59. The Long Journey
In which the gerbils make their own arrangements…
The gerbils were in another van travelling at speed to who knew where. Gimbal decided it was lunchtime. It was early afternoon, and her stomach was growling. She took the seed packet out of her pocket and counted what was left by touch. There were six. She gave one to Griffin and one to Graphic and took one herself, then folded the top over and put the packet away with three in it.
“That’s lunch,” she said. “Then there will be three for dinner, if we are still here.” They ate slowly, turning their seed in their paws until there was almost nothing left of it.
About an hour later Gimbal raised the other matter. “We need to make arrangements. Can the small things be done in the straw and then covered over?”
“As long as none of it goes near the glass,” said Graphic. “But the rest is different.”
“But what if we are still in here and we can’t hold on any more?” asked Gimbal.
“The driver will have to stop at some point,” said Griffin. “Even Errol stops, and she has a picnic. When the driver stops for food, we get out of the crate and out of the van, then we find somewhere private.”
“How do we get out of the crate?” asked Graphic.
“It’s only wood,” said Gimbal. “We’ve got teeth and we can gnaw our way out. But the lid has twelve nails in it. I counted. So not the lid, but one of the sides, at the corner. Once we’re out, we don’t have to come back.”
“Out where?” said Griffin. “We’re in a foreign country with no passports. The crate has a docket on the lid. Gosie and Hedgehog will work out where the crate is going. If we leave, they won’t be able to find us.”
“Then we have to come back,” said Graphic, and it was settled.
Griffin cleared the wool away from one of the corners and began to chew. The wood was dry and soft, and sawdust made its way into her whiskers. When she stopped, she had removed a patch about the size of a sunflower seed.
They agreed to take turns and Graphic gnawed in small even strokes. Gimbal counted for her. “Three hundred and twelve,” she said.
“You don’t have to count it,” said Graphic.
“I know,” said Gimbal.
Then it was Gimbal’s turn, and then Griffin’s again, and every turn was shorter than the one before. “I can’t feel my teeth,” said Griffin. “You’ve still got them,” said Gimbal. “I counted.”
The van slowed, turned and drove slowly to a stop. The engine died, a door opened and they felt a cold breeze come through the slats. The van door closed and they heard a short electronic beep.
“She must have stopped for dinner,” whispered Gimbal. “We should eat too.” She counted out the last three seeds and gave one each to Graphic and Griffin. Gimbal folded the top of the empty packet over and put it down on the wool beside her.
Once they had finished eating, they continued with gnawing. Some time later they heard the beep again and the sound of the door being opened. The van moved slightly as the driver took her seat and shut the door.
“That was the stop we should have got out at,” said Griffin.
“But we haven’t broken through the wood yet. We can’t get out while the crate is still in the way,” said Gimbal.
They continued to take turns gnawing until eventually Graphic felt the slat move under her paw. “It’s going,” she said, hardly aloud. Griffin pushed, and the corner opened a gap a little wider than a gerbil.
“I’m going out,” she said. “Follow me.”
Graphic took her paw off the glass, patted the padding and followed Griffin out of the crate. Gimbal went after her and pulled the slat over the gap.
The van was still moving. Griffin made her way to the back doors and felt along them. “No handles or holes,” she said. “Not this way.”
“Try forwards,” said Gimbal. “We can get out of the driver’s door when she stops again.”
They scurried past boxes and crates to the front and sat in a row on the floor of the van behind the driver’s seat. It was warm.
“When she stops, we get out and go somewhere,” whispered Griffin. “When she gets back in, we get back in. Then back into the crate.”
“That’s four things,” said Gimbal, counting on her fingers. “It’s a good number.”
After a time, the van slowed and stopped, and the engine died. The driver’s door opened and the driver left the van.
“Now,” said Griffin.
They climbed onto the driver’s seat and then left the vehicle to find themselves in an enormous brightly-lit car park. The van had parked next to a grassy verge with a hedge, and they found a private spot.
“Don’t look,” said Graphic.
“I’m not looking,” said Griffin.
Suddenly they heard one of the van doors open and then shut.
Gimbal looked up and saw the courier walk round the back of the van from the passenger side. “She’s going now!” she said.
“Run,” said Griffin.
They ran, but before they could reach the driver’s door, the courier opened it, stepped inside and shut the door firmly. The engine started and then the van began to move away. As it passed a street lamp they could see two white letters on the pale grey panel door. KS.
https://myrtlelion.substack.com/p/59-the-long-journey