A Taste for Rabbit Read online

  “I don’t know,” Frank said. “Waiting until tomorrow night … ” He walked back to the window. “But I can’t do this myself, either. I can hardly see straight. What do you think, Quentin?”

  This is probably the most important decision of my life, Quentin thought fuzzily. He weighed his options: exchange security and predictability, the things I most rely on in my life to make me happy, for risk and the unknown, and jump off the wall. Or be drafted and become part of the military elite, always watching my back because Small Ears would certainly do everything he could to destroy me. Is this the way I want to spend my life, fighting Wally? And what about helping Frank, an old friend?

  I am between a wolf and a weasel.

  Quentin swallowed a large gulp of plumbo, and the room began to swim again. What about the wall — could he jump? Never. But how could he admit to Zack and Frank that he was terrified, that he’d rather face a thousand starving foxes and wolves, alone and unarmed, than jump from the wall into the dark? He couldn’t, not when they were willing to risk their lives to do the right thing.

  He took a deep breath. “All right,” he said, hoping his voice showed conviction. “We’ll go together. I’ll leave with you, tomorrow.”

  “Good decision, Q,” Zack said, obviously relieved. “Frank, you can stay with me tonight.”

  Frank stood up. “I’m grateful to you both.” He held out a paw. “Thank you.”

  “Maybe the plumbo has given you mouse courage,” Zack said to Quentin, “the courage of the timid.”

  Quentin thought about it. “Beware the courage of the timid,” he said quietly.

  “You realize that once we leave, we may not be able to come back,” Frank said.

  “Yes.” Quentin stood, wavered, and held out his glass.

  Frank and Zack did the same.

  “May the gods be kind,” Frank said, his voice breaking.

  “Yes,” Quentin said. “And to mouse courage.”

  They clinked glasses and downed the contents in one gulp.

  When Harry went downstairs for breakfast at around midmorning, he saw the dining room had been transformed. One very large, long table had been set up horizontally across the room, and the early rising guests were already seated. A buffet, which Harry had not noticed the night before, stood against one wall, loaded with toasts, jams, preserved fruits and vegetables, and several different kinds of hot beverages. The fire spat and crackled in the hearth, and the light through the snow-spattered windows was pale and slanted. There was a murmur of conversation in the room; one or two raccoons looked up as he entered and then returned to their plates. At the farthest end of the table sat Gerard, looking fresh and rested, engrossed in conversation with the badger of the previous evening.

  “Harry!” called Gerard, gesturing. “Over here! I’ve saved a spot for you.”

  Wonderful, thought Harry. The surveillance continues. He forced a smile and made his way to the end of the table. “Good morning,” he said with a nod.

  “Harry, meet Elton. We’ve been chatting about our journey to the Southeast. Elton’s in sales.”

  Elton the badger wore a brown tweed jacket with patches at the elbows. His eyeglasses had thick lenses and gave him a studious, bookish air. He leaned across the table. “Harry,” he said, and held out his paw. His voice was low-pitched, and he spoke in the odd shorthand characteristic of his species.

  “Our journey to the Southeast” did not escape Harry’s notice. He decided to take up the challenge. “Yes,” he said, “our journey. We should plan to start immediately.”

  Gerard smiled broadly. “Excellent, excellent. Oh, Harry, try the acorn toast. It’s delicious.”

  “I will.” Harry went to the sideboard and piled his plate high, then poured himself what looked like hot fruit juice and returned to his seat. “What do you sell, Elton?”

  Elton was carefully scraping syrup from the bottom of his very clean plate, his face very close to the surface. He didn’t look up. “Tools. Art supplies. You?”

  That was a good question. “How’s business these days?” Harry said quickly, digging into his breakfast. “This weather must make it difficult to be traveling with samples.”

  “Catalog mostly.” Elton looked up. “You?” he repeated.

  “My good friend Harry is … an investigator,” said Gerard, with a sly look at Harry. “He investigates things.”

  “Going Southeast?” Elton asked, peering over his glasses.

  “Yes,” Gerard said. “We are.”

  “Cabins?”

  “Yes, I believe we were planning to stop there,” Gerard said with a questioning look at Harry, who nodded curtly.

  “Join you. Company.” Elton squinted at the sideboard. “More,” he said, and pushed back his chair.

  “Join you? What is he talking about?” Harry said as Elton made his way to the food. “He’s not coming along. He may like company, but I don’t.”

  “I agree,” Gerard said, his brow furrowed. “But what excuse can we give? The weather is terrible, and apparently we are all going in the same direction.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Elton returned with another full plate and a mug of steaming liquid. He seated himself, carefully and methodically attacked the breakfast, eating slowly but without stopping, except for a periodic sip from the mug. Harry took in his glasses, his intense concentration, and the expression of deep satisfaction he seemed to take from the meal.

  Mama would have said anyone who enjoyed food that much couldn’t be too bad.

  “Tools. Could help,” Elton said, picking up the conversation as if he’d never left.

  Gerard cleared his throat. “Harry and I were just discussing that,” he said. “Thank you for your offer, but we prefer to go on alone.”

  “Why?”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Harry had to acknowledge that he had no answer. “I just do,” he said curtly.

  Elton looked at Gerard. “You?”

  “I’m afraid I must agree with my good friend Harry,” he said. “Perhaps another time.”

  Elton finished his breakfast without speaking. “Perhaps,” he said, nodding to Harry and Gerard. He walked out of the dining room.

  “Well, that was awkward,” Gerard said. “You know,” he went on after a moment, “it might not be a bad idea to have him along.”

  “What?”

  “Think about it. For one thing, he certainly won’t overwhelm us with conversation. And he could be useful. Badgers are famous for their stubbornness. I’ve been thinking he could come in handy were we to meet with any unexpected resistance.”

  “Resistance? From rabbits? What are you talking about?”

  “Slip of the tongue, old fellow. I didn’t mean resistance as such.” Gerard seemed uncomfortable. “I should have said ‘unexpected occurrences.’ You yourself mentioned feral wolves, for example. What with this weather and the rumors about the rabbits, one never knows.”

  Harry munched on the acorn toast. “If you want to travel with him, that’s fine. I’ll go on alone.”

  “No, no,” said Gerard. “You’re right. We don’t need him.” He stood up and stretched. “I’ll ask the ladies to prepare us some food for the trip.”

  A short while later, when Harry walked into the lobby, Gerard was already there, his tapestry carpetbag bulging, his briefcase under his arm. Bundled in a fur coat and a hat with earflaps, the fur side inward, he could barely raise a paw in greeting.

  “Allison has checked your room,” Becky said to Harry in her musical voice, “and she says it’s all right. No damage, no vandalism. I hope you’ll come again,” she added. “We so rarely have foxes here. I mean, decent ones.” She held out a paw. “Thank you for staying at Inn the Forest.”

  Gerard went to the front door and turned in Becky’s direction. “Farewell, good innkeeper,” he said with a dramatic bow, whose effect was somewhat diminished by the earflaps, “and thank you for the delicious repast you have prepared for us.”

 
; “You’re most welcome,” Becky said, looking pleased. “It’s the least we can do for one of our most loyal guests. Will we be seeing you next week?”

  “I’m … not sure. In any case, I look forward to partaking of your gracious hospitality once again, whenever that might be.” He glanced briefly at Harry and added drily, “Oh, and please extend my thanks to your partner, the warm and charming Allison.”

  Becky, detecting no irony, laughed with delight and said, “You always say that, Mr. Gerard. But I certainly will.”

  Harry opened the door and they stepped out into the gray-white world. He was stunned to see Elton, wrapped and bandaged in scarves and a heavy coat of uncertain origin, squinting into the distance, his glasses nearly covered with partially melted snow, his sample case and pack alongside him.

  Gerard looked at Harry. “Well,” he said. “This is a surprise.”

  Elton lifted the heavy backpack to his shoulders and turned to Harry. “Ready?”

  Harry shrugged. He couldn’t prevent the badger from taking the same road at the same time. “I travel quickly and I don’t like to waste time.”

  Elton nodded. “Understood.”

  They started off into the forest. The path was buried in soft, new-fallen snow that had been mounded in little hills by the wind; they pushed against it with every step.

  Harry’s irritation gave him energy, and he was soon far ahead of Gerard and Elton. Good. He needed to think.

  He had not slept terribly well. His mind kept returning to Gerard and the note he’d found in Gerard’s carpetbag: “Remember: I trust you.” The confidence, the certainty! The faith in someone obviously not the least bit trustworthy. But Isaac was no fool. Surely, he’d seen through the weasel’s deceptive nature as easily as Harry. Then why the note? What was going on? What was Isaac up to? Harry turned it over in his mind, but could come up with nothing.

  He breathed in the cold air and looked back. Behind him, he could see the small shapes of Gerard and Elton moving toward him; beyond them, the Inn was gray-brown in the distance, its strange, sprawling additions nearly buried in the snow-laden woods around it, the smoke from several chimneys barely visible against the white sky. Harry’s tracks were slowly filling with snow; in a short time they would vanish. It was very quiet. He took his pouch from his shoulder and rested it on the ground, where it sank gently into the crusted snow cover and quickly became covered with wet, white flakes.

  After a while, Gerard and Elton approached. Gerard was breathing hard. They threw down their bundles and the weasel sat heavily, leaning against a boulder.

  “Tired already?” Harry said. “We’ll never reach the cabins before dark at this rate.”

  “Need help,” said Elton. He rummaged in his pack and withdrew a small hatchet in a worn leather sheath. He walked off to their right and soon disappeared into the snowy forest. They heard him thrashing through the brush for a few minutes. Then it was silent.

  “I’m beginning to think this may work out,” Gerard said, breathing more regularly now. “He’s a good listener. A rare quality these days, don’t you agree?” He reached into his carpetbag, pulled out a small silver box and removed a cigarette and some matches. He lit up and inhaled deeply, dropping the match into the snow, where it sizzled briefly. The aroma of sassafras leaves filled the air.

  “I suppose.”

  Gerard looked at him closely. “What’s on your mind, Harry?” he asked. “Something bothering you?”

  You are bothering me, Harry thought. You and “Remember: I trust you.”

  “You’d have more stamina if you gave that up,” Harry said, ignoring the question and nodding toward the cigarette.

  Gerard gave him a sharp look and then quickly smiled. “You are of course correct, my friend,” he said agreeably, inhaling deeply again. “It was a habit I acquired during my career on the stage. Always good to have something to do with one’s paws instead of just standing there like a stick. Besides, there are so few pleasures one can actually count on in this life, don’t you agree?” He gazed into the woods. “What can he be up to?”

  They waited in silence. Gerard smoked and flicked ashes into the snow, his eyes closed. The aroma of sassafras was intense.

  Harry stood and looked up. The falling snow was endless, the cold pervasive. “You know,” he said angrily, “this is why I travel alone. I could have been halfway to the cabins by now!” He turned to Gerard. “If he isn’t here within the next two minutes I am going on ahead. You can catch up to me.”

  Gerard opened his eyes. “I share your impatience, but that’s probably a good idea,” he said. “I like the way you think, Harry. We’ll follow your trail and be right behind you. You can start a fire when you arrive. Here …” He reached into his carpetbag and pulled out a large wrapped package. “The ladies prepared this for us. You’ll need it. There’s more — I can share with Elton.”

  Harry was surprised and then immediately suspicious. He had expected resistance or some kind of protest from Gerard. Instead, the weasel had agreed to his idea — too quickly. Did he want Harry to travel alone? But how could he spy on him if they didn’t travel together? Or was this an effort to throw him off the track?

  The package was too large to fit into his pouch, so he tucked it under his arm. “I’m going, then,” he said.

  “Good,” said Gerard, raising himself with difficulty and brushing himself off. “I’ll explain to Elton. We’ll see you … wait! I hear something.”

  There was a thrashing in the distance. In a few minutes, Elton emerged from the woods carrying three stout sticks and handed one to Harry and one to Gerard. “Here,” he said. He put the hatchet into his backpack.

  Harry suddenly remembered Isaac’s folded walking stick. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened it up. “I have this,” he said, “but I’m sure Gerard will find his helpful.” He handed his stick back to Elton, who tossed it into the woods.

  “Indeed I will, and I’m not too proud to say so. Thank you, Elton.”

  Elton nodded briefly in response, then took Isaac’s folding stick from Harry’s paw and examined it. “Fine work,” he said, turning it over in his paws. He handed it back. “Sell lots.”

  “It doesn’t belong to me,” Harry said. “It was borrowed.”

  Gerard was walking slowly in a circle, testing his stick. “Excellent, excellent. By the way,” he said, turning to Elton, “Harry was just leaving.”

  Elton looked up.

  “I’ll wait for both of you at the cabins,” Harry said. “I used to spend summers there when I was young. Look for me in the building along the lake, the farthest from the main road.”

  “Ah, a return to the magical land of childhood,” Gerard said. “No wonder you’re impatient to leave. I would be too. In fact, I am. Unfortunately, I’m not as fast on my feet as I used to be and my progress will be slower than I would like.” He sighed. “We do our best.”

  “It’s not nostalgia,” Harry said, barely able to contain his annoyance. “We still have some distance to go, and I prefer not to travel at night. We’ll need some place to rest.”

  “Good plan,” Gerard said. “Don’t you agree, Elton?”

  Elton nodded.

  “Well, see you soon, then,” Gerard said, leaning down to pick up his things. Elton did the same.

  Harry turned and started out briskly. The walking stick provided excellent stability even on the snowy path, and in a short while he was nearly a mile away.

  All around him the forest was white and silent except for the regular, muffled thump of the walking stick and the soft shush of the falling snow. Occasionally a tree branch snapped and fell, but even that sound was distant. The gray sky seemed low to the ground, as if the horizon were at his feet.

  Harry breathed deep sighs, inhaling the cold air with relish. He felt as though an enormous burden had been lifted from his shoulders — even his pouch seemed lighter. After a while, he stopped and consulted the map, making a small adjustment in his direction. Toward midafternoo
n he stopped again and unwrapped part of the meal the raccoons had provided.

  He sat, leaning against a tree, and munched on the mushroom-and-potato sandwich. In the back of his mind there were questions, puzzles. The more he thought about it, the more he found the unanswered questions intolerable. There was only one solution: Confront Gerard with what he knew and demand an explanation. The presence of Elton would be inconvenient, but Harry felt confident he could find a way to handle it. Gerard would either lie or tell the truth, but Harry would know the difference. It would be almost entertaining to watch Gerard attempt to fabricate a story, undoubtedly some long, detailed narrative, delivered in the weasel’s characteristically cheerful manner and ending with “Don’t you agree?” No, I don’t agree, Harry thought. Whatever you say, whatever you make up, I don’t agree.

  Harry gathered his belongings, picked up the walking stick, and headed toward the cabins. In a short time, he would have his answers.

  The cold hit Quentin’s face with a force that made his eyes tear. He reached with a mittened paw to tighten the scarf around his neck and with the other closed the door to his apartment firmly. As he fumbled with the lock, the key slid from his paw and fell to the ground, disappearing into the snow. “Damn!” Should he look for it? There was no time — he was late. Late! I have never been late for anything in my life — and now my first time is going to be my last.

  He had slept for fourteen hours in what he realized was a kind of drunken coma, and now he was AWOL. They would be coming after him at any moment to take him to prison. I have to get to the perimwall, Quentin thought. Damn plumbo. Damn the key. Damn everything. He left the key and turned down the street. I’m not coming back anyway. Maybe.

  He looked around and saw no one — of course. It was after curfew. For a moment, the dark, empty streets before him, blanketed in white, looked safe and peaceful. Then the glare of the flickering street lamps on the snow nearly blinded him, and his head pounded with every beat of his heart. I don’t need to wait for the military police. This hangover is going to kill me.