Hopper's Destiny

  Hopper pulled his gaze and his dark thoughts from the house and focused on the locomotive ahead of him.

  In days past the locomotive had housed the Tribunal. It was also the occasional lodging place of the elusive La Rocha, who from time to time would visit here to avail himself only to the elders—but never allow them to see his face. He would hand down voiceless proverbs and prophecies, adages and advice (written, always written). La Rocha would reside in the privacy of the cylindrical smokestack that rose up from the imposing lump of mechanical cranks and metal wires inside the engine. From there he would shower his followers with mystic revelations that became part of the stylistically eclectic Sacred Book (as Hopper had pointed out). Then, without warning, he would vanish . . . to where, no one could say for certain. Maybe he disappeared into the tunnels, or perhaps (depending on one’s willingness to suspend one’s disbelief) he evaporated into the very air itself, in a magical puff of smoke.

  Now the black steel behemoth that loomed at the center of the village was Pinkie’s command center, and Hopper thought the once-gleaming locomotive seemed to have lost some of its luster.

  At the base of the engine, in the shadow of its towering metal wheels, stood a line of soldiers in pink uniforms, shoulder to shoulder, ears thrust back, and each holding a newly forged blade. The expressions on their furry brown faces were blank, and they formed an imposing, albeit pastel-tinted, blockade.

  One Mūs soldier at the end of the line had slightly darker fur. The tilt of his ears was different, and there was a shimmer of anticipation in his eyes. Hopper could tell he had big military aspirations. What was the word Sage had used? Conscription. Hopper guessed that this soldier had not been drafted, but had signed on to Pinkie’s army eagerly and with great purpose. The others did not look quite so enthusiastic about this new path.

  Oh, Hopper could certainly relate to that! He’d never planned to fall into a subway tunnel and join a revolution; he’d never aspired to topple an empire and fight a depraved cat queen and her band of ferals. But here he was. And although things looked glum at the moment, Hopper was grateful for every minute of it. He was right where he belonged, and he knew it, believed it, felt it deep in the marrow of his bones.

  Because being the Chosen One may not have been his idea. But it was his destiny.

  The blockade stepped aside to allow the former elder and the Atlantian delegates access to the metal ladder. Hopper, Zucker, and Sage climbed into the cavernous engine, where more pink-clad soldiers awaited. Pinkie was seated at the rough-hewn table in the middle of the space, rifling through the Sacred Book.

  Hopper scanned the room for Pup. He found him seated on a stool in a corner, bent over a page Hopper immediately recognized as the one containing the paw-written prophecy that had foretold the Chosen One’s arrival.

  . . . He alone brings purity of vision Exalt and hail Him!

  More than anything Hopper wanted to run to his brother, but he feared he might wind up impaled on the tip of some overeager soldier’s blade. Pup was so intent on his task, he didn’t even notice Hopper and the others were there.

  But Pinkie did; she looked up from the table and eyed her brother with disdain. “What are you doing here? I don’t remember sending an invitation to the creep who tore this hole in my ear.”

  “After you tore one in my ear!” Hopper shot back. He glowered at the sister who was practically his twin. With the distinctive white circle of fur around her left eye and the jagged wound to her right ear, they were truly mirror images of each other. Opposites, inside and out.

  “What do you want?” she growled.

  “I’ve come for two reasons,” Hopper began. Three, if you count wanting to take Pup home with me. “First, I’ve come to request asylum for all the Atlantians and refugees who are currently struggling to survive in the tunnels.”

  “Asylum?” Pinkie looked as though she’d never heard the word.

  “It means a safe haven,” Sage explained, shaking his head sadly. “You see, Pinkie? You still have so much to learn before you can lead this tribe. You do not yet possess the proper skills to be a ruler. You don’t even possess the proper vocabulary.”

  Pinkie folded her arms across her chest and glowered. “Didn’t I throw you out of here a week ago?” She turned back to Hopper. “The answer to that request, as I’m sure you expected, is a big ol’ no. Next question.”

  Hopper ground his teeth and clenched his fists. “Why?”

  “Because effective immediately there will be no non-Mūs allowed behind the gray wall, that’s why. No squirrels, no chipmunks, no chirpy-jumpy-buggy critters.” She gave Zucker an icy smile. “And no rats. You’re lucky I haven’t already tossed you out on your tail.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Zucker retorted, seething, his paw resting on his blade.

  “And I’d like to see you go up against my personal guard. You’re outnumbered here, so don’t get cocky.”

  “Please, Pinkie,” said Hopper, trying to keep his voice steady. “The animals are in grave danger. Why won’t you help them?”

  “Why can’t they help themselves? Why should I be responsible for them? Rats and squirrels are bigger than we are. They’ll need more food, more water, more everything. I don’t want those overgrown rodents using up precious resources that rightfully belong to the Mūs.” She paused to smooth her golden cape, which was now emblazoned with a bold pink P. “Remember how it was in Keep’s shop? Remember how the swimmy things lived among the swimmy things, and the feathery flyish creatures shared their cages with other feathery flyish creatures? Those of us who were furry lived among others who were furry, and the slimy things slithered with the—”

  “What’s your point?” Hopper demanded.

  “It was a good system! Do you ever remember any epic battles being fought in the pet shop?”

  Hopper cocked an eyebrow. “You mean other than between you and me? And since when is Keep your role model? Pinkie, how low have you sunk?”

  “I’m not the one begging for help,” Pinkie replied. “So I guess not as low as you. Your raggedy rodent rejects will not be welcome here.”

  “There is a name for what you’re describing,” murmured Sage. “An ugly name: segregation. And as a practice, it is shortsighted and ill advised.”

  “Call it whatever you want,” Pinkie said, and waved a dismissive paw. “It’s the law.”

  Now Pup jumped up from his stool and skittered over to bring Pinkie the page he’d been working on. When he spotted Hopper, a sudden smile spread over his face.

  “Hopper!”

  “Pup . . .”

  But when Pinkie threw Pup a look, his smile faded as quickly as it had appeared; in the next instant he was regarding his brother with cool eyes. “Hello.”

  “How are you, Pup?”

  “Wonderful,” Pup boasted. “I’m Pinkie’s second-in-command. I help her run things around here.” He puffed out his little chest, but the look in his eyes was not the glow of pride, rather it was the glint of entitlement.

  Hopper’s heart sank.

  “Let’s not get carried away, Pup,” Pinkie scoffed. “You don’t exactly run things. You just help me out so it’s easier for me.”

  Pup’s jaw flexed and his eyes flared. It was the first time Hopper had ever seen his darling little brother express anger.

  “Here, Pinkie,” said Pup, handing the page to his sister. “I’ve made some alterations to this document. I think you should read it. All of you.”

  Pinkie took the page and laid it on the table where Hopper and the others could see it. As she deciphered Pup’s changes, her fur began to bristle and her fangs seemed to bare themselves of their own accord. Hopper’s mouth dropped open; Sage actually gasped in horror.

  “I can’t read, so I had one of the guards point out all the ‘he’ and ‘him’ words for me,” he explained in a voice filled with self-satisfaction. This appeared to be true, because Pup had taken a dark, powdery stone to the page and scribbled over every “h
e” and crossed out every “him.” Then, because he couldn’t write, either, he had replaced those words by drawing in primitive little hieroglyphs—one depicted a mouse with a white circle around her left eye, which was obviously intended to be Pinkie.

  And sketched in beside Pinkie’s image was that of a much smaller mouse who wore a ferocious expression on his face and had a dark, soot-colored circle drawn around his left eye.

  With a chill creeping along his flesh, Hopper looked up from the page to his brother’s face and shuddered at what he saw. While they’d all been looking at the prophecy page with its foreboding alterations, Pup had engaged in an additional bit of artwork.

  With the same black stone he’d used to edit the prophecy, he’d chalked a dark, severely perfect circle into the fur around his own left eye.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “YOU DEFILED THE PROPHECY!” Sage cried.

  Pup crossed his arms. “You say defiled . . . I say updated.”

  “Are you out of your little runt mind?” snarled Pinkie, whipping around to glower at Pup. “This looks like you expect to lead with me and be considered my equal.”

  Pup nodded.

  “Change it back!” Pinkie demanded. “Immediately!”

  Zucker frowned at Pinkie, then at Pup. “The thing about mystical prophecies,” he said, his voice echoing off the metal walls, “is that if you’re going to believe in them, then you kind of have to take them as they are. You can’t just rewrite them to suit your own tastes.”

  “I can do whatever I want,” Pinkie snapped. “I’m Pinkie the Chosen, and the Mūs answer to me.” She grabbed the stone from Pup’s paw and scribbled out his little doodles. “Not the Tribunal, not Hopper, and definitely not Pup!”

  Hopper snuck a glance at Pup and caught a glint of a small fang as his brother’s upper lip curled in fury. Hopper expected him to reply, but the small mouse simply stood there.

  “Now,” said Pinkie, tossing the stone over her shoulder, “I’ve already denied your request for asylum, so what was your second order of business?”

  Hopper let out a long breath. “If you won’t let the homeless rodents temporarily live here in safety, then will you consider commanding this fashionably dressed army of yours to defend them in the tunnels? They need protection from the ferals. Without it, they can’t scavenge for food. They’ll either starve to death or be eaten themselves.”

  Pinkie stared at him silently; her expression seemed to ask, And how is this is my problem?

  “Don’t you remember, Pinkie?” Hopper urged. “You were lost down here once yourself. You wandered the tunnels and hid from the predators, and listened to your stomach growling with hunger. But then you knocked on that door in the big gray wall, and they took you in and cared for you.”

  “They had to!” Pinkie snapped. “I was their Chosen One.”

  “Well, then do something good with it!” Hopper challenged. “Choose to protect the innocent, whether they’re mice or rats or squirrels or . . . or . . . or crickets who poop all over the place.”

  At that Pup let out a snort.

  “Please, Pinkie,” Hopper continued. “Right now you command the only army in the tunnels. Atlantia will raise a new militia, and then, I promise, we will gladly take over the job. But that’s going to require time. So for now please say you’ll let your soldiers look out for all of us.”

  Pinkie remained silent. Hopper held his breath. He could feel Zucker tense behind him. Sage tapped one hind paw nervously against the metal floor. But no one spoke. All they could do was wait for Pinkie to give her answer.

  Finally she did.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No. My army fights for me and me alone. The safety of the Mūs is guaranteed. Everyone else is on his own.”

  “I don’t understand,” Zucker bellowed. “You fought to free these rodents in the camp attack. You battled right along with them in the hunting ground. Why don’t you want to finish what you’ve started?”

  “The prince is right,” said Hopper. “Just a fortnight past you led the Mūs soldiers into battle on a quest to free the refugees. The only reason we emerged victorious was because we fought together! Squirrel fighting beside chipmunk fighting beside mouse fighting beside rat! Even the crickets helped. They were your comrades-in-arms, Pinkie! How can you turn your back on them now?”

  “Because I realized what a waste of time it was!” Pinkie’s whiskers were trembling with anger; she planted her paws on her hips and fired her words at Hopper. “Our father fought against those camps, didn’t he? And where did it get him? It got him dead, that’s where. No squirrels or chipmunks or rats protected him, did they? So here’s where I stand: the Mūs army protects the Mūs. That’s Pinkie’s law. And while we’re on the subject, I’ve decided to pass another new law.” She turned to Sage. “There will be no more La Rocha.”

  “Blasphemy!” hollered Sage.

  “I’ve checked out that dwelling place of his,” said Pinkie, flicking her head in the direction of the metal mountain that separated the main interior of the locomotive from La Rocha’s private chamber in the smokestack. “Tore it apart, actually, looking for some sign that he was all you Mūs believers said he was. But guess what. He wasn’t there. In fact, all I found was some blank paper, some torn blue fabric, and a writing utensil or two. Nothing that proved any marvelous mystical being had ever dropped by for a visit. So as far as I’m concerned, the myth of La Rocha has been officially debunked. Any Mūs who invokes his name or his teachings will be punished!”

  Hopper opened his mouth to remind Pinkie that the only reason the Mūs had hailed her as the Chosen One in the first place was because La Rocha’s prophecy had predicted her arrival. But his words were cut off by paws gripping the collar of his tunic.

  The next thing Hopper knew, five pink-clad soldiers of Pinkie’s private guard had succeeded in shoving him and his two companions out the engine door.

  The two remaining elders, Temperance and Christoph, were brought to the bottom of the engine ladder and told they would be taking their leave.

  In total eight soldiers escorted Hopper, Zucker, and the three demoted Tribunal members back to the gray wall.

  “I guess we shouldn’t be surprised she turned us down,” said Zucker.

  “True,” said Hopper. “But I am surprised by Pup. Did you see how cold he was? He seemed so bitter. He was never like that before.”

  “He’s seen battle,” Zucker reminded him. “That changes a rodent. And I’m sure Pinkie’s influence isn’t helping. She’d make anybody go a little wacky.”

  Just as they were about to depart through the hidden door, Hopper heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

  “Wait! Hopper! Don’t go yet.”

  He whirled, his heart soaring to hear Pup crying out for him. His brother was scrambling to catch up. He was carrying a parcel wrapped in faded blue fabric. When he skidded to a stop before them, Hopper opened his arms. “Pup! You’ve decided to come with us?”

  “What? No!” Pup lowered his eyebrows. “I’ve come to give you this.” He shoved the blue bundle at Hopper.

  Hopper opened it to peer beneath the folds of blue felt: he saw chunks of bread, a bit of fruit, some water in a small apothecary jar. The gesture of kindness caused a lump to form in his throat. Perhaps there was hope for his tiny sibling after all. “Thank you,” he whispered. “This is very generous of you, Pup.”

  “It wasn’t me. It was Pinkie’s idea. She gathered up the food and dispatched me to bring it to you.” Now Pup stomped one hind paw in the dirt. “But you mark my words, Hopper, I’m not going to be her little delivery boy much longer. I can do great things too. I can be a hero.”

  “Of course you can,” said Hopper. “If you come with us—”

  Pup shook his head. “I don’t need help from any puffed-up Chosen brother or sister.”

  As Pup headed back toward the engine, Hopper turned to Zucker, looking troubled and perplexed.

  “I think
somebody needs a nap,” said Zucker.

  “I heard that!” Pup shot back. He paused only long enough to cast a withering glare at the rat prince, then took off at a scamper, kicking up dust as he ran.

  Hopper was simply too overwrought to ponder Pup’s strange behavior. He sighed and looked down at the tidily packed meal his sister had wrapped in felt. “I guess despite all her bitterness, Pinkie knows that family still counts for something.”

  “Yeah,” Zucker muttered. “Either that or the food’s poisoned.”

  Hopper’s gut told him it wasn’t. As he tucked the edges of the fabric back into place, his eye was drawn to a splash of white inside. Sewn onto the royal blue felt was a large white letter D.

  This was a scrap torn off the Dodgers pennant he’d once seen in the marketplace. In the exodus someone must have taken it from the city, and it had somehow made its way to Pinkie’s village. Seeing the piece of pennant made Hopper’s mind flash back to his first walk through the city, and a feeling of loss welled up within him.

  He decided that after they had dined on Pinkie’s food offering, he would save the soft blue scrap of material, this relic from the recent past. He would keep it to remind himself of how great the city once was and how great it could be again. Only this time it would not be built on dark lies and savage bargains. This time it would stand for community and decency.

  He hadn’t been able to sway Pinkie; and Pup, it seemed, was on his way to becoming just as hard-hearted and dangerous as their sister. But that didn’t mean Hopper wasn’t going to keep trying to make things right. With one last glance over his shoulder, he followed his companions through the door and out into the tunnel.

  They ate quickly, sharing the meal Pinkie had provided. When they were through, Hopper tucked the parcel’s blue wrapping into his pocket alongside the note from La Rocha. Then they began their march to the place where Hopper knew they would meet up with the train. He had some niggling concerns about how all five of them would manage to leap onto the speeding vehicle at once, but he kept these to himself. Christoph and Temperance were already terrified enough at the thought of riding one of the monsters they’d never seen but had heard growling and rumbling menacingly above their heads for their entire lives.