Imp

by Andrew Neiderman

  “It’s your fault,” she snapped. Her tone of anger brought a scowl to his face. “You’re dirty,” she said, “and you need a haircut. Ugh, you smell,” she added and pinched her nose. He thought that was amusing so he did the same thing. “I don’t smell,” she said and stamped her foot. He was confused. Nothing was making her laugh anymore and she still had that mean voice.

  They both heard something move in the bushes and turned to it. Neither of them could see anything, but he sensed one of those funny-looking crawling creatures that burrowed in the earth.

  “It’s my rabbit,” she said. She took a few steps in, parting some branches to see. One caught her hair. “Ow,” she said and he shot forward to free her of it. When he did so, he touched her, but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she continued on into the tall grass and the bushes. He remained a few feet behind her.

  “Mr. Rabbit. Mr. Rabbit,” she called and knelt down to look under the heavy vegetation. He got on all fours and scurried by her. “Get my rabbit,” she commanded and he went even faster. He liked this; this was his kind of play.

  She followed as best she could, catching her dress on limbs, freeing herself, stumbling over rocks and through the thick clumps of hardwood trees, wild berry bushes, and weeds. It wasn’t long before they reached the forest. As he went along, he paused to be sure she was following him. He could go much faster, but he kept his pace slow enough so that she wouldn’t lose sight of him.

  When they reached a clearing in the woods, he squatted by two large rocks and she stopped and put her hands on her hips again, taking on an angry demeanor. She cast herself as her mother making demands on her.

  “I want my rabbit,” she said. He rubbed his face and hopped about. “NO,” she snapped. “I want the real rabbit.” He stopped jumping and stared at her. Again they heard something move and this time they turned to see the doe he had seen earlier. It sauntered through the forest. When the fawn appeared, Gina came forward. “Oh,” she said. “Look how pretty.”

  He liked the softness in her voice and understood that the sight of the small deer had brought it on. In an instant he made a decision and shot forward over the rocks toward the small deer. He leaped and barely missed catching the fawn. Gina ran up behind him as quickly as she could to see.

  When he turned in disappointment, she laughed at him. He had stepped into a pool of mud and caked his legs and inner thighs with it. He looked down at himself when she pointed, but he didn’t understand the source of her hilarity.

  “You’ve got to take a bath,” she chanted. “You’ve got to take a bath. You’re going to get a spanking,” she added, her hands on her hips again. He sloshed his way out of the pool of mud and sat on some dry, high ground. “I’ve got to find Mr. Rabbit and go back,” she said. When she started back, he jumped up and screamed a high-pitched sound that was closer to the cry of a frightened cat than anything else. She stopped and looked back at him.

  “Why don’t you talk?” she said. “Are you still a baby?” she sang. He tried to repeat the sound of laughter, but without her immediate model, it didn’t come out right. “I don’t think you’re funny. You look silly. I’m telling,” she said and started away again; but then they both saw a rabbit. It wasn’t hers, but it was enough to hold her attention and keep her from leaving the forest. He scrambled off after it. “Wait,” she called. “That’s not my rabbit.”

  Reluctantly, she walked on behind the small boulders and went deeper into the forest. She could see him moving quickly over the rocks and fallen trees. She ran as fast as she could, tripping once and coming close to hurting herself. When she looked up, she was surprised to see him standing just ahead of her in another clearing. He had the rabbit in his arms.

  “You caught him! You caught him!” She started toward him, but he turned. “Wait,” she called and followed him, as he did his half walk, half hop further and further into the woods. She stopped once and looked back, realizing she had lost her way. Before panic could set in, though, she heard him ahead and saw him sitting on a very big boulder, the rabbit clutched in his lap. “Stay there,” she commanded. “I don’t want to walk anymore. It’s wet and I don’t like it.” He didn’t understand what she wanted, but he didn’t move. When she reached the boulder, he held the rabbit out as an offering.

  She contemplated the climb. He had simply dug his hardened toes against the boulder and scurried up, but her slippery-soled shoes wouldn’t permit. She made a vain effort to get some sort of footing and then took off her shoes and tried to wedge her feet into a crevice. She was able to get enough of a toehold to get herself started. After a moment, she found that she couldn’t go further up and she couldn’t go back down. She hovered there precariously and reached out for his help.

  When he saw her hand before him, he got overly excited and grasped it too quickly. His long nails dug into her dainty skin and she screamed. Instantly, he released her and she lost her balance, falling backwards onto the ground. She wasn’t hurt, but the shock of the fall frightened her, so she began to cry.

  The sound amazed him. He had made something like it from time to time, but it never quite came out like this. He tilted his head and studied her. At first, he didn’t know what else to do. Then he slid off the rock and squatted beside her, putting the rabbit into her arms. That brought her sobs to a slow halt. She ended with a series of small gasps, her body shuddering, and then she began to pet the rabbit with her free hand.

  “It’s your fault,” she said glaring at him. “You’re stupid. Why didn’t your mother cut your fingernails? And they’re dirty, too. Ugh.”

  She turned her attention to the rabbit and he was free to study her face. He felt like placing the tips of his fingers on her cheeks and tracing the thin lines her tears had drawn down to her chin. When her nose twitched the way the rabbit’s did, he nearly found the way to laugh again. Strands of her golden hair lay over her shoulder and back. He had to touch it, but he did it so gently and she was so involved with the rabbit, that she didn’t notice until he tugged on it.

  “Stop it,” she said and leaned away from him. Seated so close to him, she was able to see how dirty and strange he really was. There was something wild in his eyes and in the way he held his head. His tongue worked over his lips nervously. He reminded her of the neighbor’s collie back home.

  When she pulled back from him, his hand remained in the air. Now the fingers were folded like a bird’s claw. They opened and closed threateningly.

  “Here,” she said, holding the rabbit out to him. “This isn’t Mr. Rabbit.”

  He looked at it and then looked at her, but he didn’t reach for it. The rabbit squirmed and she released it, but as soon as it hit the ground, he slammed his fist down on it, catching it on the back of the neck. Stunned, it fell forward.

  “Bad,” she said. “That’s bad.” She stood up quickly. The rabbit struggled to its feet and began to hop away slowly. He watched it and then looked up at her. Because she didn’t seem to care, he didn’t go after it. “I’m going back,” she said. “I don’t like you. You’re dirty and stupid. Ugh,” she said and picked up her shoes. She was so anxious to get away from him now, that she didn’t want to take the time to put them on.

  But she wasn’t more than ten feet before she realized she was confused about direction. Every avenue in the forest looked similar. When she turned to look back at him, she saw he was in that half stand, half crouch position, eyeing her curiously, but unmoving. He had to go back, too, she thought.

  “Go home,” she said, hoping to tag along. But he didn’t move. She waited a moment and then went to her left, moving carefully and determinedly through the forest. After small rocks pierced her socked feet, she had to pause to put on her shoes. When she looked up again, he was right beside her. She was amazed at how quiet he could be. “I want my grandpa,” she said.

  Her sad look troubled him. He could think of only one way to help her—the embrace and the hum. He reached out and took her around the waist. His action was so
sudden and his grasp so firm, she had no chance to resist. He pulled her back and they both fell into a sitting position. But before he could try the hum, she screamed.

  That and her subsequent crying frightened him. He released her, and as soon as he did so, she stood up and ran in a southwesterly direction, almost directly opposite to the Baum homestead. She didn’t look back; she continued to sob, wipe away the tears, and run. She fell twice, once flying forward over a rotting birch tree. The decayed wood crumpled under her and little red ants came out instantly. This made her even more hysterical and she ran on wildly. The deeper the forest became, the faster she went. Her sobs turned to desperate cries.

  “Grandpa. Grandpa. GRANDPA!”

  The silence that followed fanned her terror and panic. Nothing looked familiar; nothing looked right. The stillness of the trees and the long, deep shadows of their heavy foliage made it seem as though she had fallen into a nightmare. It was a world in which no one heard or saw her.

  Exhausted from her running and crying, she slowed into a fast walk. As she went forward, she actually felt the drop in temperature caused by the shade of the heavy pine trees and the far-reaching, entwining branches of old maples and oaks. The sun, somewhere behind her, played peekaboo. This was the home of the perennial bogeyman. She had to find someone or some safe haven soon.

  Still stunned by her radical change in mood, he followed her, but kept a wider distance between them. He heard her screams and her cries. Once he thought to imitate the sound and actually tried to vocalize the word “grandpa,” but it came out in a distorted “grrannaaa.” Confused and curious about everything, he went into his cavemanlike crouch and scampered off to her right flank, moving into a parallel position from where he could observe her more closely. He saw her fall and heard her shrill cries, but he kept his distance.

  Her pace slowed and her crying subsided when she came to the foot of the mountain and a short wall of large rocks and small caves. Here in this untouched and rarely traveled part of the forest, she paused, and with her limited capabilities, contemplated her situation. She was lost, bruised, and afraid, and there didn’t seem to be anyone who could help her. Yet, this area of the woods was different enough to calm her.

  The woods were always dark and dank here, even in the fall, when the leaves were gone and the skeletonlike trees had a diminished effect. However, the forest was so thick it became a wall around the rocks. A mountain spring contributed to the wetness. It came out just above the rocks and moved in a web over the stones, finding crevices and holes and creating a cold and continuous stream which escaped by running down the walls of the caves and dripping through every available orifice. As a result, the earth around the rocks took on a dark black color, mixing the richness of dead leaves into the soil. For nocturnal creatures, this was home. Nature had provided a place for them and they flocked to it instinctively and claimed it for their own. Other creatures of the forest seemed to understand this and didn’t visit the area.

  The cave that was closest to Gina and most accessible to her had an opening about three-quarters the height of the average doorway. Because of the square shape of the rock, the cave reminded Gina of her child-size dollhouse at home. Often when she was upset or angry, she would withdraw to it and choose only her dolls for company. Within this make-believe world, she could create anything to make her happy and shut out anything that didn’t. Frightened, confused, and alone, she saw the cave as a kind of sanctuary from the hard reality of the moment. She would rest there and think nice things. Soon her grandfather would come to take her back.

  As soon as it was obvious to him that she was headed for the cave, he closed in on her, his own curiosity whetted. He had seen openings like this before, but he had always eschewed them. For one thing, they reminded him of being in his own basement; and when he was out, he wanted to avoid that kind of experience, unless there was something valuable to seek, such as the little girl’s rabbit or the little girl herself.

  For another thing, he had a wild animal’s instinctive fear of openings in the ground and in the rocks. He could sense that they usually housed other creatures, and he had a primitive understanding of territoriality. He knew what it was to violate another creature’s space. Animals had shown their teeth and their claws whenever he got too close.

  His natural alarms went off as the girl drew closer and closer to the opening. He felt a need to stop her, so he released a high-pitched scream. The rocks became resonators and his sound echoed between them, entered the openings, and came ricocheting out. She was surprised by it, but instead of being frightened, she became angry. She put her hands on her hips and turned around.

  “Go away,” she commanded. “Go away.”

  He stared up at her, his head arched back, his hands clenched. His legs were slightly bent at the knees, making him look as though he were about to spring. She didn’t wait for him to do anything; she turned away and continued on to the cave. He scampered up behind her and paused when she entered. His mouth went into the shape of an O and he pawed at his upper right thigh nervously. When the little girl disappeared from view, he rushed in after her.

  Because of the position of the sun, the cave was fairly well illuminated. It was a little less than twenty feet deep and cone-shaped, narrowing down to nothing more than a crawl space after ten feet or so. The jagged walls seemed to have small shelves chiseled out of them. Water trickled over the far right wall and formed a puddle in the corner. Random patterns of moss clung to the lower portions of both the right and left walls.

  Gina did not see the row of bats along the left wall and the clump of them that dangled from the low, rear ceiling. Each one looked like a large black wart clinging to the face of the stone. With their wings draped around their bodies like cloaks, they were still and unthreatening. Having been out most of the night, they had come back into the cave only hours ago. A half dozen or more of them were in the last stages of hydrophobia. Their rabid condition had made them irritable and extra sensitive to any disturbances. Their sleep was no longer peaceful: they twitched, lost their grips, and recaptured their holds on the rocks. Whenever they moved, their tiny bulldoglike heads jerked back and then came forward slowly, as though animated by a dream. Their mouths opened spasmodically, showing their long, pointed teeth in a kind of wry smile. Their eyes seemed sewn closed. The thumbs at the front edge of their wings were bent inward, concealing the nails at their ends.

  A smaller boulder just inside the cave was a makeshift seat for Gina. She settled on it with her back to the cave entrance and rested her head against her opened hands, her elbows propped on her knees. She stared down at the cave floor and listened absentmindedly to the trickle of water that dripped down the wall. When he came to the cave’s entrance, he blocked the sunlight. Once again, she turned on him.

  “You can’t come in,” she said. “Go away.”

  He didn’t move. He peered in beyond her and studied the darkness. His nocturnal eyes picked up the little black mounds along the cave walls. He had seen them before, and although he had not captured one or confronted one, his tiny heart had speeded up whenever one flew close to him.

  Gina was impatient with his disobedience. Back home no one could come into her dollhouse unless she said so. This, plus her frustration and unhappiness, was too much to tolerate. She had seen her mother lose her temper many times and she knew what it was to be dramatic about it. She stood up with her arms folded across her body and stamped her foot. When he took another step forward, she screamed.

  Although her voice was small, the high-pitched hysterics exploded in the narrow and compact enclosure. The hard walls amplified her shouts and sent them bouncing back and forth with ten times the original volume.

  The rabid bats were the first to be jolted out of their sleep. Ordinarily, they had a keen sense of hearing, enabling them to perform the natural sonar wonder that made them one of nature’s most technically accurate creatures. But the virulent strains of rabies had intensified their senses so that their e
ars reported the most insignificant sounds. Their instant reaction to the disturbance was translated into only one desire—escape. But when they twittered to locate the opening of the cave, they found themselves blocked first by Gina and then by him. This put them into a frenzy and with little room to manipulate, they turned instinctively to attack.

  As soon as the bats flew off the walls, he put up his arms. Gina spun around and screamed. She tripped over the boulder and fell backward. Some of the healthier bats made their way out between her and him. One of the rabid ones swooped down to follow suit. Confused, its hearing now distorted, it flew too closely to her hair and its claws caught on some strands. Her screams became so high-pitched, they were nearly inaudible.

  Instantly, he reached forward and grasped the entangled bat, but before he crushed it, it nipped him on the right forefinger. While he bent down to help her, three other rabid bats landed on his back, two right on his neck just below the base of the brain. They nipped wildly and frantically, and thin lines of blood appeared immediately.

  He stood up and bellowed in pain, turning and twisting to throw them off. His arms turned in windmill fashion, until he slammed his body against the outside rock wall, crushing one and throwing the other two off. As soon as they hit the ground, they lifted and flew away.

  With her on the floor of the cave and him out of the opening, the remaining bats made their escape. The moment that the twittering and the sound of their wings flapping was gone, she lowered her arms from her eyes. He was crawling about outside, moaning and crying, the noise so guttural and horrible, that it added to her terror. She rose to her feet and started out of the cave.

  As soon as she emerged, he turned toward her, moaning and holding his arms out in search of sympathy. Her eyes widened and she backed away. Then she turned to flee, but he ran alongside her, crying and whimpering. She stopped and spun around to push him away. When she started away again, he reached out and seized her skirt, pulling her so hard and so abruptly that she lost her footing and flew forward. She smacked the side of her head on a small boulder the size of a basketball and rolled over on her back.