The rain continued to fall. Waiting here in the darkness in the bowels of the house, she understood why she believed that evil was an ever-present part of this world, lingering in the shadows, hovering in the darkest parts of people’s minds. She didn’t like staying in his world long. Lately, she had liked it less and less, bringing his food down quickly and leaving quickly. That was probably why she had failed to notice what was happening. She realized she had even skipped one of his bath dates.
But being here, draped in the shadows and the dampness, hearing nothing but the scurrying and the slithering of rodents and vermin, she found herself having to fight off horrible images and vicious thoughts. It was as though she had planted herself in the perfect environment for the nurturing of sin. Now sin was trying to emerge even within her.
She saw herself strangling him, squeezing his little neck until his eyes bulged and his tongue hung out. She saw herself smash him with a piece of pipe, and felt his skull crumple. She saw him plead for mercy and she heard herself laugh as she smothered him under a pillow. She killed him in dozens of different ways while she sat there in his darkness. She was ashamed of these thoughts and she blamed it on being near his things, near his evil.
She concentrated on Scripture as a way of fighting back, struggling to find the right words, the right thoughts and images. As she stared through the darkness at that hole in the wall, she began to see an aura of light around it. It grew brighter and brighter until the vision began to form in the blackness. She didn’t move; she didn’t gasp; she didn’t show any outward signs of fear. She had seen this image before and she had invoked the power of God to drive it away. She would do it again.
“And I beheld another beast coming up out of the earth; and he had two horns like a lamb, and he spake as a dragon,” she whispered.
He was smiling at her now, looking in and smiling.
But she did not turn away nor did she cower. She faced him directly.
And so he began to retreat. The light dimmed and the darkness swept itself back in and over the hole.
He was gone and she was still the stronger. She was safe. She could wait as long as she had to and be ready when the time came.
The first rays of sunlight came through Gina’s window and nudged her eyelids. They flickered and opened. Her awareness came quickly, because in her last dream she had seen herself getting up to go down to check on her rabbit. After what had happened to the other two and what almost had happened to this one, she wanted to be certain it was still there. She drew her blanket off her quickly and lowered herself to the floor, moving as silently as she could, because she realized her grandparents would want her to wait. She listened for any signs of them and then went to the door of her room. It wasn’t closed completely, so she simply pulled it open enough for her to slip through.
Dressed only in the new cotton nightshirt Grandpa Cy had bought her, she practically tiptoed in her bare feet over the hallway carpet. It was only when she took hold of the stairway banister that the sleeping house complained: the steps squeaked. She paused to see if her grandparents had heard her, but all she heard was the water dripping from the sink faucet in the upstairs bathroom. It was that quiet. Confident she would be successful then, she continued on down the stairs and moved quickly to the basement doorway. She had a little trouble turning the knob and getting the door open, because it stuck on the jamb; but once she had, she slipped in.
She had forgotten that it would be very dark in the basement, but there was enough light from upstairs to illuminate the basement light switch. She flipped it on and began her descent, not minding the feel of the hardwood steps on her bare feet or the feel of the cold cement floor below. Once she was there, she hurried over to the basement beam and rejoiced in the discovery that the rabbit was still there. He had messed just to the right of where he was sitting, but she ignored that and took him into her arms. Then, in a low voice, she greeted him and, while she petted him, described to him all the plans she had for herself and for him that day.
Cy had been the first to hear the basement door open. He was attuned to every sound in the building, having built, rebuilt, and remodeled a large portion of it. He knew the creaks in the structure, the metallic moans in the pipes, and the places where the wind would whistle through crevices. It wasn’t so much that he had good hearing for a man of his age, but rather that he felt the vibrations through the walls and the floorboards and the very legs of his bed. He wasn’t a late riser anyway and he had been close to full consciousness when Gina had made the stairs squeak. For him the sound of the basement door being tugged might just as well have been a pot clanging to the floor. He sat up immediately.
“What is it?” Hilda asked. She opened her eyes immediately when he sat up in bed.
“Nothing. I have to check something.”
“What time is it?” She looked at the table clock. “My God, what do we have, cows to milk?”
Instead of answering her, he pulled on his pants. He always slept in a flannel nightshirt, no matter what the weather, and now he simply tucked it in like an ordinary shirt. He slipped into his shoes and started out.
“Be right back,” he mumbled.
“It’s not Gina, is it?” Hilda called as he went into the hall.
“I’ll see,” he said. “Don’t get up.”
“Don’t get up? Don’t get up? I’m up. What good is saying don’t get up?”
He hurried down the stairs and paused when he saw that the basement door was opened and the light was on. After all that had happened, he couldn’t help but feel some sense of foreboding. It had to be Gina, he thought. Who else?
“Gina?” he called from the top of the basement steps.
“Yes, Grandpa?”
“What are you doin’ down here so early, Honey?” he asked her and breathed relief. He went down the steps quickly.
“I was checking on Mr. Rabbit.”
“Oh my. But it’s so early,” he said. He scrubbed his hair with both his hands and stared down at her. “And you’re in your bare feet,” he said, quickly realizing the significance. “You could get a cold and your feet will be dirty. Grandma’s goin’ to be madder than a penned bull in heat.”
“What’s going on down there, Cy?” Hilda was at the basement doorway.
“Oops. See,” he said. He took the rabbit from her gently and set it down. Then he picked her up. “Nothing, Hilda. It was Gina checking on the rabbit.”
“That rabbit again?”
“Go back to sleep. I’ll take care of it,” he said and began wiping the soles of Gina’s feet vigorously.
“I thought he wasn’t going to be here again,” Gina said. “I wanted to see.”
“But I locked the door good. See,” he said pointing to the extra lock. “He can’t get out and no one can get in.”
“But he had to get out. He had to go to the bathroom.”
“I see that. That’s another thing that’ll make your grandmother happy today. We’ll get dressed and take him out for a walk. I don’t think either of us is going to go back to sleep anyway. Tell me,” he said, as he started back to the stairs, “did you do this before—come down here in your bare feet without telling me?”
“Nope.”
“You don’t have to lie now. I’m not going to be mad.”
“Can we give the rabbit a carrot now, Grandpa?”
“We can if you’ll tell me the truth.”
“What is going on, Cy?” Hilda was still there.
“She was nervous about the rabbit and went down to check on him. I’ll take care of it.”
“Well I might as well get dressed and start thinking about breakfast. In your bare feet, Gina? Oh, you’ll have to wash them before she puts anything on, Cy.”
“I intend to. Don’t make it into a federal offense, Grandma.”
“I’ll give you a federal offense. Lucky you didn’t buy her a horse.”
“A horse!” Gina said.
“When you’re bigger,” Cy said. “We’d be
tter wash your feet now and get you dressed,” he said, eye to eye with Hilda. She turned and went up to her room. “Tell me when you went down there before, Gina. You did, didn’t you?”
“No, Grandpa. I was sleeping.”
“Some time yesterday, maybe?”
Gina didn’t respond. She was confused. The excitement concerning the other rabbits, the disappearance and recovery of this one, the dreams—all of it entangled time and place. Cy didn’t push her, but he began to give credence to the possibility that Eddie Morris had been right. It certainly helped explain things and made him feel a lot more relaxed. He was glad now that he hadn’t alerted Hilda to the mystery of the strange prints on the basement floor.
He hurried on to wash Gina’s feet and get her dressed. They’d take the rabbit out before breakfast and then come in to eat a hearty one. He felt more energetic than usual today and mentally ran a list of chores he’d like to accomplish. He could see the rain had passed and there was a lot of blue sky. It was good his granddaughter got him up early. Why waste a nice day. Best part of the day was the morning. He always believed that and old age wasn’t going to change it.
“All right,” he said. “Now let’s clean up these rabbit paws,” he added, tickling her. The sound of Gina’s giggle washed away his feelings of gloom and doom. He was grateful for it.
He slept past the first rays of sunlight, but when he opened his eyes, he saw a doe and her fawn on the lawn, grazing not twenty feet from where he had slept under the back porch. He stirred and sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. For a long moment, he was confused. This was the first time in his life he had ever fallen asleep and awoken someplace other than his basement. That, plus the total brightness of a new day, made for a fresh, new experience. He looked about in dazed wonderment.
Everything appeared different in the daytime. He hadn’t fully realized the structure of the porch when he crawled under it. He had simply slipped into the available shelter and had no concept of its width and length. He looked about for his box; he felt so certain he had slept in it, and he was surprised that neither it nor his raggedy blanket was here. He touched the wooden board behind him and found himself fascinated with the texture and the length. Then he spotted the field mouse he had killed. That memory returned, but it was more like the resurrection of a dream than the remembrance of an actual event.
He felt the grime on his lips and face and rubbed it off. Most of his body was streaked from mud and grass stains. Like a monkey he picked out some of the dirt that was between his toes and wiped off his legs and stomach. His movements attracted the doe and she raised her head to stare at him. After a beat the fawn did the same. He looked out at them with almost as much curiosity. When he shifted his body and went to all fours, the doe turned and trotted back into the bushes, her fawn following obediently. He watched them go and then he slid through the opening in the wooden grate.
Once out from under the porch, he squatted again and looked about. The full realization of where he was came back to him now, and seeing the house, the cement steps, and the basement door in bright sunlight made it all much more exciting and interesting. He scampered toward the steps, keeping himself close to the house. He paused when he heard the sound of voices, because he was sure one voice was the little girl’s. He remained there on all fours, his head tilted toward the house as he listened. When her voice died away, he moved about in small circles like a confused and panicked little puppy. Then he went around the back of the house to the other side and listened again.
He was too excited to think about the fact that he hadn’t returned to his own basement world, that he had left the hole opened in the wall back there, and that the big creature would discover his absence and what he had done. At this point, these kinds of realizations were beyond him, anyway. His mind could center on one thing only—seeing and being with the little girl. He wasn’t even concerned with his thirst or his hunger.
When he didn’t hear the little girl on this side of the house, he returned to where he had heard her. This time, though, he heard other voices first and that frightened him. He returned to the back porch and slipped in under it to wait and to listen. On his knees, his face up against the grate, he peered out in anticipation. He had no concept of time and no awareness of patience, but he had an infant’s monomaniacal intensity and determination. She would soon appear. He had an instinctive certainty about it. He concentrated on that basement door. He willed it to open and he willed her to appear.
When she did so, he was disappointed that the big creature was with her, but he was ecstatic that what he had expected to happen had happened. There she was, just as he had dreamed.
Gina carried the rabbit in her arms up the cement steps and put it down on the grass, holding firmly to the end of the leash, Cy stood beside her, his hands on his hips, looking out over the right front lawn toward the peaks of the small mountain range just visible over the line of trees. He was surprised at the warmth of the morning breeze and remarked to himself how unusually mild this spring had been. Behind him in the house, he could hear Hilda starting her preparations for breakfast. Thoughts of eggs, Hilda’s biscuits, and coffee heartened him. It was good to be alive and healthy enough to appreciate the full blooming of another spring.
He put his hand on Gina’s head and stroked her hair as she carried on a conversation with her rabbit. It looked up at her meekly and then began to hop along the lawn. As soon as the slack went out of the leash, she giggled and followed it.
Cy was about to say something when Hilda threw open a window behind him and stuck out her head.
“It’s this damn plug on the coffeepot again. I nearly got electrocuted. Threw a circuit breaker. Everything’s off in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I thought I fixed that.”
“Apparently, you were so busy with rabbits that you forgot.”
“I’ll flip on the breaker. Don’t do anything until I come up from the basement.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” she said and closed the window.
“I’ll be right out. Honey,” he said. “Just stay around here.”
Gina didn’t respond. She was too busy following the rabbit in a circle. Cy went back into the basement. The moment the door closed behind him, the imp emerged from the porch. His chance had finally come.
THIRTEEN
Because she didn’t see him immediately, he made a short cry that sounded more like a whine than anything else. When she turned and looked his way, he stood up and attempted an imitation of her happy sound. She froze in position and her mouth opened wide. The rabbit continued to hop, coming around completely and heading in his direction. In a state of amazement, she relaxed her hold on the leash and it flew out of her hand. That snapped her out of her daze, but when she reached forward to take back the leash, the rabbit picked up speed and the leash slipped beyond her fingers.
“Mr. Rabbit,” she called, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him, especially because of the way he waddled in her direction. His hair was as long as hers or longer and his eyes were blocked by the strands that fell over his forehead. He had to brush them away in order to get a clear view of her. Although his skin was actually lighter than hers, the streaks of dirt along his legs and over his stomach and chest made him look darker. “Where are your clothes?” she demanded. Then she laughed.
He stopped and slapped his hands together. It was an automatic reaction, but it brought a laugh from her. That was what he liked to hear.
“You have to wear clothes,” she said; and then, remembering what her father would say, she added, “Your watchamacallit’s hanging out.” She laughed the way everyone in her family laughed whenever he said that.
Of course, he didn’t understand why she was pointing at him, but because that, too, brought laughter, he imitated the action and pointed at her.
“I’m going to tell my grandpa,” she said, nodding emphatically. He nodded just as emphatically. Mimicking her as exactly as possible became the most important thi
ng and took all his concentration. He didn’t see the rabbit go by and was surprised when she screamed and pointed to it disappearing in the bushes behind the house. “MR. RABBIT!” She ran past him, but the rabbit disappeared quickly. He followed at her heels and stopped when she stopped.
He was right beside her now and reached up slowly to touch her hair. The tips of his fingers grazed the strands and the result was as exciting as he had imagined. He was going to grasp and pull some when she turned on him.
“It’s your fault,” she said. “You’ve got to get Mr. Rabbit back for me or I’ll tell my grandpa. Go ahead,” she commanded and pointed to the bushes. At first, he couldn’t take his eyes off her face, but when she pumped her arm, he looked in the direction her finger pointed. He understood that her gesture had to do with the rabbit, but he wasn’t sure what.
He could be like the rabbit, he thought, and got back to all fours. She lowered her arm and cocked her head to the right, this half smile on her face.
“What are you doing?”
When he hopped, she laughed. That made him very happy, so he hopped again and again, looking back at her the whole time. He didn’t watch how he was going and he landed awkwardly, doing a partial somersault to catch his balance. That made her laugh harder and clap her hands. He liked the way her face squinted and her body shook with glee.
He tilted his head and thought about it. Then he did the somersault again. Soon she was running alongside him. Her laugh fueled him and he became even more reckless and daring with his gymnastics, tripping and rolling. They were around to the back of the house before Gina realized how far they had gone. When he stopped in a sitting position, her laughter wound down and she remembered her rabbit.
“Mr. Rabbit,” she said again and took a step toward the undergrowth, but she had forgotten exactly where the rabbit had entered the bushes. It all looked the same to her. She brought her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, no.”
The sad look on her face drew him to his feet again. When he straightened up completely, he was about an inch shorter than she was, but his long arms, thicker neck, and muscular legs made him look much bigger than her. She wasn’t afraid or intimidated by him; she was only concerned about her rabbit.
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