Child's Play

by Andrew Neiderman

  She started to scream. Richard pulled the blanket away from her body and brought his knife down squarely over her heart. Little Donald struck just under it, between the ribs; Elizabeth came in just an inch or so below Richard’s knife in the heart, and Carl drove his into the center of her diaphragm.

  Before she could add her shrill scream of pain to her scream of surprise and fear, Richard clamped his left hand over her mouth. She struggled to sit up, but all of her actions were short-lived. Richard had turned his knife skillfully, as Alex had taught him. The artery was severed quickly. Blood spurted out over her nightgown and onto the blanket, but they all snapped their hands back fast enough to avoid getting too splattered.

  For a few moments after it was over, they stood there looking down at the dead woman. The silence that followed was ritualistic. Alex had told them, “Always take your time; don’t rush. Pause, think, consider. Then you will always be efficient and successful.”

  “OK,” Richard said. “Elizabeth, get the lights.” She moved quickly to the switch. As soon as the room was illuminated, they were all drawn back to the bloodied body. They studied Tillie Zorankin’s face, looking for something revealing in the expression. But her face was already frozen by death: the eyes glassy and wide, the mouth contorted. “Get the jewelry,” Richard ordered.

  The other three went to the dresser and rifled through the drawers until they found some. Clothing was deliberately strewn about and one of the drawers was removed totally and dumped over on the floor.

  “Do we have enough?” Elizabeth asked. Richard nodded.

  “Get the lights again,” he said.

  Elizabeth turned them off and they left the bedroom, no one so much as glancing back. They moved down the stairs quickly, but almost as quietly as when they had come up them, still staying so close to one another that they looked like some kind of multilegged freak.

  They took the same path out, leaving through the kitchen and the back door. Richard snapped it shut. It would be practically impossible for anyone to know they came in that way, he thought. They moved like shadows over the lawn, silent and dark, passing the maple tree where they had waited for nearly two hours.

  The trip home was uneventful. No one spoke until the Manor came into view. Then little Donald remarked about how cold he felt. Elizabeth embraced him, and they sped up their pace, taking care to remain in the darkest areas. The only time they stopped was when a car came into view and they had to crouch behind some bushes to avoid being seen in the light from the car’s headlights. When they reached the Manor, they stopped and looked back. Everything looked quiet. Richard opened the door and they went in.

  They stood in the dimly lit hallway and looked up the dark stairway. No one moved; there wasn’t a sound from anywhere in the house except from Alex’s den. The doors were closed, but the muffled sound of the chanting came through. Richard knocked gently, and a moment later Alex opened the door. His eyes were small, his face painted still with expectation.

  “It went well,” Richard said. “Exactly as planned.”

  “That’s good.” Alex had a book in his hand. It had the same leather cover as all of Pa’s books, but it looked newer. “I’m adding to Pa’s work,” Alex explained, holding the book up. He stepped back and put it on the table by his chair.

  “It got cold out,” little Donald said.

  “Did it? Well, why don’t we all have hot chocolate before going to bed.”

  “With marshmallows?” little Donald asked, his eyes widening.

  “With marshmallows.”

  Everyone laughed. It was a mixture of amusement and relief.

  “Lizzie has all the jewelry,” Richard said. Elizabeth dug into her pockets and brought out the earrings, necklaces, and rings. Alex took them all and put them in a paper bag he had ready.

  “I’ll put this in the sanctuary afterward,” he said. Then he turned and looked at the four of them. “I’m proud of you, all of you.” He put his hand on Richard’s shoulder, and they all looked up at him, their eyes riveted to his. “We have the power,” he said. “It will be with us forever.” They were all nearly moved to tears. “Go on,” he said, and they all headed for the kitchen to have their hot chocolate.

  When Sharon awoke the next morning, she realized she had slept much longer than usual, but she also realized that it was Saturday and the children wouldn’t be up early to go to school. She sat up in bed, surprised at how tired and dizzy she was. She thought she must have been terribly exhausted, because she had fallen asleep so quickly the night before. She hadn’t heard Alex get into bed, nor had she heard him rise in the morning. She turned to slip out of the bed when she heard a soft knock on the door.

  “Yes?”

  Little Donald entered holding a glass of orange juice in a saucer.

  “Good morning, Sharon,” he said.

  “What’s this?” she asked, smiling.

  “Your juice. Alex said you should rest today,” he said, coming up to her and holding the juice out. She took it and brought it to her lips slowly. “He says you deserve a day off. Everyone’s going to help,” he added. She thought he looked cuter than ever—his hair washed and blown dry with a small wave in the front, his light blue short-sleeved shirt buttoned to the collar and his jeans neatly pressed. “Elizabeth is making your breakfast: scrambled eggs, toasted muffin, and coffee. Richard is going to be the waiter. Carl’s the dishwasher. He’s wearing one of your aprons.”

  “This is very nice,” she said, and finished the juice. “But I don’t know if I really need a day off.”

  “Alex says you do.”

  “Where is Alex?”

  “He went downtown to buy you some books and magazines. He’ll be back any minute.”

  “I’ll be darned.” She started to sit back.

  “Want me to fix your pillow for you?”

  “If you’d like.”

  He brought himself close to her as he leaned over to adjust the pillow. There was something toylike about his face because of his diminutive features. She had an urge to bring her lips to his cheek. He sensed it, because he leaned further over the bed and put his head against her shoulder. Then he shot toward the door.

  “Hope you feel better,” he called out as he left.

  “Well, I’ll be darned,” she said again. She put the empty juice glass and saucer on the nightstand. A few moments later there was another gentle knock at her door and Richard entered.

  “Ta da,” he sang as he brought in her tray of food. He wore a small towel over his right forearm and acted like a waiter. “Madame,” he said, and slid the tray over her lap. Then he stepped back and stood at attention. “We hope the eggs are cooked correctly.”

  Smiling widely, she lifted the cover off the dish and looked at them with appreciation.

  “Everything looks marvelous. Tell Elizabeth, thank you.”

  “I’ll pass your comments to the chef, yes,” he said, and made a small bow. She laughed as he backed toward the door. “Just ring if you require anything else, madame.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  She sat back and ate her breakfast, laughing to herself at how these children could so amaze her. Almost as though he were standing by the door watching her, Carl came in the moment she finished her food and put her empty coffee cup down.

  “Good morning,” he said, and came to the bed to lift the tray. “I trust all was good.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Will there be anything further?”

  “No,” she said, and laughed aloud. Carl did not crack a smile. He nodded and left the room. He was immediately followed by Alex, who had indeed gone to the village to buy her some romance magazines and new paperbacks.

  “Alex, can you tell me what this is all about? It’s wonderful, but…”

  “I gave everything a great deal of thought last night, Sharon. You worried me. So, I called Dr. Konica, and he said it sounded to him like you were approaching a nervous breakdown. He wasn’t happy with you last time you were at h
is office. You know that. He feels you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. I agree. So, we decided to give you a holiday or two.”

  “Or two?”

  “You’re just going to have to be a good patient, Sharon. The children are very concerned, especially little Donald. All we need now is for them to feel guilty about something’s happening to you.”

  “But Alex…I just feel…a little tired, that’s all.”

  “But it’s an emotional fatigue, as you said so yourself last night. Take a breather. What can it hurt?”

  “I feel so bad about it, though. I know you’re all going to be out there working on the manor. The least I can do is make lunch and dinner for everyone.”

  “It’s taken care of. Sharon, you’re just going to have to enjoy yourself. Sorry,” he said, and leaned over to give her a kiss on the forehead.

  “Well, maybe for a little while.”

  “The full prescription, Sharon. No cheating,” he said. She laughed. “I’ll be up in an hour to see how you’re doing. Enjoy.”

  She watched him leave and shook her head. Then she started to look at one of the magazines. Only minutes after she did so, the words became fuzzy to her. She wiped her eyes and tried to refocus. Things continued to grow blurry. Finally, she had to put the magazine down and leaned back against the pillow. Her head was feeling so heavy; her eyes just wanted to close.

  Maybe Alex was right, she thought. Maybe I’m a great deal more exhausted than I realize. It was the last thought she had before she fell asleep again. She slept right through the morning. When she opened her eyes again, Alex was sitting by her side.

  “Well,” he said, “how are you?”

  “Alex?” Things were still out of focus. “I…I just fell back to sleep.”

  “Yes, I thought you might. You want something to drink. Your lips look dry.”

  “Yes, please.”

  He got up and brought her back a glass of water from the bathroom. She drank it quickly, nearly gulping the liquid down, and then fell back against the pillow.

  “I feel like I’ve been running for miles and miles.”

  “It’s a symptom. The doctor told me to expect it. Don’t worry. After a day or two of rest…”

  “But it’s so unexpected.”

  “That’s the way these things happen,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Continue to rest. I’ll bring you a cup of tea and something in about an hour, OK?”

  “OK, Alex,” she said. This time she didn’t have the strength to offer any resistance. She closed her eyes and opened them to look toward the window. It looked like a bright, beautiful day, and she wished she could get up and get out to it, but lifting her body from the bed seemed like an enormous task. She turned over and fell back asleep.

  Some time in the afternoon, Alex did return with a cup of tea and some toast and jelly. He woke her and helped her sit up to eat and drink. It seemed to take the better part of an hour for her to do so. All the while, Alex sat at her side. He talked and talked, telling her about the things the children were doing around the Manor. He told her not to worry about dinner. Elizabeth already had it planned and prepared.

  “It’s amazing what a little adult responsibility does for children,” he said. “She’s really blooming now.”

  “That’s nice, Alex.”

  “Try to do some reading,” he said, taking her empty cup and dish and standing with the tray. He looked down at her and she smiled.

  “I will,” she said. She lifted one of the magazines and held it up. The words still looked unclear, but she forced herself to struggle with them, hoping that would bring her out of it. She thought she had been reading for hours by the time she closed her eyes to sleep again, but actually she had held the magazine before her for only five minutes. She was vaguely aware of the distortions of time and space, but she didn’t know how to deal with them. Anything, even getting out of bed to go to the bathroom, took monumental effort. It exhausted her again, and she fell back into a deep sleep. The next time she awoke, the sun had already gone down. The realization that she had spent the entire day in bed struck her like a blow to the body.

  “What’s happening to me?” she muttered, but there was no one nearby to hear her. “Alex?” she called, with barely enough volume to reach the hallway. “Alex?” She saw the door being opened.

  Elizabeth came to the side of her bed. She was wearing one of Sharon’s housecoats and one of her aprons. Sharon wasn’t sure, but she thought it looked like she was also wearing one of her necklaces and a pair of her earrings. She looked so mature, so adult.

  “What’s wrong, Sharon?” she said. “Aren’t you feeling any better?”

  “No. I need Alex. Where is he?”

  “I needed some more milk and sent him to town for it.”

  “More milk?”

  “Yes. Can I have anything brought to you? Supper will be ready in about a half hour.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You’ve got to eat. You’ve got to regain your strength. Alex told me to tell you that if you woke up.”

  “I want Alex,” she said.

  “As soon as he returns, I’ll tell him.” She smoothed down the blanket and tucked it in at the sides under the mattress. It was so taut over Sharon’s body that she thought it felt like straps. “Just relax,” Elizabeth said. “Just take it easy.” She smiled and then left the room.

  The children, she thought, one moment they’re so brittle, so tight, so hard to understand or get to know; and the next, they’re so warm, so adult. But isn’t that just like Alex, she thought, just the way he is, too.

  He came to her right after Richard brought her her supper. They had to wake her to eat. She couldn’t believe how much more difficult it was to raise herself in the bed. Chewing food loomed before her like a task of prodigious proportions. To accomplish it would be miraculous. Even lifting the fork and holding it and the food on it steady was a wonderful achievement.

  “Alex. Where have you been?”

  “I had things to do, Sharon, but there’s no reason to worry. The children are watching over you. Aren’t they doing a good job?”

  “Alex, I’m getting worse. Maybe we should call the doctor again.”

  “I spoke to him only moments ago. He said after you eat a good meal and have a good night’s rest…”

  “But Alex, I’ve been resting all day. I haven’t been able to read one page of any of the magazines or books you brought me.”

  “Lucky we caught this in time. How close to that breakdown you must have been. Eat, Sharon. Go on.”

  “I don’t have much of an appetite.”

  “More reason to eat. At least drink that cranberry juice. You need liquids.”

  She went to the glass. The juice didn’t taste the same. There was a bitterness to it that she didn’t recognize.

  “Is this the same brand we always get?”

  “No, they were out of it.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Well, we can’t waste it. I won’t buy it next time.”

  She drained more than half the glass and then relaxed her body back against the pillow. She closed her eyes and shook her head. She felt Alex’s hand over her forehead. He pushed the strands of hair back and stroked her softly.

  “I just can’t eat, Alex.”

  “All right, all right. As long as you had the liquid. If you’re not appreciably better in the morning, I’ll take you over to the doctor’s office, OK?”

  “Yes, Alex.”

  He took the tray, but before he reached the door, Carl appeared like someone on guard duty in the hall.

  “Tell Elizabeth it isn’t her food; tell her Sharon’s not up to eating, that’s all.”

  “Right.”

  “It did look good,” Sharon said. “I’m sorry.”

  “That’s OK, Sharon,” Carl said. “We’ll make up for it.” Alex laughed.

  “He’s not kidding, either. Those kids
can eat when they want to. I’ll be up after dinner,” he said, and left. Sharon kept her eyes open for as long as she could and then fell into a comalike sleep. Alex didn’t come up after dinner; he didn’t even come in to sleep. But Sharon didn’t realize any of this until she awoke late in the morning.

  The first thing that impressed her was the heavy silence in the house. She pulled herself into a sitting position and listened hard, but she heard no one. When she looked to her nightstand on the right, she found a glass of orange juice and a note that read, “Drink this. We’ll be back shortly to give you a full breakfast. Stay close to the bed until I return. Alex.”

  She was thirsty so she reached for the glass, but the ringing of the phone interrupted her. The phone was on the nightstand on Alex’s side of the bed. When she reached for the receiver, she nearly turned the table over with her clumsy effort.

  “Hello.” She expected it might be Alex.

  “Sharon. Hi. It’s Leona.”

  “Leona?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I had to escape from the relatives for a few moments. I’m all cried out.”

  “Cried out? Leona?” Sharon sat up further and wiped the right side of her face harder with the palm of her hand. “Leona, my God, your mother and I were just talking about you.”

  “I know,” Leona said, her voice suddenly thin. Sharon heard the sob.

  “What is it? Where are you?”

  “I’m home, Sharon. Don’t you know what’s happened?”

  “No. No, I haven’t been feeling well. I’ve been in bed for over twenty-four hours. At least, I think that’s all it’s been. What is it, Leona?”

  “My mother. My mother was robbed and brutally murdered the night before last.”

  “What?” She tried to swallow, but couldn’t. “Murdered?”

  “It was horrible, Sharon. She was stabbed four times.”

  “Four?”

  “And whoever did it took her jewelry. I had to talk to you. You were one of the last people to see her alive. I never should have left her alone, but she wouldn’t sell this house and she kept saying she didn’t want to be a burden on anyone or interfere. I never should have left her alone.”

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Leona, I’m so—I’m going to get right up and come over.”