Kesh Read online

  Kesh had expected Muskrat to lead them back to the familiar path along the river. Instead, he turned into the deepest part of the forest where they came out into a narrowly cut stretch of cleared land between the west branch of the river on the left and a tall steel mesh fence on their right. Just beyond the fence, yellow lights illuminated the open area, almost to the water’s edge and inside the compound. They lit up a road that encircled the outer buildings of the Garou Chemical Corporation.

  The air no longer tasted clean and sweet the way it had around the white coyote’s home. Now, more intensely than ever, Kesh’s lungs burned from the same acrid sulfur, ash, and chemical toxins he had smelled that night along the river. This was the odor Muskrat had called “evil.” Now he understood why. He held back the urge to choke and could see the others doing the same. Coyotes are well known for their ability to survive in all kinds of environments, often in the most inhospitable landscape and atmosphere, and the three adjusted quickly. If Muskrat felt any discomfort, he wasn’t showing it.

  Shortly, he slowed and ambled down the embankment to the water’s edge. Kesh let his companions lead the way and yipped in surprise when the tan coyote spoke. “Are you going for a swim, Muskrat?” She made a barking sound that Kesh thought sounded like coyote giggling.

  Muskrat spoke gravely: “This is not a pleasure trip, young lady. We’re here on serious business.” The coyote fell quiet and hung her head slightly, while the white one studied Kesh as if to measure his reaction. He decided he’d better wait and see. “Okay, my young coyotes, I want you to see something.” Muskrat pointed to an expanse of dark water just beyond the thick growth along the bank. “Now just watch.”

  Kesh felt a vibration growing in the earth beneath his feet and heard a breathy whoosh. An oily gray cloud spread out darkly just beneath the surface bubbling up across the surface of the water and swept quickly away by the current. The bubble released a powerful and vile odor that blended with the already toxic air, and Kesh felt the urge to be sick.”

  “What is it?” He asked. His young partners glanced toward him, then toward Muskrat. Kesh thought they were probably just as surprised to hear his voice as he had been to hear them a moment earlier when the small coyote had spoken. But surprised or not, he was tired of not knowing. He supposed that, like him, his companions also wanted answers.

  Muskrat continued to watch as further along the stuff rose in the brown river and spread out along the surface in a slick, oily ribbon. “I’m not certain, lad. It’s probably a mixture: oils, mercury, chlorine, dioxins…a little of everything. It’s all poison. It’s all evil.” He pulled his small form heavily up from the bank, as if he were weighed down by the overwhelming burden of it all. Then, as if suddenly transformed, he shook his fur and said, “Come on boys and girl. We’ve got work to do.” He zipped off along the cutaway toward the far building of the chemical plant.

  From far off, it was impressively scary, but Kesh was struck with its size. It seemed to go on and on, building after building and long black chimneys jutted into the sky spewing streams of fire and smoke. The small band of new friends ran between the fence line and the river where, from time to time, Muskrat pointed out the places along the bank where hidden outlet pipes were seeping or pouring chemical waste into the water.

  When it seemed to Kesh that the factory would go on forever, the gigantic buildings, storage tanks and smokestacks fell away and the fence disappeared. The group found themselves entering a vast open brown field. Trees, shrubs, grass, anything that might grow in this place, had all been cut or burnt away to expose the dirt. The small female coyote asked, “What happened to the plant life?”

  Muskrat hissed, “Chemical dumping and defoliation. This ground is poison.”

  Kesh said, “What is this place?”

  Looking like a pile of unkempt brown fur, Muskrat sat on his haunches and sighed. “It’s a construction site. Garou is planning to expand his company. He’s going to build more of this place. A lot more, and he is going to spread more of his poisons to do it.”

  Kesh looked to each of his companions. The enormity of the factory and of what they were being asked to do suddenly struck him. He had to wonder if he and his new friends were being asked to do the impossible. What could they do? He wondered. They were just kids. And, even if they were coyotes, even if this wasn’t just a nightmare, what could a couple of small animals do to stop such power?

  Kesh thought Muskrat must have read his mind when the small creature said, “Remember, boy, you are not alone. There are many of us, each preparing to move one stone, then another, then yet another. If together we can move the mountains, we can certainly defeat one small factory.”

  The coyotes exchanged glances. Then Muskrat said to all of them, “Have faith, young ones. Have faith.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Dinner, Desert, Decisions

  Everything has changed. Like after that last dream, if it was a dream, I looked hard at nearly every kid at school the next day. I know the other coyotes are there somewhere, and I want to know who they are. No luck yet. I’m getting better each day at seeing the animals in people, especially in other kids, but I haven’t seen another coyote yet. At first, I was worried. I thought I might be the only one, but now I know they’re out there, and that makes me feel a lot better.

  I just want to know who they are. Do they know who I am? Are they as confused as I am? Do their parents know? I should tell mom and dad, but I haven’t figured out how to do it. What am I supposed to say? “By the way, mom and dad, I’m a coyote, I’ve been talking to spiders and muskrats, and I’m supposed to save the universe.”

  Mom is calling me for supper. Maybe I can tell them tonight. Anyway, I’m starving. I’ll write more later.

  On this December night, Kesh came to a table set as usual with only a glass, a small dinner plate, a fork and knife, and a napkin. A covered casserole sat in the middle of the table, and when Kesh, his mother, and his father were seated, his mother said, “I hope my men are hungry.” Then, with a flourish, she snatched the cover off to display a casserole dish filled with small, beautifully browned packets in a creamy garlic sauce.

  Kesh leaned over to look closely and he thought he saw thin, rubbery tails and, tiny ears on each roasted bundle. He felt very, very uncomfortable when he realized what they were. He wanted to feel repulsed. It was a moist, fragrant dish smothered in a rich in sauce, and it smelled strangely familiar, like comfort food. His nose twitched and his mouth filled with saliva. He had the urge to dig right in, but he caught himself.

  He said it aloud, but just under his breath: “Mice.”

  “What was that you said, Kesh?” His father asked.

  Kesh answered carefully. “I said, this looks really nice.” He looked again. Yup. They sure look like mice, he thought. Now, most people would be shocked to find mice in their supper, even mice roasted in a wonderful savory brown sauce, and Kesh certainly felt he should be disgusted.

  After all, civilized people don’t eat little rodents, not even when they’re in an aromatic, gourmet garlic and cream sauce. Little crispy ears were not really as delicious as they looked, and the tails, shimmering in the brown sauce, weren’t the combination of chewy and crunchy that he might have imagined. Kesh tried to ignore the tingling excitement that was growing in his stomach over the juicy, silky, succulent brown packets.

  “Come on, everybody, dig in,” said his mother. “Here, Kesh, let me serve you.” She dipped a spoon into the casserole and placed three perfectly cooked mice onto Kesh’s plate. Then she ladled up a spoonful of the juices. “This is for my growing boy,” she said, as she drizzled the shiny gravy over the little bodies on his plate. The mice glistened in a pool of thick, rich liquid like the featured dish in one of his mother’s gourmet magazines, and the aroma was almost too much to bear. Kesh had the urge to grab one of the little morsels with his teeth, but he restrained himself.

  “Th-thanks, Mom.” Kesh moved the creatures with his fork. “Mom? What
is this?”

  She laughed, and he couldn’t help but think he heard a hint of hissing in her voice. “Why, Kesh, it’s meatloaf, silly. I thought you loved meatloaf.”

  Kesh looked down at his plate to discover that the succulent little mouse bodies had disappeared. In their place was a slice of crumbling brown meatloaf, a small yellow pile of canned corn, and a pasty blob of mashed potatoes drowned in his mom’s lumpy brown gravy. Kesh swallowed hard. He was getting pretty good at dealing with surprises, but the coyote in him felt more than a little disappointed. “Oh , I see. Of course it is. Thanks, Mom.” As he chewed on the dry meat mixture, Kesh caught himself wishing for crunchy roasted mice swimming in a rich brown sauce.

  “Oh, by the way…” This was his dad’s usual lead-in to dinner conversation. Then he would go into a discussion of the day’s news, something about work, and the hockey or football rankings. Kesh never said much of anything, because he wouldn’t want to hurt his dad’s feelings. But the stories were almost always painfully boring. Tonight was different.

  His dad got his attention when he said, “Today I heard that Garou Chemical is trying to expand. Apparently, they’ve been trying to buy up the whole riverfront area from shanty town to the edge of Shaw’s field just outside of town, and a few families don’t want to sell. Nobody knows what’s going to happen, but Louis Garou usually gets what he wants, and people who get in the way don’t seem to last very long.”

  “What do you mean, don’t last very long?” asked Kesh.

  Kesh’s father glanced at his wife for her approval, and she nodded. “Well, Kesh, they’re only rumors, but for as long as the company has been here, people who oppose Garou Chemical have very bad luck. They inevitably end up getting in accidents or having other unfortunate things happen to them. In fact, some of them have simply disappeared.”

  “What kinds of unfortunate things?”

  “Well, first, son, I don’t know for sure if any of this is true or if Garou had anything at all to do with any of it, but things—all kinds of things happen. Three years ago, a local attorney named Tommy Watson teamed up with a chemistry professor from the college to investigate suspicions of toxic dumping at the plant. People say they found what they were looking for, and they were about to bring charges up in state court, when both were killed in a freak car accident. The rumors say a few others knew about the dumping, but they got the message, and the whole thing just disappeared without a whimper.”

  “But it could have been an accident, right?”

  “Sure. Accidents happen. In the case of Garou Chemical, a lot of accidents happen. Some years back one of the former executives of the company called a press conference, there were rumors he was going to give the newspapers the scoop on the company’s polluting ways, but the guy supposedly slipped in his tub, hit his head, and died that morning. Then, I heard about a group of kids who were swimming down by the plant. When they got home, they told their parents they had seen pipes coming out of the river bank dumping thick, smelly crud into the water. The parents, all friends of ours, were Milly and Edmund Carter, Leroy and Anna Nordstrom, and Erick and Kasey Young. I was told they agreed to tell the police, and maybe they did, but all three families moved away that summer before anything came out. I’ve heard other stories too.”

  “Like what? What other stories?”

  “They’re just rumors, and I think I’ve said enough. All we know for certain is that anyone who says anything against Garou Chemical ends up with serious problems.”

  “But you might be wrong, right Dad? Do you know any of this is fact? I mean, there is no proof, is there? Besides, don’t we need factories? Doesn’t Garou Chemical make things we need, and doesn’t it give people jobs?” Kesh knew the answers to these questions, but he grasped for one last chance that the factory was a good thing, and that he wasn’t getting into something as dangerous as it was beginning to seem. It hit him now. He and a couple of other kids were supposed to fight this monster and his factory. That was bad enough. But more and more, he was starting to see just how bad it could be. He was getting scared.“Kesh, factories don’t have to be bad. Many, if not most, factories are run by people who care about other people and the earth, but too many of them are like Garou Chemical. They destroy the environment, hurt the people who live there and they don’t have to follow rules. That plant produces some of the most poisonous substances that have ever been created, and I mean anywhere. It is rumored that Garou Chemical supplies some of the most despotic governments around the world with weapons-grade chemicals, and it’s pretty clear that they don’t stop there. Garou’s plant manufactures all kinds of other mysterious compounds as well. They’ve been traced to fish kill-offs, abnormal births in mammals and birds, and, most likely, birth defects in children.”

  “And, yes, they pay well enough, but former employees seem to get seriously ill a lot more than most people, even more than folks around here who have to breathe Garou Chemical’s polluted air and drink its polluted water. I know people who secretly call Garou’s factory the cancer ward.” He paused.

  His father’s eyes were dark, sharp and uncharacteristically serious. Kesh suddenly realized that they were the eyes of a panther looking at him through his father’s face. “And now, the plant has been talking about hiring local middle and high school kids to some kind of project. They call it an internship system, but something else is going on, because no one needs twelve-year-olds working in a chemical factory.”

  Kesh choked and took a drink of water to clear his throat. “Mom, Dad,” he said with urgency. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Do you remember the night I ran away?” They both nodded gravely. His mother’s head was cocked to one side, and she bit her lower lip the way she always did when she was worried. “Well, at first I thought it was just a dream. I’m still not sure what is and isn’t real. Well, anyway, here goes.” Kesh told them about what he had heard that night. When he got to the part about the python and the panther, they glanced at one another, and Kesh’s mom bit down so hard, her lip bled. His dad’s forehead wrinkled, and the muscles in his jaw went taut. But they let him continue.

  “I was scared and really, really confused. Then when I saw those wild animals in the living room, I freaked. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, so I ran away.” Then he told them about his adventure along the river. He told them about the rag man, Muskrat and Grandmother Spider, and about meeting the man along the path. He had worried about this moment ever since Officer Wolfe had told him to confide in his parents, to “have faith.”

  As he spoke, Kesh watched their faces. At first, Kesh could see and almost feel the tension in the tightness of his father’s face and narrowing eyes, and he heard it in the low growl that seemed to come from inside his dad’s throat. His mom’s expressive face had almost always been easy for Kesh to read, but right now it was rigid and tense. Kesh shook, his voice quivered, and his heart beat hard in his chest.

  Part of him seemed to stand outside of his body observing and making cutting remarks. He thought, Kesh, you’re an idiot. Nobody will ever believe any of this. Still, he had come this far, and he knew he had to finish it. He was determined to tell the whole story, and he knew there would be no turning back now. All during his confession, his parents exchanged long glances, as if they were engaged in a conversation made up entirely of facial expressions. Of course, this made Kesh nervous, but he remembered the policeman’s words and pressed on.

  When he had finished the story, he paused. His parents shot one another one more long look. Finally, his father breathed a deep, easy sigh and the tightness seemed to melt from his face. Suddenly, the tension seemed to drain from his mother’s face. When his parents turned back to Kesh, he thought he saw a quick serpent’s tongue flicking out between his mom’s teeth.

  “Go on, buddy,” said his father. As Kesh began again, he heard a soft pulsing vibration that rose and fell in regular intervals. He almost choked on his surprise, and he told himself he had to be imagining this.
He could have sworn that his father was purring.

  As he told them about school and about his dreams he watched their faces. They had stopped eating and listened. They don’t look at all surprised, thought Kesh. When he began to describe his encounter with Muskrat and the other coyotes, he saw them glance at one another with just their eyes. Finally, he told them about the journey to the factory outside of town in the middle of the night.

  When he had finished, the meat loaf was cold, and the three of them did not speak for a very long time. Kesh had told them everything, and he was still worried they might think he was crazy or something. In fact, he still wondered about that very thing himself. Even if they believed him, he could not imagine they would understand. How could they? And if they didn’t understand, if they were worried, would they try to stop him? As usual, his father spoke first. “Kesh, are you certain about this? “

  “I’m not so sure about anything, Dad.”

  His father nodded. “Do you know how dangerous this is?”

  Kesh sighed. “I think I’m beginning to figure that out.”

  “The factory doesn’t let anybody get in its way, and you have to know that your story sounds pretty far-fetched.”

  “I do, Dad. I’m having a lot of trouble believing it myself.”

  His mother interrupted. “Jack, tell him. This is no time to play games.”

  Kesh’s dad then did something that worried him, something that he never did unless he meant business. He addressed his mom by her maiden name. “Alyssa Carlson, I just don’t want Kesh or anyone else to get hurt. This is deadly serious.”

  “I understand, but we can’t make this decision for him. We have to tell him.”

  His dad shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. It’s just so risky.”

  His mom put her hand on top of her husband’s and spoke to him in a tone that told Kesh she meant business, and she would get her way. “He was brave enough to tell us. Now it’s our turn. Tell him, Jack. He has to know.”