The Christmas Rat (8 page)

As I stood there the idea came to me that if I left the door to the stairwell open, maybe the rat could get out that way. Then I realized that between the basement and the doors to the street he'd have to go through the lobby doors, too. No way they could all be left open. Not in this cold.

Discouraged, I sat on the floor with my back against the wall, closed my eyes, and tried to decide on a plan. If only I could get the rat past Christmas—if I could trust Anje—he'd stay alive. But how? There was nothing to do, I told myself, feeling hopeless and angry.

As I sat there I wondered why I cared so much about the dumb rat. After a while I decided it wasn't the rat, really, it was the exterminator. Right. I cared about Anje because he was scary. What was he trying to do to me? I mean, who
was
he?

Disappointed in myself for not being able to think of answers or any plan about saving the rat, I walked back toward the elevator, stopping in front of the storage bays. Which was ours? Thirteen?

I counted out the bays. Thirteen was the next to the last. I peered through the steel mesh. Yep. I recognized Dad's numbering system.

As I gazed at it, I had this idea that if I could lure the rat into the bay, and lock him in—the mesh was fine enough to hold him—I might keep him safe. Then I remembered that he had gotten in on his own. I mean, he had been chewing that angel. So maybe he could get out. But if there was a hole somewhere maybe I could plug it. Anyway, I figured my idea was at least worth a try. I decided to explore the possibilities.

I reached into my pocket and, sure enough, there was the key to the storage bin. I had never put it back in the drawer.

I unlocked the door and swung it open, then started moving boxes around to see if there was a hole the rat had used.

I found it pretty quick.

It was in the back wall, near the floor. I mean, I couldn't be sure it was the way he got in, but it was the only way I could figure it. Anyway, I opened one of the boxes, poked around, and found this small metal cup. Maybe it was my first drinking cup. It was pretty dinky. But guess what? I shoved the small end into the hole—and it fit. Then, with my fist, I sort of pounded it. Like putting a cork back into a bottle.

Now, the bay would hold the rat but how could I lead him into it? Maybe if I left a food trail or . . .
the radio-controlled car!
Awesome! A totally cool idea.

But . . . wouldn't Anje be able to open the bay door with his keys? Not if I broke our key off in the lock. No way.

Excited, I hurried back to the apartment and pulled my parents' gift out from under their bed. Like the first time, I unpacked it very carefully. Then I found some cheese in the fridge. I took everything back to the basement.

Now I had no clue where the rat might be, so I set the car on the floor—cargo side up. I tore the cheese into bits and loaded them on. With everything ready, I flicked the switch. The battery light flickered, then turned bright, just like with Pete's. Then I stepped back and moved the toggle switches. The car sped off, much too fast. I adjusted the toggles so that it moved at a slow crawl.

Making sure the bay door was open, I stayed as far behind the car as possible while keeping it in sight, driving it along the corridors to the place where the rat had its hole, the one Anje had sealed up. There, I spun the car around—one toggle forward, one back—so that it faced away toward #13. Then I turned everything off. The whole idea was this: If the rat was somewhere close it would smell the cheese and come out, then follow the car—which I'd control down the corridor and into the bay. I loved it.

Ready to wait a good while, I turned off the basement lights. Using Anje's flashlight, I found my way back to where I'd put my army, then sat cross-legged on the ground. The toggle box was in my lap, the flashlight beam pointing forward, my eyes fairly well glued to the car.

I'm not sure how long I waited. I might have dozed. I mean, I hadn't slept so great the night before. But all of a sudden the rat was there, sniffing around the cheese in the back of the car. I could see his nose wiggle as he drew closer to the food.

Startled, I almost dropped the toggle box. Good thing I checked myself. I needed to act carefully.

So I waited. As I did, I saw the rat rise up on his hind legs, paws on the car, sort of investigating. He leaned further forward. There it was: He was nibbling the cheese.

Very gently, I moved the toggle bars forward. With a jerk, the car began to roll. Startled, the rat jumped back, edged away, then sort of looked over his shoulder at the car. Like he was unsure of himself.

I stopped the car.

The rat eyed it, took one step then another few steps toward it. I waited until he climbed into the car again and began to nibble. I moved the toggle bars again. The car moved. As before, the rat backed off. But not so far as he did the first time.

Slowly, steadily I kept the car moving. The rat, his tail switching, followed right down the corridor. Almost made me laugh.

As the car moved toward me, I stood up and pressed myself against the wall. The rat kept following the car—except he did stop when he went past me, lifting his snout and sniffing the air, as if checking me out. I didn't seem to bother him because he continued on.

Soon as he moved beyond me, I got up and began to follow.

When the car reached our storage bay, I stopped it, and let the rat take another bite of the cheese. Then, really carefully, I moved one toggle switch, turning the car ninety degrees. It was now facing the open bay door.

Okay. I aimed the car right into the bay. It was almost there when it stopped. Dead. I looked down at my control box just in time to see the red battery light fade and die. The batteries had given out. Dang!

Next thing I heard was the elevator descending. Someone was coming.

Panicking, I dropped the toggle box, started for the bay, stopped and instead raced away along the corridor, took a corner, and halted.

I could hear the elevator doors open. Then footsteps. Afraid to look, afraid not to, I peeked out from the corner.

It was Anje. He was shining his long black flashlight.

I retreated further into the basement, then stopped and listened. More footsteps, finally silence. Then I heard something different. A
twang!

Right away I knew what it was. He was using his crossbow. Next minute I heard the slam of a door. The steps grew louder, then softer. After that came the sound of the elevator going up. Then nothing but silence.

I don't know how long I held still to be sure things were safe. Quite a while, I think. At last, I crept from my hiding place. Heart pounding, I made my way back to the bay wall. When I reached #13 I saw that the bay door was shut and locked. The radio-controlled car was nowhere in sight. The toggle box was gone, too.

Anje had taken them.

Just to realize what he'd done, what he
knew,
made me feel sick to my stomach. How was I going to explain things to my parents? Right off, I thought I could say he'd come into the apartment and stolen it. But, aside from the fact that it wasn't true, it would mean more lies.

I went back to the apartment. What was I going to do? My parents would be so freaked.

I checked the time. 2:00
P.M.
There wasn't much choice. From my bottom drawer I took out all the money I had saved. Something like fifty bucks. I threw on my coat, then hurried to a toy store that carried the cars. The place was mobbed. You know, Christmas Eve. How could people wait so long to get with it?

Anyway, I went to the shelves where the radio-controlled cars were. They had them all right, but the model my folks had gotten me was sold out. The only one left was the model I had wanted.

I had the money, but now I couldn't get the better one. They might notice, and how was I going to explain that?

Really upset, I went up to the sales counter. There were a couple of people working there.

“Excuse me, please. I'm really looking for one of those radio-controlled four-by-four models. Not the Turbo. The other one.”

The sales clerk gave me a sad smile. “Sorry. All gone. Really popular model. Just the more expensive ones left.”

I stood there, not knowing what to do.

Then this other clerk looked up. “Hold on. Some big blond guy just returned one. He said it had been used only twice. Doesn't have the packing, though. So I could give it to you with a discount. Ten percent off. Want it?”

I looked at him stupidly, trying to take in what he had said.

“Do you?” he asked again.

If I bought back that one—and it must have been the same one I had—I wouldn't be able to get the better model I wanted. But at least my parents would be okay.

“Yeah,” I said.

The clerk got the car. I handed over my money. Back in the apartment, I got it into its original box.

I slumped onto my bed, feeling relieved, trying to understand what had happened. Then, all of a sudden, I remembered the rat. I'd been so freaked about the car, I had forgotten all about him. And I had heard the crossbow.

Really upset—mostly at myself—I tore down to the basement and, using the white flashlight, looked around. I didn't see any sign of the rat. Did that mean he was dead? I made my way back to the corridor. I waited and listened.

After twenty minutes I heard a squeak. My heart jumped. The rat was alive. I can't tell you how glad I was. Then and there I made a sort of vow that I wouldn't forget him again. Not in the few hours left.

In our living room, I sat down on the couch. I was just waiting for what I knew what would happen next.

Sure enough, the phone rang.

It was Anje.

“Got to hand it to you, dude. You keep trying. But guess what? Christmas is coming and you're going to lose.”

He hung up.

I went into the living room and checked the weather on TV. Though it was still very cold, for the first time there they were saying it would warm up for Christmas day. “Ordinarily,” the announcer chirped gaily, “we'd be wishing you a white Christmas. But this year, a
warmer
Christmas will be the gift everyone desires. In the meantime, stay cozy and keep indoors!”

I sighed. If I could protect the rat for eight more hours I was sure—somehow—he would go off on his own. See, I couldn't get it out of my head that just getting to Christmas would solve everything.

The only problem was, I felt tired and full of tears. I was scared about what Anje might do. I mean, I was pretty sure he was after me now as much as the rat.

Anyway, I took up his little flashlight and went down to the basement. The lights were on. I turned them off. Then I made my way to the place where the rat had been, where he had dug his hole. And what I did was place the flashlight—which was glowing and all—next to the hole. I turned off the beam. The glowing gave enough light.

Then I just sat down, back against the wall. The way I figured it, if Anje came he might as well find me near where the rat was. Because, guess what? The way I saw it, it was me and the rat . . . against Anje.

Actually I don't know how long I sat there, thinking thoughts, probably dozing now and again. But once, when I woke up, I saw the rat. Only he was curled up next to the flashlight, sides heaving slightly. He was as fast asleep as I'd been.

I gazed at him. And I remembered how scared I was when I first saw him. Sure, he had surprised me. And he was ugly too. Those beady eyes, chisel teeth, naked tail.

Except now he looked—not exactly beautiful—but, you know, sort of
not
scary.

As I watched him he stirred, lifted his head, opened his eyes. He seemed to be looking at me the way I was looking at him. Maybe he was remembering how, that first time, I had scared
him
. Anyway, he lowered his head, curled up, and went to sleep again.

Anje didn't show.

I could hear myself thinking that maybe he wouldn't come. But you know, I didn't really believe it.

After a while I picked up the flashlight—the rat didn't even stir—and went back to the elevator. Just before I stepped in I decided to get rid of the flashlight. It was too creepy. I put it on the floor, glowing. But once I had, I stood there, watching it. I must have been very quiet, because, like out of nowhere, the rat appeared. He was sniffing around the flashlight. As I watched, amazed, he first put his front paws up on it. Then he began to roll it away. Made me remember how Anje said rats took stuff.

As I watched him go down the corridor—the soft light slowly vanishing—I had a thought that made me smile. The rat was taking Anje's flashlight. My Christmas gift to the rat. After all, it was Christmas Eve.

I don't think I ever wanted Christmas to come so badly. I mean, waiting for gifts is one thing. Wanting to see if you'd be alive is something else.

My father brought home a pizza with all the fixings for dinner. That and this really special Dutch chocolate he sells. My mother got us a huge box of Christmas cookies. We ate dinner at the kitchen table and talked about other Christmas Eves. Like we always did. They told some of the same stories about when they were kids too.

After dinner, with the CD of Christmas carols filling the apartment, Mom put out wrapping paper, tape, ribbon, cards, all that stuff. This was the time we wrapped gifts. We went into our own rooms for an hour or so. I was pretty sure they wouldn't notice that there was a whole new radio car, from me, for me, under their bed.

Next, as always, my mother made hot and spicy apple cider and served up the cookies. We sat on the couch and, by the twinkling tree lights, watched a video of
A Christmas Carol.
The old black-and-white British one. I'd seen it so often I could have said the lines before the actors spoke them, did, too. I always liked the ghosty parts best. The spirits and stuff.

It was supposed to be a warm, cozy evening. My parents were happy. They sure tried hard to get me into the groove. But the whole time I sort of felt outside of things. My mind was on the basement, the rat, Anje. I wasn't going to lose. Not if I could help it, though I felt helpless.