By Jessica Haseltine

A sequel to the Conly trilogy, this work in progress focuses on Racso and his friend Christopher, who is planning on returning to the city to visit the children from the third book. Only one chapter, and all efforts to locate the author have failed.

Chapter One: The Fight-Racso vs. Christopher

"Racso, please. I need to pack. Give it back. Come
on." Christopher was packing to go to the city and visit Margaret and
Artie. Or at least, he was trying to pack. Being it the first time he had gone
alone, Christopher's parents were very nervous. They had comprised a list of
things he might need, and then sent him to pack. Racso had poked fun at Christopher's
list, taken it, and refused to return it to Christopher.

"Oh, come off it. You don't need a list. You can pack just
fine without it, and you know that. Your parents are the ones who don't trust
you. They need to lighten up. They're just worrywarts." Racso still held
the paper high above his head, which for once, was higher than Christopher's.
Racso had grown taller over the two years the rats had been at Stone Arrow;
much taller. He now hovered almost a head above Christopher, who had not had
his growth spurt yet.

"My parents are worrywarts? Look at your dad. King of
worrywarts. Hah!" As soon as Christopher said it he wanted to take it
back. Racso's father Jenner had always been paranoid after an accident with an
electric motor. But he had recovered, journeyed from the city, and given up his
life to save Racso when a dam threatened Thorn Valley. "Look, Racso, I
didn't mean it...... I just meant that--" Christopher was cut off by a
sharp pain on his cheek. Racso had slapped him! Good and hard, too. Peering
through the tears forming in his eyes, Christopher could see that Racso was
crying, also. Jenner's death had been hard on Racso, and even though it had
been so long ago, so many years, being reminded of it still stung. And so did
Christopher's cheek. He yanked the paper from Racso, grabbed his suitcase, and
stormed out, hand on his face.

"How? Why? The jerk........." Racso sobbed, head in
Justin's lap. Justin had always been like a father to him after Jenner died,
partly because it was Justin and Timothy who first found all that was left of
Racso's father. "He was supposed to be my friend, but he can't do this to
me." Racso lifted his head up and dried his tears. "I know my dad was
a worrier, but it was an okay kind of worry. He wanted us to be safe. I was
only joking with Christopher. But to hear it from someone else......" It
was more than Racso could comprehend. A regular ole nice guy, suddenly turning
on you! He and Christopher were best friends, too! Racso found himself yearning
for Timothy. Timothy would have set things right. Timothy would never have
insulted Jenner, after what he went through. Timothy was practically perfect,
and for once, Racso didn't mind.

"Perhaps he didn't mean it. He was probably‚ just joking
with you. I'm sure he didn't really want to hurt you." Justin's voice was
thick, but reassuring. It had a natural fatherly touch, one that Racso always
longed for, but rarely heard. 'If Beatrice could see me now.' thought Justin.

"You really think it was all just a big joke?" Racso
sounded doubtful, but Justin nodded firmly. "But he sounded so pushy, so
bully-ish, so right." And with that Racso burst out with fresh sobs.
"Christopher is nothing but a rude, insolent, bully. I hate him."
With that, Racso ran out of the room, with tears streaming down his cheeks,
without even thanking Justin for his kindness in listening to him.

'Where am I running to?' thought Racso. 'I suppose nowhere. Not
that anyone would care.' Racso just kept running, not even watching where he
was going. He ran past the meeting hall, then the cafeteria, then the bedroom
area, until he was running past the gardens. Turnips, carrots, peppermint,
blackberries; everything flew by him in such a blur on shapes. It was getting
quite dark now, but Racso didn't care. The only thing that kept his legs from
capsizing under him was the thought of what awaited him back at Stone Arrow.
Racso ran and ran, making sharp turns here and there. Suddenly, a dark shape
looming high above Racso's small head paralyzed him in his position. Shadows
moved around him, and as he realized what they were, he felt as if an icicle
had been stick directly through his heart. Turning around, Racso saw that more
of the monstrous shapes had surrounded him. There was only one escape. Racso drew
himself up into a ball, and started to roll quickly down the steep hill south
of the nest.

"What did I do? I was teasing him. I didn't think he'd take
it personally. I didn't mean it. What did I do wrong?" Christopher was
close to hysterical. After Racso's outburst, Christopher had run to Beatrice.
Whenever he had a problem, all he had to do was call on Beatrice, talk about
it, and he felt so much better. This time, though, it wasn't helping much.
"He's never done anything like this before! He joked with me, I teased
him. Nothing bad. But WHY??????"

"Christopher, you must calm down," Beatrice said for
the umpteenth time. "Crying won't patch up your friendship. You need to
apologize to Racso." Another sob was emitted by Christopher.

"I tried to, I tried. He slapped me, and now he hates me,
and we'll never be friends again, even if I wanted to, which I do, and he's
going to hate me forever and ever and-" About this time Christopher got a
case of the hiccups; the kind you get when you've cried for too long. "And
he'll nev-hic-er like me again, and we'll go-hic-on being enemies until-hic-the
day we-hic-die. Oh, Beatrice, wh-hic-t can -I- do-hic?"

"I would recommend you go and talk to him. Say you are very
sorry, and that you didn't mean to hurt him. Tell him that you were just
joking, and didn't want him to be offended. But whatever yo say, don't make it
seem like his fault for taking it personally. That never works. Okay?" She
waited for a response, but Christopher was still sobbing. 'If Justin knew what
I go through with Christopher! she thought to herself. She knew he had heard
her, and so she stood up. Christopher quickly looked up at her. He had
admiration in his eyes, and said a quiet, "thank you," before his
eyes filled with tears again. Christopher stood up and enveloped her,or about
as much as he could, being smaller and shorter, in a grateful hug. Then he
wiped the tears from his eyes, and started to walk away. He had a thoughtful
expression on his face, Beatrice noted. Yeah, I do go through a lot, Beatrice
thought, but the rewards are wonderful.

Racso kept rolling, until he was sure the shapes were gone. Carefully, he
grasped a branch sticking out of the sloped hillside, and pulled himself to a
halt. His breathing was quick, but not just because of his roll, but because of
what he had seen. They were here! 'I must tell Justin and Beatrice!' he
thought. 'But where am I, and how will I get back?' Suddenly, as quickly as it
had gone, all his common sense came flooding back to him. 'Where will I go?
What will I eat? How will I find my way to Stone Arrow?' He felt as hopeless as
he had that afternoon when he had been caught in the whirlpool, before he had
met the rats, and Timothy had to fish him out. But Timothy was not here now. He
was on his own. By himself. Racso was sure he would die, because although he
had helped in the garden, Racso had never learned much about survival. He lay
down for a peaceful night's sleep, which he was sure would be one of his last.

Racso I remembered the strangest things, now that he knew he
would die without seeing anyone again. He remembered that first expedition with
Christopher, and how mad Bertha had been when she saw the bare peppermint
patch. He thought of Isabella, whom he loved with all his heart. She had always
liked him, or at least since Justin married Beatrice, but she had never
returned the admiration Racso had of her. She was brave, strong, and yet still
so feminine. She was all he wanted, but what he would never have. But he
especially remembered Timothy; lots about Timothy. How Timothy had saved him,
and he had saved Timothy. How determined Timothy had been to save Christopher,
and to get Christopher the medicine. The most vivid memory Racso had was of
Timothy. It was the night Jenner died. Timothy had stayed by Racso all night,
all through the tantrums, fits, screaming, and crying. Now that was a real
friend. Not one that made fun of your father. Racso wondered if Christopher
would even miss him. He probably would, Racso decided. But Christopher would
get over his grief as soon as he had found someone else to poke fun at, some
other unfortunate rat to destroy. Racso would no longer be there. No longer an
easy target for criticism, and insults. No longer a member of Stone Arrow, the
society of the Rats of NIMH.

"Have you seen Racso?" Christopher sounded genuinely
worried, something unusual for calm, level-headed Christopher. "I've
looked for him everywhere, but I can't find him. I thought you might know where
he went." Isabella didn't look up, but she shrugged.

"How should I know where he went? It isn't like he tells me
everything that is on his mind. He can't even tell me what he wants for dinner
when I'm cooking." Isabella got a far-off look in her eyes, but it was not
one of pleasurable fantasy, but one of strong annoyance. "Why, is
something wrong?"

"Huh? Well, yeah, something's wrong, Racso's missing. Isn't
that reason enough to be even slightly disturbed?" Isabella did look up
this time, even though Christopher was obviously not getting through to her,
who clearly could not care less where Racso was. Sometimes Racso was great;
charming, intellectual, funny, witty, but only sometimes. Most of the time he
was just a confused, ambiguous, and enigmatic rat, who did nothing for those
who surrounded him, no matter how hard he tried. But, ah, those moments, when
she, Isabella, could help him. It hade her feel important, to be
psychologically helping a rat as intelligent and respected by the community as
Racso. Still, she had absolutely no idea whatsoever where he was, or for that
matter, what he was doing there, and so she could not help Christopher. Besides
which, it was her night to cook dinner.

"I'm sorry, Christopher, but I can't help you. I don't know
where Racso is, and I have to cook dinner. What do you think I should
make?"

"I really do not care what we have for supper. I want to
find Racso, and I am going to. With or without help." Christopher was
irritated at Isabella. Her boyfriend was missing, as in GONE, and she didn't
care. What a wonderful personality she had. And off he went, to find Justin and
inquire about Racso's whereabouts.

Gotta get back, gotta get back, was the only thought that ran
through Racso's mind. He was dreaming of his father, and Justin, who seemed to
be one. Racso knew in the dream that if he didn't tall Justin about the
shadows, all the rats would die. And Racso also knew in his heart that he
wouldn't be able to stand losing his 'second father,' after the awful loss of
Jenner. Racso stirred, and awakened. Glancing around him, he realized why his
back was dully aching. The grass around him was mushed, and he found that he
was not sleeping on h__1/2is nice, warm mattress, but on hard rock, with spurts
of grass (or what used to be grass) around him. 'After a night on the hard
cliff-bottom floor', Racso thought, 'I'll have a hard time makin git back up
that cliff!' But wait. What was he thinking? Who was going back up the cliff?
He was? But why? Ohhh. Now he remembered. He jumped up, and almost immediately
tried to clime the cliff. Because the cliff was very wet from the dew, and also
very slick, Racso slid down instantely, and he knew it was going to be harder
than it looked. But being the one-minded, strong-willed rat he was, Racso knew
he could do it. And he would. For Christopher, Isabella, and especially Justin.
If for no other reason, Racso was going to save Justin. Willfully, he stood up
again, looked up, and closed his eyes. Who cared how far it was to the top?
Racso found a foothold, then another, and quite a few handholds, too. He slowly
started to climb, being very wary of where he put his weight. He would not look
down, he would not look up. Left foot up, right foot up. Left hand, right hand.
It bacame a rhythm in his mind, and soon he found that the cliff was not as
slippery. But his hands were getting tired, and he was sweating all over. The
sun had been paralell with his right arm when he had set out, approximately
seven o'clock. By now, he could tell, was just over his right shoulder, behind
him. About 10, Racso guessed. He kept climbing, forgetting everything else.
Three hours, but so short a distance! But soon he could sense that the top was
getting near. In a few moments, Racso could pull himself over the top of the
slightly sloped drop-off. Breathing a sigh of relief, Racso rolled onto his
back. 'I made it!' Racso thought. 'I did it! Now all I have to do is find my
way back to the nest.' Little did Racso know that that was a statement which
was much easier said than done.