A Surprise
"Now I know how Black feels," Gold grumbled, limping to the table and sitting down.
"At least yours will heal," Blue said.
Silver Rat came up next to them. "How's things in Rat Town, Blue?" he asked. "I ain't been there for a long time."
"No complaints from any of the Jews," Blue replied. "Rat Town" was their nickname for a vast city they had constructed above ground for the refugees to live in. It was beyond sight and reach of Inspector Dobermann and the Nazis, but all it took the rats [sic] to get there was a fifteen-minute busride. After each camp raid, the Jewish mice, rats hamsters, gerbils, and others were brought to Rat Town. There was food and housing for everyone, and the city was a huge success. Usually the first question the Jews asked after being rescued was, in a hopeful tone, "Are we going to Rat Town?"
To the Jewish, the Trench Rats had become a legend. The captives told stories of "red-eyed animals on big birds" that swooped out of the sky at night and saved them, bombarding the Nazis who ran the camps. Every little boy rat wished to become a Trench Rat, and all of the others just imagined.
But back to the present.
"Where's D-Day?" Silver asked.
Gold scanned his surroundings. "I don't know. I'll go see." He got up and exited. Blue followed.
Entering Headquarters, Gold saw a frightening sight. Purple and Black were struggling to hold D-Day down, while Burgundy rummaged along a medicine shelf.
"What the heck's going on?" he asked.
"Gold! Come here!" Black shouted. Gold ran to them and took hold of D-Day's arm. D-Day was trembling violently and chattering with an awful clicking sound. His eyes stared ahead vacantly, the pupils dilated drastically.
"It must have been the gas," Black said loudly, over a shuddery moan that D-Day was letting out. "I don't know much about medicine, though. That's Burgundy's job."
D-Day suddenly let loose a bloodcurdling shriek, which shook the other rats [sic].
Burgundy sidled up, took D-Day's left arm, and injected something with a hypodermic needle.
D-Day's eyes rolled back, revealing the white.
Several Jewish mice peered in.
"Get him to recovery," Black ordered. "Blue, get those mice out of here. Tell them things are okay."
Blue rushed over to the mice and, speaking in German, ushered them away. Somehow Gold and Purple managed to bring D-Day to recovery, where Turquoise was. They strapped him to the bed, although there was no obvious reason to, since D-Day was only shivering.
"At least he ain't chokin'," Purple said, staring at him. D-Day had a vacant look on his face. [Note--although D-Day's bad reaction to the gassing doesn't happen in the current storyline, there is an explanation for that as well, and it deals with D-Day's own mysterious past. In fact, D-Day is the very reason why the Trench Rats were formed in the first place...but that's for another day.]
"How come none of us was affected by that gas?" Gold asked himself out loud.
"Because he stayed behind to save your life," Purple said lowly. "Which wasn't worth it."
"You're the one who started this whole thing," Gold shot back. "You started that fight."
"Will you two shut up?" a voice shouted from behind a curtain. "You're not alone, I hope you know."
Gold moved the curtain aside several inches. Turquoise glared at him, a cast on his right leg, his arm, and a bandage on his head.
"Well, well, well!" Gold chimed, striding in. "Got any last requests?"
"Yeah," Turquoise replied. "Fill in those blasted trenches!"
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