His father would sometimes say he should be out playing with the other boys on the block, but he never saw them. It was as if they were all locked up in their separate houses. Besides, since he was only seven years old, his mother wouldn’t allow him to just wander up the street, looking for other kids to play with. Most of them were older, anyway. Their eyes were focused on phones and screens, which did fascinate him when he had the opportunity to see them, but because he had never played with them, he was instantly lost, outside the circle of understanding, unable to be engrossed in them like other kids.
At the end of the day he was hungry and tired and wanted to be home again. The bus bounced on the old back roads of his neighborhood, a place where nearly every house was partially hidden. Jacob was momentarily lifted off the seat, bounced, and settled back into the vinyl. He could feel the cold coming off the window, touching his forehead. There were very few children on the bus, and, with each stop, there were fewer; the brakes squealed, and their little bodies with big backpacks jumped off the bus stairs and walked quickly and confidently in the direction of their homes.
Jacob’s mother sometimes waited at the top of the driveway for him to arrive, but other times she merely watched him from the windows. He liked those times. Walking from the bus stop to his house on his own made him feel more grown up. He also liked the brief moment of solitude. It was cold and bright out today. The sky was a deep blue, and the leaves were dry and brittle, falling from the trees in a dancing rain of brown and yellow. His stop was next, and he could see the intersection ahead. Jacob pulled his backpack up on his shoulder and readied himself to stand up and exit as quickly as possible. The other kids were already standing in the aisle, holding on to the back of the seats, waiting for the full stop and the doors to fold open. Jacob looked through the windows. His mother wasn’t on the driveway today.
After he got off the bus, it pulled away down the road, and Jacob watched as the two other kids walked away from him in the opposite direction. Normally there were three other children who got off at this stop, but Dori wasn’t here today, so there was only Logan and Bella walking down the street with their backpacks high on their shoulders. The road sloped gently downward toward their houses, and the two other children disappeared out of view. He could hear them talking to each other. They had said nothing at all to him, though he wished they would. He wished that maybe one day he could walk with them and they could talk like friends.
Jacob waited for a moment and watched the bus disappear around another corner. He looked to his house but couldn’t see his mother at the window. The wind pushed cold air across his face and with it a strange, pungent smell – something thick and raw.
There was a small copse of trees separating Jacob’s house from the neighboring one, which was occupied by an old woman who needed a tank to breathe. Jacob began to walk toward his home, but, in that copse of trees, he saw something. Buried in the dry fallen leaves was something bulky, with light brown fur that moved slightly in the light breeze. He stopped and stared at it for a moment and then slowly stepped off the road and walked a few feet into the brush. Overhead, the trees moved slightly with small, twisting sounds of wood. The sky was deep blue above their long, thin branches, and, even in the daylight, the moon was visible but almost see-through, like a cold, distant ghost.
Jacob saw the fur ruffle again in the leaves. He walked to it and looked down and then cautiously moved the leaves aside.
It was a rabbit, but it no longer looked like a rabbit. The insides had been torn out, and the blood and gore had crusted on the ground and stuck to the dead leaves like glue. Its head was attached by only sinews. Its doll eyes had glazed over with a bluish-white tinge.
He rolled the rabbit over completely with the toe of his shoe. The inside was hollow and black. Strands of muscle and gut were hardened and crusted and old. Jacob stared at it for a while longer, the body splayed open, the life rotted away, and wondered at it. He wondered if that was how it looked when you died. If there was really nothing left but this empty shell, crusted to the ground, hanging with partial bits of what was once stomach, lungs and heart.
Poor rabbit, he thought. Then the same thick and raw smell wafted over him again. There was a shadow on the leaves. A shadow big enough to engulf both him and the rabbit as one. He turned around to look, and the afternoon sun shone bright in his eyes.
Chapter Nineteen
The high mountain lake shone through the leafless trees in the light of the cold, early dawn. Jonathan, Michael and Conner stood at the crest of the meadow and saw the water sparkling, and, for a moment, everything seemed beautiful and good. They turned to look at the black case sitting in the long grass, tinged with frost, and the air seemed
