Uncle Brucker the Rat Killer

by Leslie Peter Wulff

  I met Charlee before my mother ran off, and that’s a long time ago. Our birthdays come up in three weeks. We’ll both be seventeen but she’ll get there ahead of me. Her hair is short now and not so yellow. Her mother made her wear bangs for years and then said OK no more bangs. She was a skinny little kid. She’s always been skinny. In an old photograph, her yellow hair came halfway down her back and her elbows stuck out like bendy straws. She turned out very nice but she was a real skinny kid.

  The fat cop sat in the GT and talked to the dispatcher on the radio.

  He got out and took his sheriff’s hat from the seat and he put it on. His big stomach hung over his belt like a bumper.

  The cop went up the steps to the back porch and looked in the kitchen window and knocked.

  “Home? Anybody home?” he said. “Walt Thompson! Are you home?”

  He glanced at his wrist watch and waited.

  “He’s lookin’ for you,” Charlee whispered.

  “Good guess.”

  “He’s walkin’ over here. He comes in, he’ll see us. Walt, what are you gonna do?”

  “I’m gonna be cool like you,” I said.

  The sun came in through the barn slats and made light stripes across the floor and the walls of the loft. It’s one reason we made the hideout up here. We liked the stripes.

  The cop walked from the house to the barn.

  Charlee put her arms around me and kissed me and wouldn’t let go.

  “Home? Anybody home?” the cop asked.

  The cop stood by the barn.

  He put his hand out and touched the barn door but he didn’t open it. Something over by the pig shed caught his eye. It was the hubcap I had nailed to the wall with the others. I found it last week on the by-pass and took it home, #12 in my hub cap collection.

  No doubt in his mind, it had to be the hubcap missing from his left rear wheel.

  The radio in the GT squawked a call-up. Three-car accident, call for back-up near City Hall. Another cop car came down the hill with lights flashing, and the Sheriff grabbed the hub cap and followed his stomach back to the GT.

  He threw the hub cap in the back seat, took his hat off and tossed it in the front seat, and without leaving a thank you note, he backed out of the driveway and drove down the road.

  “Saved by a hub cap,” Charlee said. “Want to fool around?”

  “OK.”

  She took off her clothes except her panties, and she untied my Nike’s and pulled off my pants. Her panties were light blue with dark blue flowers and yellow frills. She has cute little tits, and she always smells nice. And she had a press-on rose flower tattoo on her thigh, the kind that washes off in the shower.

  And we fooled around up in the barn loft with straw for a pillow on an asian rug Uncle Brucker got in trade. Nice rug, but it’s better for walking on than screwing around. The barn siding had slats between the boards, and the sun came in and striped the rug and us on the rug and got in our eyes until the clouds blocked it.

  But it wasn’t the same as last time. She kissed hard. Her teeth scraped against mine and she kissed me harder. She’d learned a thing or two and it wasn’t like before, and she’s not Renata. Renata has long dark hair and slinky eyes with dark, dark make-up, and she’s not like Renata. It was weird thinking of Renata, and Charlee slowed down, and that sent my duck for a dive, and I got up from the rug and brushed off the straw.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “It stinks up here,” I said. “I ain’t doin’ it where it stinks.”

  54

  Manny came up with the idea—throw a party.

  That’s how I’ll hook up with Renata. I was going about it the wrong way.

  “Listen up, little brother,” he said. “Times a-wastin’. You gotta get a strategy and move into action. Instead of cruisin’ around lookin’ for her, sit back and she’ll come your way. Everybody loves to party. Word gets out, she’ll show up. You got it made, little brother, and put in a good word for me.”

  Manny and Bones and Leroy were hanging out in the living room and watching TV and drinking and eating popcorn. I just came in from an evening of Identifying and walked into this.

  “It’s gonna be a blast,” said Manny.

  “Guaranteed!” said Bones.

  “Saturday night at eight,” Manny said. “You’ll be there, won’t ya, little bro?”

  55

  Saturday night. Nine-thirty.

  I bought pretzel rods and lots of chips and dip at Food Saver, and I spent another twenty bucks on bags of ice because Leroy said you’re gonna need ice. So far only Leroy and Manny showed up. No Bones. We had a shitload of ice. Charlee’s big brother Arnie drove up in his Mustang with a couple of six packs. Everybody had a drink but not me.

  By ten o’clock the old house was packed. Manny played a dance tune on a portable set-up he brought with him. Leroy and Ida Lena laughed and joked with JJ, and Bones danced and talked with Bethany, smiling and having a great time. Bunky sat with a beer on the couch.

  I told everybody, put the beer cans in the garbage. Nobody listened and I went through the house and collected bottles and cans and I threw them in the garbage in the kitchen.

  Back in the living room, I sat on the couch and passed a beer to the Bunkster. Bethany came over holding a cigarette and a joint in her left hand. She kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the couch where she smoked and toked left-handed.

  Charlee showed up at ten-thirty holding hands with Vernon Verna.

  Vernie graduated last year and he lived in the city and went to dance school. Charlee took ballet classes since she was little and she can dance any step. You can tell by the way she moves she loves to dance.

  She danced through the living room and danced around me with her arms out like she’s dancing on the moon.

  “Renata can’t dance like me,” she said.

  Charlee knows I don’t like to dance much. She danced with Vernie Verna.

  I made up my mind no drinking until Renata gets here. Where the hell is she? OK, so I had a beer. One beer, that’s all. Manny turned up the volume on an oldies song I hated and I drank the beer. Charlee took a sip and passed it back. Bunky sat like a leftover on the couch.

  A kid named Kip stood by the shelf with the War Medal. He was a senior with a eighth grade mustache and he was hoping for a beard. He drove a little Mazda 3 around. I didn’t know him to trust him and I don’t trust nobody with that Medal.

  “Don’t touch that Medal, Kip. You’ll mess it up!” I told him.

  “Could use a dustin’,” he said, and he held it in one hand.

  “That’s my Uncle’s Medal and it’s how he wants it. I said put it down.”

  “And who the hell are you?”

  “I’m the guy who makes the rules around here,” I said.

  I stared at him and he stared back at me. He was taller than me but not by much, but that don’t mean nothing for staring.

  Then Ida Lena walked over and Kip put the Medal back on the shelf. She walked up to him smiling real sweet at him. He put his arm around her and she touched his wimpy mustache with a little finger.

  Charlee came up to me and leaned close and said, “I know you like Renata. I know you do. You lookin’ for her tonight?”

  “Lookin’ but not findin’,” I said.

  “I know where she is, if you want to know,” said Charlee. “She’s down town at Tuskies Pizza is where.”

  56

  There she is, talking to her girlfriends in front of Tuskies, all dressed in black. Black shoes, black pants, tight black sweater, black finger-nails, everything black. That’s Renata.

  I hit the horn—nothing. Damn horn won’t work!

  So I spun the Eagle around and drove right up to her.

  “Beep! Beep!” I said. “BEEEEP!”

  I wore my Identifiers just to check her out, but they fogged up, so I took them off.

  Renata walked to the car real slow. She always knows where she’s going and she’s never in a h
urry for nobody.

  And she got in. She didn’t think about it, she just got in and slid over next to me like she was heading here all along.

  “You don’t need no seat belt. I drive smooth,” I said.

  She had a bunch of bracelets on her arm.

  “Seven?” I figured.

  “Count the ones on my right arm I got eleven.” She shook her wrist. The bracelets jingled. I could fit one finger all the way around her tiny wrist. How did those bracelets stay on? “All different colors,” she said.

  “Eleven bracelets. . . . That’s one more than enough.”

  “Count the ones at home I got twenty-two in all. They say the rats make ‘em but I don’t know about that.”

  “I’ll hang that red one off the rearview. You only need twenty-one accordin’ to the book.”

  “What book?”

  “I sure would like that red one.”

  She examined her bracelets under the street lights. She took a while deciding. First she slipped a red one off her left wrist and examined it under the street light in front of Big And Small Stores. Then I made a right on Holmes Street and she slipped a green off her right wrist under the light by Billy’s Bargains.

  Finally, under the light at RiteWay, she took off a dark blue bracelet and gave it to me, not the red one I had asked for. Blue is OK too. I put it on the column. The red one I wanted would have gone on the rearview.

  “You go to John Dodd?” she asked. “You know Jimmy Kosko?”

  “Jimmy Kosko? Is he your boyfriend?”

  “Was, don’t have one tonight.”

  At the next light I put my arm all the way around her shoulder.

  “Who’s your boyfriend?” I said, and she moved against me, very quiet and sweet. “Who’s your boyfriend tonight?”

  “I don’t mind if you are,” she said, and I looked into those dark eyes for a second time.

  “Let’s go back to my house,” I said.

  “OK,” she said.

  “Right now?”

  “I said OK, didn’t I?”

  I put on the blinker and I made a right heading home, and for a moment everything was great. I felt great. Renata looked great. The trees, the street lights, the air. All great.

  Then somebody in a Maxima swerved into my lane and I almost hit him. I stepped on the brake and missed him by about a foot. If my horn was working, I’d blast him.

  “Whew!” I said. “Asshole! Who is that asshole?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know him.”

  “He waved at you.”

  “Oh, him. That’s Ditch. He’s my boyfriend.”

  “You said you don’t have a boyfriend!”

  “That ain’t what he thinks. Watch out, Walt! He’s cummin’ after you. You better let me out over there!”

  I pulled into the Quality Shoes lot and parked in the front row. Renata tried to open the passenger door but it was stuck again. I went around and yanked it open but she slid out the driver’s side instead.

  The black Maxima pulled up. Eighteen inch wheels, fender flares and a hood scoop. Two kids got out the front. It was Ditch and this kid Fang was with him. Fang had no front teeth on top. He’s a couple of years older than me. I don’t know what happened with his teeth. I don’t know why but they call him Fang.

  Fang came over to the Eagle.

  “The Eagle’s a shit car,” he said. “Gotta wipe your ass every time you drive it.”

  “Four wheel drive, cruise, heated seats ain’t shit,” I told him. “There ain’t no heated seats,” Ditch said like he knew what he was talking about.

  “Takes off like a rocket ship leavin’ the earth,” I said.

  “They don’t make ‘em with heated seats,” said Ditch.

  “Park it in the sun, it’s got heated seats.” Fang laughed.

  That’s how the fight started. They badmouthed the Eagle and I couldn’t just stand there, I had to do something about it.

  Fights I lose I don’t talk about.

  Fights I win I don’t know yet.

  I drove back to the old house. The lights were on and some-body left the front door open. The party was over. Everybody had gone except for Leroy and Manny. They’d cleaned up the house a little, about as much as you’d expect. Manny carried a turntable that went with his set-up. They were on their way out when I came in and went to my room and got in bed.

  I woke up a while later when the back door swung open. A breeze blew through my room and the blinds knocked against the window. Footsteps went from the kitchen to the living room and the far wall with the high shelf and back through the kitchen and out the back door again.

  I got out of bed and I went to the living room and checked the shelf first thing. I expected the Medal would be gone, but there it was, up on the shelf, one day dustier than yesterday. It looked like it had been through a lot laying on that shelf.

  I opened the back door and looked outside. Nobody hid in the bushes, nobody ran through the woods. I had dreamed up the whole incident and woke up thinking it was real.

  In the morning I got up early and cleaned up the place. I didn’t notice it until I checked the clock on the wall by the shelf.

  It was 8:37 and my Uncle’s War Medal was missing.

  57

  Humans invent. . . . Humans build. . . . Humans repair. . . . Humans drive. . . .

  Uncle Brucker woke up in the dark.

  The pain told him he was alive and the aches told him he was awake, but he could not see. He wiped the dirt from his eyes and he cleaned his glasses with his shirt sleeve but that didn’t do much good. The damp earth had soaked through his clothes and deep into his bones, and he ached.

  But where was he? And how did he get here?

  So he lay there for a while, gathering his aches and pains. He slept again and in a backwards dream that started in a rat hole and ended with a fat rat commander, it all came together.

  After he passed through the portal, the rats caught up with him in the tunnel. He fought like a madman, but the miserable rats brought him down. Awake now, he realized he was in the one place he didn’t want to be: holed-up in the soggy ground deep in rat territory.

  The hole had caved in behind him. He kicked his legs free. The drunken rat guards were buried by the landslide. Uncle Brucker figured he better get out of there before they dig themselves out.

  Yes, he was tired. Sure, he was hungry. Add on weak.

  But Uncle Brucker had never been in a fix he couldn’t get out of, and he wouldn’t let this be the first.

  Humans don’t give up. . . . Humans think. . . . Humans plan. . . . Humans escape. . . .

  A voice from the darkness: “This way!” A woman’s voice.

  “What did you say?” Uncle Brucker asked.

  “This way.”

  “Which way?”

  “This way.”

  “Where?”

  “Over there!”

  On elbows and knees he crawled toward the voice. He crawled as fast as he could. Up ahead, a circle of light came through. He crawled toward the light and the light grew brighter. Finally, he came to a ledge and he looked down into a great rat hole.

  He’d been inside only one rat hole but he’d looked into a few, and he’d never seen a rat hole like this. This was surely the greatest of all rat holes. A central hub of holes. Bottom holes, top holes, side holes came in all around. Poke holes in the ceiling brought in fingers of light. Jagged roots broke through the walls and hung from above. Water dripped from the roots and collected at the bottom, where a drain ditch carried it away.

  The busy work rats pushed boxes along the ground. A woman stood alone in the center of that hole. Her arms hung loose, her shoulders sagged. Her body was bent over like a half-chopped tree.

  “This way!” the woman cried.

  The woman was Midnight Mary!

  “I’m cummin’, Midnight!” Uncle Brucker yelled.

  He grabbed onto a root and swung down to the bottom. But as he came closer he realized Midnight was not ta
lking to him. Midnight didn’t even know he was there.

  “That way.” Midnight spoke to the rats. “Bottom hole, left. Side hole, right.”

  Under her supervision, the rats moved the boxes from hole to hole.

  “Midnight? What did they do to you?”

  Midnight Mary slowly turned to Uncle Brucker. In the half light of a poke hole her face was a lifeless mask. The miserable rats had sucked the life out of her, which caused her hollowed-out body to shrivel-up and bend over.

  Her eyes! They were eyes of horror. But it wasn’t the horror of what she saw, it was the deeper horror of how she saw—horror from the inside looking out.

  The hollowed-out woman raised her right arm, and it was heavy. It was a struggle between What She Was and What She Is. She didn’t have much of What She Was left, and she used it all to raise that arm. She pointed her finger straight ahead and wiggled her thumb.

  Uncle Brucker knew the signal: Rats all around!

  58

  Uncle Brucker heard rat talk coming from below. He dug the dirt out of his ears and backed into a dark hole, where he watched, unseen.

  In the back of the hole on a shelf he found a cardboard box. Inside the box, fresh cupcakes filled with raisins and nuts. The hungry man ate one cupcake right away, then he ate another. Boxes of these sweet, delicious cakes filled the hole. He ate another and another.

  Down below, the Professor crawled into the great hole. “Follow me,” said the Professor. “I’ll show you what we’re workin’ on in the Rat Factory.”

  Three ancient gray rats followed close behind the Professor. The white-whiskered Elders were so old and drunk they could hardly move. They stumbled and they sniffled and every few feet they opened their pouches and drank. They drank to the Professor and they drank to his children and they drank to sleep holes with soft pillows of dirt.

  The Professor wore a dirty, torn-off apron and wired-together glasses. He twisted the wires around his ears and he brushed back his whiskers with a front claw.

  The Elders had come there to check up on the Professor and drink to the occasion.