THE HIDDEN SUN

He stood in the middle of a wide meadow, the grass reaching up to his chest. Large flower heads swayed atop the tall stems, shimmering like silk in the warm breeze. Beneath the muted sunlight, they cast soft shadows that flitted through the grass like startled birds.

Bobby drew in a slow breath through his nose. The spicy scent of grasses, moss, and something else, faint and sweet, filled his lungs and made him drowsy.

Kate... That's how Kate smells. Down there, in the damp hollow, completely bare. Crazy girl. Why does she put herself through it? All that melted wax... Does she actually enjoy the pain? Damn human nature.

He ran a calloused hand over his mustache and beard, then gave a wet, rattling sniff, dragging phlegm from the back of his throat before spitting into the grass. The green gob caught on one of the feathery plumes, swaying in the breeze as it slowly slid downward.

From somewhere far away came a deep guttural roar. A flock of small birds burst from the grass. Like silver lightning, they wheeled frantically above his head, shrieking with metallic cries. A single feather caught the sunlight, gliding downward through the air. It grazed Bobby's wrist and left a deep gash.

"Motherfucker!" Bobby clamped his palm over his wrist. Sticky blood seeped from beneath his hand, squeezing between his fingers. "God damn it! What the hell is going on?"

He lurched forward, away from the birds. Grabbing the hem of his flannel shirt, he wrapped it tightly around his wrist. The large plaid pattern quickly darkened with blood.

"Help! Somebody help! Is anybody here?" His cries were swallowed by the metallic ringing of the birds that had filled the entire meadow.

He stopped for a moment and looked back. The birds went on circling in the same spot, occasionally diving down into the grass and rising again. The silken tassels of the flower heads shuddered and bent sideways — something large was stalking toward him.

"Oh shit, oh shit..." Pressing his wounded wrist to his chest, he sprinted as fast as he could. The sound of soft leaps behind him grew closer and more distinct.

The grass ended. Bobby ran up a small rocky hill covered in moss and stopped sharply — he stood at the edge of a cliff. Before him, far below, veiled in a pink haze, an endless plain spread out with solitary jutting rocks and lush vegetation.

"Get away from me! Leave me alone!" He turned to face his pursuer. The grass parted. "What... What the fuck are you?!"

Bobby thrust his good arm out in front of him and backed away. The soles of his heavy boots scraped the wet moss from the smooth rock. He lost his balance and fell from the cliff. A cry of despair tore through his lungs.

Bobby opened his eyes. Strands of Kate's soft hair clung to his sweating face. She slept peacefully beside him, her face pressed into the pillow.

Holy shit... It was just a nightmare.

He flung his arm behind his head. His elbow struck the ornate carving of the wooden headboard hard.

Roses... goddamn roses everywhere. A man could lose his damn mind in this goddamn house.

The sun had not yet risen, but the room was already bright enough. The last traces of darkness lingered on the white ceiling, the walls, and the ornate plasterwork. His gaze drifted over the richly decorated moldings, the capitals of the slender columns framing the doorways, over all the plaster festoons and garlands. Cracked, buried beneath countless coats of whitewash, yellowed with age, they were slowly fading from their former white grandeur.

Bobby gently lifted Kate's arm from where it rested across his chest and brushed the web of her hair from his face. The bed let out a languid creak beneath his weight, answered by the floorboards as he rose and sat on the edge of the mattress.

Downstairs, sturdy claws clicked cheerfully across the wooden floor. Counting every stair, they trotted briskly down the hallway. The bedroom door eased open. Tongue lolling, a cheerful white muzzle with short, upright ears peeked through the gap, wearing his usual goofy grin. It licked a dark pink nose and fixed Bobby with two black bead-like eyes.

"Woof! Aroo-oo! Woof, woof!"

"Come on in, come on in..." Bobby got to his feet, tugging the underwear wedged between his buttocks back into place. His fingers slipped through a hole worn into the most embarrassing spot.

"What're you staring at? Yeah, holes. Natural ventilation." He scratched his backside and turned to face the window. "And you don't even have any."

He bent to pick up the jeans lying on the floor. The gentle rays of the rising sun illuminated the firm half-moons of his bare buttocks.

The dog barged into the bedroom without ceremony. Wagging his tail curled into a ring, he trotted to the window and buried his nose in his owner's backside.

"Get the fuck outta here, you little rascal!" Bobby smacked the dog across the muzzle with the flat of his hand and straightened up too fast, cracking the top of his head against the sloping attic wall.

"Aw, fuck!" Hopping on one leg, he yanked his jeans up hard. "My mama didn't bring this fine piece of ass into the world for you... Kate! Kate! Get up, you're gonna be late for work!"

"Mmmhm... Just half an hour. Let me sleep another half hour. I didn't sleep well. You were tossing and turning all night."

Kate's slightly husky voice sent the dog into a frenzy. He leaped onto the bed and began bouncing across it, barking at the top of his lungs.

"Gooo awaaay... Just go. Happy, get off! Both of you, let me sleep..." She pulled the blanket over her face, shoving the overexcited dog off the bed with her feet.

"If I have to get up now, you're both gonna regret it... I'm counting to three. One... two... Aaaaah!"

The blanket snapped shut over Happy. Kate threw herself on top of the dog, wrapping him up like a cocoon. He thrashed wildly, struggling to break free. With a muffled thump, the wriggling bundle hit the floor.

"Much better!" She flopped back onto the mattress, spread her arms and legs wide, and began sweeping them back and forth in perfect rhythm. "Look! I'm a snow angel..."

"Put some underwear on, angel. You're gonna scare the dog." Bobby grinned, untangling Happy from the duvet cover. "Come on, boy. This idiot's gonna drive everybody crazy. I'm off to the bathroom. I need to think. So don't bother me unless somebody's dying."

He glanced back at Kate. She lay on the bed with both arms and legs raised in the air, flailing them with all her might.

What an idiot. The woman's completely lost her damn mind.

He stopped in the doorway, spellbound.

The first rays of the rising sun slid across the sheet and bathed her young body in warm light. Her skin glowed with the pale purity of marble.

"Go on, old man. And don't spend half the morning sitting on the throne. I've got to get myself together too."

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Running both hands through her thick hair, she gathered it into a high ponytail and tied it with a scrunchie.

Bobby quietly pulled the bedroom door shut.

The small bathroom greeted him with the scent of lavender and mothballs. He turned on the tap and splashed icy water over his face. With a metallic clank, the valve cut off the flow. The stream reluctantly dwindled to a drip. The mirror above the sink reflected a creased face and a mop of disheveled hair.

God, how time flies.

He frowned, studying the new lines beneath his eyes, across the bridge of his nose, and on his forehead. He brushed the last drops of water from his face and smoothed down his reddish hair and beard. Turning sideways to the mirror, he sucked in his stomach with considerable effort.

Still one handsome bastard, though. Look at those abs... All right. Time. Time for the throne.

He reached for the toilet lid. Mint green, quilted with tiny white beads, it resembled a plump cushion. He flipped it up, dropped his trousers, and settled onto the padded seat. The foam gave a weary sigh beneath his weight.

He picked up a copy of The New Yorker from the small carved side table. The pages rustled as he searched for the cartoons.

Boom-boom-boom... boom-bu-bu...

Boom-boom-boom...

A heavy beat shattered Bobby's quiet solitude. The walls shook from the low frequencies, the toilet bouncing in time with the music. Through the closed door came Kate's cheerful shrieking and the hopeless creaking of the bed.

"Hey! Knock it off! Enough! Turn it down! Can you hear me?" He tossed the magazine onto the side table and hurriedly finished up.

The toilet chain jerked and the porcelain handle stayed in his palm. "Oh, what the…" He quickly pulled the flush lever. Water roared down, drowning out the music. The chain landed on the stack of magazines, across the open pages.

Bobby threw open the bedroom door.

"Enough! You'll bring the whole house down!"

"Pump, ah ah aha... Pump, ah aha jam... dance, come on, hip-hop hip-hop hip-hop! Bobby!" Over the roaring beats, wrapped in his flannel shirt, Kate was bouncing on the bed. Laughing, she sang along, changing the lyrics to fit Bobby's name. "Look! Look what I can do!"

Grabbing one ankle with her hand and throwing the other arm behind her head, she jerked her leg around clumsily and, losing her balance, crashed onto the bed.

"Ow, ow! My knee! I hit my knee on the headboard..." She wrapped both hands around her leg and pressed her knee to her forehead.

"All right, that's enough, no more music today." Bobby pressed the button on the stereo. The house fell silent. "You okay, baby? Let me carry you downstairs." Scooping Kate up in his arms, he headed for the living room, down the narrow corridor, down the creaking staircase.

"Careful, I'm not a sack of potatoes. You completely ruined my hair..." After another scrape of her head against the walls and doorframes, she gathered her ponytail in her palm and pressed it to her cheek.

"Wait, wait! Do you see this?" She stopped him in the middle of the living room. "Look... Isn't it strange? The house is so white... The walls, the ceilings, all these roses, scrolls, ribbons... But you know what? Look at the shadows — something's off about them... I can't quite put my finger on what... In the daytime, in the evening, at any time..." She pressed her head against his cheek. "Maybe I'm just imagining things..."

Bobby looked around, peering at the molding. "It's just an old house. Small cracks and layers of whitewash. Look, there's a cobweb... You should tidy up when you have a spare moment."

Kate slapped him on the chest with her palm and sniffed, wrinkling her nose. "Bobby... have you wiped your bum? You smell like a young goat."

Bobby dropped her on the sofa and hitched up his jeans. "You know what? Walk yourself. Apparently I stink..."

Happy whimpered in the hallway. He scratched at the front door, shifting impatiently from paw to paw and sweeping his tail back and forth.

"Coming, boy, coming! Just don't leave me a puddle at the front door..." Bobby headed into the front hall. He stopped halfway, went back to Kate, pushed her off the sofa onto the rug, and pulled the shirt off her. "You've got your own clothes. Wear those. Mine smell, apparently, like a young goat... Make breakfast. I've got to eat."

Heading for the door, he slipped the shirt on and buttoned a couple of buttons. "Come on, boy. Come on." He threw open the front door, letting the dog out first.

The cool air of an autumn morning rushed into the house, tickling his nose with the dry scent of fallen leaves. Bobby stepped onto the porch after him.

Happy trotted over to a white rose bush and circled it impatiently. He settled into position and went still.

"Good morning, Mrs. Wilkinson!"

Across the street, an elderly woman glanced at the dog on the lawn, then silently turned and went back into her house. Her silhouette flashed past a window before heavy curtains swallowed her from sight.

"She doesn't like you." Bobby ruffled Happy's scruff as the dog trotted back to him and nudged him toward the door. "Never mind, boy. We'll take a walk in the woods later."

He glanced at Happy's little gift on the lawn and went back inside.

...

Opening the carved door of the sideboard, Kate took out a pair of white soup plates with wavy gilded rims.

What's the point of all this? The house is like a museum. Just don't break the plates... They're so fragile.

She set them carefully on the massive marble-topped pot-board table, the porcelain clinking softly against the stone. Leaning down, she pressed her cheek to the cool marble and squinted. Sunlight caught the edge of one plate, the gilded rim scattering brilliant blue reflections across the polished surface.

"Hey, did you fall asleep in here?" Bobby's voice made her jump. "What've we got to eat?" He stepped into the kitchen and leaned against the sideboard opposite her.

"Hey, Happy! Go fetch this shameless girl a robe. She forgot to get dressed." He gave Kate a playful slap on her firm backside. "Come on, move it. At this rate you'll be late for work. What'd you make?"

"Make?" She reached into the large woven basket beneath the table and pulled out a box of cereal and a bag of trail mix. "Same as always. Here. The milk's in the fridge. You can get it yourself."

Rustling the bag loudly, she poured a couple of handfuls of trail mix into her bowl and began sorting through it with one finger, pushing the raisins and peanuts to the right, the dried apricots, almonds, and cashews to the left. Picking up a crescent-shaped cashew, she nibbled off a tiny piece.

"You eat like Thumbelina. At this rate you'll waste away to nothing. Afraid of getting fat?" Bobby came back to the table, kicking the refrigerator door shut with his heel. Pulling his bowl of cereal closer, he poured in a generous splash of milk. "And look at the time. It's 6:45. You should've been out the door already."

Kate lifted her head and glanced at the heavy grandfather clock. The ornate minute hand was creeping toward the ten.

"It's Sunday. Linda can manage on her own. I cover for her often enough already. I'll go in at eight-thirty. There's nothing to do there before then anyway. Idiots... On a Sunday morning people ought to be sleeping, not wandering into cafés..."

"Hey, your tips don't hurt. This house is going to bleed us dry..." Bobby glanced up at the kitchen ceiling. "Everything looks fine down here, but the corner of the storage room up in the attic is damp. Somebody needs to take a look at the roof."

"What do you care about my tips? They're peanuts. You're the rich one now. Just look at this house... And that bank account... I've never seen that much money before. A hundred and fifteen thousand dollars! Where did your grandmother get it? Rob a bank?" Kate reached across the table and brushed a few peanut crumbs from Bobby's beard. "Did you go to the bank?"

A sticky piece of dried apricot went into her mouth. Its cloying sweetness, tinged with the faintest hint of gasoline, clenched her empty stomach and turned it inside out.

"Be right back..."

She hurried out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the bathroom. The nausea swelled until she barely reached the sink before bringing up nothing but bitter bile.

The faucet handles squeaked as she turned them. Lonely bits of cashew and dried apricot disappeared into the swirling water. Kate rinsed her mouth, cupped cold water in her hands, and splashed it over her face. Leaning against the vanity, she brushed the damp strands of hair away from her skin and stared at her reflection.

Should I tell him now… or wait until tonight? And what would I even say?

She straightened, turned sideways to the mirror, and rested a hand on her stomach.

"Bobby… I'm pregnant."

"Oh, Daddy… you're really going to be a daddy."

"We're having a baby… Maybe you'll finally marry me?"

To hell with it. I'll think of something tonight. But… will he be happy?

Kate stepped into the bathtub and drew the shower curtain. The old pipes let out a deep groan before coughing up thin streams of warm water.

Bobby chewed his soggy cereal slowly, every now and then sticking a finger into his mouth to pry bits of dried fruit from between his teeth. Happy stretched his neck, whining softly as he peered into Bobby's mouth. A heavy paw landed on Bobby's knee.

"You wouldn't eat this anyway... All right, you talked me into it. Hang on."

Bobby pulled a large bag of kibble from the sideboard and picked up the dog's bowl from the floor. The dry pellets rattled loudly against the metal as he poured them in. Then he tipped the last of the milk from his cereal bowl over the kibble, followed by the bacon grease left in yesterday's frying pan.

"What are you looking at? It tastes better this way. It'll smell like bacon."

He set the bowl on the floor.

Happy buried his muzzle in it, eating with loud smacks and sending kibble skittering across the floor. Half a minute later the bowl was empty.

"You little pig... Missed one. And there's another over there."

Happy gave the floor around the bowl a thorough licking.

"Good boy." Bobby buried his fingers in the thick fur. Happy rose onto his hind legs, planted his front paws on Bobby's shoulders, threw his head back, and twisted it from side to side, nudging his ears beneath Bobby's fingers.

"Your ears itching? Where are those ears of yours? There we go... That's better."

Bobby smiled.

His gaze drifted across the plaster moldings and suddenly froze. A chill crawled down his spine. A shadow darted over the plaster roses, leaves, and ribbons, slipping into the recesses. It thickened, gathering into tar-black patches.

"Bobby..."

He flinched and turned.

Standing beneath the archway, casting a long shadow across the floor, was Kate. She was combing her damp hair into a high ponytail. Her faded pale pink uniform and white apron lent her skin a soft rosy glow, while the moisture from her hair had soaked dark pink patches into the fabric.

"You wanted to give me something, remember?" She smoothed the loose strands with her palm and wrapped the scrunchie around the base of her ponytail. "Come on, then I'll get going. I don't have any appetite at all. I'll eat something at work."

"Come with me."

Gently nudging Happy aside, Bobby took Kate by the hand and led her into the living room. Passing the ornate sofa and armchairs, he guided her into the bay window.

"Look. This was Grandma's hiding place. You can keep money and all your little trinkets in here."

He crouched, pried up a couple of floorboards, and lifted a painted tin cookie box from the dark cavity beneath the floor. The lid clattered onto the armchair.

"There's a little cash in here, a couple hundred bucks. And here's our joint account..." He pulled a leather-bound checkbook from the box. "Nine and a half grand. Don't go spending it like crazy. The bills and property taxes will come due, and you'll need to write the checks. That's your job now."

He replaced the checkbook, put the lid back on the tin, lowered it into the hiding place, and settled the floorboards back into position until the compartment disappeared completely.

"Want me to walk you to work?"

...

The heavy front door closed with a dull thud. The large round stained-glass window above the entrance answered with a soft jingle. Tiny fragments of colored glass trembled, catching the morning sunlight.

"Couldn't you find another T-shirt? Look at this. It's full of holes around the belly. Looks like the moths had a feast."

As they walked down the porch steps, Bobby pulled open his flannel shirt and slipped a hand beneath his white T-shirt, showing Kate the cluster of tiny holes around his belly.

"Who's going to be looking at you anyway? You're an old man..." She zipped up her windbreaker with a sharp tug. The nylon, stitched together from dozens of neon triangles and diamonds, rustled dryly in the breeze. "Come on. This thing doesn't keep you warm at all."

Bobby looked her colorful outfit over and smirked.

"Some fashion. You look like a parrot..." He caught himself as she shot him a sharp look. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding... It's all your Madonna's fault. I'm surprised people aren't walking around with traffic cones on their boobs yet."

"Happy! Drop it! Leave it! You little pig!"

He nudged the dog away from a dried pile on the lawn.

Across the road, a front door slammed.

Taking quick, shuffling steps on her swollen feet and tangling herself in her long, narrow skirt, Mrs. Wilkinson hurried across the street to intercept them. She clutched a small, shiny purse against her fitted jacket, patterned with black fabric and burgundy and emerald sequins. The rich colors complemented her deep brown skin. She buried her short, flabby neck between the enormous shoulder pads. Breathing heavily, she rolled her eyes upward every few steps.

"Bobby! Bobby, wait!"

She came to a stop a couple of paces from Kate, struggling to catch her breath. The tight skirt quivered over her enormous hips.

"No. This simply won't do. It's absolutely unacceptable! I shouldn't have to look at this disgrace every morning!"

She smacked her lips loudly and ran her tongue across her full lips.

"Good morning, Mrs. Wilkinson!" Straightening the apron the wind had ruffled, Kate smiled warmly.

The old woman nodded back, then caught Bobby firmly by the sleeve.

"Robert, the lawn... Your grandmother, Mrs. Kowalski, God rest her soul, was a fine, hardworking woman. Poor Estella, she was practically a saint. Always on the move, always tending to something. She practically lived for our church. Just look at those roses. They were magnificent. We all envied her flower beds and that beautiful lawn of hers. And now look at it. That awful dog digs holes, does his business all over the yard, and barks... barks all the time. You really ought to do something about it."

Happy tucked his tail, whimpered softly, and hid behind Bobby's legs. Mrs. Wilkinson drew Bobby a little farther aside.

"And another thing, Bobby. This simply isn't proper. Your grandmother Estella would've never approved. Living in sin with a young woman, without marriage... that's no way to live, you understand?"

"Mrs. Wilkinson, I'm going to be late for work. Maybe we could talk another time?" Kate shifted from foot to foot.

The old woman coughed into the fist of her thin leather glove. The crimson feathers on her tiny hat quivered before settling back into the breeze.

"My dear, whatever are you talking about? It's Sunday. Folks ought to be on their way to church, not off to diners. The two of you ought to start attending the Lord's house yourselves. Rhinebeck is a respectable, God-fearing community." She pursed her lips, giving Kate a long look. "And don't you go giving him the milk for free, do you hear me? A wedding is what gives a woman security. For you... and for your children. You do want children, don't you?"

Opening her purse and muttering to herself, Mrs. Wilkinson rummaged around inside before pulling out a folded leaflet.

"Here, take this." She held it out to Kate. "Don't think I'm just a nosy old biddy. I simply know how these things usually end. If the day ever comes when you need someone's help, the house of our Lord will always be open to you."

She straightened her little hat and snapped her purse shut. Hundreds of rhinestones burst into a fan of tiny glints.

"And the lawn! Do something about that lawn!" She wagged a finger at Bobby before shuffling away in quick little steps.

"And how long are you going to keep milking this cow for free?" Kate jabbed Bobby in the ribs with her elbow. "I'm already late. Don't walk me to work." Smoothing her hair, she hurried down the sidewalk toward the diner. Her ponytail swayed from side to side, blazing like a streak of fire in the morning breeze.

"There goes our sly little fox." Bobby watched her disappear down the street. He looked down at Happy. "What are you staring at me for? If marriage means that much to you, you go get married. A real man has to stand his ground. What? The house? Grandma's money? Exactly. Besides, who says she even needs me? A prime specimen of manhood, at the peak of his powers..." He clipped the leash to Happy's collar. "Come on, let's take a couple of hours. Maybe we'll make it to the river."

Happy sprang into the air, bouncing around Bobby in excitement.

"No, no. Don't even think about it. No swimming today. We're just walking along the bank."

The dog pulled the leash taut and lunged ahead, dragging a protesting Bobby after him.

Passing through a crenellated arch with its entrance doors standing wide open, the glass long gone from their ornate frames, he stepped into a small vestibule. The smell of moss and rotting wood filled his nostrils. Cracked floorboards groaned and sagged beneath his weight.

Beyond a broad arched opening lay the Great Hall, flooded with light pouring down from above. Standing in the archway, Bobby tilted his head back. Through a grimy skylight, missing most of its glass, shafts of sunlight slanted into the hall, catching the narrow galleries that ran around the atrium. The floor below lay buried beneath fallen plaster and glittering shards of glass.

"What a sorry sight..." Bobby turned toward the entrance and waved Happy's leash. "Come on, boy. Nobody's going to eat you."

The dog whimpered and lay down on the steps. Through the doorway, only his head was visible now, his ears pricked forward.

Bobby took a step into the atrium. The floor shuddered with a series of dry cracks. Debris skittered across the floorboards toward the center of the hall, exposing the rotten planks beneath.

"You're right. Bad idea. This rotten floor's a death trap..." He stepped back. "Come on. Let's head for the river. It'll be more fun there."

Whispering and quiet laughter drifted from deep within the house. The echoes darted through the arched passageways, weaving among the quadrant brackets of the upper tiers before rising toward the skylight.

"Hey! Who's there?!" Bobby pressed himself against the archway jamb, his fingers tightening around the colonnettes framing the arch, his eyes sweeping over the dark openings in search of the unseen prankster. "Quit fooling around! Come out!"

Everything fell silent. Somewhere deep within the house, water dripped steadily onto stone, each drop echoing softly, almost lulling him to sleep. The shadows within the doorways quivered and shifted with the sun.

"Here... Here... It is coming... It is almost here." The insinuating voice drifted from the archway opposite Bobby.

"What's almost here?"

He took a cautious step forward, edging along the wall over the unsteady floorboards, his back pressed against the oak paneling, his arms spread for balance. A narrow doorway opened onto nothing but ruin. The jambs gaped with the raw wounds left by hinges torn clean away. Daylight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating a room with a brick fireplace, strewn with debris, broken dresser drawers, and massive slabs of plaster that had crashed from the ceiling.

"Hee-hee-hee... here..." The whisper came from the far corner of the room, from the doorway beside the fireplace.

"Laugh while you can. We'll see how hard you're laughing after I knock your teeth out." Bobby kicked a drawer out of his way and headed into the next room.

Nobody here either. Where the hell are you hiding, you motherfucker?

A broad formal staircase led to the upper floors. Bobby climbed a couple of steps and stopped on the landing. Tilting his head back, he listened. Nothing. No footsteps. No rustling.

"Come out! Don't be afraid. I won't touch you!" he shouted up the staircase, cracking his knuckles as he clenched his fists.

"Here..." came the whisper from behind him.

Bobby spun around, leapt down the steps, and ran back into the atrium.

"Come out..."

The floorboards lurched beneath his weight. With a long, splintering groan, the rotten floor gave way.

Everything went dark. Sounds and smells vanished.

The pain came first. It began as a tiny point at the back of his head, then spread rapidly, throbbing, washing over his skull.

"God damn it..."

He pushed himself upright, clutching his head. As though through a pillow stuffed with cotton, he heard Happy barking somewhere far away. Yelping and whining, the dog circled the building.

Bobby rolled onto his side and drew his knees to his chest. The cold stone floor dulled the pain.

"Don't touch me... Just don't touch me. I need to lie down."

He spotted the leash snagged on the broken boards and pulled it toward him. The neon stripe running down the center of the canvas leash caught the dim light, stretched taut for a moment, then settled beside him like a coiled snake.

"Sleep... I just need to sleep..."

Water dripped somewhere close by. The stone floor slabs were damp with moisture and smelled of moss.

"Just a few minutes..."

A wet tongue swept across his face, followed by hot breath that smelled of burnt bacon. A cold nose nudged into his palm. Happy's pitiful whimpers rose to the broken beams overhead, echoed through the brick vaults, fell back to the stone floor, then spiraled upward again, multiplying through the corridors and rooms on every floor.

"My boy... is that you? Daddy just needs to lie down for a bit..."

A deep rumble rolled beneath the floor, reverberating through the walls and the brick arches. Happy barked frantically, seized Bobby's shirt sleeve, and tugged him toward the exit.

"Just a minute... I'm coming..." Bobby pushed himself onto all fours and crawled after the dog.

Something shifted below with a deafening crash. The stone floor slabs lurched downward, then, one after another, began sliding toward the center of the hall as the floor sagged into an ever-deepening funnel. The joints between the slabs split into jagged cracks that raced toward the edges of the hall.

Bobby dropped onto his stomach, clawing desperately at the polished stone as it slipped from beneath his fingers. His body kept sliding inexorably toward the center of the room.

Happy grabbed the free end of the leash in his teeth and bolted for the doorway. The loop of the leash tightened around Bobby's wrist, the glowing neon line binding man and dog together.

"Good boy, pull! Pull! Come on! Don't leave me, boy!" Bracing his paws against the floor, the dog backed away, but his owner's body was dragging him down toward the floor sliding into the funnel. Growling and jerking at the leash, Happy backed away, yet inch by inch the pit drew him after his owner.

"Stop! Stop!!! Easy..." Bobby slipped the loop off his wrist with his free hand. "Run, boy, run! Go get someone!" The white flash released the leash from his teeth and bolted for the exit with a drawn-out howl.

Rolling onto his back, Bobby slid down toward the center of the funnel. Spreading his arms and legs wide, he moved them rapidly, letting stones and slabs pass around him, disappearing one by one into the ground.

"It's all right, we'll survive, it's just quicksand... There's no way I'll fit into that crack. I just need to hold my position here..." Turning his head to the side, Bobby watched thin streams of earth, gravel and stones running downward.

"Hey, you! Where are you? Help me! Stop hiding, help me!" He threw his face upward, his eyes running along the galleries. "Help me!" The echo rang through the abandoned manor, bouncing off every room. "Me, me... me..."

A loud metallic clang sounded somewhere deep beneath the foundation of the building. The earth shuddered. Torrents of soil poured downward, pulling Bobby with them.

A powerful jolt shook the building and brought down part of the upper gallery. It crashed below, sweeping everything in its path. A minute later the funnel had become a churned mass of rubble. Quiet metallic clicks, like the sound of clockwork, packed the earth down and went silent.

...

Having run some distance from the manor, Happy looked back. The tower rising above the treetops shuddered, a flock of blue birds shot upward and wheeled above it, shrieking wildly.

The dog whimpered and bolted.