The closer they got to Randal’s palace, the tighter the knot of apprehension became in Randy’s stomach. Twice now, his courage had packed its bags and left him precisely when he needed it most. The fear of freezing up, of failing again, gnawed at him, more than his own hunger.
“Be brave, be brave,” he murmured under his breath, the words feeling flimsy in his ears.
“What’s that?” Karnel asked, his sharp ears missing nothing.
“Nothing, just thinking about what we’ll do after we get the pearl back and find some food.”
“Well,” Karnel replied, his gaze sweeping over the bleak, trash-strewn landscape, “it’s probably best if I travel alone. Not that I haven’t enjoyed your company,” he added hastily, “but trouble seems to follow me around like a bad smell.”
“Trouble builds character,” Randy offered, trying to sound convincing, though his own character felt distinctly underdeveloped.
Karnel gave a weary sigh. “You probably haven’t had much real trouble in your life, little mouse. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be saying that.”
Randy considered this. A flicker of doubt crossed his face. Maybe the rat was right. But admitting it felt like another failure, so he changed the subject.
“Chewy,” he asked, turning to the dog, “if we do get my pearl back and find some food… could we maybe… go to your humans’ candy store?”
“Candy store?” Karnel’s ears shot up, his earlier weariness vanishing. “A human candy store?”
“Yes!” Randy explained, a familiar longing swelling in his chest. “That’s where Chewy used to live.”
“Now that,” Karnel declared, his eyes gleaming with sudden, fervent desire, “sounds like the perfect place to retire!”
Chewy shook his head stubbornly, his brow furrowed. “I haven’t proved I can survive on my own yet. How can I go back now? What kind of coward would I be?”
“What do you mean?” Randy protested. “You saved both of us! We wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. If anyone here has nothing left to prove, Chewy, it’s you!”
“So I proved I’m a loyal friend,” Chewy conceded. “But that doesn’t fill my stomach, does it? I need to learn how to feed myself. I still don’t know where humans get my dog biscuits from.”
As Chewy wrestled with his existential crisis, the narrow path opened into a wide, desolate clearing. And there, in the centre, rising from the filth like a monument to decay, stood a colossal, rusted industrial refrigerator. Its paint, once perhaps white, was chipped and peeling like sunburnt skin, revealing angry patches of rust beneath.
“That’s it,” Karnel pointed, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. “That’s Randal’s palace.”
“That junk heap?” Randy stared, utterly unimpressed. He’d imagined something grander.
“Yes. Doesn’t get much better than this in the glorious kingdom of Randal,” Karnel said.
“Hello!” Chewy barked, his yelp echoing across the clearing. “Hello there! Randal! Rat king! Are you home?”
“Shut up, you idiot!” Karnel hissed, diving headfirst into the nearest pile of rotting refuse, vanishing completely. “I quite value my life, unlike some dogs and mice I could mention!”
A frantic rattling sound erupted from within the refrigerator, the pitter-patter of dozens, maybe hundreds, of tiny feet scrambling on metal. Then, with an agonising groan of rusty hinges, the heavy door creaked open. A completely hairless, fat, pink rat peered out, perched precariously on a tattered, stained baseball glove that served as a makeshift throne. Flanking him stood two impossibly skinny, nervous-looking rat guards.
“Is that Randal?” Chewy asked, utterly bewildered.
“I am not His Majesty, Randal the Great!” the bald rat squeaked indignantly. “And you shall address His Majesty properly! Show some respect, dog!”
“So… who are you, then?” Randy asked.
A ramp, constructed from warped planks and rusted metal scraps, groaned as it was lowered from the refrigerator’s opening towards the ground. The two skinny guards carefully lifted the baseball glove, with the indignant bald rat still perched upon it, and carried him down. Just as they neared the bottom, the bald rat wobbled, lost his balance, and tumbled off the glove, landing on the ground with a surprised yelp. The guards scrambled to help him up, but the bald rat squirmed away, howling.
“Ahhh!!!” he screeched with pure petulance. “That tickles! Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me! How many times do I have to tell you idiots? I’m allergic to rat hair!”
“Well,” Randy said as he observed a red rash appearing on the bald rat where he had been touched, “that’s what I call a touchy fellow.”
“I,” the bald rat announced, puffing out his chest, “am Xugutu! The Prime Minister! And I demand you bow down and beg for forgiveness!”
“Forgiveness? For what?” Chewy asked, sitting down and giving his tail a nonchalant swish.
“Forgiveness for failing to show the proper respect to His Majesty! To me! And to this glorious kingdom! You have trespassed without permission!”
“We’re free creatures,” Chewy challenged calmly, scratching behind his ear. “We go where we please.”
Xugutu looked as though he might explode. He wobbled precariously, his guards hesitating, unsure if steadying him was worth risking another outburst.
“Freedom?” Xugutu sputtered. “Freedom must be earned in the kingdom of Randal! And you! You are nothing but filthy trespassers!”
“I’m really, too sorry, Mr. Prime Minister Xugutu,” Randy interrupted, trying to smooth things over. “I just need to have a quick word with Randal. You see, he has something that belongs to me…”
“Everything His Majesty possesses, His Majesty owns,” Xugutu snapped. “And if you’ve come looking for gifts or charity, you’ve wandered into the wrong palace. We don’t give handouts here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chewy interrupted impatiently, his stomach growling. “Listen, you fat, bald rat. I’m famished. Either you magic up some food while we listen to you jabber on, or tell us where Randal is so we can get this over with and be on our way. Okay?”
“Insolent cur!” shrieked Xugutu. “Do you have any idea who you are talking to? I am the Prime Minister! Prime! Do you know what prime means? It means first! The best! The top! The SUPREME MINISTER! No one — and I mean no one — talks to me like that! (Except His Majesty, of course.) Now, bow down and apologise, or prepare to die!”
Chewy just stared at the three rats — one fat and bald, two practically skeletal — his expression utterly unimpressed. He yawned, then deliberately stuck his tongue out at them.
A vein pulsed in Xugutu’s shiny pink temple. “So,” he hissed, “I shall expedite your execution, then.” With a sharp nod, he signalled his guards. They lowered the glove for him to jump on and carried him rapidly back up the ramp towards the palace door.
The moment they were inside, a deafening cacophony erupted from within the refrigerator — the frantic pitter-patter of countless feet. Suddenly the door burst open again, and rats poured out. Dozens of them. Scrawny, starving, eyes gleaming with hunger, saliva dripping from their bared teeth. They flowed out like a grimy river, surrounding Randy and Chewy, forming a tightening circle. They stood there, twitching, waiting, their hungry eyes fixed on the dog and the mouse.
Randy’s heart hammered against his ribs. His paws felt glued to the ground. Beside him, even Chewy looked tense, his lip curled back in a snarl, his small body poised as he tried to assess the overwhelming threat.
From the palace doorway, Xugutu’s screeching pierced the air. “Now! Eat them! Eat them now!”
Just as Randy squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable, a thunderous roar ripped through the clearing. An enormous shape exploded from behind a nearby trash heap, barrelling through the swarm of rats like a battering ram. Jaws snapped, drool flew, and rats scattered, squealing.
It was a dog. But not just any dog. This was a colossal pitbull, its body a roadmap of old scars, its nose raw and red, its eyes burning with pure ferocity. Compared to this beast, Chewy looked like a fluffy toy.
The pitbull lunged, jaws snapping shut inches from a fleeing rat. It lunged again, missing another. Then its gaze fell upon Xugutu, still visible in the refrigerator doorway. Its eyes narrowed with terrifying focus. It charged towards the palace. The heavy fridge door slammed shut just millimetres before the pitbull’s nose connected with the metal. WHAM! The dog recoiled, shaking its massive head, momentarily stunned.
When its vision cleared, the swarm of rats had vanished, melted back into the refuse heaps. All except one. Trapped behind a pile of rubble, desperately trying to wriggle free, was Karnel.
The pitbull spotted him instantly. It lowered its head and lunged. But before it could reach the terrified rat, Chewy darted forward, ramming his small body into the pitbull’s side with surprising force. Chewy planted himself firmly between the larger dog and Karnel, letting out a series of high-pitched, comical growls that sounded absurd compared to the pitbull’s deep, rumbling menace.
“Not this rat,” Chewy challenged the gigantic dog-beast in front of him. “This rat is a good rat.”
“The only good rat,” the pitbull growled back, trying to shoulder Chewy aside, “is the rat in my stomach.” But Chewy stood his ground, barking ferociously, refusing to budge.
The pitbull paused, regarding the tiny Chihuahua with grudging admiration. “You know, I could end you with a single bite. But I admire your courage, little dog.”
“Oh yeah?” Chewy retorted, unimpressed, his eyes narrowed. “Well, I don’t admire you for eating other animals.”
The pitbull sighed. “Look around you, mini dog,” it said, gesturing with its scarred head towards the endless piles of junk. “What do you expect me to eat? How else do you think I survive out here?”
“Use your nose!” Chewy barked back indignantly. “Find proper food!”
“My nose?” The pitbull gestured towards its raw, red snout. “See this? It’s broken. A human broke it, many moons ago. I can’t smell food anymore. But I can see what moves. And whatever moves, I eat.”
Chewy looked at the pitbull’s scarred nose, then into its weary eyes. His aggressive stance softened slightly. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I see.” He paused, thinking. “I think maybe I can help. You can use my nose. Together, we can find food. But,” he added sternly, “no more eating animals. We need to find the place where humans get their food.”
The pitbull snorted dismissively. “Even with a good nose, I doubt we’ll find anything decent in this dump — the only reason why I am even here is because there are no humans around.”
“We thank you for saving our lives,” Randy addressed the pitbull, trembling only slightly, “even if you didn’t exactly mean to, Mr…?”
“Catastrophe,” the pitbull grunted, glancing down at Randy, amused that such a tiny creature dared to address him. “The name’s Catastrophe.”
“Mr. Catastrophe,” Randy continued, “you don’t happen to know where Randal, the rat king, is right now, do you?”
Catastrophe smirked, showing his formidable teeth. “I don’t usually stop for polite conversation with rats before I eat them. I know they hide out in that fridge, but I can’t get inside. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“So, what now?” Randy asked, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. “How can I find Randal?”
“Randal goes into the city sometimes,” Karnel called out cautiously from behind Chewy, keeping a safe distance from Catastrophe’s jaws. “Pays tribute to Capo.”
“Capo?” asked Randy.
“The leader of the city rodents,” Karnel explained. “Long story, but basically, Capo kicked Randal out, exiled him here to the dump. Makes him pay tribute every moon to rub it in.”
“Will you take us to meet Capo?” Randy pleaded with Karnel. “I know you’ve done so much already, but I really need to get my pearl back. It’s the main reason I left home.”
Karnel shook his head vehemently. “No way. Absolutely not. I was exiled from the city by Capo too. Going back would be suicide for me. If I ever go back, it’ll be very, very carefully, to find a nice quiet hiding place. Preferably one with lots of food.”
Randy nodded sadly, his hopes plummeting again.
“However…” Karnel added, a sly glint appearing in his eyes. “What if we make a deal?”
“What deal?” Randy asked instantly, his heart leaping.
“I can take you most of the way there,” Karnel proposed, “and then point you in the right direction towards Capo’s palace. If… you manage to get me into that candy store you were talking about earlier.”
Randy looked at Chewy, his eyes pleading for approval.
Chewy sighed. “The address is 743 King Avenue,” he recited. “And there’s a little flap door at the back where I used to go in and out. You can get through there easily enough.” He paused, then added sadly, “But I’m still not ready to go back home yet.”
Randy’s heart sank like a stone. How could he possibly make this dangerous journey into the city alone? Without Chewy?
“You can do this on your own, Randy,” Chewy said softly, noticing his friend’s crestfallen expression. “You’ll find your courage soon enough. I know you will.”
Randy looked at Chewy — brave, loyal, Chewy. He remembered the fox, the snake, and his initial confrontation with Catastrophe. A lump formed in his throat, too sad to say goodbye.
“That’s good enough for me!” Karnel declared eagerly, interrupting the moment. “I’ll take you where you need to go, mouse, and then I’ll find myself a nice, dark corner in that candy paradise and live out the rest of my days filling my belly and relaxing.”
“So… this is goodbye then,” Randy managed to say, his eyes misting over.
“Goodbye for now,” Chewy licked Randy affectionately. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again someday.” Then gave Randy a gentle push with his nose. “Be brave, Randy. And say hi to my humans for me. They are great people.”
Randy nodded, unable to speak. He turned towards Karnel, a strange, bittersweet mix of sadness and determination filling him. He would find Randal. He would get his pearl back. And somehow, someday, be brave and make Chewy proud.