Pieces (2 page)

He went outside and climbed up in a
tree between the shed and the house; he wanted to see how the rat
was getting into the cellar. After a few minutes, he saw it squeeze
out of an opening in the old door of the shed. The opening was
extremely small and he couldn’t figure out how the rat’s head fit
through it.
It’s more resourceful than I
thought. I’ll have to remember that.
It moved quickly
through the grass, stopping underneath the kitchen window. It
reared up on its hind legs, whiskers twitching, sniffing the air
for danger. Sensing none, it disappeared into the wall.

Austin climbed out of the tree, his body
complaining from the exertion, and went to investigate. Below the
kitchen window, he discovered a small hole chewed through the wood
near the foundation. Once again, he couldn’t imagine the rat
fitting through such a small orifice. He went to the shed and after
rooting around, found a can of expanding foam. He didn’t know if it
would keep the rat out for good, but it was worth a shot. He
returned to the wall near the kitchen window, shook the can
vigorously, stuck the tip into the gap and depressed the trigger.
Liquid foam squirted into the small hole and quickly expanded,
filling the hole and forming a six-inch ball outside of it. It
would take the rat a lot of chewing to get through that.

The rain skirted the neighborhood, but the
clouds formed an amazing foreground for the sunset that evening.
Bizarre formations morphed into unnamable shapes backlit by bright
hues of reds, purples and yellows. The tall pine and spruce trees
became black spears stabbing into the steadily darkening skies and
the first curious stars came out to gaze upon the Earth. Austin
watched all of this from his back porch, feet propped on the
railing with a warm cup of coffee in hand. When night fully settled
upon the land, he went in to check on his rat hole repairs.

He flicked the light on and walked down the
cellar stairs, carefully avoiding the wayward steps. When he
reached the bottom, he saw the rat sitting on its haunches by the
wall, looking at him. Behind it, Austin saw the tattered remnants
of the screen and sheetrock mud on the floor. However, it had not
touched the plate of food, it sniffed at it, and then looked back
at Austin as if telling him he knew the plate was loaded with
death.

Austin faked like he was going to run towards
the rat, trying to scare it back into the hole, but it didn’t
budge. It just sat there, looking.

What an arrogant little prick. Ok…if that’s
the way you want it.

This time, Austin really did run at it, he
was planning to step on it and crush the life out of it that little
piece of crap. Just before he got to the rat though, it bolted past
him and Austin had to stick his hands out to stop himself from
slamming into the wall. He turned, trying to follow the rat,
thinking it was going to the other side of the cellar. To his
dismay, it started jumping up the stairs leading into the house.
Austin gave chase.

“
No, no, no… you little asshole! Don’t
you dare go up there!”

He rounded the bannister and bounded up the
stairs, trying to step on the rat’s tail and halt its climb. It
continued onto the top step, always just ahead of his stomping
foot, and ran into the kitchen.

“
No!” Austin yelled. “Get out of my
house!”

He rushed through the door and into the
kitchen, watching as the rat rounded the corner into the living
room. Austin tried to turn the corner and planted his foot on the
small area rug. The rug abruptly slid across the wood floor and his
foot slipped out from underneath him. He fell on his back and
careened across the polished wooden floor. As he slid, his right
foot made contact with the desk on the far side of the room. It
rammed against the desk leg and twisted his ankle in a direction it
should never bend. Pain shot up his leg and he thought he heard a
sharp snap.

His mission to kill the rat was suddenly
forgotten, lost in the presence of pain and confusion. He lay on
his back, breathing slowly, trying to bring his heart rate back
under control. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and
turned his head to look. The rat was crouched at the corner of his
couch and he swore its black eyes were glaring at him. The rat
boldly scurried forward until it was within a foot’s distance from
his hand.

Austin intentionally hadn’t reacted to it. It
disgusted him to no end, but he was planning to smash the wretched
thing with whatever he could get his hands on. He slowly looked
around, trying to find something to bludgeon it with but… there was
nothing. The rat continued staring at him, whiskers twitching, its
mouth periodically moving, as if it was chewing something. He
tensed his arm, ready to make his move. He quickly raised the arm
and slammed his hand down where the rat was, hoping to break its
back in one swift blow.

The rat was quick and moved even before
Austin’s hand started its downward motion, but Austin was already
committed to the movement and his reflexes weren’t fast enough to
stop it before it smacked painfully on the floor. As he began to
register the pain, the rat darted forward and bit a small piece of
flesh from his nose. Blood began to flow from the wound while
Austin tried to comprehend the last few moments. The rat ran to the
door, stopped and looked back at Austin, staring at him with those
beady black eyes. Then it ran in two circles and disappeared down
the stairs.

Austin untangled himself from the desk and
stood up, gingerly putting weight on his foot to test it. It was
sore, but not broken, he could tell that much. A sprain, he would
heal quickly if he took it easy for a week or so. He walked to the
cellar door and closed it, content to let the rat have its
momentary victory; he was too tired to fight anymore tonight
anyways.

That night, he dreamed of rats...hundreds of
rats. He was trapped in a house with them all and couldn’t get out.
The rats had finally corralled him into the living room, cutting
off all other avenues of escape. They were perched on his couch,
table, shelves… anything they could get on, and now they were all
just staring at him. That seemed to be the worst thing, they
weren’t moving in to get him, they were just staring. Well,
technically it wasn’t all they did, many had urinated and defecated
while staring. The smell had become overpowering in moments. Rat
piss dripped off the table and formed puddles on the floor. The
piss somehow flowed towards him, so he climbed onto a desk chair,
standing on it to get his feet off the floor. The smell of ammonia
coming from the expanding puddle stung his eyes and made it
difficult to breathe…

A blaring horn from out on the street rescued
him from the rat-infested living room nightmare. He opened his eyes
to an already bright day; it seems he had overslept. The horn
sounded again, but this time he climbed out of bed to look out the
window. A cement truck was idling in his driveway, its giant cone
shaped mixer slowly spinning. Three burly men were standing next to
it smoking and looking bored.

As he watched, the large black rat ran from
somewhere at the edge of his house, dashed down the driveway and
underneath the truck. One of the construction workers jumped and
took two quick steps to get away. One of the remaining guys laughed
while the other picked up a rock and threw it at the rat. It landed
in the grass mere inches away from the rat, spurring it to scurry
around even faster before disappearing back into the edges of the
house.

Good shot,
Austin thought,
but you’ll need to do
better than that. That bastard’s a tricky one. Damn, I’ve got my
work cut out… but he will die, yes, he will die.

He turned away from the show at the window,
dressed, and went out to greet the men. After introductions were
made and his instructions were given, they opened the cellar’s
storm doors and poured the cement into the opening. He had
requested a fast setting concrete, because he wanted it to dry
before any critters like his little rat friend would have a chance
to walk through it.

When they finished, there was a smooth, shiny
eight-inch thick layer of concrete on the floor. Austin had wanted
it thick so he could install anchor bolts for his grinder,
hydraulic press and other tools.

He closed the twin cellar doors, swung the
hasp shut, and installed a new combination lock on it. As he walked
to the front of the house, someone called to him.

“
Austin, hey Austin, I see you’re
limping. Are you okay?”

He turned to see Jason walking up the
drive.

“
Hello Jason. I’m fine, just fell and
twisted my ankle, that’s all. How are you?”

“
Doing well,” Jason replied. “It looks
like you scraped your nose when you fell.”

“
Yeah, something like that,” Austin
sighed.

“
Finally got the floor poured,
huh?"

“
Yep,” Austin said. “Now I just have to
wait for it to dry. I’m about to go put some fans on the stairs to
get some air moving down there so it’ll dry even
faster.”

“
Makes sense,” Jason said. “Listen, my
daughter is having surgery tomorrow and I’m heading down there to
stay with her for a few days. Would you mind keeping an eye on
things while I’m away?”

“
Sure,” Austin answered. “I hope she’s
okay. Is it anything serious?”

“
No, she’s having hernia surgery and
just needs some help with the kids and doing things around the
house. I figured I’d go lend a hand.”

“
Well, that’s really nice of you Jason,
you’re a good man. I’ll keep an eye on your house. I hope your
daughter’s surgery goes well.”

“
Thanks Austin, I appreciate that. And,
take care of that ankle, we’re not spring chickens anymore and it
takes more time for stuff like that to heal.”

“
Roger that,” Austin replied,
automatically regressing to his military vernacular.

Jason turned to leave and Austin watched him
get into his truck and wave as he drove off. Austin turned to go in
the house and noticed the rat standing in the grass twenty feet
away, staring at him again.

“
You’re going to die tonight my nasty
little friend, if it’s the last thing I do. And stay out of the
cellar, I don’t want your little footprints ruining my floor,”
Austin said and walked into the house.

Austin limped to his bedroom, pulled his two
box fans from the closet, and carried them to the cellar door. His
sore thumb had been mildly complaining the entire time. When he got
to the cellar, he placed both fans on the stairs and angled them
down at the floor by leaning them against the railing for
stability. He turned them on high and nodded with satisfaction at
the amount of airflow. When he had returned to the top of the
stairs, he turned around to take one last look at his brand new
floor… and saw that damn rat standing at the bottom of the stairs.
His perfect wet cement was no more. The rat’s footprints were
plainly visible along with the line of its tail from its trek
across his floor.

“
You little son of a bitch! Look what
you’ve done to my new floor!”

He turned around to grab the broom. He was
going to trap and kill this thing once and for all. The little
bastard must have scurried up the steps while he was turned away
because it now ran between his legs and into the kitchen. Austin
attempted to give chase but tripped over the box fans on the stairs
and fell into the kitchen, his feet still on the cellar stairs. He
instinctively put his hands out to arrest his fall. His thumb
screamed at him when it slammed into the kitchen floor, and his arm
buckled from the impact, slamming his face into the floor too. A
resounding crack signaled the crushing of the cartilage in his
nose, and blood vessels ruptured allowing the crimson liquid to
flow freely from his nostrils. He tried to push himself up, but
that ignited his thumb, making him instinctively lift his hand off
the floor. In his younger days, he would have been able to hold his
body weight with one arm, but that time had passed long ago. His
face fell back towards the floor and he frantically brought his
left hand underneath him before his face was pummeled, smacking his
thumb on the floor for the third time.

“
SHIT!”

He rolled onto his back and tried to will the
pain away. Blood from his nose coursed into his throat, choking
him. He sat up and coughed and a blood mist erupted from his mouth,
arcing through the air and splattering on the floor and wall next
to him.

Anger consumed him like nothing he had
encountered before. His body shook and he ground his teeth
together. All coherent thought fled from his mind, and suddenly,
the only thing that mattered was killing the rat. The rat was the
cause of all of this and it had to die!

He sat up and looked over his shoulder, back
towards the cellar door. The rat stood at the threshold, watching
him, its whiskers twitching frantically. The smell of Austin’s
blood, which was now spilling from his nose, down his face onto the
kitchen floor seemed to excite it and it bared its teeth at
him.

“
LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID, YOU ASSHOLE!” He
yelled through clenched teeth. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU DEAD, DEAD,
DEAD!”

He quickly stood and turned around, lunging
for the rat and it bolted down the stairs. Austin tried to follow,
but his feet were now entangled in the fan cords and he tripped,
falling headfirst into the stairwell. He held his hands out in
front of him to break his fall, already dreading the pain he knew
he was coming. His hands broke through the rotten steps as they
shattered like plates of glass. His head continued forward,
slamming his already broken nose into the next step, which
unfortunately, was firm and free of rot. Overwhelming pain
short-circuited his brain and his consciousness fled as if being
chased by the hounds of hell, and he passed out. His back arched
and his upper body fell face first through the hole in the stairs
followed by his legs, flipping him. He landed on his back with a
loud splat and sank through the eight inches of wet concrete. It
covered most of his body, his head, hands, and feet were the only
things protruding from the cement…