The Nocturnals. Tracey Hecht
why we use echolocation,” explained a third. “We send out a sound, it hits something, then it echoes back. That’s how we locate the object.”
“Though that’s on the fritz, too,” said the fourth. He rubbed his throat. “Larynx trouble.”
Dawn paused, a bit confused now herself. “So…you don’t know of any strange occurrences?”
“Strange occurrences?”
“We know all about those.”
“Terrible mess in the valley these days!”
“Animals disappearing faster than tsetse flies on the tongue!”
The bats all answered in turn.
“You mean, you know of others who have recently vanished?” The fur on Dawn’s back stood on end.
“Svor! Never seen these parts so empty.”
“Nor so quiet.”
“Except for the screams….”
The fox’s breath caught in her throat. The bats had confirmed her fear that Cora’s brother had not disappeared just by chance. He was one victim of many. And there would be many more if the Brigade did not intervene.
“I must face the truth, feel the blow, suffer the pain!” Bismark wailed as he paced amidst the tall grass. Bismark was still agitated as he rose from his bed in time to see the first evening star. After the encounter with those four irksome creatures, he had slept terribly.
“You do not look like a bat!” insisted Tobin.
The pangolin tumbled out from the hollow eucalyptus where he had slept. He felt terrible. He had not meant to offend the small sugar glider the previous evening—not at all. But Bismark ignored the pangolin and turned instead to the fox.
“Dawn, I beg of you. The truth. I must have it!” Dramatically, the sugar glider fell to his knees, clasping his fingers as if in prayer.
“Bismark.” Dawn sighed. “You do not look like a bat.”
“Really? Do you mean it?” Bismark glanced up at the fox, his eyes full of hope.
“Goodness, no!” Tobin quickly chimed in. “Not at all!”
“Dawn, can you gaze upon my face without the image of a blood-sucking rodent entering your mind?”
“Bismark, enough,” said the fox. “You are very handsome. And you do not look like a bat.”
“Of course I don’t!” he exclaimed, bounding back to his feet. “Do you see the sheen of this fur? The elegant curve of this tail? The strong line of this jaw? A bat? Impossible!”
The little sugar glider rushed to the fox, threw his arms around her shins, and buried his face in her fur. “Oh, my beloved!” he cried. “I thank you. I thank you for your honesty and your clear vision.” Bismark gave a deep, grateful bow.
Tobin smiled. But then, as Cora emerged from the eucalyptus, his forehead creased with concern. The wombat, sweaty, sleepy, and shaky, had clearly suffered fitful dreams.
“Maybe we should get going soon,” offered the pangolin.
“Yes,” Dawn agreed. She walked over to the bats, who were just waking as well. “Make sure to have a drink before we set out. It might be a long march.”
“Good thinking, fox,” said a bat.
“The old gullet was getting a bit parched,” agreed his brother.
“Svor.”
Tobin and Cora also leaned over the bank and took a few sips of river water, but Bismark turned toward the fox. “Did you know,” he began, “that sugar gliders need less water than bats? We can survive on just a few raindrops a day.” Beaming with pride, Bismark reclined against a small rock and plucked a leaf from a fern. “True fact,” he continued, licking a droplet of dew from the plant. “That, mio amore, is just one of the many ways the sugar glider outshines the bat, though I am happy to share all the others.” He cleared his throat, stood, and mounted the rock. “Shall we begin with where it begins?” he said. “Birth.”
Bismark raised a stick in the air in preparation for his lecture. But before he could speak, the midnight sky rang with a sudden, loud scream.
“Eeeeeeeee!”
Snap!
Boom!
The forest shook, branches broke, and something heavy fell with a thud.
“Mon dieu!” cried Bismark, crouching behind his stone.
“Oh goodness!” Tobin gulped. “What was that?”
“That was the same noise I heard last night when Joe disappeared!” Cora piped up.
“Aye!”
“Svor!”
“That’s the one!” the bats confirmed. “Quick,” the fox commanded. “Follow me.” Dawn bolted upstream toward the sound. Cora, Bismark, and Tobin quickly followed, running full-speed. The bats scrambled to bring up the rear. Suddenly, the wombat called out, “Stop!”
The group came to a halt.
“Here,” Cora breathed. “It was here. I remember because of those rocks.”
Dawn, Tobin, and the wombat inspected the jagged formation jutting into the river. Bismark glided close behind.
“I detect traces of a struggle,” Dawn remarked. “Wombat hairs, nail scratches in the moss—thankfully, there are no signs that someone was eaten.”
Cora sighed with relief.
“But it’s strange,” Dawn continued. “There’s no trail leading to or away from here. It’s as if Joe simply disappeared.”
Dawn and Cora circled the rocks, searching for clues. Bismark followed Dawn, purely for the sake of it, and the bats poked around in the riverbank. Tobin lingered back near the tree line. His keen ears detected a twig snapping in the bushes behind them. With the others distracted, the pangolin decided to investigate the sound himself.
Cautiously, Tobin peered into the dense tangle of leaves. At first, he couldn’t make out much of anything besides dark branches and shadows. But then he caught a glimpse of two small points of light. He squinted, trying to see a little more clearly. Were those berries catching the moonlight? Perhaps drops of dew?
As suddenly as the lights appeared, they winked out. Tobin leaned in closer, tilting his head to the side, hoping to see them again.
There they were! But this time, they were larger, closer. Two deep, brown rings with dark dots at the centers. Eyes! Someone was watching them.
“Oh dear!” cried Tobin. “Everyone, come quick!”
In an instant, Dawn, Bismark, Cora, and the bats appeared at his side.
“There’s an animal in there!” Tobin whispered, pointing to the dense brush.
Together, the four friends and