The Tillamook Escapade
EPILOGUE
Gordon had noticed his partner’s absence at once, but knew he would need some time alone to collect his thoughts before he was ready for any conversation. In good time, he went looking for him. He wasn’t reading or cooking, trying to lose himself in common tasks. He was not on the practice range, trying to bring himself to a zen-like calm. He was not in the exercise room, expelling aggression by lifting weights or on the heavy punching bag. He was not in the hanger, distracting himself with all things mechanical or electronic. But the cool air settling in the hanger told Gordon both where he was and why he was there.
He climbed the steel staircase to the roof of the concealed hanger, and paused to open a small metal cabinet at the top of the stairs. There, he removed a crystal goblet, then he exited through the open roof hatch and saw Gary, gazing at the distant lights of the cities of Lancaster and Palmdale. The sun had already set and only a sickly glimmer of blue-white still colored the sky in the west.
“So, it’s heavy contemplation tonight, eh?” Gordon said, raising his glass. “You brought the bottle with you. Gonna share?”
“Oh, sure.” Gary picked up the bottle of port from its perch on a flat rock and poured Gordon a full glass. Gary’s goblet was still three-quarters full.
“All in all, a pretty successful mission,” Gordon continued. “The cheese is being recalled, the plastic is being taken off the market, and no one got hurt. It was close, but we’re all intact.”
Gary rolled the contents of his glass around the rim, unwittingly doing a good Captain Harlock imitation. “Dr. Goldsmith said the death toll for the L.A. area is at twenty-seven and they think they’ve got it beat. The remaining patients are going to recover, now they’re sure what they’re dealing with.”
Gordon took a sip of the port and watched Gary stare intently at the city lights. “Awright, partner. Spill it. You think it’s starting, don’t you? That big, awful something-or-other you can’t put a name to. You think this is it?”
“It took Chucky three and a half hours just to de-brief us. He thinks something’s starting. You heard the intelligence estimate he had.”
“If left unchecked,” Gordon quoted, “and the plastic had gone into widespread use, the fatality rate could have reached twenty percent among mice alone.”
“Two hundred million deaths, Gordo! The estimates didn’t go that high for a general nuclear exchange in the Eighties. And we don’t have a clue who did it. Or why.”
“Whoever hacked into Di-Tetralene’s production control and planted the revised formula must have left a trail. Chucky’s staff will pick up the scent. Do you think Gadget’s figured it out yet?”
“Of course not. If she had, she’d have been on the phone, screaming. Her mind doesn’t work that way, Gord. She still thinks this is all a terrible accident, not a deliberate attack. And she’d never think animals did it.”
“Are you so sure animals did it?”
“It wasn’t humans. If they’d found a way to put a rodenticide in food that was harmless to humans, they’d heap Nobel Prizes on the inventor. It was surreptious, well crafted, almost unstoppable. It had to be animals.”
“And Gadget stopped the unstoppable. We should at least send her flowers.”
“Thought about that,” Gary admitted with a smile. “She’d have too much explaining to do to her friends. We’ll find something else we can do for her.”
“Do you think Chucky knows about her?”
“Oh, come on! You heard how he avoided any questions about how we discovered the toxin was in the plastic or how we came up with the mercaptin spray. Of course he knows. He’s a virtueless thug but you can’t put anything over on him.”
“I guess if he were upset about her, he would have said something. Maybe we can take her along on other assignments, assuming she can get away.”
“What’s happened, Gordo? I can remember when the Marines were just a drill team. Now they look like they’re ready to storm Iwo Jima. It was just a few years ago that the Los Angeles Police didn’t have a Rodent Division. Just the Rescue Rangers hanging around the station house picking off cases. The mice that lived in the police station were more interested in leftover donuts than crime.”
“That’s easy. There’s a Rodent Division now because the Rescue Rangers inspired others to take action instead of sitting around waiting for something awful to happen. Heck, before the Rangers, it was just Chucky and Stan Kellerman and a few others sneaking around. What we’re seeing is an intervention of the Douglas Principle of Balance in the Mysterious Forces of the Universe. To wit: ‘Super-heroes provide a natural point of balance with super-villians, disasters and menace to innocents.’ Once you have super-heroes, ordinary people become heroes to deal with ordinary trouble and wrongdoing.”
“The Rescue Rangers aren’t super-heroes,” Gary insisted.
“Sure they are. They’re a Five-Team.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No.” Gordon ticked them off on his fingers. “You have Chip, the Hero; Dale, the Hero’s Rival; Monty, the Big Guy; Zipper, the Little Guy; and Gadget as - Ta-Daa - the Girl. A classic Five-Team. They are super-heroes.”
“So if you apply the Douglas principle, all this is their fault?”
“Of course not. They’re a response by the Mysterious Forces of the Universe to the imbalance created by the bad guys. I suppose we are too.”
“If that’s the case, which one of us is the sidekick?”
“We’re a team-up. Like The Dirty Pair. We’re equals.”
Gary turned back towards the lights and and took a stiff pull from his glass. “You think I’m wrong about what’s coming, don’t you?”
“I only thought you were worrying about something on too-thin evidence. I didn’t think you were wrong. Now - after this - I have to admit you were right to worry. Whatever it is, partner, it’s not about to start. It’s already begun.”
“It didn’t used to be like this,” Gary said angrily. “Mass murders, poisonings, the viciousness of it all. And done by animals to other animals. I used to think what we were doing would make things better instead of just holding the line.”
“You want the Disney Afternoon back, partner,” Gordon said. “You want sunlit vistas and sprightly adventure. And it ain’t there anymore. Something did change.”
Gordon now stared out at the distant lights, his voice becoming very soft. “It’s midnight in the Magic Kingdom, now. Chernabog is standing on the Matterhorn calling up the demons. The lights are going out, the villains feel triumph within their grasp and the good guys are on the run. And if we can’t win this one, partner, there won’t be any more Disneyland. There’ll be nothing but a desert with little clusters of broken survivors. A place where every sunset is a curse and every dawn is a fresh damnation.”
“Your philosophizing could suck a bowling ball through a brake line, Gordo.”
“You think I don’t know it?” he said with a wry smile. He tilted his glass in a mocking toast. “Are you gonna drink that whole bottle?”
“Nah. Let’s save it for when it makes a difference.”
They stood there a while, facing the last of the light. They knew that the work to come would be best done in the night.
For these two, it was home.
THE END
COPYRIGHTS AND DISCLAIMERS: Gadget, Chip, Dale, Monterey Jack, Zipper, and the Rescue Rangers are © and T.M. The Walt Disney Company and were employed without permission.
All other characters, locations, equipment and situations are © 2001 by David D. White. Permission to copy and redistribute without charge is granted, provided the work is not altered, edited, hosed with hydrazine, purposefully pummeled with plummeting plastic pellets or otherwise fiddled with.
Unless your name is Hackwrench or Jones, plunging out of the sky on a rubber
raft is not recommended by this writer.
The song "MI-6, K.G.B., U.S.C.I.A." is not entirely original, but
I heard it so long ago I can't recall which continent I was standing on at the
time.
The Oregon United Cheese Co. is entirely fictional and is not meant to refer to the Tillamook County Creamery Association, maker of fine and famous Tillamook Cheese. If you’re a human, enjoy it. If you’re a rodent, stuff yourself with it. There are tours daily and enough cheese in the gift shop to satisfy Monterey Jack (Well, maybe not). Their web site is http://www.tillamookcheese.com/index.html
The Tillamook Naval Air Museum is entirely factual and well worth a visit if you are ever on the Oregon coast. If you do visit, keep an eye on the rafters for movement. If someone’s up there, wave. If you can’t visit in person, visit the TNAM website at http://www.TillamookAir.com/