Prisoner of the Molepeople

Chapter 26 - My Rescue

As our ominous destination of the police station (where somehow I was going to rescue Lenny) drew nearer and nearer, I couldn't help but feel that there was something misleading about this fortuitous turn in events. The atmosphere in the Corvette, with me sitting on top of my bodyguards, fiddling with the sword, Brunhilda looking on with a self-content, Gunhilda staring out the window, and Barry bobbing his head to Simon and Garfunkel, in no reflected the tension I was feeling.

For one, whether or not Brunhilda was putting me on, I had no idea what I was going to do once we got to the station. For two, remembering the death warrant Father Jackothan had issued on my behalf, my attempt to rescue an inmate from a heavily guarded compound would surely not only be an exercise in futility but my final action in mortality. I hope you're not reading this gloomy paragraph as a classic setup of a so-called impossible situation, fully expecting my self-doubt to be eclipsed by yet-to-be-discovered heroism during a miraculous turn of events. You may be convinced that this is a work of fiction, and therefore everything is going to somehow work out for the best. Good for you. I, on the other hand, had been in the police station before, and I knew about the thirty floors of security guards between ground level and where the prisoners were kept. My chilled blood was in no way due to an underestimation of my abilities, nor am I illustrating these details to heighten dramatic tension. I'm telling you, this operation was literally not possible.

This fact, however, wasn't about to deter me. I had to do it. This was also a fact. No matter the consequences, Lenny had come for me, and I would come for him. There was nothing else worth doing in my few remaining hours.

Though when we were dropped off near the police station, I still had no idea how I was going to do it. Like the other buildings of Molemania, the police station was nothing more than a tiny portal to underground chambers. But unlike the other buildings, it was more than a mini-golf facade. It was a cube of pure steel (aside from the automatic doors).

“Here's the plan,” I whispered, crouching behind a green electrical box on the side of a street. The police station was on the other side.

Taking no pains to conceals themselves, my bodyguards simply stared at me.

“First we’ll need to steal some police uniforms. We may have to mug some people.” But as with my previous attempt at American sabotage, I realized that Molish policemen, equally versed with our television, would be expecting such a classic assault.

Gunhilda was folding her arms, slouching with boredom. “Call me a skeptic, but I have a hard time believing that three human girls in police uniforms would fool many people around here.”

I rubbed my hands together. “I have another plan. First, we need to find another entrance.”

“There is no other entrance,” said Gunhilda.

“Not a problem. Because I have another plan.”

“Let's go already!” snapped Brunhilda, beginning to cross the street.

I smacked my fist into my palm. “Not until we form a plan.”

But my concentration was broken by the distorted sounds of a megaphone. A block away, at a public park, was a large crowd of molepeople. They looked young, colorful, and riled up. Though the angry shouts of the guy with the megaphone were hard to understand, I distinctly made out the phrase, “... because that's what Lenny would want!” followed by a cheering crowd.

Trying not to feel jealous, I said to my bodyguards, “What's going on over there?”

Brunhilda grabbed my arm and tried to pull me across the street. “Who cares? We have business!”