A Stainless Steel Rat Is Born

Chapter 5

"Wait!" I called after Stinger as he pelted down the road. "Not that way. I've gonna better plan. I worked it out before I was sent up. " He slowed to a halt and thought about this and slowly made up his mind. "You called the shots OK so far. So what we gonna do?" "For openers - leave a trail that they can follow with sniffer robots. This way." We left the road and cut through the grass and down to the nearby stream. It was shallow but cold and I could not suppress a shiver as we waded across. The main highway ran close by and we headed that way. Crouching low as a heavy transporter thundered by. For the moment there was no other traffic in sight.

"Now!" I called out. "Straight up to the road - then right back down walking in your own footprints." Stinger did what he was told, backtracking with me to the stream and into the frigid water again.

"That's smart," he said. "The sniffers find where we went into the water, where we came out - and follow us to the road. Then they think that a groundcar maybe picked us up. So what comes next?" "We go upstream - staying in the water - to the nearest farm. Which happens to be a porcuswine farm..." "No way! I hate them mothers. Got bit by one when I was a kid." "We have no other choice. Anything else we do the fuzz will pick us up at daybreak. I can't say I love the porkers either. But I grew up on a farm and I know how to get along with them. Now let's move before my legs freeze off at the ankles." It was a long, cold slog and I could not stop the trembling once it began. But there was absolutely nothing else to do except push on. My teeth were rattling in my head like castanets before we came to the brook that bubbled down through the fields to join the stream that we were wading in. The stars were beginning to fade; dawn was not too far away.

"This is it," I said. "The stream that we want. That chopped tree is my landmark. Stay right behind me - we're very close now." I reached up and broke off a dead branch that overhung the stream, then led the way. We waded along until we reached a tall, electrified fence that spanned the stream. It could be clearly seen in the growing light. I used the branch to lift the bottom of the fence so Stinger could crawl under; then he did the same for me. As I stood up I heard the familiar rustle of large quills from the oak grove nearby. A large, dark form separated itself from the trees and moved towards us. I grabbed the branch from Stinger and called out softly.

"Sooo-ee, sooo-ee... here swine, swine, swine." There was a bubbling grunt from the boar as it approached. Stinger was muttering under his breath, curses or prayers - or both - as he stood behind me. I called again and the great creature came close. A real beauty, a tonne at least, looking at me with its small red eyes. I stepped forward and raised the branch slowly - and heard Stinger moan behind me. The boar never moved as I poked the stick behind its ear, parted the long quills - and began to scratch its hide industriously.

"What are you doing? It'll kill us!" Stinger wailed.

"Of course not," I said, scratching harder. "Listen to it?" The porcuswine's eyes were half-closed with pleasure and it was burbling happily. "I know these big porkers well. They get vermin under their quills and can't get at them. They love a good scratch. Let me do the other ear - there are nice itchy patches behind the ears - then we can go on." I scratched, the boar moaned happily, and dawn crept up on us. A light came on in the farmhouse and we knelt down behind the porcuswine. The door opened, someone threw out a basin of water, then it closed again. "Let's get to the barn," I said. "This way." The boar grumbled when I stopped scratching, then trotted along behind us, hoping for more, as we skulked across the farm. Which was a good thing since there were plenty more of the spiky porkers on all sides. But they moved aside when the king-pig approached and we proceeded in stately parade to the barn.

"So long, big feller," I said, giving a last good scratch. "Been nice knowing you." Stinger had the barn door open and we slipped inside. We had just slid the bolt again when the heavy wood trembled as our overweight companion leaned against it and snorted.

"You saved my life," Stinger gasped. "I'll never forget that." "Just skill," I said humbly. "After all, you are good with Fists-" "And you're great with pigs!" "I wouldn't have phrased it exactly that way," I muttered. "Now let's get up into the hayloft where it is warm - and where we won't be seen. There is a long day ahead of us and I want to spend as much of it as I can sleeping. " It had been quite a night. I burrowed into the hay, sneezed twice as the dust got into my nose - then must have fallen instantly asleep.

The next thing I knew Stinger was shaking me by the shoulder and sunlight was streaming between the boards in the wall. "Cops is here," he whispered.

I blinked the sleep from my eyes and looked through the crack. A green and white police floater was hovering outside the farmhouse door and two uniformed pug-uglies were showing a sheet to the farmer. He shook his head and his voice was clear above the farmyard sounds.

"Nope. Never seen neither of them. Never seen a soul in a week if you want to know. Fact is, kind of nice to talk to you fellers. These guys really look nasty, criminals you say..." "Pops, we ain't got all day. If you didn't see them they could still be hiding on your farm. Maybe in your barn?" "No way they could do that. Them's porcuswine out there. Most ornery critters in creation." "We still got to look. Orders are to search every building in the vicinity." The policemen started our way and there was a screech like an insane siren and the thud of sharp hooves. Around the corner of the barn - quills rattling with anger - came our friend of the night before. He charged and the police dived for their floater. The angry boar crashed into it, sending it rocking across the yard with a great dent in its side. The farmer nodded happily.

"Told you weren't no one in the barn. Little Larry here, he don't cotton onto strangers. But drop by anytime you're in the neighborhood, fellers..." He had to shout the last words because the floater was heading west with Little Larry in snorting pursuit.

"Now that is what I call beautiful," Stinger said, awe in his voice. I nodded silent agreement. Even the dullest of lives contain moments of pure glory.

Enough fun; time to work. I chewed on a straw and stretched out on the warm hay. "Porcuswine are nice when you know them." "The police don't seem to think so," he said.

"Guess not. That was the best thing I ever saw. I don't exactly get along with the police." "Who does? What you got sent up for, Jimmy?" "Bank robbery. Did you ever hold up a bank?" He whistled appreciation and shook his head no. "Not my style. I wouldn't know what to do first. Mudsluggings my style. Ain't been beat in nine years." "Knocking around the way you do you must meet a lot of people. Did you ever meet Smelly Schmuck?" I extemporized rapidly. "He and I did some banks in Graham State." "Never met him. Never even heard of him. You're the first bank robber I ever met." "Really? Well, I guess there aren't that many of us these days. But you must know some safecrackers. Or groundcar thieves?" All I got for my efforts was another shake of the head. "The only time I ever meet guys like you is in jail. I know some gamblers; they go around the mudslugging fights. But they're all two-buckers, losers. I did know one once who swore he knew The Bishop, long time ago." "The Bishop?" I said, blinking rapidly, trying to sum up what little I knew of the ecclesiastical hierarchy. "I don't go to church much these days..." "Not that kind of bishop. I mean The Bishop, the geezer used to clean out banks and things. Thought you would have heard of him." "Before my time, I guess." "Before everyone's time. This was years ago. Cops never got him, I hear. This two-bucker bragged he knew The Bishop, said that he had retired and was lying low. He must of been lying, two-bucker like him." Stinger knew no more than this and I hesitated to pump him too hard. Our conversation died away and we both dozed on and off until dark. We were thirsty and hungry, but knew that we had to remain undercover during daylight. I chewed on my straw and tried not to think of large beers and bottles of cold water, but thought about The Bishop instead. It was a thin lead, but was all that I had. By the time the sun went down I was hungry and thirsty and thoroughly depressed. My prison escapade had turned out to be a dangerous fiasco. Jails were for losers-that's about all I had found out. And in order to discover this fact I had risked life and limb. Never again. I took a silent oath to stay away from prison and the minions of the law in the future. Good criminals don't get caught. Like The Bishop, whoever he might be.

When the last trace of light was gone from the sky we eased the barn door open. A bubbling grunt reached our ears and a great form blocked our exit. Stinger gasped and I grabbed him before he could flee.

"Grab a stick and make yourself useful," I said. "I'll teach you a new skill." So we scratched like crazy under the creature's quills while it grunted with pleasure. Trotting behind us like a pet dog when we finally left. "We got a friend for life," I said as we slipped out the gate and I waved goodbye to our porcine pal.

"Those kind of friends I can live without forever. You figure out what we do next?" "Absolutely. Advance planning, that's my middle name. There is a siding down this way where they transship from the linears to trucks. We stay away from it because the police are sure to be there. But all the trucks take the same road to the highway where there is a traffic control light. They have to stop until the highway computers see them and let them on. We go there-" "And break into the back of one of the trucks!" "You're learning. Only we get one in the right lane going west. Otherwise we end up back in the fine city of Pearly Gates and right after that in the prison we worked so hard to get out of." "Lead the way, Jim. You are the brainiest kid I ever met. You're going to go far." That was my expressed wish and I nodded quick agreement. I was just sorry that he wasn't going too. But I didn't want to live with some far-off yokel's life on my conscience - as much as he might deserve a little agro. But Stinger planned far more than that. I could not be party to a killing.

We found the road and waited in the bushes beside it. Two trucks rumbled up together - with the lights of another one following. We stayed out of sight. First one, then the second pulled out and headed east. When the third slowed down to stop for his turn, lights came on. West!

We ran, I was fumbling with the locking bar when Stinger shouldered me aside. He hauled down and the door swung open. The truck started forward and he pushed me up into it. He had to run as it started its turn - but grabbed the sill and pulled himself up with a single heave of those mighty arms. Between us we got the door closed but not sealed.

"We done it!" he said triumphantly.

"We certainly did. This truck is going in the right direction for you - but I have to get back to Pearly Gates as soon as the heat dies down. In about an hour well be passing through Biliville. I'll leave you there." It was a quick trip. I swung down at the first stop for a light and he gripped my hand. "Good luck, kid," he called out as the truck pulled away. I couldn't wish him the same.

I dug out a buck coin as the truck rumbled way. And made a mental note of its registration number. As soon as it was out of sight I headed towards the lights of a phonebox. I felt like a rat as I punched the buttons for the police.

But, really, I had no choice.