Ruth came in for breakfast. "I wonder who paid off who to make Salem the capital," Ira said as they left together for work.
I walked out onto the floor, heavier now, and stronger. My joints cracked, as new chitin will. I moved surprisingly well on my five legs. What bothered me was the sound. Accompanied by a six-beat every step of my life, I hesitated after each five-beat, waiting for the last one. I supposed I'd get used to it.
Before I returned to the living room, I had to decide where I could lead the colony. Five legs were a greater liability climbing than walking, but I struggled up the cabinet face. The sharp edges of the door trimmed my new carapace.
Nothing in the cabinet had changed. The bills were still camped over our hole. "Snug as a bug in a rug, there, Ben?"
Ben's epitaph said that his body was food for worms. Since there were no worms around I decided to take a taste. I snapped my mandibles on him. I could not tear the paper. He was a tough guy. The fermented stench of a hundred human hands rose from him. Ben wanted to see to it that I ate not to dullness, that I ate not at all.
I felt behind the roll of bills. The hole that led to the sanctuary was still there.
But the old man stood between me and the future, and he would not move. I became enraged at the idea that he would make me play the victim again. I leaped to throttle him, forgetting for the moment that I was short a leg. I landed askew on his shoulder. One of my foreleg spikes stuck so I could neither climb up nor back down, and when the other legs tired and slipped, all my weight hung on it. I could not tear loose. Ben smiled a little wider, as if he were thinking: if we don't all hang together, assuredly I shall hang you separately.
Ben began to shake and let out a shriek, as if my spike had struck a nerve. He sprang, knocking me over, and fell hard on top of me. I was sure he really had returned to life.
On my back, under his formidable bulk and fetor, I was able to slowly work the spike loose and crawl out. I climbed up the borders of the piled Bens and assorted patriots, to the door of Independence Hall on the top layer. The hole in the wall above me was clear! The future was mine!
These slips of paper, the center of my life for months, the focus of my efforts and suffering, were suddenly moved—not by elaborate psychological manipulations, but by one botched jump. Until this moment I was certain I was right to have involved other citizens, fellow beneficiaries, in my projects. But now it was impossible to dispute Bismarck: if I had acted alone, I would have achieved this on the first day. I would not repeat the mistake.
Poe! I had forgotten all about him. He had gone into the wall when the alien was working. I passed through the hole and into a new world. I called his name. He didn't respond, but the wall cavity was so huge that my voice couldn't begin to fill it. It was warm, quiet. One of the pipes to the sink wore condensation drops like heavy udders. This was perfect. Bismarck would have loved it.
I poked around for a while. It was on my way back up to the cabinet that I sighted the tip of Poe's antenna drooped over a clod of old plaster on the floor. I ran down to him—or rather, to his remains, badly decomposed. All along I had been thinking that he'd be obese by now. But of course, the moment Ira locked us out of the wall, he sealed Poe in. Fortunato!
So the food stocks would be mine alone. I couldn't mourn for Poe; I had to bless my fortune. For the first time since the alien I was looking safely into the cabinet. I never really believed it would happen. Tupperware stood like mausoleums, but there were many cardboard boxes, too. The pasta was mine, egg and spinach, all sizes and shapes. The cookies, the pancake mix, the rice, the kasha, the raisins, the chocolate pudding, the matzoh meal—mine, all mine!
The next evening I sat in the back of the cabinet, indifferent to the smell of Ira and Ruth cooking just a few feet away. I was eating so well I thought I might be in for a second geriatric molt. Ira saw the fallen bills on the second day of my stay. "This is silly," he said aloud to himself, as he took them out of the cabinet and put them into his pocket.
I was leading an ideal life. I was alone, but I was not lonely. The company of psychotic biblical roaches held no appeal for me. It was strange that pasta, which I had in abundance and could enjoy alone, would soon make me reconsider my position.
As I worked my way up the cavity of a piece of dried ziti, my rearquarters got a rousing rubbing. Though the chemicals had long since dispersed, I still carried the memory of the erection that G-string had raised and left unredressed in the motel. The ziti tingle turned irritating and uncomfortable as my mind was deluged with genital thoughts. I could not endure the idea that my last spermatophore, long in the chamber, would never be shot, that I would never again taste pheromones and experience the mad immersion of sex.
I needed sex; I needed company, too. It was not hard to admit.
I had resolved to return to the principles of natural selection. But I would not be doctrinaire. If Bismarck had still been out there scavenging, in ever greater danger for ever lesser gain, I doubt he would have felt compromised by the food and safety of my larder and fortress. Food and safety might restore the colony's sanity. What was to be gained by letting them die out there?
When I reached the living room doorway, everyone was gone. I was too late. Then I spotted a lone citizen in front of the fireplace. It was Columbo. I approached him with the good news about the cabinet.
He said, "You manipulated us, then you deserted us."
"I was on a long mission, and then I got caught in the motel."
"But here you are. A miracle."
"Look at me. I'm fat as a goose. I'm telling you the truth."
He looked warily at me. "I see you lost a leg."
"What happened to the others?"
He pointed an antenna straight up. "You're wasting your time." The mantel.
Couldn't anything happen at floor level anymore? I made my labored five-legged climb. Columbo seemed to be hoping I would fall, and I almost did as the texture changed from brick to mortar and back. When I reached the mantel I still didn't see the colony. I hoped they had regained enough sense to hide. I circled the glass candlesticks and the ceramic storm lantern, and even looked into its fuel well, with no luck. The arms of the heavy brass menorah—where the pursuit of Exodus might have sent them—were also empty.
Then I saw them—but not the starving animals who had shuffled so pathetically into the room. They were racing, romping, leaping around the chessboard. As I walked onto the board, they circled me, drowning out my words with chants.
Aaron, standing on the periphery, wagged his head. "They are set on mischief."
"What the hell are they doing?"
"The knight, the brass one. See how the citizens ring it?" Now I saw a pattern to the chaos. "In their eyes this is not a knight. As soon as Exodus disappeared it became their new god—the Golden Calf."
"Exodus instructed them to betray him?"
"No, my brother. Someone else did, long ago, and the memory incubated until now. It was you."
A citizen skidded across the board. We ducked behind the edge and he flew over our heads.
I said, "I was only telling a story. It was a joke. This is ridiculous."
"Yes, I see, just a joke." He turned to the board. "I could have them tucked safely behind the cabinet in less than an hour."
"Beware," warned Bismarck's spirit. Save these lives, I said, that's all. I would not organize these citizens or influence their reproduction. But leave them to die? That would be a manipulation of our gene pool. With my five legs, I could not abandon citizens because of their defects.
Aaron did not respond. I would have to do the deed alone.
From the menorah I pulled a length of blackened wick, a staff—and made my way across the swarming board to the knight's square. "Who is on the Lord's side? Let him come unto me," I intoned.
Citizens screeched to a halt. It didn't seem to matter who played the prophet.
I said, "Ye have sinned a great sin; and now I will go up unto the Lord; peradventure I shall mak
e atonement for your sin."
There was a silence as I walked slowly across the board, favoring my bad side as if I were shouldering under the weight of their wickedness. I crossed the mantel and disappeared behind the lamp.
"Sinners! They shall feel my wrath!" I boomed with the shuddering resonance of my new basso shell. I almost scared myself. "The blinding light, the heat, hath confused them. Truly, they are righteous," I said in my normal voice. "Righteousness doth not melt like butter in the noonday sun!" I thundered again.
I peeked around the lamp. The colony was frozen.
I lowered the volume and continued to plead, raising my voice on occasional words such as "penitent," "forgiveness," and "one more chance." Then I returned to the board. The citizens greeted me as if I were a golden calf.
"You have angered the Lord sorely with your idol; He is a jealous God."
Scores of citizens pushed the pawn to one side, and a horde assembled behind the bronze knight. With a roar of six hundred thousand they shoved it over the edge of the board and onto the floor. Ira would be tested by that one.
I said, "The Lord said Ye are a stiffnecked people."
"But we're not people."
"And we have no necks."
"Forget that one," I proclaimed. "The Lord has said to me: I beseech thee, shew me thy glory. And he said, I will make all goodness pass before thee, and I will proclaim the name of the Lord before thee; and will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will shew mercy on whom I will shew mercy."
The colony was rapt. It was time to make my play. "And the Lord said, Behold, there is a place by me, and thou shalt stand upon a kitchen cabinet..."
I braced myself for the backlash. But there was none. They bought it.
". . .And it shall come to pass, while my glory passeth by, that I will put thee in a clift of the cabinet, and will cover thee with my hand while I pass by..."
The herd stampeded over the edge of the mantel. They flowed through the living room and into the dining room. I had to discard my wick to keep up with the slowest of them.
I hadn't realized how completely I had lost track of time until I heard keys in the front door. We still had a few seconds, enough time to scatter around the dining room. But the colony kept moving as if nothing had happened, as if destiny placed them beyond earthly harm.
I still believed fervently in earthly harm. I pushed my way to the head of the flow. The leaders were approaching the kitchen doorway. "Stop! Stop! This is madness!" They ignored me and kept moving. Where was the influence I had had only minutes earlier? Then I saw Aaron near the back of the pack, rearing and pointing to himself.
I had to try. "And the Lord sayeth: go not unto the cabinet in the presence of thy mortal enemy: it dishonoreth me. Nay, go instead unto the baseboard, and here wait." Immediately they stopped and turned. Nimbly picking their way across the drifts of boric acid they filed into the baseboard opening.
After dinner I followed Ruth to the living room.
"Ira, look at this, the horse is on the floor."
He ran in. "The whole board has been pushed around. I told you..."
She cut him off. "Don't you dare. We've been through this."
"Then what the hell is going on in here? Some vandal breaks in and just messes up the chessboard?"
"Who's bronze, you or Lev?"
"Me."
"It was your horse. I think it wanted out."
"Very funny," said Ira. "And it's a knight, not a horse."
"Then he must have dismounted and made a run for it."
For the first time I could enjoy Ira's sulking, because I knew that in a few hours I would never have to witness it again.
I waited until they had washed, excreted, and were in bed breathing regularly before I returned to the baseboard with instructions for reaching the cabinet hole. "Praise the Lord!" I said as each citizen emerged.
The first was Augustine, whom I hadn't seen in so long I had taken him for dead. He would lead; converts are always more fanatical than lifers. The others came out quickly and followed him in perfect file. Augustine soon turned the corner into the kitchen, the colony moving like one great segmented insect. Our suffering would soon be over.
After the entire line had passed me I checked the baseboard one last time for laggards. Everyone was out. I leaped over the white drifts. I looked back and saluted. Farewell, bleak house! Where we go, behold, how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity. A little one shall become a thousand, and a small one a strong nation.
The others had disappeared into the kitchen. By the time I arrived, Augustine had started up the base cabinet, just where I had instructed, the others following in perfect order. I was pleased; but at the same time it bothered me that they didn't take the cabinet by storm. It was too calculating. I thought only ants attacked in queues.
It didn't matter. In the column were many friends, among them Barbarossa, Lifesaver, Underwriter's Lab, and Harris Tweed. They all looked a lot older now, their carapaces creased from malnutrition. I would fix that.
I lost sight of Augustine as he climbed onto the countertop. "Yo, Numbers," I heard from behind. "This be the place? Flow with milk and honey? Don't bullshit me now like you psycho brother with that stick."
"This be. Well, powdered milk and honey."
"All right muthafucka!" Sufur held out a leg for me to slap, then fell in, the last in line.
The underside of the wall cabinet, unfinished wood which had to be crossed upside down, was the most difficult part of the climb. Augustine started across it just as Sufur left the floor. Once the leaders reached the finished cabinet face, they re-gained speed. The entire colony was on their way. Guilty or not, I had made restitution.
It was time to join them. I would never again see this kitchen, except through the open cabinet doors. There were few things I'd miss. Just one, really—farewell to you, Bismarck, my truest friend. You will live on in me.
I stepped up off the vinyl. Goodbye to you, with your leg-busting patterns and noxious pine scent. We always knew it was fake. So long to you, boric acid; we were just looking. Food canisters, goodbye. We will do better. Farewell, cookbooks. We'll take ours au naturel. Goodbye to you, ammonia, and special regrets to Raid. You've given me some genuine thrills. Things won't be the same out back.
Ira, in parting, I'll say just this: I promise you that as you become older and balder, we will multiply to numbers you cannot imagine, filling the cavity behind the cabinet, all fifteen feet, floor to ceiling. One day we will meet again: The wall will crumble under our weight, and like a tidal wave we will engulf you and all your chattel. Expect no mercy, as you gave none.
AS AUGUSTINE squeezed into the cabinet, the line behind him slowed but stayed in perfect order. Now the good life was only a few steps away.
I was climbing the face of the base cabinet at five- legged speed, feeling a peace the likes of which I had never known before. Then I heard the distant thwocking of bamboo slippers; since American Woman, Ira never left bed without them. A nightmare about chessboard despoliation had probably woken him. Perhaps I had underestimated his loss to the colony. Who else could be so entertaining? On blue days, who would pick us up by making us feel so superior?
"Yo, Numbers. This be all right, outtasight," said Sufur. He was about a foot above me.
The toilet flushed. The sound of flip-flops went on too long for a return to the bedroom. Pacing? But it was getting louder. Maybe he couldn't wait—he was going to reset the chessboard now.
And louder still. He wasn't stopping in the living room. He was coming this way. God only knew what he wanted. He never snacked at night because it gave him bad dreams. He was probably going to check the door locks.
He passed that turn-off. He was approaching the kitchen. This was unimaginable. "Run!" I yelled. "Ira's coming."
Why didn't they do it? "Listen to me! Ira's coming! Jump! Run! Get off that cabinet!" The line would not break formation. To this day I wonder what might have happene
d if I had said, "Satan cometh. Jumpeth like the frog at the angry report!"
The flip-flops of death approached, with the entire colony displayed like sunbathers in a grade-D beach horror movie.
"Sufur! Jump! We'll go back up later."
"Just can't stop once my spark gets hot." He continued to climb.
I jumped from the cabinet and hobbled across the room toward the toe-kick. "Please!" I cried. But the lights came on. Destiny had arrived.
The slippers snapped explosively across the floor. The colony had no chance. Wait. They did have a chance. Ira wasn't wearing his glasses.
The mystery of the visit was then resolved. Ira pulled bent patriots from the pocket of his paisley robe. He opened the cabinet, rolled them up, and replaced them. Didn't he himself say it was silly to keep them there? I thought of ten different motives he might have. But I doubted he could seal the hole again, especially without his glasses.
After all, with hundreds of citizens marching less than a foot from his head, Ira had not seen one. Scores had to be through the hole by now, many more close behind them. But most were still climbing. Together they and Ira made a maddening scene of lethal slapstick, the hunted sleepwalking over the cross-hairs of the blind hunter's scope.
Ira rubbed his fingers. Dirt. Unwashed Ben was a vengeful old man, trying to stall Ira here. Ira bent over the sink to wash his hands. The line kept moving right above his head. I felt sick.
For the first time since we left the baseboard, I heard a Blattella other than Sufur speak. She was up on the underhang. "This is really doing it to my feet. I'm going back for a nap." It was Julia's daughter, Anise.
It wasn't easy to turn on that raw wood, and she took more than her sweet time. Clorox, who was right behind her, managed to shake her own trance—as she hadn't for my warning—long enough to avoid a collision. Junior did not. He smacked into Clorox's behind. Then Garlic cracked into Junior.
"Move over, will you? Look what you're doing to the line," said Clorox to Anise.
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