and ordered his rats to once more approach the Whitecoat vessel.

Things were not going well for the Whitecoat crew either. Their vessel was still seaworthy, being of plastic construction, but it was now no longer spinning, for Manny, Dugan, Duncan and Dalton were lying exhausted and dizzy on the bottom of the ice cream container. The all-out effort they had given to sink the first Greycoat boat had left them unable to fight again. Even if they had wanted to, they were too dizzy and sick in the stomach to stand, and most of the battering rams had been pulled out of the boat's sides during contact with the Greycoat boat. They were dead in the water, disarmed and at the mercy of the attackers until they regained their energy reserves and their senses.

Slowly the Greycoats floated in towards the Whitecoats, all hands watching with suspicion, waiting for the boat to suddenly burst into action as it had done before. There was no sign of the crew, though the grey rats could hear the sounds of groaning occasionally rising from the boat's depths. The Greycoats began to sense victory and prepared themselves to scramble aboard the Whitecoat vessel. Their own shoebox was not far off sinking, with its floor and sides soft and sodden and the waterline only centimetres below the lip of the box. They were anxious to climb aboard the obviously-sturdy plastic craft of their white rat enemies and secure their own safety.

Just as the two vessels came together with the gentle thud, a less-than-gentle thud shook the bottom of the Greycoat boat. Lazily, as if in slow motion, it began to roll over to one side. This was followed by a mad scramble of grey rats to the other side to stop the roll, which only succeeded in rolling the boat in that direction, this time at a greater rate so it rolled completely over and upside down. The pond, lacking any fish life other than the odd tadpole, was suddenly full of rat life, or at least, six floundering grey rats. In the middle of them, much to the confusion of the rats in the water, sat a half-submerged, transparent, plastic detergent bottle, containing three laughing white rats.

Some of the Greycoats tried unsuccessfully to climb the smooth plastic sides of the Whitecoat ice cream container, the crew of which were still not on their feet. In the end, they gave up trying to board the boat and either swam for shore or climbed aboard the upturned wet remains of the cardboard box, attempting to paddle it to the pond's nearest shore. When they were gone, the submarine pulled up alongside the remaining plastic boat.

"Are you all right in there?" shouted Boony, his voice muffled by the submarine's plastic walls. There was silence for a moment, and Boony experienced a brief but horrifying thought that perhaps the Greycoats had used some sort of weapon to kill or seriously injure his friends. Then Dalton poked his head over the side of the boat and all in the submarine breathed a great sigh of relief.

"We are okay," he groaned, "but we'd like Teesdale to invent seasickness tablets before we use the boat again." With that, Dalton sank back down into the boat's depths again, leaving Boony, Wanda and Teesdale to sympathise and giggle over the plight of their friends.

It was a good five minutes more before Manny and his crew felt well enough to complete the voyage back to shore, but Boony was quite happy about this as it allowed plenty of time for the bedraggled Greycoats to swim or paddle ashore and leave the area. Boony realised that they were probably in no condition to fight the Whitecoats after their defeat at sea, but he didn't want to take any chances. By the time the Whitecoats had sailed their vessels to shore, there was no sign of the Greycoats, other than the remains of the shoebox lying half-submerged in the shallows. They were able to beach their craft and have a short reunion celebration without fear of attack, except for the slight chance that the Mangey Moggies might wander in. This was highly unlikely, of course, since cats have a very healthy fear of water.

After a few minutes of hugging, hand-shaking and story-swapping, the intrepid band of white rats set off once more for home, with all gang members present and generally healthy, bar the odd upset stomach, bruise or headache. The return journey, carrying the now battle-proven boat and submarine, was uneventful. There was a brief stop at a nearby food pile, where the boat and submarine were partially filled with food scraps for the base food supplies and the Whitecoats had their first decent meal in over a day. For once, Dugan, Duncan and Dalton didn't make pigs of themselves, thanks largely to the effects of seasickness.

Stomachs full and food stocks gathered, the Whitecoats set off once again for the final leg of their homeward journey, through Tyre Valley, up Lawnmower Hill and at last back to the vinyl and foam sofa they called home. By the time food supplies had been loaded into the storage rooms and the seagoing craft had been hidden from sight, it was almost dawn again, a full day after the launch of the flying machine. They were seven very weary white rats who snuggled into their individual cubby-hole rooms that morning, dozing off to dream of great battles, of soaring through the clouds, of undersea adventures and mountains of food.

# Chapter Nine – Keeping Under Trouble

"The Greycoats know where we are." Boony was standing in the twilight, looking out across the dump using a crude telescope constructed from pieces of bottle glass mounted in a cardboard tube, once the bearer of plastic food wrap. It was mounted on a cotton reel swivel base, so it could be panned from side to side and up and down.

"What makes you so sure?" Wanda stood beside him on the top of the sofa, sniffing the air with her pink nose. "I can't smell them".

"They're on top of Lawnmower Hill and looking this way. Have a look for yourself". Boony moved out of the way so that Wanda could peer through the lens. "We're too far away for them to see us with the naked eye, so they don't know that we're based in this sofa, but they've worked out the general direction."

"So do you think they're coming to get us?" It was three days since the Oildrum Pond rescue mission and Wanda was still tired, and she could still feel the aches and pains from her exertions with the submarine. She doubted that she, or any of the other Whitecoat rats, had the energy reserves to fight the Greycoats.

"I don't think so," Boony replied after a brief period of silence. "Put yourself in their shoes. They've suffered two major defeats at our hands so far, three if you count their first encounter with Manny and his wire on Lawnmower Hill. I think they'll be a little wary of rushing into another battle with us so soon after Oildrum Pond. They've also seen our latest inventions, which they'll undoubtedly try to copy, as they did with the armoured cars. I think we've got a few days in hand before they come knocking on our door."

"If I was them," Wanda suggested, "attack wouldn't be my first thought anyway. If they hold Lawnmower Hill, they block us from Tyre Valley, and we can't get to the food drops. They can just starve us out, so that we either leave the dump or are too weak to fight them when they do decide to attack."

"I agree. I think that is exactly what they will do." Wanda's comments reinforced to Boony that her title of 'intelligence officer' wasn't just a label. She had a keen mind. Boony also had no illusions anymore about the intelligence of the Greycoats, having seen them in action. They may have been different to the Whitecoats in looks and behaviour, but their rat brains were obviously from the same mould.

"Which means they'll probably leave lookouts or guards on the top of Lawnmower Hill from now on," concluded Wanda. "It's a no-go zone."

"Exactly. We need to find new methods of gathering food, or new sources of food, if we're going to survive. It's time to talk to Teesdale." Leaving the telescope where it lay, Boony headed back through the door of headquarters into the depths of the sofa, closely followed by Wanda.

Minutes later, the three rats were gathered in the meeting room, looking at a map of the dump on the small table.

"Well, so far we've walked, rolled, driven, flown and floated in pursuit of food and survival," Teesdale summarised. "That doesn't exactly leave us with a lot of alternatives." He paced backwards and forwards in the room, thinking intently, scratching his head with his right paw as if trying to pull ideas out of his brain.

"The dump is a dangerous place. Its grounds, its waters and its skies are a wild kingdom. Perhaps we're just too tame for it," Boony concluded. "Growing up in the laboratory has robbed us of the instinctive behaviours to survive out there."

"Hmm..." Teesdale had a sudden thought, triggered by Boony's comments, and that thought blossomed quickly into an idea. "If the ground, the water and the sky is so dangerous, then perhaps we'll just avoid them altogether." He paused for effect, knowing his audience would not come to the same conclusions he had.

"You mean leave", Wanda remarked. "Pack up and go". She voiced not only what Boony imagined Teesdale was suggesting, but what he himself had seriously started to consider since rescuing Teesdale.

"No" laughed Teesdale, as if his meaning was so obvious that Wanda's suggestion was ridiculous. "I mean travel underground. Boony has proposed that we have lost our instinctive survival behaviours, but I don't think so. Our ancestors, not those born in the laboratory but long before that, were natural diggers. They tunnelled everywhere. We can still do that. We did it in this sofa. We can tunnel all the way to the food supplies, and by doing that dodge all of our enemies in the process. We can pass under the birds, the Greycoats and the Mangey Moggies."

Wanda and Boony exchanged glances. It sounded remotely possible, with emphasis on the word 'remotely'. Tyre Valley was at least 40 metres away from the sofa, if you took a direct line under Lawnmower Hill. That sounded like any awful lot of digging, especially for seven white laboratory-bred rats.

"I like the theory, Teesdale," Boony said encouragingly, "but how long is it going to take us to dig that far? We've got the Greycoats breathing down our necks as it is, and food supplies that will last us less than a week."

Teesdale considered the maths, and made a few calculations on the edge of the map on the table.

"Say 45 metres of digging at a depth of 2 metres, 7 rats working around the clock and digging by hand, covering about 5 metres per day barring obstructions – that would mean we could be in Tyre Valley in 9 days."

"9 days!" Wanda exclaimed. "I don't think we have 9 days. Yes, our food might last that long, if we rationed it drastically, though if we're working around the clock, I don't think we can ration it. But the Greycoats will probably be knocking on our door in 5 days, especially if they haven't seen us in that time."

Teesdale laughed again.

"Wanda, I said it would take that long if we were digging by hand. But we're not going to dig by hand. I have an idea for a tunnelling machine that should cut the tunnelling time down to 3 days. Have a look at this."

Boony and Wanda moved to the table as Teesdale sketched out a basic diagram of his invention. Thankfully the resources he required were already lying on the ground around the sofa, having been gathered in earlier scavenging hunts, so the Whitecoats would not put themselves in harm's way in order to assemble the machine.

With the help of Manny and the three brothers, Teesdale's design went from paper to prototype in less than 12 hours. The finished tunnelling machine was Teesdale's most ambitious invention yet. It consisted primarily of an empty tin can, to which a conical section of wood had been attached at one end. This cone had been constructed with a lot of gnawing on the part of the rats, first to attain the basic cone shape and then to impart a spiralling channel in the cone to enable it to bore into the dirt as it was turned. The tin can sat in a shallow box cradle, filled with old ball bearings salvaged from the dump, upon which the can could roll if a rat inside the tin ran or walked. The box itself had cotton reel wheels on the side, allowing it to be moved easily, and at the end furthest from the conical screw was a T-bar handle which a rat could use to push the machine into place or force it against the surface it was digging.

For the first stretch of tunnel, the machine was not used, simply because this stretch was vertically down 2 metres to establish the tunnel depth, and the machine's construction only allowed it to be used for horizontal digging. The Whitecoats started the tunnel immediately below the sofa, and used their paws to burrow down. It was a dirty, strenuous and slow process involving all 7 rats working at the same time, some digging whilst others carried the loosened dirt up and out of the sofa, to be dumped on the surrounding ground. A piece of string was used as the tape measure to determine the progress of the dig, and it was with great relief when the 2 metre mark was finally reached.

"How are we going to know we're digging in the right direction, Teesdale", Boony asked him as they rested in the meeting room and contemplated the next stage of digging. "We're not going to be able to smell the food from underground".

"Glad you asked," Teesdale responded proudly, keen to show off his 2 latest devices. He drew Boony's attention to the table, upon which sat a small plastic container, a former photographic film container, almost full to the brim with water. Floating on the top was a small piece of wire, an old broken needle, pushed through a slice of cork.

"This is my direction finder." Humans would have called it a compass. "The wire always points in one direction, no matter where you move the container. Luckily for us, that direction closely matches the line between our sofa and Lawnmower Hill. If we take the direction finder underground with us, and always dig in the direction of the wire, we should get where we need to go."

Boony wasn't sure if he trusted that little piece of wire as much as Teesdale, but in the absence of any other method of directing the digging, he put his faith in Teesdale's confidence.

Teesdale then picked up another device that lay on the floor against one wall. It was a clear drinking straw, half filled with water.

"This is our level. It will help to make sure we are digging horizontally. As long as the water level is the same at both ends when we lay it on the tunnel floor, we're okay. Too much at the back, we're going up, too much at the front, we're going down."

Boony shook his head in amazement. How did Teesdale come up with these ideas?

For the main tunnelling, the Whitecoats broke themselves into 3 groups - a solo rat lookout, and two digging teams. Teesdale was chosen as the lookout, as his physical strength was least suited to digging. He had one 12 hour lookout stretch each night, perched at the opening on top of the sofa, when the headquarters was most in danger of attack from the Greycoats or another nocturnal enemy. He could rest or sleep in the 12 hour daylight period as the threat was least at this time. The digging teams each consisted of 3 rats, taking turns to run inside the tin to spin the digger, push the digger against the dirt, and remove the dirt that was displaced. Team 1 was Boony, Wanda and Duncan, and Team 2 was Manny, Dugan and Dalton. Unlike Teesdale, the digging teams worked in 6 hour shifts, as the energy expended in tunnelling was too great for any rat to work longer than this in one stretch.

Whilst the tunnelling machine worked effectively, the process of reaching Tyre Valley underground was not as simple as Teesdale had first thought, nor as linear. Had the rats been digging through dirt alone, they could have maintained a straight pathway, but Rolington Municipal Dump was not comprised solely of dirt. Over its many years, rubbish had been deposited, buried and covered over, bulldozed and compacted, and then more rubbish deposited on top. The surface of the dump upon which the Whitecoats' sofa headquarters lay was actually several metres higher than the original surface of the dump many years ago. By digging down 2 metres, the rats had not avoided the layers of rubbish that littered their pathway to Tyre Valley.

Team 1 was the first to start the horizontal tunnel, and within 30 centimetres hit the first obstacle, a decaying plastic bag of old rags. The tunnelling machine tangled in the rags and would not progress forwards, and the rats spent over an hour cutting the cloth away and transporting it out of the tunnel. It was a frustrating delay, and a sign of things to come. Over their 6 hour shift, Boony, Wanda and Duncan ran into an old paint can, which they had to dig around, and a patch of rotting vegetation, which bogged the tunnelling machine. Based on the string measure, Team 1 only succeeded in tunnelling 3 metres at the end of their shift, which was nearly a metre short of Teesdale's projected target per shift, in order to hit the 15 metre a day mark.

Team 2 fared little better on their first shift, getting just beyond the 3 metre mark for similar reasons to Team 1. Solid objects of metal, wood or plastic that blocked the machine's path led to deviations around them, which added to the distance the rats had to dig. Rotting foodstuffs and vegetation were not resistant to the digging, but the ground on which the machine had to move was sodden and sluggish. It was backbreaking work for the rats, no matter which of the 3 digging roles they adopted, and at the end of their shifts, the Whitecoats looked anything but white and simply collapsed in their rooms after consuming as much food and water as their exhausted bodies could hold.

Thankfully, not every shift missed the targeted tunnelling distance. There were sections of the dump between the sofa and Lawnmower Hill that were largely clear of buried rubbish, and the teams pushed on towards their goal. On the third day, the rats reached the base of Lawnmower Hill itself, based on Teesdale's measuring tape, and the rats found themselves tunnelling through unpolluted dirt. It seemed that Lawnmower Hill had been formed by stacking rubbish rather than burying it, and the Whitecoats were grateful for this. Their last day of digging to reach Tyre Valley looked like an easier proposition, if tunnelling could really be called 'easy'.

Meanwhile, Teesdale's role as lookout during this time wasn't not entirely incident-free. On the first night, as he stood on top of the sofa surveying the dump for danger, an owl had swooped down silently and attempted to capture him in its talons. Only Teesdale's excellent rat hearing saved him, picking up the rustle of feathers in the wind seconds before he was struck. He had just enough time to dive back into the entrance, the owl's talons combing through the hair on his back, his tail sliding in between them. Teesdale took immediate preventative action to avoid a repetition of this incident, cutting a viewing slot in the tin can security door. From then on, he carried out his lookout duties within the shelter of the tin, rotating it about to scan all areas of the dump. This helped to avoid trouble on the second night, when a lone Mangey Moggy strayed into the vicinity of the Whitecoat headquarters. It strolled past without taking any interest in Teesdale at all, simply because all it could see was a tin can on a sofa.

Despite the setbacks encountered in tunnelling, the Whitecoats found themselves under the projected location of Tyre Valley only half a day and 2 digging shifts later than Teesdale had stated. The tunnelling machine had been removed from the tunnel, and the first metre of the vertical tunnel to the surface had been completed. All 7 Whitecoats gathered in the meeting room to plan the next stage. Apart from Teesdale, the Whitecoats did not live up to their name at all, their fur being grey and matted with dirt, waste and sweat.

"If Teesdale's calculations are correct, and I have no reason to doubt they are, then we are only about 2 vertical metres from our destination." Boony could see the relief in the faces of all his gang members. Not only were they tired, but more than a little hungry. Food supplies had been consumed much more quickly than normal over the last 4 days, a product of the rats' tireless physical exertions.

"We don't know exactly what we're going to find when we go up. Hopefully food, but who knows what else. With luck, the Greycoats will either be at home or on top of Lawnmower Hill. With luck, the Mangey Moggies will be playing somewhere else. I think on this mission, chance is going to play a bigger part in our success or failure than skill." There were nods of agreement from the other rats.

"Who gets to hop out of the tunnel first?" asked Manny expectantly. "I'd be happy to do it. I'm willing to face whatever is there waiting."

"I know you are, Manny, and thanks for the offer," Boony acknowledged. "Breaking through to the surface is possibly the most dangerous moment of the whole operation. We are going to be very vulnerable to attack if anyone observes us."

"We'll push a piece of wire through before we finish the opening" Teesdale countered. "We're not just going to dig all the way to the surface and jump out."

"Of course, Teesdale," Boony conceded. "But what if that wire pokes a Greycoat or Mangey Moggy in the stomach? It would be a pretty big signal that we were coming."

Teesdale didn't have an answer to that.

"Okay. Now once we get out into Tyre Valley, the mission is simple. Grab as much food as you can, and throw it back down the tunnel. Duncan, I'm leaving you and Teesdale in the tunnel to transport the food back to the new storage depot. That should prevent the tunnel being blocked up with food too early in the mission." The storage depot was an enlarged section of the tunnel, midway between headquarters and Tyre Valley. "Any questions?"

"I assume I'm still acting as lookout in Tyre Valley" piped up Wanda.

"Yes, sorry, I should have mentioned that. By all means collect food, but stay close to the opening when you do so. If there's any danger, give the usual signal. If the entrance is threatened, then shut it down." The Whitecoats had a security door, another tin can stored in a small space just at the bend beneath Tyre Valley. If the tunnel was invaded from the Tyre Valley end, the can could be rolled out of its space and forced up around the bend to block the tunnel. "So remember, everybody, if you hear the warning, get to the tunnel quickly. Otherwise you'll be hiking over Lawnmower Hill to get home."

On that note, the Whitecoats retired to their rooms for 6 hours of well-deserved rest before the mission began.

# Chapter Ten – A Gathering of the Clans

The entire Whitecoat gang were gathered at the bend in the tunnel beneath Tyre Valley. Without the tunnelling machine, it was a case of 'all paws on deck' to dig through the last metre or so of dirt and rubbish to the surface. Digging upwards was a little more difficult than digging downwards, as the tunnelling rat had to be supported from beneath by at least one other rat, who jammed themselves against the tunnel walls to prevent either digger or support from falling. Teesdale refrained from digging, but every few minutes would climb to the top, put his ear against the end wall of the tunnel, now the ceiling, and tap it with a rock, listening to the sound made. This was his version of a depth gauge, to determine how close to the surface the tunnel was nearing. On his fifth such excursion, he informed the rats that it was time to stop digging.

"The surface is very close now. It's time to send up our wire probe."

Manny climbed up to the top with the wire. Perched on the backs of Dugan and Dalton, who were supporting his weight, he thrust the probe up into the ceiling above him. Initially, the probe did not penetrate very far, so Manny began to repeatedly jab at the roof, until suddenly it gave way and the probe shot upwards, temporarily throwing Manny off balance. A small shower of earth fell onto Manny, Dugan and Dalton, and then, as if this wasn't bad enough, water began to spurt through the ceiling around the probe.

"Oh no, we've come up under Oildrum Pond!" Manny yelled in terror, and he and the two brothers began to slip back down the tunnel in the flood of water that was soaking the tunnel walls around them.

"Impossible!" squealed Teesdale, both in indignation and fear.

Thankfully, the flood of water ended before any real damage could be done to the tunnel, leaving a pool of water at the bend that seemed to be soaking into the earth even as the Whitecoats watched.

"It must have been just a puddle of water left after the last rain" concluded Wanda. "Thank goodness we haven't had too much rain lately."

Boony clawed his way back up the tunnel, which was a little more difficult than before thanks to the moisture, and paused about 30 centimetres below the ceiling. The hole where the probe had penetrated was now about 2 centimetres in diameter, and Boony could see stars in the sky beyond. He ascended to the ceiling, placing his nose in the hole, and sniffed the air. The unmistakable perfume of food bathed his nostrils, mixed with the smell of damp earth, old rubber and rotting plant life. Cautiously he scratched away at the dirt wall, and the opening became larger and larger, until he was able to pull his body through it and slowly inched his way out into the night.

The tunnel opening was ideally located in terms of privacy. Boony found himself standing in the centre of an old tyre, lying on its side. Its walls were like those of a fort, protecting the tunnel from observation and intrusion. Boony scuttled over to one edge and climbed carefully up onto the tyre, staying low to avoid being spotted. There were lots of other tyres nearby, most lying flat, some stacked on top of others. In amongst the tyres were rubbish bags, old car batteries and dead tree branches. And no other animals.

There were noises behind him, and Boony turned to see Manny, Dugan, Wanda and Dalton emerging from the tunnel. He jumped down and scurried to meet them.

"All clear. There seem to be food sources all around us, but no troublemakers, so let's split up and get busy. Signal if you see or hear danger."

The five rats, small food-gathering bags in hand, went their separate ways, over the walls of the tyre and out into the valley. Wanda went for the nearest rubbish bag, and was rewarded with some left-over pasta, complete with mouldy cheese. It was a good score, and she set about filling her bag and then transporting it back to the tunnel entrance. Scaling the tyre was not as easy with a food bag hanging from her mouth, but she was soon tipping its contents down into the tunnel.

"And don't eat any!" she called down to Duncan, somewhere below in the darkness, before setting off to fill the next bag.

Not too far away, Boony had hit pay dirt, coming across a hessian sack half full with potatoes, some in varying states of rot, others having started to germinate. The sack was too heavy to drag on his own, so he called out for help and Manny and Dugan came running. Together, the three Whitecoats were able to pull the bag and its contents across the valley floor, around some of the other rubbish, and to the walls of the tunnel-protecting tyre. Then, like a trio of circus rats, they formed a rat pyramid, one rat standing on another rat's shoulders, the remaining rat tossing up potatoes, and transferred the potatoes one by one from sack to the interior of the tyre. That done, Manny and Dugan headed back out into the valley in search of more food sources, and Boony dropped the potatoes down into the tunnel, ensuring first that no luckless rat was standing at the bottom.

Just as Boony was finishing his potato dropping, he heard Dalton calling from somewhere on the other side of the tyre. He climbed up on top, and saw in the distance Dalton, dragging something long, large and very aromatic. Boony jumped down and ran out to him, to find that Dalton was pulling along an almost-complete salami sausage, still partially wrapped in plastic and covered in a beautiful layer of oily slime. Boony grabbed a loose piece of the wrapper with his teeth, and together he and Dalton were able to get the salami to the tyre wall. Between them, they were able to stand the salami up on one end, leaning against the tyre like a ladder. With the salami supported by Dalton, Boony climbed it to the top, and then supported the salami ladder so that Dalton could do the same. Then, with a combination of claws, teeth and great effort, the two rats were able to haul the salami up and over the tyre and roll it off the top into the interior.

Being so long, there was no possibility that the salami could be pushed down the tunnel in one piece. It was not flexible enough to negotiate the bend in the tunnel at the bottom. Dalton volunteered to bite salami into more manageable sections, which may have sounded dedicated to some, but Boony knew it was just a good excuse for Dalton to eat quite a few mouthfuls of salami in the process. But as he was the finder of this great treasure, Boony gave Dalton the job, and headed off again to find more food.

Boony was only a few metres away from the tunnel entrance when he heard a strange sound in the distance. He paused and listened, and heard the sound again, this time closer. He peered into the darkness of the valley in front of him, and could make out a dark shape coming towards him, seemingly dodging in and out of the tyres and rubbish piles at some speed. The growing noise it was making was actually a combination of cries, angry and alarmed. One of those cries was Manny's.

"Let go of me, you stupid bird, or I'll rip your stupid wings off". Manny's large form was hanging from the talons of a small owl, probably Teesdale's owl, which was soaring along the bottom of Tyre Valley, flapping its wings vigorously in a vain attempt to carry Manny away. But Manny was just too heavy. So the other sound Boony was hearing were its cries of frustration.

"You're just going to kill the both of us, you feathered twit!" Manny yelled again, but there was nothing he could really do about the situation, as he could not reach the owl with his small arms.

The owl and Manny were heading directly at Boony, who crouched low to the ground to remain as invisible to the owl as possible. It helped that his fur was grey and matted from tunnelling, as his original white coat would have stood out like a beacon in the night. When they were just about to fly over him, he sprang up and grabbed Manny around the waist. For brief seconds, the owl flew on with both Whitecoats, but under their combined weight it quickly nose-dived to the valley floor and somersaulted, releasing its grip on Manny. The momentum of the crash sent the two rats tumbling across the dirt, but they were quick to regain their feet and scurry into the shelter of a nearby tyre. They need not have worried. The stunned owl staggered onto its legs, shook its heads and wings, then leapt into the air again and headed off, perhaps to search for alternative food sources but more likely to rest and recover.

"I had the situation under control, you know" Manny quipped as the two rats cowered inside the tyre. "I was just waiting for the right moment to strike."

"Of course," Boony reassured him, not wanting to dent Manny's enormous pride. "I just thought I'd lend a hand to speed things up."

The two rats exchanged knowing looks, and that was all that needed to be said. Anyway, there was no time for further conversation, because the air was suddenly filled with warning squeals.

"Looks like the gig is up" Boony concluded, and he and Manny sprinted for the tunnel tyre. Wanda was just ahead of them, scaling its sides.

"It's the Greycoats. They're coming down from Lawnmower Hill. There was a lot of noise in the valley a moment ago, from your direction, and that seems to have caught their attention. I heard their battle cries."

Boony started to explain the owl incident when more squealing filled the air, and the figure of Dugan appeared in the distance, running furiously in and out of the rubbish obstacles in the direction of the tunnel tyre.

"It can't be the Greycoats" Wanda said, puzzled. "They're coming from there," and she gestured at the hill to the left. The confusion did not last long, however, as the shouted words of Dugan became audible as he drew nearer.

"Mangey Moggies are coming. Mangey Moggies are coming."

With double threat now imminent, the Whitecoats on the tyre didn't wait any longer. They sprang down into the interior space and ran for the tunnel entrance. Dalton was still chewing the salami into pieces, with about a quarter of it still intact.

"Forget that, Dalton!" Boony yelled. "Get down the tunnel and tell Teesdale and Duncan to prepare the security door. The enemy are coming."

Dalton moved to the edge of the tunnel, then paused and looked back at the salami.

"But what about the sausage?" he cried despairing. Rather than answer him, Boony gave him a shove in the back that launched him down the tunnel. Hopefully he would have the sense to put his paws out into the tunnel wall and brake his fall on the way down.

"What about Dugan?" Wanda asked.

"I'll head out and help him" Manny offered. He obviously wanted to scratch his fighting itch.

"No!" Boony retorted firmly. "We need your strength to get that security door around the tunnel bend and jam the tunnel closed. Dugan can't be far away. I'll wait here for him, and you two get down the tunnel." Boony could see that Manny was about to argue, so added "Now!"

The two rats disappeared through the entrance, and Boony turned to face the direction that Dugan should appear from. The night around him was no longer silent, but filled with distant voices, with urgent squeals and fierce yowling. It seemed that the Whitecoats, the Greycoats and the Mangey Moggies were about to occupy the same piece of real estate at the same time, a situation that Boony had hoped to avoid. The situation could only have been worse if the owl decided to show up again, but thankfully that seemed very unlikely.

As the volume of noise increased, indicating the proximity of the enemy was very near, Boony slid himself backwards into the tunnel entrance, hanging onto its lip with his front paws. If a Greycoat or a Mangey Moggy appeared over the edge of the tyre before Dugan, he would be forced to drop down into the tunnel and seal the door below, leaving Dugan to his fate in the interests of saving the rest of the Whitecoat gang. It was a course of action he dreaded with all his heart.

Suddenly Dugan appeared on top of the tunnel tyre and leapt down into the interior, staggering slightly as his tired legs crumpled under his weight. Recovering, terror spread across his face, Dugan sprinted towards the entrance. Boony yelled encouragement, and reached his front paws out to grab Dugan and pull him bodily down the hole. At the same moment, the huge figure of a black and white Mangey Moggy filled the sky as it sprang into the tyre after Dugan. Boony clasped Dugan's front paws, let go of the tunnel walls with his own rear paws and his body weight, falling, dragged Dugan into the tunnel. The cat thrust its head down the tunnel entrance after the disappearing figure of Dugan, and managed to bite the end of Dugan's tail. Dugan and Boony hung suspended in the tunnel, dangling by Dugan's captured tail, their ears being assaulted by the yowling of the cat in the confined space.

The Mangey Moggy attempted to pull the two rats from the tunnel, but found to its own horror that its head was jammed in the tunnel. Its paws scrambled madly in the dirt as it tried to reverse itself. It became more and more panicked, and its actions more and more violent and desperate. To the two dangling rats, this was translated to the twisting of the cat's head in the tunnel, which sent them swinging against the tunnel walls. Poor Dugan was in great pain from his poor tail being crushed in the cat's jaws, and Boony's paws were aching as he struggled to hold on to Dugan.

A combination of factors contributed to save the two Whitecoats. Two other Mangey Moggies leapt onto the trapped Mangey Moggy, too stupid to work with the cat to retrieve the rats but instead competing with it for the potential meal. At around the same time, seven Greycoats reached the tyre, and leapt onto the three Mangey Moggies. A disorganised battle erupted, the duration and outcome of which was to be unknown to the Whitecoats. However, importantly, its commencement was highlighted by the trapped Moggy releasing its bite on Dugan.

Boony and Dugan fell almost the entire 2 metres to the bottom of the tunnel before they succeeded in slowing their descent. They slid around the bend in the tunnel and came to a stop just past the recess where the security door was kept, and where Manny and the others were waiting. Without the need for any signal or encouragement, the other rats pushed the door out into the tunnel, up past the bend, and jammed the can so that it completely blocked the passage of anyone trying to come down. The tunnel was sealed.

# Chapter Eleven – Decisions, Decisions

The night following the tunnelling expedition, the Whitecoats had a celebration dinner, to toast their success and relive the adventure, as well as give thanks for the safety and return of all the gang members. Dugan, Duncan and Dalton spent most of the time eating, topping up their depleted energy reserves and attempting to regain all the weight they had lost through the strenuous exercise of digging.

Of all the Whitecoats, only Boony didn't join freely in the fun, for in the hours immediately after the mission, before he joined the others in sleep, he had come to a final decision regarding the future of the Whitecoat gang. It was the decision he had almost made after the Oildrum Pond rescue, before Teesdale had devised the tunnelling plan. It was time the Whitecoats left Rolington Municipal Dump. Boony knew that some of the others might not agree with him, but he also knew that it was in the best interests of his friends. Now all he had to do was tell the others and he was putting it off for just the right moment. That moment came when the stories and food began to run out.

"Can I have your attention?" he shouted, cutting short Manny's twentieth impression of a Mangey Moggy with its head jammed in a tunnel. "I've got something important to say."

Six pairs of eyes turned towards him in expectation and he suddenly felt a great sense of responsibility weighing on his shoulders. These rats depended on him. Was he making the right decision?

"In the past weeks," he continued, "we've had some major battles with the enemy. Greycoats, Mangey Moggies, crows and owls."

"And we beat them all," added Manny, raising a small cheer from the others.

"Yes, we beat them all," agreed Boony, "but only just, and mainly because luck was on our side. Each time, we only just scraped through. And in doing so, we exhausted ourselves to the point of collapse almost every time."

There were murmurs of agreement in the room.

"The problem is that we keep losing our advantage. We had weapons and strategies when the Greycoats didn't have any and that's how we beat them. But now they're getting smarter because they're copying us. Every time we do something new, they learn."

"It's not fair," chimed in Dugan, Duncan and Dalton.

"Of course it's not fair," agreed Boony, "but all's fair in love and war and we're at war. The war of survival. And even those less smart than the Greycoats pose a threat. The Mangey Moggies don't have any plans, but they are bigger and faster than us. The birds are a constant danger, night and day, and can strike at any moment without warning. It seems that every day we have to fight someone. We are fighting for food and shelter and the freedom to go where we like, when we like. And in fights, someone always gets hurt."

"Just ask the Greycoats or the Mangey Moggies about that," laughed Manny.

"But it's not just them." He looked towards Dugan, whose tail was bandaged at the tip where the Mangey Moggy's teeth had left their mark. "Manny, one day it will be you or me or someone else who's going to get hurt, perhaps even killed. Our luck won't hold forever."

There was a sombre silence in the room, as each rat tried to imagine what it would be like to lose one of the others. It wasn't a nice thought.

"Well, what are you proposing, Boony?" Manny asked. "How can we avoid fighting for survival? The Greycoats and the Mangey Moggies want our food and we can't just stop eating."

There was a gasp of horror from Dugan, Duncan and Dalton at this.

"There are two ways to stop the fighting," Boony replied thoughtfully. "The first way is to confront the enemy and wipe them out completely. That means plenty of bloodshed and lives lost but eventually, perhaps, peace."

Manny nodded his head enthusiastically at this option.

"Sounds good to me."

"The second way," Boony continued, ignoring Manny's comment, "is to walk away from the fight before it starts, to find a place where there is no enemy and therefore no one to fight. No lives are lost, no one gets hurt. That's the option I want to take."

"You mean retreat and live to fight another day" summarised Teesdale, who was very good at understanding Boony's line of thinking.

"Yes, that's it exactly, though I'd rather not have to fight another day if I can help it."

"But we'd be acting like a bunch of chickens. Cowards!" exclaimed Manny in protest. He had never walked away from a fight in his life. "I'd be ashamed to face myself in the mirror."

"I personally would rather lose a bit of pride than my life or my friends," growled Wanda in support of Boony. "And not everybody loves or is good at fighting like you, Manny."

The others nodded their heads in agreement and Manny shut up quickly, bowing his head sheepishly.

"When do we leave?" asked Teesdale.

"As soon as possible. The Greycoats now know that we can find ways to access food without going directly through them and so can't be starved out. Their next move will probably be a direct attack, in numbers. I think we should spend tomorrow gathering together any bits of useful material from the dump, as well as some food, then set off in two night's time."

"Where are we going?" enquired Wanda, voicing the question on every rat's mind.

"To be honest, Wanda, I don't know exactly. We'll know when we reach it. Beyond the dump is farmland, which I saw briefly in my short-lived flight in the flying machine. That looked promising." It was the best answer that Boony could give at the moment.

"Will there be food there?" probed Dugan, Duncan and Dalton, despairing the idea of leaving a certain, though dangerous, supply for the unknown.

"From what I learned about farms back at the laboratory," Boony reassured them, "all farmers seem to do is spend their time feeding animals or growing food".

It was the right answer to appease the brothers, and they seemed to be content with the response.

"Well, if no one else has any questions at this stage, it might be a good idea to get some sleep, and tomorrow we'll pack for the move.

There was silence in the room as all the Whitecoats thought of the journey ahead, then one by one they left for their rooms. Unlike the previous day, sleep was hard to find that morning.

# Chapter Twelve - Moving On

As it had done for so many nights, over so many years, night fell once again over Rolington Municipal Dump and the day creatures made their way home to sleep and recover from another day of survival. A crescent moon rose slowly in the sky to join the sparkling pinpricks of starlight, bathing the piles of rubbish below with light, and the night creatures began to emerge from their hiding places again, to continue their searches for food.

On this particular night, however, there was something slightly different happening. If you knew where and when to look, you would see a small group of white rats emerging from an old torn vinyl and foam sofa, and gathering up small bags of rubbish between them. And, to your surprise, they wouldn't head off into the depths of the dump to look for food but rather would begin moving towards the boundary fence, away from the security of their home. You would see them squeeze through the gaps in the wire and pull their burdens after them, and then head off into the night in a small convoy, away from Rolington Municipal Dump and off to who knows where. And you'd be left with quite a tale to tell. A Rolington rats tale.

###

Thanks for reading this book. As an English teacher, I wrote it for the children in my classes, many of whom don't engage with books. As the words flowed onto the page, I could imagine the story as an animated movie or a picture book. Alas, I am no film maker or artist, but the adventures of the rats play vividly in my mind. I hope you have had a similar experience.

Regards,

Peter Miles

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Peter Miles is a secondary school teacher of English and Physical Education. He is also a Special Education teacher and Classroom Behaviour Management specialist, having published the text "Don't Just Stand There, Yell Something! in 2003 through McGraw-Hill Publishing, as well as self-publishing the follow-up text "If You Can't Beat Them, Teach Them". If you are interested in any of his work, email him at bmskills@bigpond.com
