Читать книгу: «Raccoon Rampage - The Raid»

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1 - The Rules

Chapter 2 - Bear Feet

Chapter 3 - Ivan the Terrible

Chapter 4 - Rocky Rescue

Chapter 5 - Dam Buster

Chapter 6 - The ‘Accident’

Chapter 7 - Still Life

Chapter 8 - The Meeting

Chapter 9 - Hitching a Ride

Chapter 10 - Make-up, Fake-up

Chapter 11 - Tea-Tray Slalom

Chapter 12 - Faking It

Chapter 13 - Inside Job

Copyright

About the Publisher

The trees were heavy with snow. Clouds scudded across the night sky and an owl hooted. The Hole-in-the-Tree gang scampered through the forest, heading for the twinkling lights of the village. Rocky’s teeth were chattering, a combination of cold and fear. “What if he’s waiting for us?” he panted. “Max isn’t stupid. And he’s got a gun. I’ve heard he kills animals and stuffs them. And then keeps them in his house to look at.” Rocky’s teeth started chattering even faster. “He looks at d—dead animals! For fun!”

Quickpaw stopped abruptly and pulled his team into the moonlight. He put a paw across Rocky’s mouth. “Shush,” he ordered. “We need cool raccoon heads. Max knows we’re coming. We’ve seen him setting traps.” Rocky’s eyes widened and he let out a muffled shriek. “That’s why we’re going with Sunshine’s plan,” explained Quickpaw. “He’s the most cunning raccoon in the forest. He is an expert at breaking and entering. Has there ever been a job too difficult for our light-fingered friend?”

All eyes fell on Sunshine. His half-tail was a souvenir of a previous mission that had gone horribly wrong. He carefully raised the brim of his cowboy hat and cast a glance at the gang. “Ain’t nothin’ that this outlaw can’t break into,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt.

“And what exactly is your plan?” asked Dempsey. “I sure am hungry. But Rocky’s right, Max is on red alert. How on earth are we going to break into his shop?”

The Sunshine Cub stood tall, meerkat-style. “Max is expecting us to break into his shop. Right?”

“Right,” chorused the gang.

“Which is exactly why we’re not going to break into his shop.”

The other raccoons looked at Sunshine in puzzlement. “We’re not?”

“Rule number one of breaking and entering: hit ’em by surprise.”

Rocky tugged nervously at the elastic in his pants. He didn’t like surprises.

“It’s winter, right?” continued Sunshine. “All this cold white stuff means food is scarce. And the lake is frozen. And Max knows that us hungry critters will do anything to get our hands on his food. So I cased the joint yesterday.” Dempsey looked puzzled. “Did a bit of snooping,” explained Sunshine. He moved to a clear bit of snow and drew a map of Max’s General Store with his paw. The gang huddled round the moonlit diagram. “Traps at the front door,” explained Sunshine, putting a cross in the snow. More crosses followed. “Traps on the top shelf next to the gherkins. Poison next to the oatmeal. And a newly installed guard dog sleeping in a basket behind the counter.”

Rocky couldn’t take much more. “P— p—poison? And a d—d…”

Sunshine barged on. “So we’re not going to go anywhere near where Max expects us to be. That’d be curtains for the Hole-in-the-Tree gang. Our last supper! No siree.” He drew another box on the side of Max’s shop. “That’s why we’re going to break into Max’s storeroom.”

There was a collective sharp intake of racoon breath. “The storeroom!” echoed Rocky. “Nobody’s ever broken into Max’s secret store!”

Dempsey sat upright. “I saw in there once,” he drooled. “Loads and loads of fish, in a cold cupboard. And enough packets of biscuits to last a raccoon lifetime.”

“I saw it too,” moaned Rocky. “It’s raccoon suicide. Not only is the storeroom inside the shop, but there are padlocks everywhere. There’s a good reason why animals have never broken into the storeroom. We’ll never get through the door!”

“Who said anything about going in through the door?” beamed Sunshine, cocking his hat and raising an eyebrow. “Rule number two of breaking and entering: be creative. Humans would call it ‘thinking outside the box’.” His friends stared at him expectantly. “The storeroom has one door, padlocked and bolted, right?”

The gang nodded. “And no windows,” added Dempsey.

“Exactly!” exclaimed Sunshine. He paused to take in their blank faces. “Don’t you see? No windows? If there are no windows then Max isn’t going to expect a break-in through a window.”

Dempsey scratched his ear. He could feel one of his headaches coming on. Rocky blinked hard. Even Quickpaw was struggling to keep up.

“So we make a window,” continued Sunshine. “Rule number three: expect the unexpected. And tonight is the perrrrfect night for the unexpected.”

The other three raccoons listened intently. The moon disappeared and the forest went black. Sunshine had an excellent breaking-and-entering record, but this seemed an impossible raid. “There’s been a posse of workmen in town. Making a crazy racket! Digging up the roads and laying cables.” The raccoon removed his hat and felt for his camera. He’d stolen it from a tourist a few months ago and it was his favourite gadget. He clicked it on and the gang crowded round to marvel at the saved pictures. There were several men in luminous jackets, some with huge drills and one driving a digger.

“So we’re going in through the tunnels...” guessed Dempsey, jumping up and down with excitement.

“An interesting idea,” nodded Sunshine. “But no.” He looked around as if somebody might be listening, and drew the gang closer. “I enlisted the help of Headbanger and he’s been working on our behalf.”

“Headbanger?” chorused the gang. “The woodpecker?”

“We’ve taken advantage of the noise. While the drill’s been drilling, Headbanger’s been pecking. Nobody saw him and, more importantly, nobody heard him.”

Sunshine led the raccoons across the empty road and they scampered through the shadows towards Max’s General Store. They tiptoed past the front door, being careful not to wake the dog. Sunshine unfolded a piece of paper that he’d been carrying and studied it. The gang watched as he stood at the corner of Max’s shop and marched ten extra-large raccoon paces, leaving tiny footprints in the snow. He stopped abruptly and beckoned to his friends.

“Rocky, you’re the lightest. Get on my shoulders.” Rocky didn’t look sure, but he was helped aboard by Dempsey and Quickpaw. Sunshine turned to face the wooden wall of Max’s storeroom. “Headbanger should have cut a circle,” he barked. “Loosened the wood. Hit it, right there in front of your face and we’re in.”

Rocky looked down at his friends. He turned back to the wooden wall, formed a fist and thumped as hard as he could. Sure enough, a small circle of wood disappeared, clattering on to the floor inside Max’s storeroom. The gang tensed, waiting for the dog to bark. There was no sound so Rocky peered into the hole. His keen raccoon eyes picked out rows and rows of gherkins and his nostrils filled with the smell of mackerel. His eyes shone as he looked down at the team below. “Bingo!”

Rocky was first through the home-made window, falling softly to the concrete floor. Quickpaw sat on Dempsey’s shoulders and landed quietly next to Rocky. Dempsey hauled Sunshine up and before long the Hole-in-the-Tree gang were standing in an Aladdin’s cave of raccoon food. Moonlight beamed through the small hole, illuminating more goodies than a raccoon could ever imagine. Dempsey was slobbering. Rocky’s tummy made funny gurgling noises.

Quickpaw Cassidy was the natural leader of the gang. He assessed the situation and whispered the orders. “Genius to get us inside Sunshine,” he said. “But this is where the project really begins. If we play it right we can secure enough food for the whole winter.” He grabbed a bag of birdseed. “For Headbanger,” he said. “It’s the least we can do. You guys fetch the food and I’ll sort out a bag.”

The raccoons went silently about their business. A small mountain of food was assembled below the hole in the wall. Quickpaw found some plastic bags. He leapt up to the hole and threw them into the outside world. “Now the tricky part,” he whispered, explaining the system.

Dempsey waited on the outside. Quickpaw sat in the hole. Rocky and Sunshine took turns throwing tins, packets and bottles to Quickpaw. He caught them and threw them to Dempsey who was chief bagger. The raid lasted less than fifteen minutes.

Three bags would probably have been enough. But the raccoons couldn’t resist going for four. They had built up a decent rhythm, and confidence had tipped into over-confidence. Rocky clasped a pot of jam and prepared to throw it to his leader when suddenly there was an almighty crash from the room next door. The guard dog barked furiously. Rocky’s fur went on end as he imagined being torn to pieces by a ferocious Alsatian. The raccoons heard more crashing and banging, the dog’s barks turning into whimpers of fear. Glass smashed and shelves came crashing down. The raccoons heard muffled footsteps overhead as the store owner sprinted across the landing, then light flooded under the crack in the door.

Quickpaw knew better than to hang around and investigate. Theirs was a secret raid. Whatever was going on in Max’s shop was waking the whole village and, judging by the racket, it was bigger than a raccoon. There was more smashing of windowpanes as Quickpaw and Rocky leapt from the hole into the snow. They saw a flash of white as Dempsey’s tail disappeared into the woods. There was no time to drag the bags of food. This was a life or death moment. They left their stolen goods and scampered towards the line of trees. They didn’t need to look back; the sound of Max’s shotgun said it all.