He shakes his head vigorously, looking up at her. ‘This is my place, my secret. I used to come here when my mom was bad.’ We both watch him. Even if he believes this to be true, the basement could still be a trap. ‘I’ve got food here, even.’
He pulls himself to his feet and heads for the wall, where a loose brick reveals a cubbyhole and a plastic bag. The bread he pulls out has mold on it, but he brushes it off and hands it to Care like a prize. She takes it with a nod and, when he pulls out the pizza slices, a full-on smile. To do her justice, she looks for me, but I’ve seen how hungry these two are. And I know I can do better.
The rain has started up again as I head back out. The men on the corner have dispersed to warmer, drier parts to wait for Tick and Care. I can sense no sign of them, and so I set about getting my own dinner. I don’t believe they have given up. They are waiting for the boy, or to stage their own attack. But tonight I am a hunter, too.
NINE
I get back later than I intend, having spent more time than anticipated stalking my prey. Age has definitely begun catching up to me. Age or my recent trauma, leaving me less adept at certain forms of hunting. Almost I feel like I am unused to this mode of survival, as if perhaps I were a house pet or something of that ilk. But when I found my prey’s lair – a small, fragrant opening gnawed through a wooden baseboard – I felt like myself again. Watching, waiting – this was what I knew how to do. And the results? Delicious.
I had thought about sharing my dinner with the girl. Bread and pizza lack the essential nutrients to be found in fresh meat. However, I am hungry enough that my meal is gone before I can decide, and thoughts of who else might share my interest in these two children drive me back to the basement room before I can obtain more. I need not have worried. Only Care and the boy are there, curled around each other like kittens, their breathing soft and even. I consider joining them, sharing the superior warmth of my body on this chill spring night. The thought of sleeping within reach of that boy, however, keeps me distant and alert, as the rain peters out to be replaced by moonlight thin as watered milk.
‘Care, no.’ I wake to the sound of an argument. Hushed but determined, the girl and that boy are facing off as they share the ends of the bread. ‘Don’t make me.’
‘You have to.’ She gestures with a piece of bread before dunking it in a chipped mug of water. ‘Think about it. They expect you. They’re waiting. And I’ve got to find out who they are.’
‘But Care.’ The boy looks miserable, and the way he’s kneading his own lump of bread makes me suspect he’s off his food as well. ‘They’re dangerous. I know it. And if I get caught they’ll call in the services.’
‘I’m not going to let protective services take you. I promise, Tick.’ She chews the bread. Clearly, the soaking hasn’t done much to soften it. I can see her jaw working from across the room, the muscle visible under her thin cheek. ‘But the way I see it, this is all tied up with the old man. I mean, he wanted me to follow Fat Peter, and now Fat Peter is dead. And someone is trying to set me up for it. But I don’t know who, exactly, and I don’t know why.’
The boy squirms like a kitten with worms before finally settling on the cold dirt of the floor. ‘You don’t know that. You don’t know any of that.’
‘I know enough.’ Care is keeping her voice low and her tone steady, but I can hear the tension building. ‘The old man takes a job to figure out who robbed that store. To find that necklace. He starts looking into it and he’s shot. Shot and thrown in a ditch to die like a dog. But before he died, he left me that message – the one about Fat Peter. And now Fat Peter is dead, too. They’re connected, Tick.’
The boy falls silent, his misery clear on his face. I understand his concern. Clearly, Care matters to him. Matters more than whatever threat or promise was made to get him to give her up. But I understand the hunt, as well. My tail lashes as I watch her make her move.
‘Look, Tick, we’ll be careful. I’ll be careful.’ She’s speaking gently now, trying to cajole the boy into complying. ‘We’ll take off at the first sign of danger and head south. Together.’
‘For real?’ He looks up, desperate to believe.
‘For real.’
I don’t believe her for a moment. I’m also not convinced of the boy’s renewed loyalty. Yes, he stayed the night without alerting the thugs to her whereabouts, but his allegiance can be bought or beaten, I surmise. When Care isn’t looking, he rubs his fingers. Those burn marks remind him of something. Something he wants as much, if not more, than her love.