Free Cloaked by Alex Flinn

that?”
    “Thank you. Anyway, he was not what you’d call well liked, so no one was too upset when he got shipped out.”
    “Shipped out?” The alley is hot with no breeze. It smells like palmetto bugs, and I begin to feel dizzy.
    “Yeah, they stuck him on a container truck from Seaboard, heading for the Keys.”
    I know all this from Victoriana, but maybe the rat knows more. “And?”
    “Like I said, he wasn’t missed.” The rat’s voice is tiny, and I lean farther down to hear it. “Good ribbons to bad rubbish and all that. So I di’n think anything more about it ’til last week, when some folks started snoopin’ around.”
    I know this too. “Big guys? With a bloodhound?”
    “Nah, not them goofballs. Ah, they was here for like ten minutes, sniffing. That dog didn’t even try and talk to the other animals here. Real snotty, like. If they’d really been lookin’, he woulda talked to us. That’s what bloodhounds is famous for.”
    “Talking to animals? I thought they just sniffed.”
    “Ah, that’s what people think on account-a bloodhounds have them goofy noses. But in actuality, they’re experts on interrogation. That’s how they find their man.”
    Who knew? “But this one didn’t do that?”
    “Didn’t even try. It was like they didn’t tink da frog was here. Or maybe they didn’t want to find him. But a few days later, some other guys showed up, guys with accents. Dogs with accents, German shepherds. They talked to everyone, and that’s when I got interested.”
    Accents. I remember Victoriana’s voice. And her guards. She must have sent someone different the second time, and he did a better job.
    “So what happened after you got interested?”
    “After I got interested, I was interested. Interested enough to do some investigating myself about where that container went.”
    “And where did it go?”
    “Key Largo, full of goods for the Underwater Hotel, which is good news for you.”
    “Good news? Why’s that good news?” Key Largo is the closest key, but it’s also one of the longest and most populated. The frog could be anywhere.
    “Good news ’cause right next to the Underwater Hotel is a bar called Sally’s, rough place, rough crowd. The animals what hangs there is rough too, probably on account of some of the rough garbage theys eats. They’d probably eat that snooty-pants prince in frog skin alive too.”
    “Oh.” Well, that doesn’t sound good.
    “But there’s this fox there. He’s a good guy, and he sorta runs things down there. He’s one of us used-to-bes.”
    “Used-to-bes?”
    “That’s what we call ourselves, ‘used-to-be humans.’ Anyway, this fox was a fisherman down on the MacArthur Causeway until one day, he disappeared.”
    “Disappeared?”
    “That’s the story with all us used-to-bes. We’re the mysterious disappearances, the unsolved mysteries. Cold cases. Everyone assumes we’re down in the river with cement overshoes or else ran off. But the truth’s way weirder.”
    Used-to-bes. I think about it, imagining all the animals I once thought were just animals, who had actually been human until, one day, they disappeared without a trace. Probably their families stopped looking for them. God, it made you not want to take a shower in front of the cat! “Can all used-to-bes get transformed back?” My thighs hurt from leaning down so long.
    “Yeah, but it’s harder for some than others. Some of us have pretty much given up. Anyway, the fox’s name is Todd, and he’s friendly. If you talk to ’im nice, he’ll pro’lly help you out. Tell him Cornelius sent you.”
    “Cornelius?”
    “Fancy name for a rat, right? I used to be a senator. Just be careful not to talk to the fox in front of anyone else. I don’t know who those guys were that was looking for the frog, but they looked scary.”
    Suddenly there’s a sound close by. Footsteps. A night watchman, maybe. I try to squeeze closer in between the two walls, but there’s nowhere to