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Oscar glanced over at Walt, who shrugged.“Lead the way, Dunkin.”

Dunkin gave a small shrill laugh.“Oh no, I’m not going with you. We’ll all stay here. But you feel free. Knock yourself out.”

Oscar gritted his beak. Whatever was out there couldn’t be that bad. “Fine. Chad?”

Chad uncloaked and slithered his way over to the keypad.“Space, please, I need my space,” he snarled at the rats, who scattered as he got closer.

Chad hoisted himself up and typed on the keypad. The door buzzed quietly.

“Oh, going in the human way, huh? Well, that’s new,” Dunkin said, watching from a safe distance.

Chad hung on to the exit sign with one tentacle as he tugged the door open with another one.“Any cameras inside?”

“Um, yes, there’s a surveillance camera aimed at the door. I think it’s mostly for humans. I don’t think it’s aimed right to see you all.”

“Got it,” Chad said, dangling from the sign. He snapped one of his free tentacles at Butterbean. “I’m not holding this for my health, okay?”

“Oh! Sorry!” Butterbean raced forward and squeezed into the gap in the door. Oscar barely had time to tighten his grip before they were skidding to a stop in the storage room.

“Make it snappy,” Chad called after them. “I’ll be right here.”

Walt squeezed in behind Butterbean (with Marco and Polo back on board) and stood silently in the large storage room. Tall cagelike storage units lined the walls and went almost all the way from floor to ceiling. They were filled with shadowy boxes, bags, and random pieces of furniture.

“One of these belongs to Mrs. Food,” Butterbean said, her nose quivering in the air. “I’m not sure which one, though. I think she keeps her holiday decorations here. Want me to find it?”

“It’s not important,” Oscar said quietly. “I don’t think the storage units are the problem.”

The room had seemed silent when they first came in, but the longer they stood there, the more they noticed a small background sound. A scrabbling sound. It was coming from the large metal door at the end of the storage area. The sound of something trying to get in.

“That’s the door to the loading dock?” Oscar asked, examining it cautiously.

“That’s it,” Wallace said. He wished he hadn’t worn the sailor shirt. It’s not like it was really a disguise anyway. He would’ve been much better off as an anonymous naked rat.

“I can see why the rats didn’t feel safe,” Polo said in a small voice.

“That door looks pretty solid,” Oscar said, cocking his head. “Even if something wanted to get in, I don’t think it could get through that.”

“Something definitely wants to get in,” Walt said under her breath.

“Let’s go.” Oscar nodded toward the door. Taking a deep breath, they crept slowly toward the door at the end of the room. The scrabbling sound got louder. When they were standing directly opposite the door, Walt had finally had enough.

“Okay, where’s it coming from?” Walt’s ears swiveled around as she scanned the room. “It can’t get in though the metal door. So where is it?”

“There,” Wallace said, swallowing hard. He pointed up at an exhaust pipe that disappeared into a hole in the wall near the door. The insulation around the pipe looked like it was moving.

“That’s not rats, is it, Wallace?” Butterbean whispered.

“I don’t think so,” Wallace said, his eyes on the pipe. “Rats would’ve said something by now.”

As they watched, a puff of insulation fell out onto the floor. Then a second puff.

And then, slowly, a small long-fingered hand reached out into the room and felt around on the wall surrounding the hole.

“That’s a HAND!” Butterbean gasped.

“No kidding,” Walt said. But her whiskers trembled when she said it.

Oscar felt a chill.“I know what that is. Go back!”

Butterbean took a step closer and peered up at the tiny hand, which was actively digging away at the insulation.

“Go,” Oscar snapped. “I’ve seen hands like that on the Television. I know what we’re dealing with now.”

Walt looked up at him.“What?”

Oscar’s face looked grim. “Raccoons. The Strathmore’s being invaded by raccoons.”

— 7 —

“RACCOONS? LET ME TALK TO them,” Butterbean said. “I can handle this.” She’d never met any raccoons before, but she liked their stripey tails, and she could start out by mentioning that. Everybody liked compliments.

Walt shot Oscar a panicked look. She didn’t know a lot about raccoons, but she did know Butterbean. She didn’t like the odds.

Besides, if Oscar was freaked out, Walt was freaked out.“No, Bean, not here. Let’s go back and discuss.”

“But—” Butterbean protested.

“Discuss! Now!” Oscar said, flying over to the door, where Chad was still hanging limply, drumming his free tentacles against the doorframe.

“FINE,” Butterbean grumbled, turning around and stomping after him.

“Oh, you’re back,” Chad said in a bored tone. “Any time you’re ready. Take all the time you need. Don’t mind me.”

“I think that’s sarcasm,” Polo whispered to Marco as she held tight to Walt’s fur.

“I think you’re right,” Marco whispered back as they went through the doorway.