Chapter Two -- The Morning After

          “What do moles do best, Mole?”
          “Chase frogs?”
                   --Fat Cat and Mole, “A Lean on the Property,” 
                   from the Chip n’ Dale’s Rescue Rangers series.


     “Do you hear something?”
     Bob turned to face Herb. “No. Do you?”
     Herb nodded, so the two moles halted their tunneling to hear better.
It was around three in the morning, and since they were already over four
hours late getting home, they didn’t see why a few more minutes should
make a difference.
     Moles, by nature, are neither exceptionally bright nor swift of
thought. They have, however, managed to survive (and even thrive)
thanks to their innate and intimate understanding of living and operating
beneath the surface. In this regard, they could be considered wiser than
most, as they thought of the space around them in three directions, rather
than the habit many planar dwellers have, which is only to consider two.
     After a few seconds of listening, Herb pointed to a section of the
tunnel before them; to the right, at a forty-five degree angle downward
from their current position. “There,” he simply stated. Having placed the
location of the source of the minute noise, the two moles pressed their
ears to the floor, knowing inheirtly, at least, that sound travels faster
through solids than through the air.
     Whatever it was that they heard, it was moving at a phenomenal
rate, even by mole standards. Because of the mole’s natural ability to
sort out the information the earth was presenting with its own code of
sound travel, they were able to track the moving object as easily as if they
were watching it on a viewscreen.
     “Goin’ up, now,” Bob mentioned offhandedly.
     “Movin’ pretty fast, too. Think it’s Ned? Maybe Billy?”
Unknown to the rest of the animal world, moles underground were truly
in their element, so much so that they had developed an amazing ability
to communicate, operate, and track each other, as well as non-moles. In
fact, each mole emitted its own, unique trace sound as they burrowed,
enabling the others to generally tell if it was a friend or not. 
     They listened a bit more, trying to place the taletell burrowing
noises, then Herb shrugged.
     “Can’t tell. Maybe it’s two moving together, like us.”
     Bob nodded.
     They listened for a few moments more, until the distant burrowing
finally stopped, apparently having breached the surface. Their interest no
longer held by the unknown digger, the two moles continued on their own
course, not giving the entire encounter a second thought.
     Problems are often inflated into disasters by lack of notice of any
early warning signs.
     The moles notwithstanding, no one was around when the carefully
landscaped lawn of Stones City’s Park was broken through, right in
front of the largest oak tree.

*     *     *

     Chip was frowning, looking down from his place on the branch that
the Ranger’s had planed out to use as a main landing strip for their
various flight vehicles. Monterey blinked a bit in surprise as he noticed
this when he was stepping out for his early morning jog -- the chipmunk
was a morning person, but the type to sit inside and read the morning
police reports while the police scanner player in the background, rather
than idly stand around outside. Chip also wasn’t always the most genial
person in the mornings, but the disapproving expression the chipmunk
wore today seemed to be even more grave, and gave Monterey pause
before approaching. Then again, better for Chip to get any nastiness out
of his system now than at breakfast in front of the others.
     “Mornin’ Chipper!” the large Aussie called out in a friendly
manner.
     Chip looked up, nodded once in greeting, then returned his attention
to some activity below. Now outside fully, Monterey could hear sound
muted conversation, as well. From humans, it sounded like. He walked
over and stood next to the fedora-topped chipmunk as he glanced down
to the sight of several of the city’s landscapers. They were apparently
busy starting to fill in a fairly large hole located below, one which seemed
fairly deep.
     The landscapers seemed about as receptive to the newly-discovered
landmark as Chip was, as they muttered darkly about “pranksters”.
     “What’s this all about?” Monterey asked, nodding to the humans
below.
     “I don’t know, Monty,” Chip replied, sighing and leaning against
the railing. “They had already found it when I got out here this morning.
Looks like someone just up and dug a hole in front of our tree.”
     “Huh,” Monterey scratched his head. “Kinda an odd thing to do.”
     “Eh,” Chip frowned again. “I’m not so sure, Monty.”
     “Whattaya mean, bucko?”
     “Well, first off, take a look at the dirt around the hole.”
     “Uh, I don’t really see any, just the topsoil and grass.”
     “Exactly. If someone had dug *down* into the earth, then all that
excess dirt would have to go off to the side. And yet, here’s a hole that
goes down several feet, at least, and doesn’t have any residue aside from
the top layer.
     “But if someone dug *up*, then the excess dirt would fall in behind
the digger, also closing off the passageway as they moved forward. The
only space that wouldn’t be filled in would be the last spot their body, or
bodies, occupied when breaking through the surface.”
     Monterey was frowning now, as well, as he followed Chip’s line
of logic. If someone had dug up, it would have to be some animal. And
an animal that just happened to be digging upwards right in front of the
Ranger’s Headquarters was a bit too coincidental, Monterey had to
admit.
     “So you think it involves us?”
     Chip spread his hands out along the railing, leaning over. “I think
it’s a high probability.”
     That was when Monterey reached the same theory that Chip had
previously reached, and was the cause for the leader’s somber demeanor
this morning.
     “Fat Cat?” Monterey pitched.
     “Mole is one of his henchmen,” Chip replied evenly.
     The two Rangers were quiet as the prospect that Fat Cat may have
finally learned of their whereabouts sank in fully. True, Fat Cat probably
could have found them if he really, really, wanted to, but the Rangers
never seemed to present such a threat to his empire as to spare the effort.
Nearly all the clashes they had with the kingpin of the animal underworld
had been on Fat Cat’s own turf. The tabby more then likely was too
apathetic at the prospect of trying to find the Rangers on their own
ground. Better for them to come to him, and save him the trouble.
     But, if Fat Cat was coming after them first, then he was truly out for
business, and as much as the two Rangers hated to admit it, an all-out war
against Fat Cat was something they might not survive. If Fat Cat threw all
of his resources at them, there would be no way they could withstand an
assault on their tree, and quite possibly their very lives.
     The prospect of leaving the tree was almost unthinkable, yet would
have to be done if their arch-enemy had located their base of operations.
     Fortunately for the two Rangers, all of that was a series of ifs and
maybes. Truthfully, neither Monterey nor Chip seriously thought Fat Cat
-- or even Stripes -- would consider them worth the trouble right now.
The crimelords had too much to worry about with trying to take over the
animal underworld at the moment to bother with the likes of the Rangers.
Still, Chip knew the day would come that they would have to leave the
tree, for their own safety, and being reminded of it wasn’t all that
endearing. Chip felt it was akin to having a tombstone with your name
engraved on it, just waiting for you to finally give in.
     He shook his head to clear his mind. His concern for the time being
should be the gaping hole in front of them, not some ruminations about
futures that may or may not be true.
     “Well,” he said at length, “I don’t think this was made by Mole,
or done by Fat Cat.”
     “You don’t?” Monterey visually relaxed. Chip was a bit of a
stick-in-the-mud at times, but his hunches were good enough to bank on.
     “First, it’s too big for just Mole, so that means there were
probably two or more. Secondly, if it Fat’s Cat cronies, they probably
would have attacked right after surfacing -- Dale didn’t get back until
late, so it must have happened before predawn, meaning that we all
would have been sitting ducks, and that would have been the time to
capitalize on. Third, why would he tunnel to us when it'd be easier 
to walk? It's not like we live in Fort Knox. Finally, no way Fat Cat 
would leave behind such an enormous clue that he knows where we live, 
because then our defenses will be up.  No, if he was behind it, the 
hole would have originated from behind a bush somewhere, and we would 
have likely had a very rude awakening last night.”
     “So if it was made by an animal, but not Fat Cat, then who? I
don’t think Rat Capone’s got any thugs that could pull this off, and
he’s too much of a coward to come up from the sewers in the first
place.”
     Chip smirked. “And from what you’ve told us about Bubbles and
Desiree, they wouldn’t have tried this tactic, as Desiree already knows
where we are. Lucky us,” he added with a sardonic smile.
     Monterey glared at Chip briefly, sore that Chip still didn’t trust
Desiree enough to at least give her credit where it was due. Desiree
wouldn’t just send in thugs to beat them up; no fun in that from her
perspective, Monterey knew. And, more importantly, Monterey was well
aware that the Rangers were really second fiddle to him in Desiree’s
eyes. If she was going to have revenge, he’d be the one to go, and the
rest of the Rangers probably wouldn’t even be bothered with.
     “So what’s left then?” Monterey said, crossing his arms, still a
touch miffed. “Not Fat Cat, not Rat, and not Bubbles.” he refused to
include Desiree in with them. “Then what, hmm?”
     But even though Chip usually reacted like a firecracker to Monterey
pushing his buttons, this time the chipmunk just shook his head with a
sigh. “I don’t know, Monty. I really just don’t know.”
     The irritation drained from Monterey’s body as he realized that
Chip was facing the thing he hated the most -- a mystery that could not, at
least at this point in time, be solved.

*     *     *

     Zipper’s frown asked if Chip thought the hole was something to
seriously consider trying to follow up on.
     Chip shook his head, then paused and he thought some more about
it. Truth is, he just wasn’t sure, and explained as much to his fellow
detective.
     “Besides,” Chip went on, “there’s nothing to really follow up, on.
Unless there was the off chance that someone saw the digger or diggers
appear in the first place. Dale got back to the tree around two or so, and
Monty and I were up by six, so that’s only a four-hour window. Most of
the animals in the park weren’t that active at the time.” He shrugged.
“We just don’t have enough to go on. We can check around though, I
suppose.”
     Zipper nodded as they continued on their way to Dr. Speck’s
office. The two Rangers had left headquarters shortly after breakfast,
wanting to catch the doctor before he got too engrossed in his work on
the proposed rehabilitation center. They guessed that was the reason why
he didn’t make it to dinner last night, but they still wanted to clear up a
few questions concerning Osiris, so decided to set off. Together, they
headed up over the field that led to the mental health institution where his
office was at. They had been batting around the implications of this large
hole near the Ranger Headquarters most of the way over, but most of it
was just backtracking over previously covered ground. Still, it felt better
to at least be going in circles rather than not even moving.
     Sighing, Zipper decided to change the subject to something more...
entertaining.
     So, he buzzed knowingly to Chip, you had a good time last night?
     Chip’s temperature rose several degrees as he tried to fathom a
response. All that came out was a bashful, “Heh, uh, y-yeah.”
     Zipper grinned; being able to read people from their most subtle
expressions and slightest twitches afforded him a great deal of
opportunities to enjoy embarrassment at his friend’s expense.
     Zipper’s nonchalant nudges indicated that it seemed Gadget was
particularly cheerful this morning, too; her stargazing last night must
have been fun.
     “Heh. Heh heh... heh... ahem.” Chip forcibly cleared his throat,
shoving the wonderful memories of Gadget’s bright eyes last night from
his mind, so he could think straight. “We saw the stars,” he finally
managed to say, despite his prominent blush.
     Uh-huh, Zipper chuckled.
     The fly decided not to prod any further. He could tell that Chip and
Gadget were still a bit unclear as how to proceed, and didn’t want to
joke around with it too much on the normally logical and pragmatic
chipmunk. If their relationship was to pan out, it would undoubtably take
a while for it to reach its conclusion.
     And Zipper fully intended to enjoy every minute of it.
     As they crested the top of the slight incline, Zipper blinked a bit,
then tapped Chip on the shoulder.
     “What is it, Zipper?” Chip asked, his voice suddenly switching to
investigative mode upon seeing the questioning look Zipper wore.
     The smaller Ranger pointed out across the fescue, to something
lying amid the blades of grass. It appeared to be a small, scrap of light
brown paper, but Zipper (and now Chip) could tell from the crisp edges
that it wasn’t torn, or just some scrap piece of litter that managed to get
past the groundskeepers.
     They jogged over to it, and immediately recognized it as a small
folder, just the right size for a chipmunk or mouse to use. Since they
were near Dr. Speck’s office, it was possible that a courier had dropped
it by accident. Carefully, Chip picked it up and deftly opened it, pulling
the papers within out.
     Neither Zipper nor Chip realized that they were holding their
breath.
     “It’s the report McDugell filed for Dr. Speck,” Chip said after
glancing at the papers.
     But I thought he already dropped it off? Zipper asked with frown.
     Chip nodded. “He did. He told me so when I stopped by his office
before the dinner. Dr. Speck must’ve have dropped it when he left last
night.”
     Zipper’s brow furrowed, expressing that it was highly unlike the
doctor to drop anything, especially something that was just given to him.
     “Accidents can happen,” Chip remarked, but without any real
conviction. “Check around this area and see if you can find any other
tracks or clues. I’m going to check with the doctor real quick. He may
have been burglarized.”
     Zipper nodded and began circling out from the spot they found the
folder in a slow search, while Chip sprinted up to the building, quickly
ducking inside and racing down to the office of the mouse psychiatrist. In
reality, Chip was remembering the adage, “Plan for the worst, hope for
the best, and take what comes”, and trying to follow it -- in particular, the
first part.
     “Dr. Speck?” Chip loudly knocked on the closed door. A door
which shouldn’t be closed. Dr. Speck was always in his office by this
time. Chip debated the merits of breaking in versus having to explain it to
the doctor when everything turned out to be fine, then opted to risk
looking like a fool. He wasn’t the locksmith that either Zipper or Gadget
was, but knew enough that he managed to spring the simple lock within a
few minutes.
     Chip gently pushed the door open, half-expecting to see that the
office was ransacked.
     It wasn’t, to his great relief, meaning that everything might still
turn out okay after all. Deep down, he didn’t believe it for a minute, but
it was a nice facade for the time being.
     He walked into the office, his mind automatically gathering clues
and possible leads. From the looks of things, though, it didn't appear
that anything was out of order. Dr. Speck kept a very tidy office, and
nothing seemed to be amiss from what Chip could tell.
     The desk was neat and proper, with a blotter, pen, pad of paper, 
and a photo. Chip blinked as he noticed that the photo was of a professional 
portrait studio shot of an attractive female mouse, signed, "To my dearest 
Herman -- age cannot break the bond we share."
     Chip had thought the reason they hadn't seen that much of the doctor 
was due to the proposed center he was heading up; now, it seemed that the 
good doctor might have been hard to get a hold of for entirely different 
reasons. Chip had to chuckle over the signature, as well; Dr. Speck (a.k.a. 
Herman), had been out of the dating pool so long that it was easy to 
envision him getting cold feet about letting anyone know about a 
September-May romance.
     He checked about a bit more, then left, closing the door behind him 
before moving back out to the field to catch up with Zipper.
     “Anything?” he called out as he jogged down towards his
teammate.
     Zipper glanced up and shook his head. He flitted over to Chip and
explained that the grass was too short to really leave any trail, so it was
nearly impossible to pick up any kind of tracks.
     Chip grimaced and stroked his chin. “His office was locked. I
managed to pick it and take a quick look inside. No sign of burglary or
anything.”
     Theories? Zipper’s raised eyebrow prompted.
     “Well,” Chip glanced back to the building, rubbing the back of his
neck, then returned his gaze to the field before them. “My best guess is
that the doctor was leaving for the night. No sign of his hat or coat inside,
and the door was locked. He must have been carrying this report with
him and just... dropped it.”
     They both frowned. The only thing that would have caused Dr.
Speck to drop the report would have been some type of intrusion, like a
mugging.
     Or a cat.
     “No signs of anything?” Chip asked again. “Not even a larger
animal?”
     Zipper shook his head.
     Well, Chip thought, it didn’t have to be a cat.
     He cast his gaze around the nearby trees. A bird such as an owl or
hawk may have been just as responsible.
     Chip wasn’t too keen on speculating over the doctor’s
disappearance in such a detached manner, particularly if it really was a
predator’s fault, but it was the only way to consider all the possibilities
fairly.
     “Let’s get back to the tree,” Chip finally stated, a tad unsettled.
“That hole can wait until we find out more about the doctor. With any
luck, he just didn’t feel well today and is at his home, today. Wait--”
Chip realized that the doctor’s home was closer by. They could reach it
easily from here, especially with the Ranger Plane they had flown over in.
“Let’s stop by the doc’s house first. Maybe we can keep from
embarrassing ourselves in front of the others, then.”
     Zipper gave a half-hearted smirk as they headed back to the
transport; it wasn’t much, but it was all he muster.

*     *     *

     Now Chip and Zipper’s worry gauges were synced, and spiking.
     Dr. Speck’s simple house was empty as well. And locked; Zipper
had to spring the locks again for them to get in. Fortunately, Dr. Speck
lived in a secluded area, so nobody would think that they were breaking
in. Unfortunately, the doctor wasn’t home.
     They didn’t spend too much time at the house, as it was starting to
get more and more disconcerting as the possibility that their long-time
friend may have died sometime last night. It was a cold, hard fact of
rodent life, they knew, but the acceptance of the possibility never made it
that much easier to deal with when it actually hit home.
     “No sign of ‘im?” Monterey asked.
     “None,” Chip sighed, having related his and Zipper’s morning
discovery to the others upon their return.
     “Golly,” Gadget said quietly, thinking of Dr. Speck. “I sure hope he
was just taking a vacation or something.”
     “Yeah,” Dale added. “So far, the worst thing to happen on the day
after Thanksgiving has been all those corny ads for ‘Rudolph’s
Shameful New Year’. I’d like for it to stay that way.”
     “But where do we go from here?” Gadget asked. “I mean, it’s not
like we have any way to track him.” In her mind, Gadget’s innovative
self was secretly starting to manufacture plans for embedding some type
of homing tracer in each of the Rangers; the skull would probably be the
best place, since dismemberment was always a possibility in the world of
those occupying the bottom of the food chain.
     Chip took a deep breath before answering Gadget’s question. “To
the only creature in Stones City who somehow knows something about
everything.”
     The rest of the Rangers flinched. Dale voiced their collective
thoughts.
     “Oh nuts, you mean...?”
     “Yep.” Chip nodded crisply. “Sewer Al.”
     Dale groaned. “Man, last night was the best Thanksgiving I ever
had, and now I get to kick off the next morning by touring the sewer
system. What’s wrong with this picture?”
     Chip smiled. “Hey, it’s for Dr. Speck, Dale. I think he deserves
every chance we can cobble together in order to save him.” Assuming
he’s still alive, Chip added mentally with a twitch.
     “Okay, let’s get this visit over with,” Dale grumbled. He glanced
over at Zipper. “Might as well head off in the right frame of mind, so,
Zipper...?”
     Zipper saluted, managed a smile, and trumpeted out a charge call.
     “Rescue Rangers, Away!” the group chorused as they ran off to the
Ranger Wing, the rallying cry that had served them so well over the years
still managing to boost their spirits a bit.
     The flight over, on the other hand, was quiet. The lack of any other
viable clues made conversation about the case pointless, and chatting
about last night’s dinner seemed inappropriate. Dale hummed a few
melodies to himself, while Monterey watched the city as they flew over it.
If anything, this new case only strengthened his resolve to try and track
down the rest of his old adventuring group. Touch base, at least once,
while he was still able. He’d have to talk to Janice more about it later.
     They landed the Ranger Wing outside one of the secluded sewer
grates, one which also was close to the lair already, saving them some
legwork within the uneasy darkness below. As they filed into the maw of
the city’s refuse canals, Dale was glad Foxglove wasn’t here this time
around. This place gave everyone the creeps, but her acute senses only
served to amplify it for her. It wouldn’t be so bad if they could swoop in
with the Ranger Plane or Wing, but Dale knew by now that any undue
noise would attract way too much attention, especially in the
less-than-friendly areas of the sewer that they had to traverse in order to
reach Sewer Al’s lair.
     They took their standard marching order for this mission, with
Gadget leading the way, her bright miner’s helmet light illuminating the
ledge leading to the reptilian informant’s subway car home. Chip and
Dale flanked her, ready with the highly-charged penlights used as
deterrents to attackers, while Monterey and Zipper kept an eye out for
anything behind them, or in the murky water over the edge. They walked
in the oppressing grip of unnerving silence until a beacon of light cut
through the darkness ahead of them, signaling Sewer Al’s home.
     The Rescue Rangers had made this exact same journey numerous
times before, and each time, they half-expected something to leap out
from the shadows or erupt from the black waters, catching them all
off-guard in a fatal instant. But all of those imaginary fears were humbled
in the sheer astonishing sight before their eyes as they rounded the corner
to Sewer Al’s lair.
     In her vastly impressive vocabulary, the only thing which Gadget
could dredge up was, “Oh... my... God....”
     It fit the scene rather well, regardless.
     Something akin to a tornado had ripped through the cavernous
dwelling. The sides of the subway car itself were badly dented, and in
some cases, torn clean through. Disturbing marks that may have been
made by claws or even teeth crisscrossed the entire floor, while chucks of
old and crumbly concrete were strewn about the pillars and walls, the
holes left behind glaring hideously white from the powered remains still
within. The lights were still on, allowing every single gouged surface and
destroyed piece of masonry to be viewed with sickening clarity.
     In this case, the Rangers would have welcomed the shadows to
come and hide the sights before them.
     “What happened here?” Monterey finally managed to say in a
hoarse whisper, breaking the trance surrounding them.
     Chip ran forward without a word, bounding up through the subway
car’s open door in an instant. The rest of the Rangers were still too
dazed to yell after him, let alone follow. A moment later, he popped back
through, shaking slightly.
     “No sign of Sewer Al,” he panted, having made one of the fastest
visual searches in his life. “The computer is still on, and there was a book
on the easy chair, with a bookmark still in it. Looks like it was set down
there, rather than knocked off when one of the bookcases was toppled
over.”
     “But...” Dale started, beginning to regain the use of his vocal
chords. “But what could have happened here, Chipper?” he asked in a
whisper.
     And, Zipper’s nervous squeaks added, what if it’s still around?
     Never before had the silence of the sewer chilled them more.
     “I don’t think so,” Chip finally answered. He had no clue, of
course, but if they ran now -- like he knew they all wanted to, himself
included -- they might never have another chance to examine the scene
for any signs of what transpired.
     Gadget rested a hand against her chest, feeling her heart rate slowly
return to a semi-normal rate. “We look for clues?” she asked, more as
something to ward off the lingering fear rather than anything else.
     “Right.” Chip nodded to Monterey. “Monty, you and Zipper check
the perimeter; watch your backs, just in case.”
     “Bloody right we will,” Monterey grumbled as headed off to the
back of the cavern with Zipper.
     “Dale, you and Gadget take a look around right outside of the car,
here, for anything. I’ll see what else I can find in the car. Stay close
together. Please.”
     In the back of his mind, Chip remembered a time not too long ago
when he would have worked to keep Dale and Gadget apart; it was
enough to crack a humorless smile on his face as he started a thorough
examination of the insides of the Sewer Al’s trashed home.
     Several minutes, later, Chip was roused from his investigation by
Dale’s call.
     “Hey, Chip? Chip! C’mere!”
     Chip’s natural abilities had him up and through the nearest hole in
the wall before Dale finished his yell. He spotted his best friend off to the
side; Gadget was a few inches away, studying one of the gouges in the
cement floor with a small loupe that she carried (along with her parachute
and gauze wrappings, all part of her emergency pack).
     Hopping down and over to Dale’s position, Chip glanced down to
where Dale was frowning at.
     “Oh boy,” Chip merely stated flatly.
     “Yeah,” Dale grunted. “No joke.”
     A pair of broken spectacles was lying in a crumbled heap, its wire
frames almost twisted beyond recognition.
     “Doesn’t look like Sewer Al took them off willingly, either, huh?”
Dale observed.
     Chip just gulped. He turned to Gadget. “Gadget? Any idea what
some of these marks are?”
     “Well, yes and no,” she replied, her own voice a bit more steady
now that was using her brain for some research. “A few of them are from
Sewer Al. At least, I’m pretty sure -- they look to be from a large reptile,
and some of them match the older claw markings where... whatever went
on here didn’t spill over onto. Those older markings are from Sewer
Al’s foot claws as he walked back and forth.” She pointed to a set of
scratches a few inches away. “That set right there are the same pattern,
but the gouges are deeper, and too long to be from walking.” She
shuddered. “More like he was trying to keep from being pushed back.”
     “Pushed back?” Dale asked, incredulous. “What could match
Sewer Al for power around here?”
     Gadget swallowed. “That’s what I don’t know. The other set of
claw marks are from something I’m not familiar with, but I don’t think
it’s another alligator, or that there was more than one attacker.” She
turned to the chipmunks, a looming fear just behind her features.
“Something was fighting Sewer Al here. Something very big. And
something very strong.”
     Dale shivered, then turned to Chip. “Okay, Mr. Detective, you tell
me; who would want to pick a fight with Sewer Al? I mean, everyone has
worked with him in some way in the past, right? Even Fatty and his
lackeys have, as well as us!”
     “I know, Dale!’ Chip snapped. He pulled his hat off and ran a
shaky hand over his brow. He realized he was sweating. “I found a few
scraps of Sewer Al’s sweater around those holes in the wall, but no
signs of blood.”
     They all jumped as the sound of running footsteps drew close, then
relaxed as they saw Monterey and Zipper heading over to them.
     “Well?” Chip asked.
     “I think we found out how the fight ended,” Monterey replied.
     “Please don’t tell me you found a body,” Dale squeaked out. It
was cool when it happened in monster movies. Not when the monster
might be standing right behind you.
     Monterey actually laughed, apparently a bit relieved. He pointed
back down the way he and Zipper had come. “Nah, mate, jus’ a trail of
fresh claw marks. One set, from the looks of it. Similar to the crocs back
down under, so I’m figurin’ it’s Sewer Al.”
     “Using deduction, eh, Monty?” Chip couldn’t but smile at that.
     “Don’t rub it in, mate,” Monterey gruffly responded, but in a
good-natured manner. “Anyway, the trail ends at a sewer flowin’ on
deeper into the city. Zipper an’ me found some dried sewage up around
the lip--”
     “Which would have gotten up there if Sewer Al dove into the water
to escape,” Chip nodded, finishing Monterey’s sentence.
     “Too right, mate. I’m bettin’ ol’ Al is still alive and well, just
felt a bit outmatched, is all, and decided to regroup.”
     “Hold it,” Dale suddenly said. “Time out, stop the clock, hit
pause... doesn’t anyone else think it’s a bad thing that Sewer Al, of all
people, felt *outmatched*?! I mean, c’mon! There ain’t nobody from
this city that could top Sewer Al!”
     “Well,” Monterey said, twisting his moustache thoughtfully,
“Sewer Al is a tough customer, but he *is* up there in years. And I doubt
he’s had a real serious dust-up like this anytime recently before, so he
might have just been out of shape.”
     “Regardless, Monty,” Gadget said, “Sewer Al just doesn’t take a
beating like this. Especially if whoever was responsible also damaged his
books.,”
     “Gadget’s right,” Chip affirmed. “Whatever the heck that drove
Sewer Al out of here must have been more than just his equal. It had to
be something that was so monstrous as to force him to abandon his entire
collection of books. And that’s something that I never thought
possible.”
     “You’re doing wonders calming my nerves, Chip,” Dale glumly
pointed out.
     Chip didn’t bother to deny it. Instead, he racked his brains a bit to
try and piece it all together. “Okay,” he said, thinking out loud, “things
are fitting together here a bit. Gadget said it would have to have been
something big, and she didn’t think it was another alligator.”
     Gadget nodded.
     “That supports Monty’s find of only one set of tracks leading to
the water. Apparently whatever was here either couldn’t swim, or
wasn’t as good a swimmer as Sewer Al.”
     “Or jus’ didn’t want to swim through raw sewage,” Monterey
added.
     “But why attack him in the first place?” Dale brought up. “I mean,
it’s not even like Sewer Al is someone that’s part of the animal
underworld. Like, I can see someone just roughin’ up Bubbles or
Capone out of the blue to get them outta the way, or maybe send a
warning or something. But why Sewer Al?”
     “Well, let’s think it through,” Chip replied. “What is it that Sewer
has that others would want?”
     “Books?” Gadget offered, although it didn’t seem to make sense.
     Chip shook his head. “No, it doesn’t seem to fit. There were still a
lot of books back there. I can’t say for sure, of course, but I bet a lot
would be missing if that was the motive. After Sewer Al left, whatever
attacked him could loot the place for as long as he wanted. No, it would
have to be something else.”
     Zipper snapped his fingers. “Information,” he voiced.
     “Exactly what I was thinking,” Chip agreed. “It might have been an
information deal gone bad. And for the first time I can think of, the
buyer/seller must have tried to intimate Sewer Al. Sewer Al called the
bluff, only to find it wasn’t a bluff, and chaos ensued.”
     Chip turned and walked back over to the subway car, the others
following him.
     “The computer was on, and the door was open,” he continued,
talking to himself more than the others. “Not by force, either. It was
opened from within. The book was still lying on the easy chair, with a
bookmark in it.” He paused, squinting one eye in thought while
surveying the scene with his open one. The rest of the Rangers remained
quiet; watching Chip when he was on a roll was somewhat hypnotizing.
     “That tells me,” Chip explained, “that Sewer Al didn’t plan this
meeting. It’s more likely he was interrupted. He was on the web, surfing
a bit and reading at the same time.” He laughed quietly. “No doubt to
compensate for the slow modem connection he has. So he’s sitting
there, working on the computer, and he hears a knock on the door, or
someone calls to him from outside. Or something similar. Anyway, he
gets up from the computer, not bothering to turn it off or anything. After
all, this is probably just some low-level crony for the Twins or Fat Cat
looking for an info trade. He sets his book down as he heads to the door
and opens it, then steps up to negotiate with the visitor.”
     Chip turned to the area where the battle had taken place, as if he
could see back in time and watch the actual proceedings. “The deal goes
bad. Considering Sewer Al prides himself on somewhat fair deals, my
money’s that the visitor was the one trying to pull a fast one. The visitor
makes a threat of violence. Sewer Al calls him on it. And... BOOM!”
Chip slammed his hand in his fist, causing the others to jump. “The
visitor is on him in a heartbeat. Right there, I’ll bet.” he pointed to the
spot where Dale found the broken glasses.
     “The fight lasted for a minute or so. Little blood was spilled, if any,
but no doubt a lot of bruising took place between the two. The intensity
of the fight tore them through the subway car, then back out here into the
open.” Chip traced the proposed pattern with his finger. “At some point
they were back out in the open, and Sewer Al must have decided to
withdraw. His books were damaged, but so was he, and if he wanted to
make sure he was healthy enough to exact revenge, he’d have to ditch
now.”
     Chip turned and started heading down the trail Monterey had
pointed out. His fellow Rangers were right behind him, his decisive tone
bringing the whole scene alive in their minds.
     “He stuns his opponent, then makes a break for it across the
pavement here, and dives into the sewer. He knows these underground
passages like the passages from his favorite novels, so he’s probably
nursing his wounds and plotting vengeance in some haven right now.” he
chuckled a bit, coming to a halt halfway to the water’s edge. “Sewer Al
having left, the attacker, probably in pain himself, heads off as well. No
sense in hanging around anymore, after all.”
     He breathed deep, and felt a sudden feeling of satisfaction, like he
always did when he figured out a mystery novel before the last chapter.
     He turned back to his friends, smiling. “Not bad, huh?”
     Zipper chuckled and shook his head. “Not bad at all,” he
enunciated.
     Dale nodded thoughtfully with Monterey, while Gadget’s eyes
shone with something Chip didn’t recognize. Zipper, on the other hand,
could read it clearly: A proud “That’s my Chip....”
     The leader of the Rangers paused suddenly, and pressed a finger to
his lips. No one had been talking, but Zipper quickly settled on
Monterey’s shoulder in order to avoid making any excess buzzing.
     Gadget’s inquisitive stare asked what it was, and Chip waited a
moment before replying. “I feel a draft,” he said at length.
     The others blinked.
     “So?” Dale bluntly asked.
     “This isn’t a sewer draft,” Chip answered, then looked around.
“It’s fresh air. No, wait -- it’s more... earthen. Like dirt. But not stale.
Like it’s been freshly dug.”
     He licked the front of his paw and lifted it up, turning it until he
caught a faint coolness from the delicate breeze, emanating from the side.
The enshrouding shadows prevented them from seeing the source, so
Chip led them over towards the source until Gadget’s light could spot it,
at the base of one of the weakened walls. Everyone stumbled back as that
underlying feeling of terror welled up and burst forth yet again.
     The breeze was coming from a large hole in the wall.
     A hole that was almost a dead ringer for the same one that was at
the base of their tree.
     “Let’s get of here,” Dale fiercely whispered, “let’s get out of
here....”
     He turned and bolted, the others hot on his heels. They ran all the
way back to the Ranger Wing, but the adrenaline was still pumping
through their veins long after they took off.

*     *     *

     “What the heck is going on?!” Dale yelled as they raced back to the
tree. “I mean what the *heck* is goin’ on?!”
     “Take it easy, Dale!” Chip shouted, his nerves already shot.
     “Take it easy?” Dale practically screamed. “Something popped
onto Sewer Al’s home turf and slapped him around, and it was the same
thing that came calling to our place just this morning, and you tell me to
take it easy?! Well I--”
     Chip pivoted in the front seat and leaned over to hit Dale’s reset
button. Or, in layman’s terms, he bonked Dale on the head. Repeatedly.
     Sure enough, Dale looked confused at first, then breathed a bit
easier and nodded to his best friend. “Thanks. I needed that.”
     “Anytime,” Chip reassured his buddy.
     “Waltzin’ Matildas, but this is sure gettin’ weird fast!” Monterey
piped up. “All that’s missin’ is for there have been a huge hole around
Dr. Speck’s place and we could all be guest stars on ‘The Twilight
Zone’.”
     “Golly!” Gadget exclaimed. “I forgot all about him! What are we
going to do, now? Sewer Al was the only person who might have some
leads on the doctor, and now there’s no telling where Sewer Al retreated
to.”
     “Let’s just get back to the tree, first,” Chip said slowly, his eyes
closed and hands clasped over his snout as if in prayer. “I’ve had too
many shocks to the system today.”
     Gadget expertly piloted the Ranger Wing back towards the park,
still concerned more about Dr. Speck than those holes. True, the holes
were incredibly strange, but all the same, the welfare of a friend always
came first for her. If Dr. Speck was out there, she was positive they’d
find him. It wasn’t a question of if, strictly a matter of when.
     As they soared over the park and began their descent, she blinked
and spoke up.
     “Hey guys, check it out. Something’s going on down by that
hole.”
     The rest of the group leaned over while she switched the Wing to
hover mode. Down below, in front of the tree, they could see a couple of
officers talking with one of the park’s landscapers.
     “Well, if it’s a prank,” Chip said, “then I guess the police would
have to be notified.”
     “Oh get real, Chip,” Dale snorted. “Why would the police have to
actually come out here and see it when they can just ask the landscapers.
I’m telling you, this hole is part of something big!”
     “The hole *is* somethin’ big,” Monterey corrected him.
     “Dale, will you please quit blowing things out of proportion?” Chip
asked sternly. “You need to cut back on your television again, it sounds
like.”
     “You’re just jealous because I’m learning more about things like
casino tech and prison tech and mummies from China and so now I’m
starting to threaten your crown at Trivial Pursuit,” Dale returned smugly.
     Zipper whistled loudly to break them up before the discussion really
got irritating, and signaled that he’d just fly down and find out.
     “Good thinkin’ mate,” Monterey nodded. “I’d rather not risk
landin’ this puppy when there’s a bunch o’ humans right under our
landing strip.”
     Zipper saluted briskly and took off while Gadget maneuvered the
Wing to a better vantage point. She aligned the Wing with the sun, so
should the humans glance up at them, the sunlight in their eyes would
prevent the Wing from being seen.
     Down below, Zipper had no problems sailing in close, and even
went as far as to land on the top of Muldoon’s cap, touching down
before any of the humans even so much as heard the fly.
     “--some kids, no doubt,” the landscaper was saying.
     “And no idea when it happened?” Kirby asked.
     “No, just that we found it when the early morning shift came in to
start on the weeds, around five thirty, or so. Huh. And I thought it
wasn’t until New Year’s that all the pranks were supposed to happen.”
     “Well, this isn’t the only place that was hit,” Muldoon mentioned.
     “Really?”
     “Yep,” Kirby nodded. “Listen, just for the record, you guys
haven’t seen anything like this recently, have you?”
     Zipper could see the officer pull a picture from his breast pocket
and show it to the landscaper, but Zipper’s angle of vision didn’t
afford him a view of what the photo depicted.
     The landscaper blinked and shook his head. “No. And I’m positive
that if any of the guys had seen *that*, they would have told me.”
     Kirby frowned and nodded as he tucked the photograph away.
“Okay, well, keep your eyes open. It was reported missing from the
Malek Research Center earlier this week. We’re pretty sure it made this
hole, too, but we don’t know who’s controlling it.”
     “Controlling it?” the landscaper echoed.
     “Well, something broke it out of it’s cage,” Muldoon shrugged.
“It didn’t get out by itself.”
     “Besides,” Kirby noted, “my partner and I had seen this kind of
thing before. Training animals to steal, or controlling them somehow.”
     “Anyway,” Muldoon said, “thanks for the information. We’ll be
in touch if we have any questions.”
     The landscaper nodded politely and left, at which point Muldoon
turned to his partner. “You still don’t think that fruitcake Nimnul has
something to do with this?”
     “Hey man, we checked, remember?” Kirby replied. “And aside
from that minor incident of loose lab rats at a four-star restaurant,
Nimnul’s been a good boy this time around.”
     “Yeah, I just think he’s saving up for something big,” Muldoon
grumbled as they started to walk back to their squad car. “Maybe we
should just drop by his place, though. Be on the safe side. He’s been a
bad egg from the word go, and this case is weird enough to be right up
his alley.”
     “Yeah, point,” Kirby nodded thoughtfully. “Let’s talk with
Spinelli when we get back to the station, then. We’ll have to head out
later in the shift though, after we get this report filed and call the guys at
Malek.”
     Zipper inconspicuously detached from Muldoon’s cap and flew
back a bit, digesting all he had heard. Nimnul? Malek? It was possible --
and likely -- that some of these leads might be a red herring, and sad to
say, none of them had anything to do with directly leading the Rangers
closer to finding out what happened to Dr. Speck. Nevertheless, the leads
might point them to Sewer Al, who, in turn, might have some viable
information on what happened to the doctor. Again, no guarantee that the
gator would, but it was their best shot to find the missing mouse.
     In the meantime, the Rangers in the Wing had witnessed the cops
depart, and thus had  landed safely back at the tree, and were already
inside when Zipper returned to share the news. Their reactions mirrored
the fly’s own.
     “Nimnul?” Monterey sighed.
     “Malek?” Gadget asked brightly. She knew about that place.
     “You heard of it?” Chip asked.
     She nodded. “I read about them in a recent article. They do a lot of
work with animals, but have had a good reputation for their treatment
procedures. Also work a lot with some of the new technology that’s
come out for industrial-styled computers.”
     The Rangers had converged within the kitchen, Chip and Gadget
sitting down at the table to share a pitcher of apple juice, while Dale and
Zipper munched on some leftover stuffing and Monterey noshed
contently on a hunk of Edam cheese.
     “So where do we go from here?” Monterey asked in general.
     “Well, it seems that the police are following up on the Nimnul
lead,” Chip mused, “but we might want to double-check it ourselves.
Nimnul was here once before, after all. I doubt in the rush of events that
brought him here, though, that he would actually remember the exact
location. Still, better safe than sorry, and it would explain why there was a
hole outside of our place this morning.”
     “Yeah, but what about Sewer Al’s?” Dale said around his
mouthful. “Since when has Nimnul ever trucked with the denizens of the
city bowels?”
     Gadget shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, Dale. He knows animals
have an intelligence all their own. Maybe he’s started dealing with them
in such a manner.”
     “Seems fishy, though, luv,” Monterey commented, to which Zipper
nodded.
     “I’m actually with Monty on this one,” Chip admitted. “Nimnul
likes to be up and frontal with his attacks. This place would probably be a
pile of ashes if he remembered where it was and decided to take revenge.
Nevertheless, we can head over there with the police. They’ll be able to
lift the heavier objects, while we secretly support them by checking the
nooks and crannies. That way, if we come across something, we can just
pop it out in front of the officers and have Nimnul arrested on the spot.”
     “Sounds cool,” Dale nodded. “Maybe Nimnul is the guy who broke
that thing out of the research place in the first place, too. So like, maybe
the thing’ll still be around, and we can find out if it knows where Sewer
Al.”
     “Well, mate, if it did, it probably would’ve hunted down the gator
and try and squeeze out whatever info it was after in the first place,”
Monterey chuckled a bit wryly.
     So what do we do until then? Zipper’s posture asked.
     “What about checkin’ with any of the animals in the park,”
Monterey suggested, “to see if any of them saw the blighter than was
here this mornin’?”
     Chip nodded to Monterey, remembering their conversation earlier
in the day. “Good point, Monty.”
     “Good. Foxy said she’d be stopping by this afternoon, and I
wanted to be here, rather than have to leave a note,” Dale said with a
smile. “We get worried when the other doesn’t show or isn’t around
when they said they’d be.”
     “Meaningful relationships are like that,” Monterey grinned as he
nudged Dale good-naturedly, who chuckled and nodded in response.
     “Zipper, you come with me to the station,” Chip ordered as he
stood up. “We can keep an eye on the officers until they’re ready to
move. Zipper will notify you guys before they do, and then you can fly
the Ranger Wing over to pick me up before we head out to Nimnul’s
place.
     “In the meantime, interview the other animals in the park. I would
guess that the birds are the earliest risers, so try to concentrate on them
first.”
     “Golly, how long do you think we have?” Gadget asked.
     “Well, the cops need to talk with Spinelli, first, and if I know
Muldoon and Kirby, they’ll take a lunch break before driving out there.
Dale? When is Foxglove supposed to be here?”
     Dale thought for a minute. “She didn’t say when, exactly. She’s
sleeping right now, so I guess it wouldn’t be for another few hours at
least. I’d guess she’ll be here before the cops leave.” He shrugged.
     “Sounds about right,” Chip said, then finished off his cup of juice.
“Okay, while Zipper and I are at the station we’ll dig through the files a
bit, and see what we can find out.”
     “So Monty, Dale, and I should all be back here in a couple of
hours?” Gadget inquired, making sure she had the plans down. “And
then Zipper will let us know when it’s time to move?”
     “Right, luv,” Monterey nodded, putting the rest of the cheese away.
“Let’s get movin’, then. There’s a fair amount of trees to climb to
reach all of the birds within view of the tree.”
     The Rangers adjourned their relaxed meeting, Chip and Zipper
heading out towards the station while that rest started their own legwork
deeper into the park.
     Outside of the kitchen window, a piece of the tree detached itself
and hurried up along the truck until it reached the uppermost branch.
     Down on the grass, Gadget turned around with a start as she
thought she heard something for a moment. It was quick, though, and
over as soon as she had realized she had heard something in the first
place.. Glancing around, she didn’t see anything except some children
playing nearby, so made the logical assumption it was them. She moved
on to check with some the bluebirds she knew, while, far above, a larger
bird flew off into the distance, carrying what seemed to be a piece 
of tree bark.