The Collection

'No,' I said. 'Wait a minute. Let me do it.'

Momma shook her head. 'No. You're too weak.'

'It's all right,' Mrs. Caffrey said.

Momma helped me out of the bed, and Mrs. Caffrey took the baby outside. She put it on the ground by the trailer and it started squawking and twirling its arms in circles.

I searched the ground and picked up a boulder. I held it up as high as I could and the creature looked up at me and spat.

I smashed its head.

It lay there twitching for a minute, a small trickle of black blood flowing out from beneath the boulder, then it was still.

I watched as Mrs. Caffrey took the dead thing into her trailer. She cut it up and burned it and put the ashes into a stew. I ate a bite of the stew and said the Prayer.

Momma drove me home.

That night, Momma was inside washing the dishes and all us kids was out on the porch. Petey was trying to kill bugs, and Junior and Sissy was fighting on the rocker, and I was standing by the railing looking out at the woods when all of a sudden I heard a rustling sound coming from the meadow. I looked back quickly at the other kids but none of them'd heard it. I held my breath and looked closer, leaning over the rail to see better, saying the Prayer to myself. But it was just a scared little jackrabbit, and it stopped and stared at me and then ran across the path and disappeared into the bushes and meadow grass at the side of the house.

The Phonebook Man

For a while, I worked as a phonebook deliveryman. The job allowed me to walk into every business in the city from legal offices to liquor stores, strip clubs to mortuaries. One day while I was striding down the street, stacks of phonebooks under my arm, I started to think about what a supernatural being could do with such a position, particularly if he was irrationally and obsessively devoted to the cause of phonebook deliv­ery. 'The Phonebook Man' was born from that.

Nina was reading the morning paper and slowly sipping her coffee when she heard the knock at the door. She was barely awake, her eyes still not fully open, her senses still not fully alert, and she thought at first that she had made a mistake. Jim had gone to work sometime ago and Erin had long since left for school with Mrs. Bloomenstein, so it could not be ei­ther one of them trying to get back in, and she did not know anyone who would be over this early in the morning. But then the knock came again, and she stood up quickly, almost knocking over her coffee, and moved to answer the door.

She was about to open the dead bolt when she suddenly thought the better of it. After all, who knew what kind of crazies were out there these days? Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and tried to peek through the glass window situated near the top of the solid oak door. She could see only the crown of a brown-haired head. 'Who is it?' she called.

'Phonebook man.'

Phonebook man? She pulled back the dead bolt and opened the door a crack. Standing on the stoop was a non­descript young man in his early twenties with a load of phonebooks under each arm. He smiled at her as she opened the door. 'Good morning, ma'am. I'm delivering your neighborhood phonebooks. How many would you like?'

Nina pulled her robe tighter around her chest to make sure nothing was showing and held out her other hand. 'Just one will be fine.'

'One it is.' The man pulled a book from under his arm with a theatrical flourish and handed it to her.

'Thank you.'

'You're welcome, ma'am.' He turned and was about to leave when he stopped, as though he had just thought of something. 'Ma'am?' he asked.

Nina stood in the doorway, still clutching her robe with one hand. 'Yes?'

'I'm sorry to bother you.' He looked sheepish. 'But could I use your bathroom?'

She was acutely aware that she was alone in the house, that both Jim and Erin were gone, and she hesitated for a second. He noticed the hesitation and started to back away. 'It's okay,' he said. 'Sorry to bother you. I understand.'

Nina mentally kicked herself. What kind of person was she? 'Of course you can use the bathroom.' She stepped all the way inside the front alcove and held the door open. 'It's down the hallway. Last door on the right.'

The phonebook man walked past her, still carrying his books, and hurried down the hall. Nina closed the door and returned to her paper and her coffee. She turned on the TV- the Today show-for some background noise.

Three articles later, she realized that the phonebook man had not left. Her heart gave a short trip-hammer of fear. She should have known better. She should never have let a stranger in the house. She put the paper down and stood up, moving toward the hall. She peeked around the corner. The bathroom door was closed. He was still in there.

And he was taking a shower.

She could hear, below the surface noise of the television, the familiar sound of the water pipes and the running shower. Her first instinct was anger-how dare he?-but that was replaced instantly by fear, and she crept back to the kitchen and took the phone off the hook, dialing 911.

The phone was dead.

She heard the shower shut off.

She hurried into the bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans and a blouse, and ran back out. She put the clothes on in the kitchen as fast as she could.

He walked in just as she was buttoning the top button of her blouse.

His hair was black. He had a beard. He had gained at least sixty pounds.

Nina gasped. 'Who are you?'

He held up the load of phonebooks under his arms and smiled. 'Phonebook man.' He looked around the kitchen admiringly. 'Nice kitchen. What's for breakfast?'

'D-don't hurt me.' She knew her voice was trembling obviously with her fear, but she could not help it. Her legs felt weak, as though they would not support her. 'I'll d-do anything you want.'

The phonebook man looked puzzled. 'What are you talk­ing about?'

She stared at him, trying to keep her voice steady. 'You cut the phone lines. So I couldn't call anybody.'

He chuckled. 'You're crazy.'

'I let you use the bathroom and you used it to take a shower and now your hair's different and you have a beard and you're ... you're ...' She shook her head in disbelief. 'You're not the same person.'

He looked at her, uncomprehending. 'I'm the phonebook man.' His eyes moved down her body as he noticed her changed apparel, and he smiled. 'Nice clothes.'

'What do you want from me?'

He looked surprised, caught off guard by her outburst, and he held up the phonebooks under his arms. 'I'm here to deliver your local phonebooks.'

'You delivered them! Now get the hell out of here!'

He nodded. 'Okay, lady, okay. Sorry I was born.' He started to walk out of the kitchen, then turned around. 'But if I could just have a piece of toast. I didn't have anything to eat this morning-'

Nina ran past him and out the front door, leaving the screen swinging behind her. She couldn't take this anymore. She couldn't handle this, couldn't cope. She realized she was screaming by the time she reached the McFarlands' house next door, and she forced herself to quiet down. Breathing heavily, she pounded on the door and rang the bell.

A minute passed. No answer.

She realized that both of the McFarlands must have al­ready gone to work, and she looked fearfully back toward her house. From the McFarlands' doorstep she could see into her own kitchen window.

The phonebook man was making himself some eggs.

She ran back down the sidewalk to the Adams' house, on the other side of hers. She pounded on the door