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“It’s a lot easier when you’ve got a whole passel of raccoon friends to help out,” Dunkin said. “Now, us rats, we would never do that. We’re discreet. We never even use the storage area, except for our annual bottle-cap shuffleboard tournament. Which I guess is off this year. Thanks a lot, raccoons,” he finished bitterly.

“That stinks,” Marco said. He wasn’t sure what shuffleboard was exactly, but it had to be exciting if there was a whole rat tournament.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Dunkin said. “I just feel bad for Ken. He’s been champion four years running. This year was his chance to break the world record.”

“Um. Sorry,” Polo said, watching Bob drag a garbage bin across the storage room and open the loading dock door. “Well, I guess that’s it, then? We should report back, Marco.”

“Yeah, we should find out what Oscar—HOLY COW!” Marco pressed his face hard against the grate. “Did you see that? What was that?”

Just a few seconds after Bob opened the door to the loading dock, something large and black had flown at him, attacking his face and then flying across the storage room and into the basement.

“Was that—” Marco’s mouth hung open as he stared wide-eyed at Polo.

“We have to go,” Polo gasped. “WE HAVE TO GO NOW.”

Oscar’s life flashed before his eyes. “ACK!” he squawked, shaking his foot desperately. The hand tightened its grip.

“Oscar, isn’t it?” a low voice growled. “So we meet again.”

“Let go! Let go of my foot!” Oscar tugged against the hand holding on to his leg, but the grip was like steel.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I was asleep.” The big raccoon poked his head out from underneath the folds of the coat. “I was asleep, and you kicked me. I don’t like that, Oscar.”

Oscar stopped shaking his leg and glared at the raccoon. (He wasn’t going to get free anyway. He realized that now.) “You need to leave. You and the other raccoons, you’re not welcome. I’ve warned you before. This is your last chance.”

The raccoon laughed a cold laugh.“Leave? Or you’ll do what? Who’s the one who’s trapped, bird? Not me.”

“You’re causing problems.” Oscar tried to stand firm, but his other leg was shaking. “You don’t want to make me angry,” he said. He’d heard someone say something like that on the Television once, and it had been very effective.

Unfortunately it was less effective in real life.

“No, bird. You’re the one who doesn’t want to make ME angry. You’re the one who needs to leave.”

The raccoon loosened his grip on Oscar’s leg and splayed his fingers wide in front of him. “I’m letting you go. But know this. If you or your friends ever bother us again, there will be serious consequences. Do not test me. You won’t survive the test.”

The raccoon disappeared back into the folds of the coat, leaving Oscar standing awkwardly a few paces away. Oscar took a deep breath.“You can’t threaten—” he started.

And then the raccoon erupted out of the coat.“GO!” The raccoon snarled, teeth bared.

Oscar hopped backward, stumbling over a piece of gravel and leaping into the air. The loading dock door opened, and Oscar saw his chance. He flew at top speed through the door, smacking into something in his way, and then streaked through the storage area and into the basement.

Oscar heard a commotion behind him, but he ignored it, pecking frantically at the elevator button.

The elevator dinged. Oscar flew inside, hovering near the ceiling as the elevator started moving. He just hoped he would be able to press the fourth-floor button before anyone else got on.

He wasn’t that lucky.

“Lobby,” the elevator voice said as the doors opened. An elderly woman stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the seventh floor. And as the doors shut, she turned and looked up at the ceiling. Right at Oscar. He’d been seen.

She smiled at him. Oscar gasped in recognition.

It was Mrs. Power Walker.

Maintaining eye contact, she hovered her finger over the elevator button.“Three?” she said softly. “No? Eight? No. Four?”

Oscar squawked once.“Four it is!” Mrs. Power Walker said, smiling. Then she turned back to face the elevator doors.

Oscar landed on the railing inside the elevator wall with a thump. His wings just weren’t up to hovering anymore. Mrs. Power Walker didn’t even seem to notice. She didn’t say another word until the elevator opened on the fourth floor.

“Have a good day!” she called after Oscar as he flew out into the hallway.

Oscar didn’t think that was possible anymore.

“OH NO!” Madison ran around the apartment, looking at the tops of all of the bookcases and cabinets. “He’s not anywhere. How could he get out?”

Mrs. Food was in the living room, looking behind couch cushions.“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably just hiding.”

“Oh, this is bad,” Butterbean said as she tailed Madison around the apartment. “We messed up distracting, Walt!”

“I should’ve gone for the hairball,” Walt said. “It never fails.”

“I should’ve peed on the rug! Why didn’t I pee on the rug?” Butterbean wailed.

“Maybe he’s in one of the bedrooms?” Mrs. Food said, putting back the last couch pillow.