Shaughnessy said “Don’t you want your bow?”
Will did not turn. Then, twenty feet ahead, a rabbit darted out from the shelter of a bush, saw Will and froze. Will stopped. Shaughnessy and Surrey came up quietly beside him. The rabbit remained absolutely still. Shaughnessy moved the bow slowly toward Will, offering it. He whispered “Your turn.”
Above the brush Will could see his grandfather’s bridge, the rapid transit bridge, the domicile and Fundy’s Bridge. He could see all these things without moving his eyes, because they were so far away. Shaughnessy wagged the bow slowly in front of Will. Without turning his head Will accepted it. Shaughnessy took the plastic bag from Will and quietly opened it and slid out an arrow. This Will also accepted.
Will drew back the bow and finally lowered his eyes from the distant panorama. He stepped very slowly forward until he was ten feet from the rabbit. He held his aim for many seconds, but the rabbit did not move.
When the arrow struck, the rabbit did not fall over dead. It ran. It made no sound. It left behind no blood. The arrow was about three feet long. It had pierced the abdomen of the rabbit to half its length. The rest of the arrow protruded from the other side.
Shaughnessy and Surrey took off after it, hollering hysterically. Whenever the rabbit snagged one end of the arrow on a bush they would give a piercing laugh and one of them would make a dive for it. They were wild with joy. But the rabbit kept just ahead of them, dodging, scrambling madly whenever the arrow caught on something.
Will heard the shouts and laughter of the boys grow faint. He picked up the bag of arrows and began walking quickly toward home. He was looking at the ground, and tears were dripping from the tip of his nose. As he passed the toilet bowl he heard a rustling in the bushes, and a second later the rabbit was in front of him again. The arrow still protruded on either side. There was still no blood. The rabbit took off as Will came near, but both ends of the arrow caught on bushes.
Will heard Shaughnessy and Surrey crashing toward him. They were calling “Will! Will! It’s comin’! Get it!” The animal was so light that it weighed almost nothing, but still the cattail stem snapped when Will tried to use it to lift the rabbit. He held the rabbit down with his left hand and took hold of a rear leg with his right. The nail in the protruding end of the arrow narrowly missed his own face as he swung the rabbit hard against the toilet bowl. Finally there was blood, a small smear on the porcelain. He dropped the dead rabbit and slid the broken shaft out and tossed it away. He picked up the bow and the bag and continued toward home. He did not turn.
“Whoa, blood!” said Shaughnessy behind him.
“Smashed its rotten brains” said Surrey.
Will walked quickly on. The boys were silent. Then Shaughnessy said “I bet they got your sister.”
Surrey said “I bet they smashed her rotten brains.”
The bow and bag dropped from Will’s hands. He whirled and charged, head down, shrieking. Wide-eyed, Surrey threw up his arms and stepped backward onto the rabbit and tripped over the toilet and fell. Shaughnessy also tried to get out of the way, but without looking up Will rammed him in the stomach with his head. Shaughnessy folded, and his feet left the ground. He sailed a little distance before landing in a sitting posture.
For a few seconds he simply sat there, with his legs straight out in front and his hands flat on the ground, looking dazed. Then he began making desperate gasping sounds, like a dry pump. He was so concerned with trying to draw breath that he did not even look at Will, who had also fallen but now stood above him. Will had stopped shrieking. With his fists clenched he faced his friend. He shook his head bitterly. His shoulders quaked with sobs.
Will turned and took a fast step toward Surrey. But then he stopped and watched the boy scramble away into the bushes on hands and knees, whimpering with fear. Will picked up the bow and the bag and ran toward his home.
28
“Take it from me.”
“Take it from you.”
“No, I mean… She’s Noor — she’s got to be safe.” Granville shrugged, as if no further comment were possible.
“I am reassured” said Frost dryly, without turning to Granville. The two men trudged up an exit ramp. He said “No one has got to be safe.”
“No, that’s right too. You can say that again.”
They headed up the bridge. It was late afternoon, getting dark, and foggy. When Frost ran a hand over his beard he felt droplets of mist. He could not see as far as the middle of the bridge. He could not see if his men were there. He said “Have you seen my graveyard?”
Granville said “I didn’t mean… I only meant…”
Granville had no hat. His red hair had grown in to form a thin mat, but his beard was only sparse threads of copper, hardly visible in the weak light. He had a long wool shift and sandals. He carried a black bag over his shoulder.
Frost said “You did good work for Daniel Charlie.”
“No problem, Frost.”
“Flattening those nails. Working on the water wheel.”
“Anythin’ to help out.”
Frost stopped and listened. Granville also stopped. But no sound from up ahead penetrated the fog. They started again. Frost said “Now you’re a good citizen.”
Granville swiveled his face sharply toward Frost, but Frost looked straight ahead with no expression. Granville tried a small, tentative laugh. Then he also faced forward. He wrinkled his brow. Soon he said “That’s right, Frost.”
In the fog, on the more or less uniform roadway, there was no sense of progress. They seemed to be walking in place. Granville said “Frost, can I ask a question?”
“You just did.”
Granville thought for a while, then said “What?”
“You just did ask a question.”
Granville produced his half-laugh again.
Frost said “Jesus, if you’re going to ask, ask. Don’t ask if you can ask.”
“Sorry, Frost, sorry. I didn’t mean… I mean… I just…”
Frost stopped and looked squarely at Granville. “Do you have a question for me?”
“I do, Frost. If it’s okay with you. What is a citizen?”
They walked on. Frost said “A citizen, Granville, is a person who helps out.”
Granville mulled this over. He said “You mean, like I did?”
“I mean, like you do.”
Granville stood up a little straighter. He raised his chin. His narrowed eyes expressed a sense of purpose.
Frost said “Not like before.”
Granville hunched, as if the bag had suddenly grown heavier. He stared morosely down at the concrete of the roadway and was careful not to glance toward Frost. After a while he mumbled without looking up “No, that’s true too” and then “You can say that again.”
Frost said “Do you still get the urge?”
Invited to converse further with Frost, Granville brightened. “Urge? What’s that?”
“Do you ever want skag?”
“Oh no, Frost. I’m done with skag. I’m a citizen now.” He nodded earnestly, then smiled. He retained several teeth, well rotted.
“I don’t believe you. I think you have a struggle every day.”
“What’s a struggle?”
“A fight. You have to fight the urge.”
“No, well, that’s true too. You can say that again. I mean…”
They walked without talking for a while. It was getting dark quickly, but as they proceeded farther up the bridge the fog was thinning. Frost said “What kind of a man is Langley?”
Granville tensed. For a few seconds he peered back into the mist. His hand tightened on the neck of the bag. He shrugged. He walked on with a creased brow. He shrugged again.
Frost said “I know he’s a bad man. You don’t have to tell me that.”