The Christmas Rat Page 5

  It was dark, but there were no new cups.

  At first I was puzzled. Maybe Anje had given up. That didn’t seem like him. So I walked around looking for some clue about what he might have left instead. Sure enough, I found more pellets. They were hidden in odd, out-of-the-way places.

  I gathered up as many as I could find—maybe fifty—and stuffed them into my pockets. I emptied them all into an ash can. But I didn’t doubt he would bring more.

  It occurred to me that there was no real garbage in the basement. I was pretty sure they incinerated everything. So I figured there was no food for the rat. My idea was, if I could leave some, maybe it would keep him from touching any of the poison I missed.

  In the apartment, my mother was still on the phone.

  I washed my hands, then collected some dinner scraps from the garbage pail, wrapped them in foil, and sneaked them back to the basement. I left the scraps near the place where I’d seen the rat digging a hole.

  At the elevator, just before stepping into it, I called out, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you!”

  If I could keep the rat alive until Christmas I figured he’d be all right. The cold snap was supposed to lift. Then the rat could go away. It was only a matter of time. And holding off Anje.

  As I slept that night I was disturbed briefly by the phone ringing. A glance at the clock by my bed told me it was two o’clock in the morning. When the ringing stopped I rolled over and slept, but not very well.

  TWO DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

  I only woke when my father sat on my bed.

  “Eric?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “You up?”

  My eyes were barely open. “I think so.”

  “Eric, I need to ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “We got a call last night. Two o’clock in the morning.”

  I was awake now, knowing what was coming. “You did?”

  “A man said he was the exterminator in the building. Said you were interfering with his work. I told him he had a wrong number. But he insisted it was you. Knew your name. He was pretty angry.”

  I stared at my father. “What did you say?”

  “I told him he was nuts. The time and all. I told him to go away. That I would call the police.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He hung up.”

  “Oh.”

  “Eric, do you know anything about this?”

  I thought for a bit and then I said, “Well . . . remember the exterminator that came?”

  “No.”

  “On Monday. Mom said he’d be coming.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said vaguely.

  “Well . . . he wanted me to help him.”

  “Help him with what?”

  “Ah . . . extermination.”

  “Hmmm. Not proper. Not at all.”

  “I told him . . . no,” I lied.

  “Good for you. That was the right answer. You have any idea what his name was?”

  “Anje. Anjela Gabrail.”

  “You sure that’s it?”

  “Yeah. There’s a card he gave me in my pants pocket.” I pointed to the clothes that I had flung over a chair.

  My father found the card and held it up. In the dim room its redness looked like a blood spot. “I don’t want you to have anything to do with this guy,” he said to me. “I intend to call the company. I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you.”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  “I’m sure. But it’s rather odd behavior. Two o’clock in the morning. Hey, but cheer up, fella. Only two more days to wait.”

  “I know.”

  “What are you going to do for fun today?”

  “Mom said I could build a model.”

  “Great idea. Now get some more sleep. And make sure you don’t let anyone in.”

  I rolled over and closed my eyes.

  When I finally got up I found a twenty-dollar bill on the kitchen table. “Get a difficult model,” the message read. My dad’s handwriting.

  I was surprised by the amount. It meant that he was worried about me.

  After breakfast I turned on my computer and checked the local weather on the Internet. Not too good. A frigid Canadian air mass had simply stalled over our region. No letup in the cold. But relief would be on the way by Friday.

  As I was using the computer, there was a beep, which meant I had some E-mail.

  There was a message. It read:

  Eric,

  Don’t mess with me!

  Anje

  I noticed his address. It was Deadrats@TMI.org. I deleted it fast then called Pete’s, hoping his mother would be there. She wasn’t, but this time their machine worked. I left a message, asking for his phone number in Florida.

  I dressed for the cold, but before I went out I checked the basement. In the place where I had left the food, only a few crumbs remained. No foil either. Did that mean the rat had eaten it all, or had Anje taken it away? I didn’t know.

  I went outside.

  Guess what? The cold was worse. I know that’s what the weather people had said, but I hadn’t really believed it. This was definitely worse than yesterday. People had scarfs around their noses and mouths. Walking fast. When they breathed it looked as if they were on fire. I tried running but it was hard with all the ice on the sidewalks.

  The model store was part of a small shopping strip a few blocks from our street. I hadn’t been in for a while, what with school and all. I thought about what I wanted to build. A car model? A plane? Maybe some fantasy or sci-fi thing. As long as it took a lot of time to make, I didn’t really care. I wanted to keep busy, keep my mind off you-know-what.

  When I reached the shop I stopped to look in the display window. Airplanes and rockets dangled in the air. A squadron of X-Wing Fighters seemed to be in a dogfight with multicolored World War I tri- and biplanes. On the bottom, an electric train went round and round a small oval of track. Tanks, armored vehicles, farm tractors, and sports cars were arranged here and there. Army figures and fantasy figures were ready to attack.

  In the center of the railway oval was a Christmas scene. You know: Mary and Joseph, and baby Jesus, along with the three kings and an angel who looked sort of like the stained-glass angel in our church. It was weird the way he kept popping up.

  Around the infant Jesus were lots of animals and shepherds.

  I studied the scene closely, but I didn’t see a rat among the animals. Maybe rats weren’t invited. Too ugly. And here I was, trying to save one. Too much.

  To my surprise there were no customers in the store. I figured it was the cold. Behind a counter this guy was reading a magazine. He looked up, nodded to me, went back to his reading. For just a second I freaked. I mean, I thought he was Anje. But, of course, it wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

  Anyway, the shelves were stuffed with boxes of models. There were racks of glue, paints, knives, and model magazines.

  I walked around, looking at the pictures on the boxes, trying to decide what I wanted. It was hard to make up my mind.

  The guy behind the counter looked up again. “How much you got to spend, dude?” he asked.

  “Twenty and change.”

  “That section over there,” he said, pointing toward the back of the store. “All twenty and under.”

  I went where he told me and looked over the boxes, wondering if there was something I could get that would help protect the rat. You know, like a tank that really worked.

  Then I saw these bags of plastic soldiers. They were dark green, maybe two inches tall. Each soldier was shooting a rifle. The bags had forty soldiers each and were only a dollar a bag. Made in China.

  I did some quick figuring. Twenty bucks, twenty bags, times forty. Eight hundred soldiers! Totally awesome!

  I bought them. The man behind the counter said, “War gamer, dude?”

  “Sort of,” I said.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas.”

  I hur
ried back home, grabbed the white flashlight and went down to the basement. The lights were off. When I got to the place where I had seen the rat, I ripped open the bags and dumped the soldiers out. What I did was put the soldiers around the hole, guns pointing out. Like, see, they were defending the rat hole. It wasn’t easy. Sometimes I knocked one down, which sent others over. Anyway, it took more than two hours to set the eight hundred up. A regular army. Awesome.

  Of course, I knew perfectly well that there was no way in the world these plastic soldiers would help the rat, or hold back Anje. But, you know, I just wanted it to say, like, the rat wanted to be alive. I mean, Anje was in the army. He might get the point.

  Up in the apartment I got some bread slices, then took them back with me and left them right by the hole. I figured my army wasn’t just protecting the rat, but the food supply too.

  Okay. I had done something.

  When I got upstairs I just barely made it to the ringing phone.

  It was my father. “Eric,” he said, “I checked with the apartment management people. They said they never heard of this Mr. Gabrail. He doesn’t work for them.”

  My heart sank. “Dad, remember? I showed you his card?”

  “I know you did.”

  “And Dad, he has these keys that fit the whole building.”

  “Look, Eric, I do believe you. But if you’re concerned—I am—simply double-lock the door from inside. And don’t let anyone in. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah.” I’d already been doing that. “Sure.”

  “I mean it. It’ll be impossible to get in.”

  “I know.”

  “Hey, cheer up. Christmas Eve tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll win,” I replied glumly.

  “Win what?” father asked.

  “Ah . . . never mind.”

  ONE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS

  -1-

  I woke in the middle of the night.

  I’m sure I hadn’t heard anything. I mean, I’m a pretty good sleeper. Used to be, anyway. All the same, I had this feeling that something was happening in the basement. So I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock and saw that it was a little past two in the morning. Anje’s favorite time.

  I lay back, sort of, you know, edgy, pulled the blankets up to my chin, and just stared up at the dark ceiling. I heard a few cars passing outside and, for a brief, annoying time, a car alarm. There was wind too, a soft moaning right outside my window. The more I lay there the more I wanted to know about my army.

  I slipped out of bed. There was some light coming from somewhere and it took me a moment to realize it was the little flashlight Anje had given me. It was glowing again, giving enough light for me to find my shirt and trousers. I didn’t bother with shoes, just stepped into my slippers. I did make sure I had keys and I took the flashlight, too.

  Quietly, I unbolted the door locks, checked to see if anyone was in the hallway. No one. Then I slipped out, pulled the door shut, and buzzed for the elevator. It clanked up and opened. I got on and was just about to push the button for the basement when I stopped. There was this faint scent of poison gas. Anje’s smell. Did that mean he had just been on the elevator?

  I hesitated. That elevator was noisy. If Anje was in the basement, he’d hear me coming for sure. I decided it might be better to walk. So I pushed the button for the lobby. The elevator started down, groaning and grinding as usual. Nervous, I almost pushed the STOP button, but held back.

  The lobby was cold. At this time of night the heat was turned off. There was some snow tracked from the front door to right where I stood by the elevator. But I didn’t see anyone.

  Moving softly, I went to the back of the lobby and opened the stairwell door. The only light came from a glowing red EXIT sign shining downwards.

  I stopped and asked myself: Do I really want to do this?

  There was enough yes to keep going.

  Grasping the banister—it was like an icicle—I started down the steps. They circled around four times before reaching the bottom landing.

  Heart pounding, I eased the door open a crack and leaned forward.

  The place was pitch black.

  I flicked on my flashlight and poked the beam right and left. Nothing. I turned it off, and put it in my pocket. It still glowed.

  I opened the door further, wide enough to stick my head in and look around. There was no light or sound. Maybe, I thought, nothing was happening.

  Feeling braver, I took a step, letting the door shut behind me with a soft clunk.

  I stood still and waited for my heart rate to get down to normal. All the while I stared into the dark and listened hard. I was hoping my eyes would adjust to the blackness but there was no adjustment to make. I decided the flashlight glow might give me away, so I left it by the door. That way, at least, I could find my way out.

  I stepped away from the stairwell. Around one turn. Pretty soon the blackness was complete. I would have to feel my way.

  As I remembered it, the stairwell was pretty much opposite where I wanted to go.

  Hands before me, taking small steps, I started forward, trying to make no sound at all. Unexpectedly I touched something hard. Wiggling my fingers I reached out again and felt this clammy flatness. It was a concrete wall.

  Hands pressed against it, I moved along to the right until I smashed into something metallic. I mean, the sound exploded. It was so loud I jumped—as if I hadn’t made the sound—myself.

  Gulping air, I was afraid to move. If Anje was down there, no way he didn’t hear that sound. And if he did hear he’d know it was me.

  Trying not to panic, I clenched my fists and took a deep breath, letting the air out slowly.

  I realized I had walked into the row of ash cans. Fine. That meant the elevator was behind me. If I’d remembered it right, the direction I wanted to take was straight ahead.

  I stared into the darkness, ears straining. I had no sense that anything else alive was there.

  Nervous, I inched forward, having been in the basement enough times now to be pretty sure of the way. So I was startled when I came around the third turn and saw some light ahead. It was low, flickering. Like, you know, something was burning. There was this stink too.

  Clinging to the wall with two hands, I crept forward. The light grew brighter. It was just around a corner. I moved my head so I could peek out with one eye.

  There was Anje. He was sitting cross-legged on the cement floor, with what was left of my plastic army in front of him. Next to him was this ash can. Licks of fire rose up out of it.

  As I watched, Anje plucked up one of my toy soldiers. Grasping it with both hands, he twisted it until, with a snap, he broke the figure in two. Then he tossed the pieces into the can, where I guess they burned or at least melted.

  I watched, scared but fascinated too.

  He reached for another soldier and repeated the same weird moves.

  After he had burned up the whole army, he hitched himself forward, waved flames and smoke away with a hand, and peered into the can.

  He must have been satisfied with what he saw. He stood, lifted the can and tipped it over, pouring what I think was hot, liquid plastic into the rat hole.

  Gagging, I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from throwing up. Then I backed away as fast as I could without making a sound. When I reached a place I thought was halfway to the steps, I stopped. Hoping to get my breath back, I pressed my forehead against the cool wall. It helped calm me down.

  At last I looked up. I suppose there were still some flames because there was reddish light casting shadows on the walls.

  All of sudden there was this banging sound, as if an ash can had been struck. Then I heard Anje’s voice shouting, “There you are!”

  Next moment, from around the corner, I saw the rat coming. He was racing right toward me. In nothing flat he passed to my left.

  More scared of Anje than the rat, I ran too. In fact I followed the rat, only to smash right into a wall. Stunned, hurting,
I turned and ran again, stumbling and crashing into what I think was a can. Anyway, I fell. But I forced myself up and crawled behind the can, then hunkered down as tightly as I could.

  Moments later I saw a beam of light moving about. It came from Anje’s long black flashlight. With my heart pounding, I held my breath.

  He walked right by me. Couldn’t have been more than four feet away. Then he was gone. I wasn’t sure where he was going until I heard the elevator clanking down, the doors opening and shutting, and finally the sounds of the thing going up.

  Letting out a sigh of relief, I stood up and made my way to the elevator. It had stopped moving. I was just about to push the button when I held back. Maybe Anje was on it. Maybe this was a trap.

  Afraid to take the chance, I went to the stairwell door. The white flashlight was where I’d left it, still glowing. If he had seen it, he’d have known I was down there.

  For the first time I had this thought: the flashlight, the one he’d given me with his name on the side, maybe he gave it to me for some reason. I mean, a reason other than the one he said, which was so I could see. Maybe—and it made me cold to think it—maybe, he gave it to me so he could always see me.

  All the same, I picked it up and climbed the six floors to our apartment.

  Soon as I got into my bed, I drew the blankets over my head and just hugged myself. I was feeling exhausted. Not that I could sleep.

  I was thinking too much.

  As far as I could tell the rat was safe. Okay. That was good. I was really glad about that. But there was still one more day before the cold eased off. See, my hope was still that when it got warmer, the rat would leave the building. So the final test would come tomorrow.

  No! Later today.

  -2-

  It was almost eleven o’clock before I woke up again. It was still Thursday, the day before Christmas. Later, Christmas Eve. My first thought was, What’s happened in the basement?

  I stumbled into the kitchen where I found a note.

  Christmas Eve is almost here!

  We should be home no later than seven.

  Special dinner. Stay warm!