A/N: Here it is people: the final chapter of Deputy Wildlifers. I am SO sorry for the terrible, terrible delay, but it's hard to combine your muse's schedule with life's schedule. I have loved everyone of your reviews as much as I have loved writing this story. And I don't know if you've heard, but there is actually a third installment to the Deputy serious in the works. It's still in the planning stage, but I can tell you the title of it: 'Deputy Moviemakers'. Also, I would like to thank anyone and everyone who voted for this story in the 2006 TMNT Fanfiction Competition. It won 3rd place for Best On-Going Story from Previous Year. How sweet is that? Also, huge thanks to whomever it was that nominated it. huggles As for my review responses, I will probably put them up this weekend (you know where, I hope) because I have to get a bunch of stuff done these upcoming few days. Now, let's just get to the good stuff. Here is the final chapter. Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 12 – "Do you want us to die out here?"
He only had himself to blame. Having complained at Leonardo's map reading abilities as much as he had, there was no wonder Leo go fed up and dumped the entire map reading responsibility on him. Donnie wasn't pleased, because as things were, they had no idea where on the map they were. And sure, he always enjoyed a challenge, but what with everyone sitting around, impatiently waiting for him to turn Leo's little mistake upside, the challenge was somehow sucked dry of all fun.
Leo, meanwhile, was happily observing Don from his spot on a larger rock, casually leaned back against the trunk of a tree. He was working on his tan, which, he'd proudly noticed earlier this morning before putting on his mask, was coming along quite nicely. They never had the chance to sunbathe when in the city, what with living underground and all – and the moon didn't do much to improve their skin complexion.
Don shook his head in irritation before going back to trying to figure out the map, only to have his concentration be interrupted by Michelangelo.
"Hey, Raph?" he said, walking up to the brother in question who was sitting with his shell against a tree, still suffering from his cold and just looking randomly pissed at the situation. "D'ya think maybe I could borrow your Swiss knife?"
Raphael looked up at his little brother with suspicion furrowing his features. "What for?"
"Oh, nothing," Mikey said innocently. "Just really, really bored, is all."
Studying his orange-masked brother's face as if checking him for any signs of lying, Raph cautiously brought his hand down to his belt, grabbing a firm hold of the knife and handing it out for his brother to take. But, as Mikey reached out and grabbed it, Raph still wouldn't let go.
"No monkey business," he firmly warned.
"Sure," Mike nodded, eager for his brother to let go of the knife. "No climbing trees and throwing feces at passing by hikers. Got it."
Raphael only shook his head at the uselessness of getting a logical answer out of his brother and allowed him to have the knife, causing Mikey's face to light up in victory, instantly rushing off to do whatever it was he'd planned to do.
Donatello went back to studying the map; trying to find an area that fit the environment they currently found themselves in. It truly was like searching for a needle in a haystack, especially when the old map couldn't be trusted.
"You know," Leonardo suddenly interrupted, looking up from his leaned back position in the sun. "This could probably take a while, and I have to admit I'm getting kind of hungry."
"Your point being?" Don wondered.
"I was just thinking maybe we could have lunch." Leo proposed. "I mean, I know we didn't bring anything, what with assuming we'd all be home by now, but maybe Mikey's still got something edible in that bottomless backpack of his."
"Oh, I see," Mike took a break from carving something onto a tree and turned to face his blue-masked brother. "Now that we're all out of fish it's suddenly OK to eat my snacks. What happened to living off of nature, Leo? I thought that was like one of the hiker's ten sacred commandments or something."
"You don't have anything left, do you," Leo concluded.
"Nope," Mike confirmed with a grin. "Ate every last crumb."
"Figures," Raph muttered, angrily leaning back against the tree. The thought of food had really brightened his miserable existence there for a moment, even if it only was Mikey's crushed bag of chips.
With the option of food completely out the window, everybody went on with their bored business, and it was then that Raph noticed what Mikey had needed his knife for. "Hey," he called at him, causing him to turn around with the knife still clutched in his hand. "Juz what do ya think yer doin' with my knife?"
"Err... carving?" Mike replied, thinking it was quite obvious.
"Yeah, I noticed, genius. Thanks," Raph dryly commented. "What I wanna know is what yer carving, because I swear I'll kick yer ass if it's somethin' stupid like 'Mikey rules'."
"Nope," Mikey said, confidently shaking his head.
"Same goes fer 'Mikey was here'," Raph added.
"Geeze, Raph," Michelangelo shook his head. "Give me some credit, will ya? I've got more originality than that in my boogers!"
"Then what is it?" Raphael suspiciously wondered, crossing his arms.
But Mike only turned back to keep working on his artistic masterpiece. "You'll see when I'm done."
"If I find anythin' about me on that tree, I'll kick yer ass so hard ye won't even be able ta remember what it felt like havin' one," Raph added.
"Not even close, bro," Mike said. "In fact, you're so far off base I could just laugh at your cluelessness."
Raph gave him one of his trademark threatening stares, and it was all that was needed for Mike to add in petrified panic: "But I won't."
Breaking her apathetic stare from the hypnotizing pattern of the chessboard, April looked up at the giant rat sitting opposite her, having been locked in the very same position for about… seven minutes, she concluded when glancing at the clock that hung above the kitchen door.
It was getting close to dinnertime, and the boys still hadn't returned. It should have bothered her, and it probably would have if it wasn't for the fact that her ability to care had somehow abandoned her where she sat, staring at the board and waiting for the quiet, old – albeit wise – but painfully slow rat to make his painfully anticipated move.
They had done nothing else during the guys' absence but played the few board games Raph had dug out while helping her go through the downstairs closet right before they left. She'd thought it was a good idea to keep time moving, and the conversation flowing, because apart from the turtles, there wasn't really that much the rat and the reporter had in common.
But her plan had tragically backfired, where the furry ninja master tuned out everything else to be able to focus his all on the game. And thus they had been sitting in the kitchen for days, only speaking to each other while eating, and even then all Splinter wanted to do was to look back on the four hour game of backgammon, chess or even go fish, and obsessively analyze every single little detail that had led to his or her downfall.
Dusting off those old games was a dumb move on her part; she knew that know. She had noticed Raph giving her a sly grin when she'd asked for him to take them down from their shelf, as if he knew something she didn't, but she hadn't really cared. Raphael was all about grins, whether they were sly, sarcastic or even mischievous.
But next time, she swore silently to herself, she'd know better. Next time he'd give her a grin like that, she wouldn't be able to shrug it off, because her stomach would freeze up like a giant block of ice at the memory of these last few craaawling days.
Yes, she had definitely learned from her mistake.
But wait! She lit up in excitement as he slowly lifted his right hand from the table, where a print of sweat was left, baring the shape of his palm. This was it. He was finally making his move. No longer would she have to suffer in this torturous time loop she'd somehow been caught in.
She watched in joyful anticipation as Splinter absentmindedly lifted his hand to lightly hover above the board, and then up to his face, where he casually itched the right side of his nose, completely unaware of her intense stare. Then she watched him – just as casually – lower his hand to rest it on the exact same spot on the table he'd kept it throughout the entire game.
But there was still hope inside April. She had seen the light, and she refused to believe it would go out that quickly. Her eyes lingered expectantly on her rival, and she didn't even dare herself to blink, as if the act would somehow kill any possible chance that he'd ever move again.
And then he did.
He looked up from the board, meeting her wide eyes with a puzzled stare, causing April to lean forward in excitement, wanting to physically pull the move out of him. It was so close. She could almost picture it in front of her, how he'd grab a hold of one of his players, pull it dramatically across the board and finally leave the ball on her court. At least then she would have something to do for the upcoming minute or so.
Completely unaware of her hopeful thoughts, Splinter then broke their swift eye contact, twitching one of his whiskers in awkwardness and quickly resumed to stare at the board.
April sunk back in her chair. The spell was broken, the moment was gone, and there was no telling how long it would be until the next one would come along.
She tiredly turned to stare at the clock again, sinking even further into her seat.
It had been four more minutes.
Raphael caught himself nodding off and quickly adjusted himself into a more upright position to keep it from happening again. He was tired, cold and feverish, and there was just no way in hell he'd sleep against this tree. His back ached far too much from what he suspected was a combination of the fever and sleeping on the ground for too long. He wanted to go home. He missed the moth-eaten mattress April had dragged out on the floor for him in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He missed it something so terribly, and if it was the last thing he did in this life he would rest his tired self on his soft friend again. He looked around for his brothers, and found them all doing what they'd been doing all along.
Leonardo still sat leaned back on the rock, his eyes closed as he faced the warming rays of the evening sun. Mikey was still busy carving his dumbassness into the trunk of that tree, his tongue sticking out of his mouth because of his fierce, uncharacteristic concentration. And Donnie? Donatello sat in the grass, his legs folded in the lotus position and the map still clutched obsessively in his hand. His right hand pinched the bridge of his beak, and he was looking as though he was trying to burn a whole in the partly unfolded map with his stare. For all Raph knew, given enough time, he could very well succeed.
"A'right," Raph said, grunting in discomfort as he rose to his feet, the feverish aching of the muscles in his back protesting in pain. "That's it. I'm done. No more sittin' around 'ere waitin' for a miracle ta strike."
Donatello looked up in surprise, about to say something when Raphael suddenly stomped up to him and snatched the map out of his hands.
"Wha... wait--"
But Raph only held up a hand to silence his brother as he looked over the map. "Be quiet, Indoor Boy."
Leo and Don exchanged baffled looks with each other, until Don finally managed to utter, "Did you just... Did he just call me... Indoor Boy?"
But Raphael didn't even bother to give him one of his famous 'Do I look like I wanna repeat myself?' looks, he merely gazed at the map for a few more silent seconds until he suddenly crumbled it up into a paper ball and threw it over his shoulder. Both Don and Leo dramatically screamed out in panic as they threw themselves after the now ruined map, arms stretched out to catch it before it landed in the wet grass. They both missed it by a good yard, but it wasn't as if it mattered to the map, for it was ruined either way.
Even so, Leo scrambled to his feet and snatched the ball of paper off the ground, frenetically unfolding it and trying to smoothen out the many wrinkles on its ruined surface. "What the hell, Raph!"
"Yeah," Donatello quickly filled in. "What's your problem? Do you want us to die out here?"
It was cue for another one of Raph's famous looks, this time the good ol' 'Please. Spare me the dramatics.'
"Seriously, Raph," Leonardo sternly insisted. "What were you thinking? We're lost enough as it as without you crumbling up our only chance of ever sleeping off the ground again."
Raphael, meanwhile, ignored his two brothers and proceeded to put on his backpack. After gazing upwards at the presently sunny sky under the protection of his outstretched palm, he set off in a different direction than the one Leo had them walking in.
"Where are you going?" Leonardo called after him in confusion. "Raph?"
"Home," was Raphael's short reply, and upon walking past Mikey where he still sat by the tree, he stopped, looked and demanded his knife back. Then, once Mikey had placed the army knife in his open hand, Raph casually slapped his younger brother on the back of his head, and continued on his mysterious path.
"Is he... is he walking out on us?" the oldest brother asked, turning to Donatello, who only shrugged in return. It had happened before, so it wouldn't be much of a surprise to them if that was the case.
"Yer free ta come with, ya know," Raph called back to them, not even bothering to turn around.
Michelangelo was quickly up on his feet, backpack strapped on, and hurried to catch up with his brother... but Don and Leo hesitated.
If they couldn't find their way home, what would make Raph think he could do it? Sadly, they didn't seem to have any better option at the time, so the two brothers set off after the red masked hiker, Leo still trying to smooth down the creases on their traitorous map.
As they reached up to the tree Mikey had worked on with the help of Raph's knife, and in result earned a slap from said turtle, they stopped to read the words carved into the bark.
In
Memory of Mr. Gaffy
Beloved Giraffe, Wisecracker
& Friend
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Leonardo called up to his brother, when carefully stepping over another of the many roots on his blind path through the woods. They had been walking in silence for about twenty minutes, and up until now no one had dared question Raph's plan.
"Yer free ta come up with yer own brilliant solution," came Raphael's answer.
Leo frowned and exchanged looks with an amused looking Donatello. "Well, it's just..." He wasn't sure how to phrase his question, without it sounding like an insult to his brother. "Without a map and all, how can you be sure where we're going?"
"You'd rather keep followin' that outdated map, be my guest, bro," said Raph nonchalantly.
"No, I mean..." Leo struggled to find the right words.
Suddenly, Raph stopped, his back still turned to his brothers. Mikey quickly got up to stand beside him, followed by Leonardo and Donatello, but none of them had a clue as to why they had stopped.
"See that down there?" Raph finally broke the silence in a tone that held obvious pride, pointing ahead of them with an open hand.
All they could see below the hill upon which they were standing was the lake, and although it was quite beautiful the way the sun's rays glittered across the surface of the water, it wasn't something they hadn't seen before - especially during these past few days.
"Look, Simba," Michelangelo spoke dramatically. "Everything the light touches is our kingdom."
"No, you idiot!" Raph angrily shoved an elbow into his orange masked brother's side. "I'm talkin' about the lake!"
"Real impressive, Raph," Leo chimed in. "But I thought you said we were going home."
"We are goin' home," Raph turned to Leonardo with a look that spoke of amusement that had gone MIA. "All we need ta do is ta follow the lake. Civilization is always built near water."
"The farm isn't," Don smartly pointed out. "Took us several hours to reach the lake the first day, remember?"
"Yeah, but once we reach civilization, it'll be easier ta find our way," Raphael explained.
"Well, it's not like we can hitchhike our way back home," Leo said.
"Yeah," Mike agreed. "I mean, I know people up here are friendly and all, but if they saw the four of us walking on the side of the road, they'd report an alien invasion or something. I'd hate to have a bunch of UFO fanatics tracking us down in the woods tonight; I've had a hard enough time sleeping as it is."
"We're not gonna advertise ourselves by the side of the road, Mike," Raph growled. "But at least we won't be totally blindsided by all these goddamned trees," he finished, angrily waving his arms at the forest that was holding them prisoners.
"That's a good point," Donatello nodded. "At least it's a step in the right direction."
"Exactly," Raph said. "Now let's get a move on before it gets dark." Following the direction of the lake, he set off to find his way out of the forest, and even though his brothers weren't entirely convinced, they followed his lead, Leo still fiddling with the ruined map.
The four hikers stood silent in the clearing. It was getting dark, but the house up ahead kept things quite visible with the light coming from its many windows.
"Great, Raph," Leonardo commented bitterly. "Your brilliant plan led us to one of April's neighbors. So, the farmhouse is only... what, about fifteen miles away?"
"I got us out of the woods, didn't I?" Raph spat in defense.
"Technically, we're still in the woods," Donatello corrected, motioning to the many trees that protected them from April's neighbor's vision.
"Shut up, Donnie," was Raphael's reply.
"Well, to be fair, Raph," Michelangelo began hesitantly, "it's not like we can knock on the door and ask to use the phone. And that does look like our sun setting behind the house," he added, pointing to the beautiful spectacle disappearing behind the roof of the red painted house. "Looks like we'll be rolling out those sleeping bags one more night, bros," he concluded, patting a pissed off Raph on the shoulder.
"Not necessarily," Donatello added with a thoughtful expression.
"What do ya mean, Donnie?" Mikey asked curiously. "You having an idea? Because I think I saw I light bulb hovering over your head there for a sec."
"Well, you remember April gossiping about her neighbors up here, right?" he said, earning clueless nods from all of his brothers. "I recall several stories about some blind old woman living up here by herself."
"Blind Betty!" Mike exclaimed in excitement. "I love those stories! They always remind me of Mr. Magoo."
"Anyway, if this is her place, then we actually could ask to use the phone," Don finished explaining.
"...Because of the old lady being blind!" Mikey exclaimed.
"Great pointin' out the obvious there, Mike," Raph commented while rolling his eyes.
"Well," Leonardo began. "How do we know for sure this is her house? Could be any of her neighbors."
"Not that many neighbors up here, Leo," Raph pointed out.
"True," the blue-masked turtle nodded. "But I remember stories about another neighbor of hers. And as far as I know, Crazy Ass Phil is neither blind nor is he nice. I just don't see him inviting us inside to use his phone."
"Yeah, I remember those stories, too," Mike nodded with a frightened look. "Huuuw," he felt a shiver run down his spine. "April's tales of Crazy Ass Phil always gives me crazy ass nightmares."
"Right," Leo nodded with a slightly weirded out look. "So we can't afford knocking on the wrong door here."
"Basically," Donatello began, "what we need is proof that this truly is the residence of Blind Betty."
"And just how are we gonna find proof?" the ever so skeptical Raph asked.
"We'll just have to remember things from April's stories," Leo said.
"Ooh!" Mikey lit up with an expression that spelled 'Eureka!' "I remember one about April and her brother accidentally breaking Blind Betty's porch swing when they were kids!"
"So?" Raph wondered with an unimpressed look.
"Well, duuh! Raph, Blind Betty's got a porch swing! Man, you really need things spelled out for ya, don't you?" Michelangelo laughed.
"Mike, everyone up here's got a porch swing," Donnie smartly pointed out.
"Oh..."
Once again, the brothers fell silent, all of them trying to look back on April's gossip and remember something useful from it. After a few seconds of silent, however, Leo was the one to speak up.
"What about the cats?" he asked. "Blind Betty has cats, right?"
"Oh yeah!" Mike remembered with a smile. "Blind Betty's got tons of cats! Remember how April's always complaining about how Betty's house reeks of kitty pee?"
"Right. So go check for cats, then," Raphael concluded.
"Wait..." Leonardo froze an excited Mike in mid-sprinting position. "Didn't Crazy Ass Phil have a dog, though?"
"That's true, he did," Donatello nodded. "He had this giant guard dog. This crossbreed between rottweiler and… wolf, was it?"
"I think it was warewolf, actually," Raph joked with a chuckle. "Even I remember the stories of that psychotic pet. Killing squirrels for kicks..."
"Right," Leo confirmed. "So, either we find cats or a rabid dog. Any volunteers?"
"I think we should all go together," a not so brave looking Michelangelo suggested.
"Actually, we have to keep a low profile," Donnie reminded them. "We could easily be spotted if we sent out an entire search party, so it would probably be best if only one of us went."
"Any volunteers?" Leonardo asked a second time, no one wanting to step up for the job.
"We could draw straws," Don suggested. "That would be the most fair, I think."
"No way!" Mikey protested. "I always lose when we do that. No way am I pulling straws. Nuh-uh."
"Well, if that truly is the case," Donnie said, "then the odds should be in your favor."
"What do you mean 'odds'?" Mike asked as Don bent forward to pick up four straws.
"It's like when you roll a dice," Donatello explained as he counted the straws in his hands. "You only get the same result a certain number of times."
"For real?" Mikey asked, not looking entirely convinced.
"It's math," Donatello stated simply as he fiddled with the straws behind his back. "I seriously don't think you'll end up with the short straw, Mikey."
"All right..." Mike nodded in agreement. "But then I get to pick first."
"Of course," Don said, holding out the seemingly identical straws for his brother to choose one.
Mike reached out hesitantly, but just as he was about to pick one he drew back his hand. "But what if it's just bad luck? What if I'm like... cursed?"
"I don't believe in luck," said Don confidently, moving the straws closer for his little brother to pick one.
There was still doubt visible in Michelangelo's eyes, but he swallowed it bravely and snatched himself a grass straw.
"I knew there was a reason I hated math," Michelangelo muttered to himself as he took off his backpack and set it down in the still wet grass.
"Well, those stories of April's are pretty old," Leo offered to his seemingly cursed brother. "Maybe the rabid dog died years ago?"
"Yeah," Raphael nodded. "And maybe he got two new ones ta replace it? Ones that are even bigger and crazier than that werewolf!"
"Shut up, Raph!" Don and Leo said in unison, only earning a devilish snicker from their red-masked brother.
"Well..." Mike shakily let out a long breath, as if to stall the inevitable. "If I don't make it back..." he trailed off, knowing that if these were his last words, it was important to choose them wisely.
"Promise you'll bury me next to Mr. Gaffy."
Watching a seemingly frozen Splinter stare at the chessboard as he pondered on his few options, April felt like banging her head on the surface of the table until she fell unconscious. She just couldn't stand this never-ending game of chess. If she didn't do something now, she knew the remains of her mind would slowly slip into insanity, where all the land was painted chess-checkered and people only moved in precise patterns... if moving at all, that is
It was dark now, she noticed as she stared out the kitchen window, her eyes so dead, one could easily mistake her for a ghost. But there was no one around to see her, no one around to worry about the soulless cripple she had turned into.
Well, except for Splinter, of course. But he was unreachable. The old rat wasn't aware of anything but the board in front of him. April could have performed a sex change operation on him without even coming close to breaking his concentration on the game.
Her mind began to wander at the thought of the wise ninja master having a sex change. He wouldn't make for a very attractive woman. He'd have to trim his fur... and those neglected nails of his needed to be taken care of. Not to mention that the gray goatee would be a dead giveaway of the balls that once were...
Suddenly, the phone ringing interrupted her thoughts. April shook her head, as if she'd been asleep, and once getting up to answer, she realized with a frown that her legs most certainly were. She staggered across the room in near panic, fearing she wouldn't reach the phone in time. She did not want to be abandoned in the chess game again. Anything but that!
Finally, she curled her fingers around the phone and lifted it off the wall, slamming it to her ear in sheer excitement.
She was saved!
"Hello?"
"April...? Oh MAN am I glad to hear your voice!" came Michelangelo's relieved response on the other line. "You won't believe where I'm calling from!"
"I don't care," April rambled quickly, almost fanatically. "Just give me an address and I'll come pick you up!"
The End