Chapter Four

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The injured Cheese God caused commotion for the better part of the day, with inspectors in hard hats and professors, with spectacles roaming Cheese World, peering into our homes and looking for any signs of what could have caused such a tragic attack.

The creature, it seemed, was not much the worse for wear, and it was overheard from one of the inspectors that the blow to the head had completely eliminated its memory of the incident. We were in the clear.

We had to put our plan back into motion that night, as soon as all clear was sounded for the curfew. We had a dozen visits to make, including my father and we’d need every spare minute of the next three days to get it done before Maze day.

We started with my father. He read the notes thoughtfully, then looked at me, “You know what I’m going to say Ralph. All of this is very interesting, no doubt, and you may be on to something but remember, the Council Decides, and one of those things that they decide, is how much cheddar will come into this colony."

He continued,"I don’t think you’ve any idea how this might turn out and I thin, for your sake, you should drop it, rather than taking on a reputation as a rat who makes wave before your career can even start. No one wants a rat that makes waves. I’m proud of your compassion son, and your motives are true, but find another way to help.”
And that was pretty much the same conversation we had with all but two of the remaining runners over the next three nights.

“I ought to report you to the Council myself, take the reward for stopping your scheme, but since you are Raul’s son….” This from Ronald, a very pretentious Maze runner, who prided himself on always following all of the rules.
“What if I can give you three days advance notice of the runner numbers before the next three maze days?” Rave offered.

He seemed to consider it for a few moments, then nodded. “Well, I can keep your secret, but understand, it is not in exchange for that. That would be a bribe and runners have to be above that.”

Funny thing is, three others had already asked for bribes we simply couldn’t pay to get their cooperation.

Last but not least we visited my childhood hero, the first rat I’d seen run, Rutger. He greeted us warmly and read my plan. He smiled and nodded as he read and when he was done, he simply said, “Let’s do it.”

My speech was prepared, and I started in before It hit me, “We understand, sir, thank you for your time, we really…wait, you’ll do it?”

“Sure, why not? Unlike these other runners, I’ve got nothing to lose. I’m up for retirement, after the next Maze Day, and that means automatic banishment, without an appointment to the Council, which I don’t see coming, but this, this might just do it. Not only that, but I think it’s bold, and it’s about time someone did something to release the stranglehold Rasmus has on this colony."

I shook his hand and we headed home. Maze day was the next day. I had managed to secure two white buttons, from a source that wanted a few grams of cheddar for himself, and Raven and I headed up to the beam.

We found seats near the intersection of the two beams, with a great view of the whole maze, and sat back to watch, snacking on seeds I’d brought.

Rutger wasn’t top bill as he had been the day I’d seen him, so we had to wait through three other rats, each with singularly unimpressive runs, each attaining his reward, while leaving all of the others. I did see one pause after seizing his first cheese and I thought she might join the cause, but she apparently had second thoughts, because she moved to the exit platform and was lifted home by the Cheese God moments later.

Rutger took the entrance gate quickly. He’d apparently studied the map I’d left with the notes. Although he’d been in this maze three times before, he was definitely moving more quickly. He bypassed smaller prizes, headed for the back of the maze, where he claimed his first reward, then seemingly headed for the exit.

Then, with surprising speed, for an older runner, Rutger made a clean sweep, taking every reward, as the Cheese Gods looked on in confusion. They debated and looked ready to stop him several times, but thought better of it apparently.

During the course of his run, I looked over to where Rasmus sat, in the place of honor. He tensed, then, with a steely gaze, he searched the crowd, until finally, his eyes locked on mine and he motioned to his body guards, whispered a command and pointed in our direction
At the same exact moment, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned, to find, instead of a Cheese World guard, my father.

“Rasmus is on to you, it would be best if he doesn’t catch you here, follow me,” he said.

By the time Rasmus looked back to our seats, we were gone, sliding down an angled beam, similar to the one we’d taken a few days before, on our ill-fated mission.

When we arrived home, my father looked tired. “Son, I didn’t want to say this before, but it’s been tried. I had the same idea and proposed a similar solution, only the Cheese Gods didn’t allow it. They snatched a great runner from the maze and ended Maze Day for two cycles. The colony nearly starved.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” I asked.
“I didn’t want to encourage you. You’re starting a war, son, a war I don’t have the

After Rutger’s performance, every runner that followed had stepped to the challenge and cleared the maze field of rewards.

The Cheese Gods had paused the trials to obtain more cheese twice. Once the runners had taken their share and not counting what had been consumed on Maze Day, the resulting deposit in the First Bank of Cheese World had added up to more than five times the highest reward that had every been taken in the history of Cheese World.
The Cheese Gods reportedly stayed late into the night in conference over what had spurred the uptick in reward claiming. My idea had worked and I couldn’t wait to share the news with my father.

“Dad, you home?” I called.

“Yes, Ralph, come in,” he said, sounding more formal than usual and as I entered the house, I could see why. My father sat, on his usual cushion, on one side stood the most enormous Cheese World guard I’d ever seen and on the other, thin, greasy rat known as Rasputin, Rasmus’ right paw.

My stomach sank. Although the Reapers had not come, I wondered if news of our exploits had reached the capital. It was possible they’d even seen Raven from their vantage point above the maze.

“Well, you seem to have caused quite a stir,” Rasputin purred.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
Rasputin unfolded one of the notes Raven and I had copied down. “So, when I ask your mother to tell me, which of her students wrote this, what will she say?”

I stood my ground silently. I knew he would find out, eventually, but I wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of making it easy.

“I think you may have the wrong impression of why I’m here, son,” Rasputin said, with a greasy smile that made me feel vaguely sick to my stomach, like watching him eat pill babies alive. If there was evil in Cheese World, this was it.

“They want to offer you a job, son, working for the council,” my father said. I looked at him. His eyes were pleading with me not to say whatever was in my mind.
“With all due respect, Mr. Rasputin, I think I’ll take my chances with my trials next week, if it’s all the same to you,” I said, as politely as I could.

“Very well, young Ralph, very well. But, remember, The Council Decides,” Rasputin said, the same greasy smile playing over his face again.

As they turned to leave, I caught, for just the briefest moment, a glare of contempt come over the guard’s face when Rasputin wasn’t looking. Then, I swear, he winked at me. Things are not always as they seem.

That night, there was a celebration behind the nursery. Someone had found a short string of lights, that cast festive shadows across Behind the Wall, and reflected in the glass wall of the nursery, where the youngest citizens pressed their noses against the glass to watch.

On a makeshift stage, a DJ worked with a scavenged Ipod, and several pairs of headphone speakers, as trance music filled the air. It was like a holiday.

As I walked into Behind the Wall, rats near me, turned to watch, growing still. The stillness spread across the crowd, until the DJ stopped his music and signaled for me to join him onstage.

“Here you go, little bro! They’re all yours!”

He handed me a microphone, scavenged from a pair of Iphone earbuds. I cleared my throat. It echoed across Behind the Wall. There were hundreds of beady eyes, all focused on me expectantly. I froze, but there, right in front of me, at the foot of the stage, was Raven, and I knew what to say.

“Today, we are celebrating cheddar. But tomorrow, it will be up to us. Do we continue to live in a Cheese World where we talk about there not being enough, or do we go out and bring back enough cheddar for all?” I held the microphone over my head and the crowd went wild.

The DJ took the mic and the crowd took me, out and over their heads, handing me off for what felt like days, wave after wave of hands passing me along. So, this is what it felt like to be a hero.

I got more back slaps and high fives over the next several days, than in my whole young life up to then. It felt good. I got back into my training regimen, and every time I felt like giving up, I just thought of Rasputin’s face, smiling and saying, “The Council Decides” and kicked back into high gear.

Raven turned out to be a great coach. She drew up mazes for me to navigate with a pencil and timed my runs through the makeshift maze we set up behind the nursery. Every day, the crowd grew a little larger, and even Razer stopped by to tell me he hoped I made it.

“Because then I can beat your time in front of the whole colony, but I think you deserve a shot,” he said, with a cocky smile. That was as close to a genuine compliment as anyone could hope for, considering the source.

On the morning of my trial day, my parents both greeted me with a high protein blend of seeds and cheeses that must have cost them a week’s cheddar. I ate every crumb, even though it felt like too much.

On my way to the trial, Roddy, a reporter with the Cheese World News caught up with me. “Hey, Ralph, good luck today.”

“Thanks Roddy, is that what you came here for?” I asked. He was known for putting subjects at ease, right before he asked tough questions.

“Well, yeah, but I also wondered if you’d seen this,” he handed me a printed flier, with the Council’s seal on it.
“Notice to all Maze Runners, multiple bounties will no longer be taken. The Cheese Gods generous supply of cheese must be respected, and not treated as our personal bounty to take as we please. Any runner found guilty of duplicate bounty, will be considered for immediate banishment.”

At the bottom were twelve paw prints, with Rasmus paw in red, and the others in black. I hadn’t seen it yet and I didn’t quite understand.

“Well,” I said, thinking about what my father would want me to say. “The Council Decides.”

Roddy seemed noticeably deflated by my response. He turned to walk away.

“…for the Council,” I added, growing bolder with every syllable. “And each rat must decide for themselves. We can continue to survive, under their rules, or we can take matters into our own paws. There is more than enough cheddar in Cheese World to make every citizen wealthy, without hurting the Cheese God’s supply. I’ve seen what they do…”

At that exact moment, over Roddy’s shoulder, I saw something that put a chill in my spine, as my fur stood on end. Coming toward us, guard in tow, came Rasputin, and he was definitely looking for me.

“What? What do they do?” Roddy asked eagerly, turning to see what had caught my attention. His shoulder’s fell and he scurried off at the site of Rasputin. “I’ll catch up with you later Ralph, thanks for the comment.”

Rasputin approached, “Ah, good, I see you’ve found our notice. It’s for the best, don’t you agree?”

I turned, without saying a word, and walked toward the lift. Rasputin called after me.

“Good luck, today, Ralph. In your trial, I mean. The Council Decides.”