Not All There

by

Carol Cail

He didn't mean to wake up.

Leo groaned when he felt sleep fall away. Sleep meant no worries, no pain. Nobody yelling at him. No screaming.

It was still dark out, but the birds had begun their annoying hurrah. Half a block away, someone's chumpy dog barked at something or nothing. As Leo tried to coast back into oblivion, the newspaper smacked the porch.

Nothing for it. He'd have to face the day. Too late to turn back.

He often woke like this thinking that something had changed while he was unaware. That he would never be the same.

He opened his eyes and stretched. His bladder ached. The house pressed on him, cool and quiet. He and Mellie hadn't slept together for a long time. Lately she and the kids shared the room at the other end of the long hall. He didn't know why. Maybe because he snored. Maybe because he'd changed while he was unaware.

For a long moment, he fought his loneliness and a wail building under his breastbone. Winning, he rose and padded to the bathroom, favoring his arthritic hip. After he relieved himself and while he was washing up, he tried not to think.

Kerclink. Shu-shu-sss. He raised his head, knowing at once what it meant--the glass door from the backyard patio whispering open.

Alarmed, he crept to the open archway between hall and kitchen. Standing in shadow, he watched a dark outline writhe into the house and close the slider softly. The gleaming floor reflected the progress of the shape into the kitchen. A flashlight flared.

Leo cringed deeper into hiding, fear and anger bubbling in his throat. The intruder wore a black stocking cap, black shiny jacket, black shorts, black shoes. The skin of his bare face, neck, hands, legs, and ankles shone white as milk. His eyes glittered as he opened cabinets and drawers and stirred them for treasure to stuff into the black gym bag he carried.

Leo didn't have a gun or a knife. The intruder outweighed him, stood heads taller, no doubt was much stronger.

No matter. Leo didn't care. The two-legged skunk could take it all, every pinch and penny he could discover and tote. Leo--just--didn't--care. He backed across the hall into the dining room to wait out the plundering.

It didn't take long. The intruder's light bobbed closer and skimmed past walls to point toward the other end of the house. Leo held his breath, listening to the intruder's sly progress down the hall.

Leo shadowed him, willing him not to turn and discover Leo in the dimness, willing him to turn aside into the study or the sewing room. But the son of a bitch headed straight for the door at the far end. *Their* bedroom.

White-hot outrage waxed and waned through Leo. After a moment, when he could see again, he edged closer--silent, silent.

The intruder reached the door and bent forward, ear to the wood. Don't open it, Leo telepathed the intruder. I'll have to kill you if you do.

For some time now, Leo had wondered if he was okay. The least little thing could tip him into a fury. But this was no little thing, this intruder in his house.

They stood there in the breathless moment for a long time, the intruder waiting for a sign of life on the other side, and Leo picturing them--Mellie and the kids, lying in a tangled heap on the floor beside the bed.

The intruder's pale hand spread and fastened on the doorknob. Leo tensed. The fingers tightened and twisted oh-so-slow.

Watching this, Leo felt the wildness rise up to possess him. With a shriek, he leaped forward and, having nothing else, grabbed the man to him and clamped his teeth on the intruder's face.

Now both of them were shrieking, shaking one another, Leo an avid leech attached to the other's cheek or fleshy lower jaw. The intruder smashed at Leo's head with the flashlight, again and again, and, stunned, Leo clawed deeper into bare skin. He tasted coppery blood, felt his teeth strike bone or teeth. The intruder swung them both into a wall so hard Leo felt his shoulder implode, but still he held on, blood slickening his chin. He smelled waste, and knew it wasn't his. He also knew he would win, and damn the consequences of this exhilarating lack of control.

The whimpering, praying, swearing intruder dragged Leo the length of the hall to the kitchen, to the sliding door and out. The two of them reeled across the patio and onto the slippery-damp grass, Siamese twins joined at the jaw.

Bursts of light strobed in Leo's head in rhythm with his pain, but he didn't unclench his grip.

Weeping, the intruder aimed himself toward the alley. The nest of trash cans tripped him into it. The intruder was no longer on his property; Leo relaxed his mouth and nails, and the intruder ripped free. Leo dropped exhausted onto the gritty blacktop while the intruder lurch-limped away. A car started. The yard light burst on.

Leo pushed himself up and wobbled inside. In the kitchen, Ruth clutched her nightgown tight to her throat, and Chet squeezed a telephone to his ear. And there they were--Mellie and the kids, their big eyes dark with fright.

Ruth squealed and swooped at Leo, to pick him up, but he twisted free and crawled under the table, to wash the violence from his whiskers. When he calmed down, he'd decide whether he'd proved his manhood.

---END---