THE MICE MEET A HERO

by
Wilde Blue Sky

SMASHWORDS EDITION
* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:
Wilde Blue Sky on Smashwords

The Mice Meet a Hero
Copyright © 2012 by Wilde Blue Sky

Smashwords Edition License Notes

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. 

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you're reading this book and did not obtain it from Smashwords.com then you should return to Smashwords.com and obtain your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

The author would like to thank Louise for her support in editing this work and also Conore for the artwork.

Note to reader - if you appreciated this short story please, if you are able, make a small donation to a charity of your choice.
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The Mice Meet a Hero

Rolo had made his way around the whole of the theatre’s floor without finding a single tasty morsel. His tummy rumbled. ‘I’ll have to try the foyer.’ As he rounded the corner, his eyes were immediately drawn to a huge piece of toffee coated popcorn underneath a display cabinet. He quickly looked around then darted across to the treat. Suddenly he froze as the air was filled with the sound of metal being scraped against glass. He turned. An old black Labrador with a metallic leg and a jagged scar running across a bloody white eye was slumped against the glass exit door.
Rolo’s mouth dropped open. He scampered under an old newspaper; his whole body shaking and teeth chattering. ‘A monster!’ After a few minutes he poked his nose out from under the newspaper but couldn’t see the strange animal. He tiptoed out and looked around. The dog was still slumped against the door. A tear slowly trickled down its face.
Rolo scratched his head and inched towards the dog, hugging the wall as he crept along. When he was two feet away he shouted out, ‘Who are you?’
The dog turned its head and gazed with his one big sad eye. ‘Help me.’
The sadness in the dog’s voice made Rolo less afraid. He walked to within a few inches of the dog. ‘What happened to you?’
‘I was wounded in the war.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘War Dog.’
‘What are you trying to do?’
‘I need to get back to Master. But I don’t have the strength to open the door.’ The dog’s head sagged in defeat.
‘I don’t really know much about the doors, sometimes they open automatically, sometimes they don’t. I’ll get my brainy friend. He’ll know what to do.’

A couple of minutes later Rolo returned with Squeak who explained, ‘The doors are on a timer. They operate automatically when the people are here, but when they go away the doors won’t open. They won’t function again until tomorrow.’
War Dog stared at Squeak. ‘Is there any other way for me to get out of here?’
Squeak looked at the size of the dog and his false leg. ‘There are a few windows but they are high up and the ventilation holes are all mouse sized.’
War Dog looked mournful. ‘I need to get back to Master.’
Squeak asked, ‘How did you end up here?’
‘I saw a policeman and thought he might take me back to the convalescent home, so I ducked in here.’
Rolo looked puzzled and started to open his mouth, but Squeak nudged him and he remained silent. 
Squeak said, ‘Why don’t you come with us. There’s a nice warm waiting area where you can sleep.’
War Dog winced as he limped after Squeak. 
Squeak asked, ‘Do want anything to eat? We could probably find some old beef-burgers in the kitchen?’
War Dog shook his head. ‘Not for me. I can’t eat solids anymore.’
In the waiting area Squeak pointed towards some chairs. ‘Make yourself at home. We’ll be back in a bit.’
War Dog lay against a sofa and stared into the distance.
Shortly Squeak, Louise and Rolo appeared with a carton of milk balanced on top of an old roller skate.
War Dog managed a smile.
The mice pushed the carton on to the floor then Rolo chewed a small hole in the top and tipped it over. War Dog lapped up the milk. When he finished he said, ‘Thank you.’
Squeak answered, ‘Glad to help. We’d better leave you to sleep. Good night.’
War Dog lay down to sleep as the mice made their way to their den.

In the middle of the night there was an awful howling sound. Squeak woke with a start and anxiously looked around. There was frantic banging at Squeak’s door. He ran over and opened it. Rolo was standing there shaking. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I don’t know. We’d better go and look.’
Louise stuck her head out of her bedroom. Squeak waved his paw at her. ‘Stay here we’ll go and check what is happening.’
In the theatre, the noise got louder and louder. Squeak pointed to the waiting area. ‘It’s coming from in there.’
As the mice peeked in they could see War Dog thrashing around on the floor. ‘Don’t go! Don’t go! Look out! We’re hit! We’re hit!’
Rolo asked, ‘What’s the matter with him?’
‘He’s having a bad dream.’
The mice edged towards him then suddenly he opened his eyes and started to scream, ‘Where am I? What’s happening? Where’s Master?’
Squeak yelled out, ‘You’re safe. You’re back home.’
War Dog shook violently for a few minutes and then mumbled, ‘What happened shouldn’t be a secret. People should know. I must tell people.’
Squeak asked, ‘What do you mean?’ 
War Dog shook his head and seemed to come back to reality. He stared at Squeak. ‘Nothing. I’m alright now.’
‘Is there anything we can do?’
‘No. I’ll be alright.’
Rolo and Squeak made their way back upstairs. Louise was waiting for them, ‘Is everything OK?’
Squeak looked pained. ‘War Dog was having a nightmare.’
Louise asked, ‘Is there anything we can do?’
Squeak replied, ‘We’ll talk to him in the morning and see if we can help.’

The next day the mice found War Dog cleaning himself. Squeak turned to Louise and Rolo. ‘Why don’t you get another carton of milk?’ They nodded and disappeared. 
Squeak coughed.
War Dog looked up. ‘I’m sorry about last night.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I was dreaming about bout what happened in the war.’
‘Do you want to talk about it?’
War Dog looked out through the window at the clear blue sky. ‘We were on patrol. Me and Master were leading the team through a small village. I was looking for bombs, when.’ The dog inhaled deeply and a tear rolled down his face. ‘We’d detected a couple of bombs then one exploded. It all happened so fast. One minute everything was peaceful the next there was a deafening roar and we were flying through the air. I didn’t know what had happened. When the dust and smoke had cleared I found Master lying on the ground. I couldn’t hear anything, because of the blast, but I knew we were under attack. Bullets were hitting the dirt all around us. I tried to drag Master back to base, but I couldn’t move him.’ The dog stared at the sky.
‘What happened to him?’
‘He died. He was probably dead before he hit the ground. He was between me and the blast. That’s why I survived.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It should’ve been me.’ The dog’s face was wet. He wiped away his tears.
Squeak shuffled his feet. ‘Where is Master?’
‘In the cathedral cemetery. He was buried with full military honours. I try to stay at his grave, but they keep taking me back to the convalescent home - to be with all the other broken down relics. I was going to him when I saw the policeman.’
Squeak bowed his head. ‘Tragic.’
War dog sniffed. ‘So different from what I expected. I remember when I’d finished my explosives detection training. My mother came to the base. She was a sniffer too. She was so proud of me. Master took us both to the park and we played ball. Then we around the back of the supermarket and got an old steak out of one of the bins. It was a really good feed. I told my Mum I was going to be a hero. She bit me on the ear and told me just to come back in one piece. Inside I was so proud. I was going to serve my country.’
Squeak tried to sound optimistic. ‘We’re going to the park today. Why don’t you come along?’
War Dog shook his head and looked at his false leg. ‘What’s the use of going to the park? I can’t run with this lump of metal strapped to me.’
Squeak scratched his. Just then Louise and Rolo came back with another carton of milk balanced on top of the roller skate. Squeak clicked his paw. ‘Maybe we can rig you up something.’

A few hours later the wheels of the roller skate had been bolted to the bottom of War Dog’s metal leg. After a few trial runs he’d learnt to run on three legs, with the wheeled metal leg skating along the ground. He grinned. ‘I’m almost a dog again. Let’s go to the park.’
Squeak asked, ‘Are you OK to give us a lift? We’ve only got little legs?’
War Dog nodded.
Louise piped up. ‘I’ll take my electric bike, if that’s OK.’
Squeak and Rolo climbed on to War Dog’s back, Louise jumped on her electric motorcycle and they set off. As they walked along people stopped and stared.
Squeak said, ‘We’d better go down the back alleys. We’re drawing too much attention.’
In the park, a group of children were playing ball with a small dog which was madly running around and barking. War Dog’s ears pricked up. ‘I think I’ll go and join in.’
Squeak said, ‘Good idea.’ Then he and Rolo jumped off War Dog.
The three mice sat on a small step as War Dog ran and skated across to the game. Soon the children and dogs were laughing, playing ball and crazily chasing each other.
As the three mice watched Froggy appeared. ‘What’s happening?’
Squeak pointed at War Dog. ‘Our friend is playing.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘He was wounded.’
Froggy looked at the dogs playing. ‘I’ve never understood why dogs get so excited about chasing a ball.’
 Squeak thought for a few moments and then asked, ‘Do you ever rummage through the bins at the back of the supermarket?’
Froggy looked puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘Just thought we might find something useful there.’ Squeak turned to the other two mice. ‘Stay here and keep an eye on War Dog. Me and Froggy will go and do some exploring.’

Froggy and Squeak came back, a packet of steaks clamped in Froggy’s teeth and Squeak holding a lump of cheese. War Dog was still madly chasing around after a ball. 
Squeak asked Louise and Rolo, ‘Has he stopped at all?’
Rolo answered, ‘He’s been running around like a demon since you left.’
Squeak sighed, ‘Must be trying to forget.’ Just as Squeak finished speaking, War Dog tumbled over his metal leg. The children ran over to him and helped him up then he slowly made his way back to his new friends.
‘That was fun. Felt like a young pup again.’
Froggy waved the steak. ‘Fancy a bite to eat?’
War Dog licked his lips. ‘I haven’t had a decent meal since I got back. Don’t suppose one steak will hurt.’
Squeak pointed over to some trees. ‘We’d better eat our meal away from prying eyes. Humans have a funny habit of looking at you when you’re eating and making funny noises. There’s a clearing just behind those trees.’
As they walked to the trees, War Dog looked up at the beautiful red sky. ‘Reminds me of when I was in training. There was one day where there was a stunning red sky - me and all the boys were playing catch. We were all so young and full of hope. I wonder how many of them came back.’
As they reached the trees there was cooing noise and a flapping of wings. ‘How are my favourite mice?’ Then Roger fluttered down to the ground. He looked at War Dog. ‘You look like you’ve been in the wars.’
‘Only the one.’
Rolo smiled. ‘Let me introduce you. This is War Dog. This is Roger. He’s in the RAF.’
Roger shuffled his wings and looked embarrassed.
War Dog said, ‘You fellows dropped us off in your helicopters and brought me and Master back home.’
Roger looked around. ‘Never seen any active service myself. In the reserves you know.’
‘It’s the best place to be.’
There was an awkward silence which Squeak broke. ‘Come on let’s eat.’
The friends tucked into the steak and cheese. War Dog said, ‘This is the best steak I’ve had in ages.’ Then he coughed violently. ‘Excuse me I just need to walk around a little to get my lunch to settle.’ Then he walked off through the trees.
Squeak hopped after him and then jumped on to his metal leg. War Dog walked for a few hundred yards, getting more and more unsteady on his feet then stopped and wretched. He convulsed for a few seconds then stood still.
Squeak asked, ‘Are you OK?’
War Dog looked him in the eye. ‘The blast affected me badly. My insides are messed up.’ He wiped some blood off his mouth and turned to walk away. He looked up at the sky again. ‘When we were hit the sky looked blood red. For some reason I thought I was back at base playing ball. But it was just the blood in my eyes and shock.’
Squeak stood silent.
War Dog sat down. ‘My time is coming to an end. I need to get something off my chest. It’s about the blast that caught us.’ He sniffed. ‘It was my fault. I was unwell. I had a cold. When Master went I went along with them. If I’d stayed behind they’d have all stayed. I smelt the first two bombs and master was dealing with them, but I didn’t smell the last one until he was on top of it. I panicked, rather than just sit down by the bomb as we were trained I tried to warn him by barking. He didn’t understand until it was too late. After the blast I tried to drag him back to base, but I knew he was dead. Then a bullet hit my leg and smashed it to pieces.’ He looked down at his metal leg. ‘And after that, I couldn’t do anything.’
Squeak patted his paw. ‘It’s not your fault. You didn’t start the war.’
War Dog sniffed. ‘But I could have stayed in base and they wouldn’t have gone on patrol. Or they could have taken another dog. But I was too proud. I wanted it to be me and Master. I wanted to be at the front with Master leading the men.’ He shook his head. ‘It should’ve been me. It should’ve been me.’ As he walked away he mumbled, ‘I must go back to Master.’
‘You can’t change the past. All you can do is carry on. You can still be useful.’
‘No. There is no place for us broken down relics.’
‘Is there anything we can do?’
‘No. I’ve had a beautiful day. I felt almost normal again which was more than I could have hoped for. I’ve endured the pain for long enough.’ 
Then Squeak stood silently as War Dog made his way through the trees. Squeak couldn’t help asking himself whether he was talking about the pain from his wounds or from his guilt.

Fifteen minutes later Squeak entered the clearing.
Rolo looked at Squeak. ‘Where’s War Dog?’  
‘He’s gone.’ As Squeak spoke the words the red sky changed to a thunderous blackness. ‘We’d better get back to the theatre.’
As the friends made their way through the back door of the theatre the clouds opened up and rain began to fall.

Squeak looked out of the theatre window as the rain beat against the pane.
Froggy jumped up and sat next to him. ‘What do you think will happen to him?’
Squeak shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you think you’ll see him again?’
‘No.’
‘Do you want to try and find him?’
Squeak thought for a few moments. ‘No. He wants to be alone.’
Froggy nudged Squeak. ‘Do you really think that? Don’t you think we should help?’
Squeak looked at the rain. ‘He said he wanted to be alone.’ A gust of wind smashed against the window. ‘But we should help him. Is Roger here?’
A few minutes later Squeak was explaining to Roger, ‘War Dog needs our help.’
Roger saluted. ‘I know my duty.’ He looked out of the window and gulped. ‘It’s an awful storm out there.’
Squeak touched his wing. ‘You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’
Roger nodded.
‘He’ll probably be at the cemetery. Do you know where it is?’
‘Yes. Always use it to get my bearings.’

On his return Roger stood shivering. He violently flapped his wings and water sprayed everywhere. He looked at Squeak. ‘He’s by a grave. He’s soaked through. He’ll catch his death.’
Squeak called the friends together. ‘We must help War Dog.’
Rolo asked, ‘What can we do?’
Squeak scratched his head. ‘If we get an old plastic sheet or mackintosh we can cover him. At least it will keep him dry.’
The friends scattered and when they re-assembled they had an odd assortment of coats and sheets of plastic. Squeak inspected what they’d brought back and pointed to an old plastic cagoule. ‘Froggy do you think you could carry that?’
Froggy nodded.
Squeak thought for a few moments. ‘What we will do is partially unwrap the coat, then we’ll,’ he motioned to the two other mice, ‘get on your back and hold the coat in place to keep us all dry.’
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Roger said, ‘I’ll lead the way.’
And with that they set off.

They soon found War Dog and gently wrapped him in the coat, then huddled together for warmth. War Dog’s big sad eye was filled with honest devoted service. The darkness of the night, the howling wind and the lashing rain meant that none of the friends sleep a wink. The three mice and Froggy huddled together and shivered. War Dog was motionless.
The darkness slowly receded and the morning light begun to reclaim the scene. The wind and rain died away and the friends looked out across a new day. Squeak examined the dedication on the gravestone.
IN MEMORY OF GENERATIONS LOST
ON THE WORLDS BATTLEFIELDS
2012
MAY THEIR LOSS NOT BE IN VAIN
War Dog’s eyes were closed and his face was serene. Squeak touched War Dog’s paw. It was cold. 
Rolo looked over at Squeak. ‘Should we go and find him some milk?’
‘It’s too late for that.’
After a few moments of silence the mice silently climbed onto Froggy’s back and they headed back to the theatre.
Suddenly a tall thin man dressed in a long black cassock walked swiftly towards them. He looked at the three mice on top of Froggy and his mouth fell open. Then he saw War Dog and went over. The man gently stroked the old dog’s head and said, ‘Couldn’t bear to be apart from your master? I’ll make sure you stay together.’ He picked up War Dog and slowly carried him back towards the cathedral.

Four days later the three mice and Froggy stood to attention as War Dog’s body was lowered into a small grave next to his master. As a man raised a bugle to his lips and started to play, Roger led a flock of pigeons in a fly past.
As the piper finished the last note and saluted, dogs across the city began to howl.
Squeak spoke, ‘Death comes to us all in the end, either through old age, misfortune or the battlefield. Even though he didn’t die in battle, War Dog died a devoted hero.’
Then they all bowed their heads, tears in their eyes for the fallen hero.