by Lewis Shiner
Lenny took a short hop backwards without really meaning to.
“That’s not very nice,” Sophie said.
“That sounds like name-calling,” said little Ralphie.
“I’m only speaking the truth,” said the Reverend.
“It might be only speaking the truth to say somebody was short and fat,” said Sophie, “but it still wouldn’t be very nice to say it in that tone of voice.”
The Reverend Billy, who was in fact rather short and fat, wrinkled up his nose and said, “Hmmph.”
“Look,” Sophie said. “The problem is water, right? But there’s all the water we would ever need over in Possum Creek.”
“What are you saying, that we should move the village?” Jonathan asked. “I don’t like it by the creek, with all those holly bushes. Besides, wolves live there. And it would take forever to make new burrows.”
“No,” Sophie said, “I wasn’t thinking about moving the village. I was thinking—what if we made the water come to us?”
Apparently Sophie had been awake much of the night thinking, too. She knew that Possum Creek had once flowed right by the village, many, many years before Sophie’s mother had been born. It had filled up with sand and after that the river had flowed away to other places.
But if there was one thing bunnies were good at, besides eating and having big families, it was digging. What if they dug out the old river bed and made part of Possum Creek—just a small part, not enough to hurt anyone downstream—come through their village again? Then after it came through the village it could go back and join back up with the main river.
After Sophie finished talking about her plan, the other bunnies found that their heads hurt just as much as Lenny’s did. They all started to talk at once and it was almost an hour before it got quiet enough for Lenny to speak up.
“I’ve heard what everybody has to say,” he said, “which mostly seems to be that they’re afraid. Well, I can understand that. But we have to do something, or we won’t have any food. I think everybody who wants to give what they can to this plan should meet us tomorrow down at Possum Creek.”
Lenny and Sophie and Ralph all slept badly that night, but as soon as the first rays of sunshine trickled into their burrow they got up and went to Possum Creek. By the time the sun was fully up there were only five other bunnies there.
“Thank you all for coming,” Lenny said, and looked up at the sky. “Boy, it looks like it’s going to be another really hot day.”
It looked like he shouldn’t have said that, because as soon as he did, Jonathan made a little hop like he was going to try to sneak away.
“Good thing we’re here by the river, then, isn’t it?” said Sophie in a funny voice. “Where it’s so cool and nice?”
“Uh, yeah!” Lenny said. “Sure is!”
“Right, Jonathan?” Sophie said.
Jonathan saw that all the bunnies were now looking at him. “I guess so,” he said.
Sophie showed them what she’d been thinking, which was to start digging inland a little way from the river bank. That would leave a wall of dirt between the river and the ditch they were going to dig, so no water would get in the hole. Then, when they were all done, they could dig through the wall and let the water in.
“I figure we should start digging about here,” Sophie said, scratching a line in the dirt with one paw.
“Well,” Lenny said, “what are we waiting for? Let’s make a river!”
They dug all day, and when they were done their paws were sore and their legs were tired, but they had a wide, deep channel about fifty feet long. In the last of the daylight they stood looking at it.
“This isn’t going to work,” Sophie said, very quietly, so nobody but Lenny could hear her. “It’s just too much work and there aren’t enough of us.”
“It was a good idea, though,” Lenny said.
“And you did your best,” Sophie said. “You worked harder than anyone.”
“So what happens now?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie said. “I’m all out of ideas.”
Just then Jonathan started to hop slowly along the edges of the hole, looking at what they’d done. He seemed to be thinking very hard.
“This is it,” Sophie whispered. “When Jonathan gives up, the others will, too.”
Jonathan stopped and turned to face the other bunnies. He sat up on his hind legs and said, “Look! Look what we did!”
“It’s not so bad,” Lenny said.
“Not so bad?” Jonathan said. “Not so bad? It’s wonderful. We’re only bunnies, and we did this. We made this great big hole, which isn’t just a hole, it’s the start of a new river. Instead of just sitting around and being scared and hungry, we did something about it! I’m going to tell everybody!”
The next morning there were forty eager bunnies at the trench, and still more showed up as the day went on. Sophie and Lenny had to stop frequently to answer questions and explain Sophie’s idea over and over. But with forty bunnies digging and laughing and having fun, the work went much faster than it had the day before.
In the afternoon Jane Bunny came to the edge of the ditch and asked if she could talk to Sophie. Sophie hopped out and said, “What can I do for you?”
“No, it’s me,” Jane said. “I want to do something for you. But I can’t dig.” She held up her left front leg, which had never worked right, even when she was a baby.
“There is something you can do,” Sophie said. “If you really want to.”
Sophie explained her ideas to Jane, who actually had some ideas of her own. For instance, she thought of making trees that had grown up in the old riverbed into islands, so the bunnies wouldn’t have to dig them up or move to higher ground to get around them. Jane was able to hop up and down along the trench and answer questions and carry messages back and forth between the other workers.
On the third day, even more bunnies showed up. One of them was Albertus, though he hadn’t come to work. He sat on a hill and watched for long enough that everyone could see him, and see that he was unhappy, before he hopped slowly away.
That evening the Reverend Billy Bunny called a meeting in the village square. “What you’re doing,” he said, “just isn’t natural.”
“Bunnies dig,” Maria said. “What’s unnatural about that?”
“You’re changing things,” the Reverend Billy said.
“We’re just putting the river back where it used to be,” Jane said. “We’re not hurting any other animals.”
“Only the Easter Bunny,” the Reverend Billy said, “is supposed to change the shape of the land.”
This was a very difficult idea and everyone got very quiet to think about it. It was a hot night, with stars almost as bright as the Moon, and crickets sang all around them.
Suddenly a voice spoke up from the back of the crowd.
“Eggs,” little Ralph said.
The Reverend Billy seemed startled. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘eggs,’” Ralph told him. “I thought the Easter Bunny was just in charge of Easter eggs.”
“Well, er, um...”
“Yeah,” said Lenny, who seemed to be much less afraid than he used to be. “Who said the Easter bunny was in charge of rivers?”
“Yeah,” said Annie. “You’re always telling us the Easter Bunny helps those who help themselves. If this isn’t helping ourselves, what is?”
“But, er, well...”
The bunnies, one and two at a time, began to slowly hop away from the square. “We’re tired,” Jonathan said as he left. “Let’s do this some other time.”
“If you want to help us dig,” Maria said, “we’d be happy to see you tomorrow.”
The Reverend Billy Bunny didn’t show up to dig the next day, or any of the days after. However, he didn’t call any more meetings either, which many of the bunnies thought almost made up for his not working.
Soon the hole went right up to the edge of the village. Some of the bunnies wanted to
quit right then and there and let the water into the ditch, but Jane spoke up. “You’ve seen how water gets bad if it doesn’t keep moving. We need to finish the job, just like Sophie said.”
Other bunnies had ideas, too. Little Ralph surprised even himself when he figured out that they needed to tunnel under a big tree that had fallen across the old riverbed instead of going around it or trying to move it. “That way,” he said, “when the water goes under it, we can use it to get to the other side.”
Three weeks from the day they first broke ground, the ditch was almost finished. Sophie and Lenny together broke through at the downstream end, where the little river would eventually join back with the big one. All that was left was to break through the wall at the upstream end and let the water in.
The entire village gathered at the river, ready to celebrate, including old Albertus, who had found another hill where he could look down on them. Even the Reverend Billy was there, trying to look stern and disapproving.
Though there still hadn’t been any rain in the bunnies’ village, it had been raining upstream. The river was full of water and running very, very fast.
“You know,” Sophie said, “We could have a problem here.”
“What do you mean?” Lenny asked. “C’mon, c’mon, we’ve been working on this forever. Bunnies aren’t very patient, you know. Let’s finish this!”
“I’m afraid—”
“Bunnies are always afraid,” Lenny said. “But sometimes—”
“No,” Sophie said. “This is different. When we dig through that last wall of dirt, the whole river is going to rush right into our new hole. Whoever does it could get really, really hurt.”
“Oh,” Lenny said. “Do you think?”
They all stood and looked at the river, which no longer seemed peaceful, but seemed a little angry. Then they looked at Sophie’s ditch. Then they looked at the river again.
“I’ll do it,” Lenny said.
“Lenny, no,” Sophie said. “I won’t let you.”
“Somebody’s got to do it,” Lenny said. “It might as well be me.”
“No,” said a deep voice behind them. “It has to be me.”
They all turned. “You?” Lenny said.
“Me,” Albertus said.
“But...but...that doesn’t make any sense,” Sophie said. “You’re rich.”
“I used to be,” Albertus said.
The others gathered around to listen. “What happened?” Maria asked.
“Back in February, when I went down to look at all my lovely food, it was gone.”
“Gone?” Jonathan said.
“Mice,” Albertus said. “They tunneled into my vault, between the big rocks, and they took everything. And because my land is so high up, the drought hurt me worse than anyone else.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Sophie asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Reverend Billy asked. He seemed more upset than Albertus was.
“I know you don’t like me,” Albertus said. “I know what you all call me behind my back. ‘Albert Doo-Doo head.’”
“Um, actually, nobody’s ever called you that,” Ralph said.
“Really?”
“Really. ‘Big Al,’ that’s what everybody calls you.”
“‘Big Al’ isn’t so bad,” Albertus said thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ve been hearing all these ideas going around, all this, ‘give what you can, take what you can get away with—’”
“‘Take what you need,’” Lenny said. “There’s a difference.”
“Whatever. At first I thought I would come sit on one of you until you gave me some food. But none of you has any food either. That was when it hit me: I’m the same as anybody else now.”
“Wow,” Maria said.
“I’m not exactly happy about it,” Albertus said. “I stayed in my burrow and sulked for a long time. But after a while I would come out here and watch all of you digging. It looked like fun, but I didn’t know how to, well, to ask to join in.”
“I guess you just did,” Sophie said. “Frankly, I think you have a lot to make up for, but if I understand what Mark taught us, once you’re willing to give what you can, you’re in.”
“Thank you,” Albertus said. “I mean that.”
“I hope you meant what you said about digging through to the river,” Lenny said.
“I did,” Albertus said, “and I do.”
With that he hopped into the hole and began to dig. Soon his paws were damp and muddy, and very slowly water began to seep into the ditch.
“Oh my,” Sophie said. “Oh my. This might actually work.”
“Are you just now figuring that out?” Lenny said.
Albertus kept digging. Dirty water splashed his beautiful white coat until he was almost as brown as Lenny, and his powerful forepaws sent mud and rocks flying out of the hole.
Jonathan began to hop up and down in one place. “Look out!” he said. “Look out! It’s coming!”
With a roar the water broke through the wall, and it swept Albertus away with it. The last they saw of him before he disappeared around a bend in the brand new river was one massive paw raised in farewell.
“Oh no!” Sophie cried, and she began to run after Albertus. So did all the other bunnies, but the new river was much, much faster than they were and they couldn’t begin to catch up.
The bunnies, all of whom had been working very hard for many days, simply ran out of strength before they even got to the village. Sophie dropped to the ground panting, and Lenny fell down beside her.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” she said. “I was mad at him because he never wanted to share his food, but I didn’t want this. It’s all my fault.”
“What’s all your fault?” asked a deep voice.
All the bunnies looked up from where they were sprawled on the dry grass.
“Albertus!” Sophie said. “Are you all right?”
“Apparently someone left a tree across the new river,” Albertus said. “I was able to hold on and pull myself out.”
“That was little Ralph,” Lenny said proudly.
Albertus nodded at him grandly. “Thank you, young bunny,” he said. “If you wish, you may call me ‘Big Al.’”
The bunnies wanted to call it “Sophie’s River,” but Sophie said they should name it after Mark. They all nodded and pretended to agree with her, but went on calling it Sophie’s River anyway.
The grass and the clover and the nettles began to bloom again almost immediately, and even the old hawthorn bush in the middle of the village square started to perk up. As soon as it did, though, a very strange thing happened. One night someone nibbled and worked at the bush until it came to look exactly like Mark the Bunny, whose ideas had inspired Sophie to save the village.
For several days afterwards Lenny had a bad stomach ache, and when anyone asked him if he’d made the art in the village square he would only say that the question made his head hurt.
The Killing Season
Overnight the clouds had rolled in and the summer was dead. I sat at my office window and drank coffee, looking out on a dirty brown Saturday that smelled like rain.
Somebody knocked at the door and I swiveled around to see Pete McGreggor from down the hall. “Busy?” he asked.
I shook my head and he came in, closing the door behind him. He poured a cup of coffee and sat down across from me.
“Big shakeup last night,” he said. “I just got a call to defend one of the Preacher’s errand boys.”
“So they finally got to him,” I said, remembering the furor that had raged in the newspapers a few months before. The law had never been able to break up the Preacher’s drug operation, even though it was notorious as the biggest in Texas. “How’d they do it?”
“It’s very hush-hush,” he said, steam from his coffee making his hair seem to ripple. “They squelched the story at the papers, hoping to pull in a couple more fish, I guess. But what I gather is that the thing was pulled off from the
inside, from somebody high up in the organization. But nobody knows exactly who it was that sold out.”
“It’ll all come clean at the trial, I suppose.”
He nodded. “Sooner than that, I expect. The DA told me confidentially that they’ll have everything they need by five o’clock tonight. You’ll see it all on the evening news.”
A sharp rapping came at the door and Pete stood up.
“You’ve got business. I’ll leave you to it.”
“It’s probably bill collectors,” I said. “I’ll yell if they get rough.”
He opened the door and pushed past the two policemen that were waiting outside.
They were both in uniform, but I only knew one of them. That was Brady, the tall, curly headed one that looked like an Irish middleweight. His partner was dark and nondescript, sporting a Police Academy moustache.
“Hello, Sloane,” Brady said. “How’s the private cop business?” He was a bit of a hard case, not yet thirty, with the sense of humor of a caged animal.
“It’s a living,” I said. “What can I do for you?” I didn’t bother to get up.
“This is Sgt. Dawson,” Brady told me. “He thinks he wants to ask you some questions.”
“Sit down,” I said, waving at the chairs. Dawson sat, but Brady continued to pace the floor.
“Sorry to bother you like this,” Dawson said.
“No problem. Coffee?” Dawson nodded and I poured another cup. When I glanced at Brady he just shook his head. I knew the game and I wished they’d get on with it. Brady was going to play tough so Dawson could stick up for me and I’d talk to him. I couldn’t think of anything they could possibly want from me. “Mind telling me what this is all about?”
“We’re trying to find Elizabeth Canton. Known as Liz,” Dawson said.
“Good luck. I can give you her address, but it won’t do you much good. I find if I’m patient she comes around to see me every once in a while.” Dawson looked down at his coffee with an absent expression.