LITERAL REMAINS

At Night When the Demons Come

Reina was standing on the front porch when Prater coasted the car into the drive.  He was rubbernecking, taking his own sweet time.  Of course it took time to navigate the turn with the ambulance and the emergency responders crowding the street.

His wife met him at the car.

“It’s Miss Tumosi,” she said.

“She have a heart attack, break her hip or something?” he eyed the rescue trucks, the men milling about, watching the house.

“I think she’s dead, Prater,” Reina said.

“Oh.”  He was shocked, though he shouldn’t have been.  Old Lady Tumosi was advanced in years.  Very advanced.

“The Meals On Wheels lady found her.”

Prater saw the woman now, not young herself, sitting in back of an ambulance parked at the curb.  She was wiping tears from her reddened cheeks.  Prater wondered if it was just finding a dead body that upset the woman?  It couldn’t have been the passing of Old Lady Tumosi.  She was just mean.

He felt slightly ashamed at having thought it.  He saw the look of concern and sadness expressed across his wife’s delicate features.

“She was ninety-eight,” Reina said.

“Really.”  Prater wanted to add some snide, smart, remark, but knew Reina was not in a mood for that.  She seemed to genuinely care about the proceedings.  Maybe it would hit him later, the fact that another human being, a fellow human being, had passed from this life, and he would feel some measure of grief for Miss Tumosi. 

He doubted it, though.  The old woman was evil, a true battleaxe in every sense of the word.  Reina had had plenty of rows with the cantankerous witch, but it just showed what a good person his wife was that she could feel something about their wicked neighbor’s passing.  Reina truly was the better half of their marriage.

“It’s so sad,” Reina said.

“Yeah.”

She looked him.  He could tell she didn’t believe him.  He couldn’t muster anything acceptable for the old woman.

Prater looked up in the evening tint to their daughter’s bedroom window.  Elina had her face pressed to the glass staring down on the proceedings.

“I’ll go up,” Prater said.

“Okay,” Reina looked at him.  “But only answer the questions you know you can answer.”

“No problem,” he smiled, and felt like he should not have.

A man yelped across the street.  “Little bastard!” echoed above the idling engines.

Prater’s and Reina’s attentions were drawn to the commotion.  A paramedic appeared from the side of the house, right hand clamped over the left.  Blood oozed between his fingers.

“The little son of a bitch clawed me,” he grumbled.

Old Lady Tumosi’s cat ran between the paramedic’s legs.  Ricky.  Blacker than midnight to the blind.  Ears slicked back, it raced around retreating feet and across the street.  Ricky ran past Prater and Reina, down their side lawn and into the bushes.

An EMT jogged across up to them.  “Which way did it go?”

Prater pointed, “Over there.  Be careful, it’s mean.”

“I know,” the man chuckled.  “And armed.”  The paramedic across the street was still cursing the beast.  “I hate to see it in a shelter, though.”

“You can leave it,” said Reina, “it’s all right.”

“What?” said Prater.

Reina continued, “Miss Tumosi loved that cat.  She called it Ricky.  You can leave.  I’m sure it’s just excited with all that’s going on.”

Prater rolled his eyes.

“Once it calms down,” said Reina, “we’ll take care of it.  It can live with us or we’ll find it a good home.”

“Are you sure?” asked the EMT.

“Are you?” Prater asked her.

Reina eyed her husband.  “I’m positive,” she told the EMT.  “We’ve thought of getting a family pet.”

“Okay,” smiled the EMT.  “I’ll go see what damage it did,” and he crossed back to Miss Tumosi’s house.

“You want to keep her cat?” said Prater.

They were bringing her sheet covered body out now.  They carried the gurney down the steps to the ambulance.  The Meals On Wheels lady quickly vacated the rig.

“Something to remember her by,” Reina said, watching them load their neighbor into the ambulance.

“I didn’t know you were that close to Miss Tumosi.”

“I don’t know why you insist on trying to argue with me.”

Prater left it at that.

                   #

Elina was crouched down next to her mother.  A bowl of milk sat before them.  “Here kitty, kitty!  Here, Ricky!” she called.  The security light spotlighted them in the back yard.

“Come here little kitty!” Reina beckoned.

Prater stood on the back stoop sipping from a soda can.  “Beware the claws.”

“Oh, stop it,” Reina told him.

“It’s just a little kitty cat, daddy,” his daughter told him.

“It scratched the paramedic guy.”

“It was excited,” said Reina.  She glanced at him.  “Frustrated, tested, fed up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Prater sipped.  “Just remember it killed a horse.”

“It didn’t kill a horse,” Reina said.

“Almost.”

“Really?” Elina looked to her mother.

“No.  It fought with the Cunninghams’ dog, the mastiff.  Not a horse” said Reina.

“Same thing,” said Prater.

Reina said, “If you’re not going to help, or be constructive in any way, just go back inside.”

Prater shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands up in surrender.  “Sorry.  Come on out, Ricky!” he shouted.

“Animals can sense hostility,” said Reina.

“I’m being nice.”

“I didn’t say we would definitely keep the cat.”

Elina perked up.  “Oh please, mommy, can’t we keep him.  Can’t we?”

“It’s up to your father,” she said, smiling.

“Daddy!  Please!” Elina ran to him.

Prater shot a look to his smirking wife.

“Please, daddy, let me keep him!” Elina jumped at his heels.

“It’s big responsibility, honey,” he said.

“It’s a little cat!” Elina said.

“A pet is still a big responsibility, though, Elina,” Prater said.

Reina picked her up and stepped up the steps.  They were above Prater.  “We’ll give it a test run, okay,” she said to them both.

Elina looked imploringly at her father.

“A test run,” he said.  “A few days.”

Elina caught her breath.  Prater and Reina saw the black cat at the bowl lapping up the milk.

Prater stepped down.  The cat looked up, then ran back into the shrubs.

                   #

“That was so parental like.”

“What?”  Prater was stretched out on the bed.  The streetlights shone through their windows.  Reina was looking out, staring at the dark and quiet home of Miss Tumosi.

“’A big responsibility’,” intoned Reina.  She laughed.  “You sound like every parent on the face on Earth.”

“Well it is,” he said.

“How many times did you get that speech when you were a kid?”

“About a hundred.”

“Me too,” said Reina.  “And don’t think I didn’t see you putting out fresh milk for Ricky.”

“That the other neighborhood cats will most likely drink.  He probably won’t even get another lap of it.”

Reina crawled into bed beside him.  “Admit it, you kind of want the kitty, too,” she said in a kind of baby talk.

Prater eyed her.  “Leave me alone.”

“Mr. Big Bad Daddy wants a widdle kitty,” she laughed.

“You know that cat is mean,” Prater said.  “What if it scratches Elina?  Or you?  It’s best just to call animal control.”

“Then do it.  First thing in the morning.”

“Okay.”

She nudged him.  “You’re such a wuss.  You’re not going to do it.”

“We’ll see,” he said, rolling away from her.

Reina climbed on top of him.  “We’ll see.  We’ll see you playing wid da kitty, yes we will,” she jibed him.

“I said leave me alone, woman,” he tried not to smile.

“You want da kitty, too.”

“It’s an evil cat,” he said.  “Mean.”

“Not as mean as Mr. Gruff right here.”  Reina poked him in his ribs.

Prater squirmed, holding his arms at his sides.  “That tickles.  Don’t do that.  Don’t tickle.”

“And if I do?” she questioned his warning.

“You’ll be sorry,” he said.

Her fingers inched closer to his sides.  “It’s a big responsibility, sonny boy.  Are you up to it?”

“Try me.”

She poked his ribs and he cackled.

                   #

Up and down the street the night had settled as usual.  The occasional bark of a dog would cut through the stillness, the honk of a horn somewhere beyond the suburbs would echo in from the city.  Streetlights flickered, power lines hummed.  The world was falling asleep on this street.

A gentle breeze barely disturbed the perfectly trimmed hedges, ever so slightly caressed the mannered trees.  Houses were darkened, save for the faint glow of lamp, or nightlight, or flicker of a television in the abyss.

Old Lady Tumosi’s house had lost the attention of the neighborhood.  The paramedics were gone, carting away the deceased homeowner.  It sat in its dismal air, its groans and complaints having no one to hear them.  The boards creaked, but that was lost in the songs of crickets and nightbirds.

Ricky was crouched under the shrubs across the street.  Eyes wide.  Watching.  Hears tuned.  The cat was ready, should the need occur, to pounce or run.

                   #

Reina slammed on the brakes.  She pressed hard on the horn.  The car had cut in front of her and then just stopped.  Choice words crowded her head, and as she opened her mouth to let them fly she caught a glimpse in mirror of Elina on the backseat.

“Did you see that?” Reina said calmly.  She stifled the rage.  “That vehicle just isn’t driving safely.”

“Yep,” said Elina, and she stared out the window.

“They don’t know I’m carrying such precious cargo.”  Reina’s eyes burned holes into the car as it moved and the morning traffic eased along.

“Is it supposed to rain?”

Reina chanced a glance at the sky.  Cloudy.  Gray.  Not too bad, though.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “Maybe, I’m not really sure, baby.  You’ll be fine though.  We all will.”  Reina knew Elina’s fears.  Thunderstorms were a dreaded event in their lives; not matter how much she and Prater assured Elina, comforted her, tried to assuage her fear, their daughter was still terrified of thunder and lightning.  Of course Reina had had the same fear as a child, and even as an adult she couldn’t much dismiss their daughter’s anxieties.

“Cats don’t like water.”

“Oh, well, Ricky will be safe,” she said.  The traffic light stopped her.  She turned around to Elina.  “He probably already has a nice safe place to stay.”

“Maybe they let him inside Miss Tumosi’s house,” Elina said.

“Yeah, maybe he crawled in somehow.  Or he’s hiding under someone’s porch, or in their shed, or something.”  The light turned green and Reina accelerated through the intersection.

“No, he probably went back home last night,” said Elina.

“Maybe.”

Elina watched the cars pass.  “When all the lights were on last night.  They probably let him in then.”

“Miss Tumosi’s family, I guess.  They may keep Ricky.”

“I hope not,” said Elina.  “He’s a pretty cat.”

“He is.  Your dad is right, he is feisty.”  Reina switched on the turn signal.  “Don’t tell your dad I said he was right.”

“I won’t,” Elina said.

                   #

Prater’s day at the office was hell, as usual.  His help had dwindled down to the point that he was the IT department.  At four o’clock on the dot he flew the coop and headed home.  Prater had always had the ability to leave work at work, and home at home, with the two never (or at least hardly ever) meeting.

The gray sky had begun to shed fat droplets of rain when Prater arrived home.  No thunder, no lightning, no thunder, no lightning, was his internal mantra.  He studied the heavens: no brilliant, or scary, flashes, no rumbles of terror.

Reina met him at the door.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” she teased.

“We’re ordering out.”

Reina punched his shoulder.  “No.  But I did order Chinese and its waiting for us.  A family dinner.  All of us.  We can eat together.”

They locked eyes.  She smiled.

“Let me guess,” he said, “Ricky got over his nerves and shyness.”

“Yes!”

Reina drug him along by the hand up the stairs to Elina’s room.  Elina sat on the bed coloring in an activity book.  A black mass was curled into a ball at the foot of her bed.

Elina saw her parents peeking in the doorway.  She motioned for them to be quiet.  “He’s sleeping,” she mouthed.

“He’s shedding all over her comforter,” Prater whispered.

Reina ignored him.  “When we got home this evening, we put out some fresh milk on the back steps.  It wasn’t long he came right out and started lapping it up.  Then I opened a can of tuna fish-“

“I was going to brown bag that to work tomorrow-“

“Stop and get you something,” she said and sped along, “and Elina sat it out for him.  He didn’t run or anything.  He let us both pet him and everything.”

“Did he draw blood?”

“We’ve already been through this, Prater.  You want the kitty,” she reverted to child-speak.

“Okay, but this is a trial basis.”

“That’s what I told Elina.”

“Okay.  As long as that’s clear,” he said.

“So it’s settled.”

“Yes.”

“We’re keeping the cat,” Reina smiled at her daughter as she played.  They could hear Ricky purring.

                   #

The rain finally fell after dinner.  It wasn’t a storm, just a steady downpour.  Elina never once expressed any dread, didn’t ask to sleep in her parents’ bed.  She ate her dinner, fed the cat, then retired to her room with Ricky in tow.

Reina improvised a litter pan from a cardboard box in the hall closet.  Prater, somewhat grudgingly, ran through the rain to the little storage shed for a bag of cat litter he kept on hand for oil spills and winter ice.

In the middle of the night, all were tucked away, sleeping, the sounds of the rain rocking them to sleep.  All but Prater.  The Chinese was fighting back  even though he had taken his antacid; he woke with the familiar burning.

He eased from bed, trying his best not to disturb Reina.  She turned over, but didn’t wake.  The clock on the nightstand said 12:34.  He swallowed at the fire that engulfed his throat and abdomen.

Prater crept to hall and down the stairs.  It was still raining, and, from what he could discern, it had strengthened.  A flash of lightning lit the house.  He sighed, hoping Elina didn’t wake as the thunder muttered outside.

The prescription their family doctor had given him obviously wasn’t working; he would have to make a call, probably go see her, probably have to have some tests run—all things he didn’t look forward to doing.  He took two antacids, chewing the chalk in his mouth then washed them down with a glass of cold milk.

Elina was standing in the refrigerator and it scared the hell out of him.  He dropped the glass and it broke over the kitchen tile.

“Holy God,” Prater sputtered.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

“It’s okay, honey, just stand still.  Let me clean this up.”

Prater got the broom and dustpan and swept up the shards.  “Don’t tell mommy I’m keeping the fridge door open like this, okay.”

“I won’t,” Elina said.

Prater dumped the broken glass in the trash and began soaking what little milk was on the floor with paper towels.

“Did the thunder wake you?”

“What thunder?” she asked.

There was a muffled clap that dashed his hopes.

“Oh, no,” Elina stiffened.

Prater picked her up and tossed the soggy paper towels in the trash with the rest of the mess.  Elina buried her face in his neck.

“Daddy!” she said as lightning filled the dark house.

“You can sleep with us,” he said.

“Where’s Ricky?” she said, worried.  “I was looking for him.”

“I don’t know, he’s probably under the bed or something.  He must not like storms either.”

Prater started up the stairs when Ricky sped by, brushing his leg and growling. 

“He’s down here,” he told Elina.  “See, he’s just scared too.”

“Get him,” she said.

The cat had bounded ahead.  “I think he’s going back to bed, too.  Do you want to sleep with me and mommy?”

“No, Ricky will protect me.”

Prater laid Elina in her bed, covered her up.  Ricky jumped from the black shadows and crawled under the covers.  Thunder rumbled, lightning flashed.

“You okay?”

Elina settled in, back to window.  “Me and Ricky are fine.”

Prater kissed her good night, thinking that keeping the cat just may be one of the best decisions they had ever made as parents if it helped Elina and her storm fears.

“Close the curtains,” Elina yawned before he could tip-toe from the room.

“Sure thing,” Prater tugged at the barely open curtains.  The lights at Old Lady Tumosi’s house flickered alive, briefly, all of them, then went dark once more.

                   #

Friday evening.  Elina ran through the house, Ricky chasing behind her.  Reina looked up from her book, watching Elina and the cat storm through the living room.  The rain was still a constant companion outside.

“That glue is going to give us brain damage,” Reina said, burying herself back in the book.

Prater capped the glue.  It was strong, not the usual glue he bought for his models.  He set the glue aside and looked over the replica Millennium Falcon he had half constructed.

“I’ll finish it later,” he said.

“No it’s okay,” she said.  “I’ll go upstairs and read.”

“I can finish it later,” said Prater.  He leaned back into the deep cushions of the couch.

Reina tossed her book on the coffee table, shaking the model.  She scooted closer to Prater.  “So, she wasn’t bothered by the storm last night,” she fingered the collar of his shirt.

“No,” he shifted around to face her.  “Didn’t bother her at all.  I’m glad you agreed with me to let us keep Ricky.”

“Oh, is that right,” she said.

“If you would listen to me more often…” he trailed off.  “We really need a plasma television, too.  To help me with my fear of thunderstorms.”

“That would help you, huh?”

“It would be like magic, just like Ricky,” he said.

“I bet it would.”  Reina stretched out, resting her feet in Prater’s lap.  He automatically began to massage them.  “You know,” she said, “a new washing machine would really help me conquer my fear of thunder and lightning.”

“You don’t say,” he rubbed her feet.

“Clean gutters, would help.  New wallpaper in the bathroom.  A bathroom facet that doesn’t drip.”

“Lets talk to Ricky about it,” he tickled her feet.

“Ah!” Reina blurted.  She gave him a stern look.  He held his hands up, innocent.

Prater began massaging again.  “Have you heard anything about funeral arrangements for Miss Tumosi?”

“No.”  She raised her head.  “You want to pay your respects?”

“I was just wondering,” he said.  “We should tell her family we have her cat.”

“Did she have family?  I only ever saw the Meals On Wheels people visit her.”

“I don’t know.  Someone’s been over there.  The lights came on and off.”

“Elina mentioned something about it too, the lights being on,” Reina said.

“It’s probably just bad wiring or a power surge, they just flickered.  I just don’t want us charged with catnapping.”

“If we lose that cat, though-“

“I know.  Dreaded storm fronts.”  Prater inched his hands up her ankle, her calf.  “What to do on these rainy nights?” he contemplated.

“We never know when the cat magic may wear off.”

“I’ll risk it,” Prater said.

                   #

Prater jumped up and started for the bedroom door.  He stopped, went back to beside the bed and pulled on his boxers and sleep pants.  He opened the door when Reina said, “Garcon, a soda, please.  Glass.  Ice.”

He turned to her, bowed.  “Coming right up, milady.”

He stopped at Elina’s room, checked on her.  She was sleeping soundly.  Ricky was curled on the foot of the bed.  The cat looked up at him, yawned, licked its lips, and ignored him, resting its head back down.

Prater jogged down the stairs, sweaty, tired at his core, but energized.  He flipped on the lights in the kitchen.  He retrieved two glasses from the cabinet, filled them with ice.  He opened the new two liter of soda and poured.  One in each hand, he elbowed the light off and went back upstairs.

“Here you go,” he said, handing one to Reina.  She was already in her silk pajamas.

“What’s that old song, Ricky Nelson sings it, I think? Listen to the sound of the falling rain?”

Prater settled into bed next to her.  They sipped their sodas.  He set his glass on the nightstand and snuggled up to her.  “I do love a rainy night.”

“I’ve got a drink here,” Reina said.

Elina’s shriek ripped through their walls.  Reina and Prater both jumped; Reina spilled her glass all over her and the bed.  Prater was at the bedroom door, flinging it open, running down the hall.

Elina was still screaming, lungs and tonsils bursting, shrill.

Prater flew into her room, hit at the light switch on wall and was blinded by the sudden brightness.  Reina rushed past him.

Elina sat up, lips trembling, eyes big.  She didn’t stop screaming until her parents were in the bed with her, hugging her.  All their hearts were racing.

“What’s wrong, Elina, baby?” Reina was trying to calm.  The child shook in her arms.

“Elina,” Prater said, “tell daddy what scared you.  Did you have a bad dream?  Was it the rain?”

Ricky was growling.  The cat was under the bed.  Prater had his leg dangling off the side of the bed; he could imagine the cat’s ears laid back, eyes intent, fur up, and he brought his leg up.  He didn’t want to feel the claws.

“Did the cat scratch you?” he asked.

“No,” sobbed Elina.

The cat rocketed from under the bed, an inky blur across the floor, and shot like a missile out the door.

“I saw a monster,” said Elina.  “I saw the boogeyman.”

“Oh, baby,” Reina was rocking her, “it’s okay now.  Mommy and daddy are here.  The boogeyman is all gone.  It was just a nightmare.”

“No,” said Elina.  She turned her trembling lips and watery eyes up to her mother.  “He was standing by the door.”

A sudden chill ran down Reina’s spine.  Bumps dotted Prater’s arms.

“There’s no one other than us,” said Prater.  “You probably just saw me going by the door.”

Elina croaked out a pitiful, teary, “No.”

“How about daddy finds Ricky for you?” Reina cradled her.  “Would that make you feel better?”

“Yes,” she nodded, voice weak.

Prater eyed his wife.  He looked hesitantly at the dark hallway.  “I’ll be right back with the cat.”

“Ricky’s scared,” whispered Elina.  “He’s scared, daddy.”

Prater placed his feet on the floor.  It was cool.  He stood, legs alien to him.  He rounded the bed and peered into the hall.  “Ricky,” he said, “where did you go kitty cat?”

The darkness didn’t answer.  Neither did the cat.

He glanced at his wife and daughter and stepped into the hall.  “Here kitty,” he called.  He mumbled, “Where did you go, you darn cat?”

Prater started down the stairs and slowed to a stop midway.  A light was on, the kitchen.  He had forgotten to switch it off.  Hadn’t he?  He continued descending, and before he made the last step, the light was extinguished.

Prater stopped cold.  He listened.  He could faintly hear Reina calming Elina upstairs.  The light from there didn’t reach down here.  Down here he was plunged into darkness.  He listened, heard nothing.

With a jittery hand he felt along the wall for the light switch, training his sense for the slightest movement not his own, for anyone, any intruder, that might be lurking in the house.

The foyer light above his head flickered on and he jumped against the wall.  His hand was inches from the switch.  The light flickered off.  Lightning crackled outside, thunder belched.

Bad wiring, he thought.  Bad wiring.  The storm.  A short somewhere.  Needed to have that repaired.

Prater flipped the switch.  The light came alive.  Ricky sat atop the railing and hissed, and Prater jumped again, fighting the urge to piss his pants.

“Ricky.”  Prater stifled his heavy breathing.  “You gave me a fright, cat.”

Ricky tilted his head.  His eyes were bright, studying him.  The cat meowed.

Prater wiped his sweaty palms on his sleep pants.  “Elina is looking for you.”  Tentative hands reached for the cat.  Ricky didn’t complain when Prater picked him up.  He stared into the cat’s eyes.  There was a glimmer there, a speck that shone.  Something Prater found familiar, but couldn’t place.

He held the cat close to him.  A finger at the light switch, he thought twice before killing the bulbs, thinking second thoughts before going up the stairs in darkness.  What was there to fear?  The storm, reasoned Prater, the storm brewing, the electricity in the air.

Prater flipped off the lights.  One step, two, three, the lights came back on and there, on the stairs, was the man, the thing, the whatever.

Prater nearly fell backwards, the air sucked from his lungs.  Ricky was clawing at his chest, but he clung tight to the cat, ready to throw the taloned thing at the man, the thing, on the stairs.

He (or it) was black, leathery skin, wrinkled.  No face, no features, no detail.  But Prater felt it looking at him.  Was it a man?  No detail gave it a sex, but it’s medium build gave it a masculinity, human or not.

Ricky was clawing, hissing, drawing blood.  Prater hugged the cat tighter.

It reached out a hand.

Prater backed a step, fumbling, and fell.  His arms flailed, and he crashed hard on the floor.

The stars cleared from Prater’s eyes.  Ricky was suspended in mid-air.  The cat was growling, Prater could hear that.  Ricky’s fur bristled and stood.  The cat rotated to face the intruder.

Prater was talking, but he couldn’t hear his own words.  He was talking, but he didn’t know what he was saying.  He noticed there were more, more of these things, more of them staring down at him, watching the thing on the stairs, watching the cat, looking everywhere at once.

A white mist was forming above the cat.  As Prater watched, he understood it was coming from the cat, from Ricky.  The mist swirled, it boiled, and briefly, Prater saw, in the midst of it was the face of Old Lady Tumosi.

The lights went out.

                   #

Prater woke up on the floor.  Reina stood over him.  “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I think so.”

“Don’t move,” she said, “something may be broken.  I’ll call an ambulance.”

“What?  No-“

“You fell down the stairs, Prater!”

“I didn’t fall far.”

“Daddy…” Elina was at the bottom of the stairs, hugging Ricky.

“Hey, baby,” he smiled, trying to sit up.  Reina helped him.

“Ricky is sorry, Daddy, he didn’t mean to hurt you, he was afraid.”

Prater stared down at the claw marks on this chest, the blood dried there.

“It’s alright,” he said.

Reina instructed Elina, “Go get daddy a wash cloth, okay.”

Elina sat Ricky down and ran for the bathroom.

The cat idly cleaned its claws.

“The thunder or something must have scared the cat,” Reina said.  “Must have clawed you and made you fall.”

“I guess,” said Prater.  “I don’t remember, it’s a little foggy.”

“You hit your head,” worry was saturating her words.  “I saw it on television, a severe knock on the head will make you forget the minutes before the accident.”

“I didn’t have a severe knock-“

Elina came running from the bathroom.  “I can’t reach them,” she said.

Reina told him, “Don’t move, don’t try to get up.”

Prater held up his hands in surrender.

“We’ll be right back.”  Reina took Elina by the hand.  “Let’s get daddy fixed up.”

The lights flickered.  Prater eyed them suspiciously.

Ricky rubbed against Prater’s foot.  He picked the cat up.  “You attack me?”

The cat purred.

Prater stared into its eyes.  There’s a glimmer absent, a speck gone.

Outside, there was a slow rumble of thunder.

the_novacula

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