snow glare. I barked my shins on three of the four chairs that stood around the small breakfast table, cracked my hip on the heavy chrome handle of the oven door, and nearly fell over Toby's box of tempra paints which he had left on the floor in front of the cabinet where they were supposed to be kept. I tried four drawers before I finally found the candles and matches. I lit two candles, at the expense of a charred thumb, and went back to the stairs in the living room, feeling rather foolish.
When he saw me Toby called down from the second-floor landing: "Hey, we're roughing it."
"Until we get the house's generator going," I said, climbing up toward them. "Maybe half an hour."
"Great!"
I led them down the steps in the dancing candlelight, and we went back into the kitchen where Connie found two brass holders to relieve me of the candles which had begun to melt and drip hotly on my hands.
"What happened?" she asked.
She was not taking the inconvenience with
Toby's kind of high spirits.
Neither was I.
"The wind's just awful tonight," I said. "It probably brought down a tree somewhere along the line. Power and telephone cables are on the same poles- so one good-sized oak or maple or pine could do the whole job."
"Great!" Toby said. He looked at us, misinterpreted our glum expressions, and corrected himself. "I mean-fabulous!"
"I better go see about the generator," I said.
"What about fuel?" Connie asked.
"There's plenty of oil in the ground tank. We could run the house on our own power for a week or ten days without any problem."
"Swiss Family Robinson," Toby said.
"Well," I told him, "we have a few technological advantages that weren't available to the
Swiss Family Robinson."
"You think it might be a week or ten days before the lines are restored?" Connie asked.
"No, no. I was on the phone with Sam when it happened. He'll know what's gone wrong. He'll call the telephone and the power companies. As soon as this blizzard lets up a bit, they'll start out to see about it."
Tony grabbed hold of my sleeve and tugged on it. "Hey, Dad! Can I go out to the generator with you?"
"No," Connie said.
"But why, Mom?"
"You just had a bath."
"What's that got to do with it?" Plaintively.
"A hot bath opens your pores," she told him, "and makes you susceptible to colds. You'll stay in here with me."
But we both knew that was not the real reason he would have to stay inside rather than go with me to the barn where the auxiliary generator was stored.
You're being irrational, I told myself.
The yellow-eyed animal had nothing to do with this.
Maybe
Why do you fear it so much? You haven't seen it. It hasn't tried to harm you. Instinct? That's not good enough. Well, it's as if the thing, whatever it is, emanates some sort of radiation that generates fear But that isn't good enough either; in fact, that's downright silly.
It's only an animal.
Nothing more.
Yes. Of course. But what if
What if what?
I couldn't answer that one.
"I'll get your coat and boots,"
Connie said.
I picked up one of the candles. "I'm going to the den for a minute."
She turned around, silhouetted in the orange candlelight, her blue eyes touched with green. What-"
"To get the pistol. It's time to load it."
----
6.
For the first time in weeks, I dreamed. It was a replay of the old, once familiar nightmare:
I was pinned down by enemy rifle fire, lying in a meager patch of scrub brush, forty yards from the base of the long slope that was referred to on ordnance maps as Hill #898. The flatland that we held was swampy; the rain fell hard and fast, impacting with an endless snap!snap!snap! on the
When he saw me Toby called down from the second-floor landing: "Hey, we're roughing it."
"Until we get the house's generator going," I said, climbing up toward them. "Maybe half an hour."
"Great!"
I led them down the steps in the dancing candlelight, and we went back into the kitchen where Connie found two brass holders to relieve me of the candles which had begun to melt and drip hotly on my hands.
"What happened?" she asked.
She was not taking the inconvenience with
Toby's kind of high spirits.
Neither was I.
"The wind's just awful tonight," I said. "It probably brought down a tree somewhere along the line. Power and telephone cables are on the same poles- so one good-sized oak or maple or pine could do the whole job."
"Great!" Toby said. He looked at us, misinterpreted our glum expressions, and corrected himself. "I mean-fabulous!"
"I better go see about the generator," I said.
"What about fuel?" Connie asked.
"There's plenty of oil in the ground tank. We could run the house on our own power for a week or ten days without any problem."
"Swiss Family Robinson," Toby said.
"Well," I told him, "we have a few technological advantages that weren't available to the
Swiss Family Robinson."
"You think it might be a week or ten days before the lines are restored?" Connie asked.
"No, no. I was on the phone with Sam when it happened. He'll know what's gone wrong. He'll call the telephone and the power companies. As soon as this blizzard lets up a bit, they'll start out to see about it."
Tony grabbed hold of my sleeve and tugged on it. "Hey, Dad! Can I go out to the generator with you?"
"No," Connie said.
"But why, Mom?"
"You just had a bath."
"What's that got to do with it?" Plaintively.
"A hot bath opens your pores," she told him, "and makes you susceptible to colds. You'll stay in here with me."
But we both knew that was not the real reason he would have to stay inside rather than go with me to the barn where the auxiliary generator was stored.
You're being irrational, I told myself.
The yellow-eyed animal had nothing to do with this.
Maybe
Why do you fear it so much? You haven't seen it. It hasn't tried to harm you. Instinct? That's not good enough. Well, it's as if the thing, whatever it is, emanates some sort of radiation that generates fear But that isn't good enough either; in fact, that's downright silly.
It's only an animal.
Nothing more.
Yes. Of course. But what if
What if what?
I couldn't answer that one.
"I'll get your coat and boots,"
Connie said.
I picked up one of the candles. "I'm going to the den for a minute."
She turned around, silhouetted in the orange candlelight, her blue eyes touched with green. What-"
"To get the pistol. It's time to load it."
----
6.
For the first time in weeks, I dreamed. It was a replay of the old, once familiar nightmare:
I was pinned down by enemy rifle fire, lying in a meager patch of scrub brush, forty yards from the base of the long slope that was referred to on ordnance maps as Hill #898. The flatland that we held was swampy; the rain fell hard and fast, impacting with an endless snap!snap!snap! on the