The Messenger

24

Daniel awoke to the sound of something tapping against his bedroom window, a soft, relentless, irregular beat. He turned on his bedside lamp and pulled back the curtain. He stifled a cry of revulsion-the screen was crawling with small brown beetles. Even as he watched, more flew to join the ones now clinging to the mesh, making the tapping sound as they landed against it.

He dropped the curtain into place and scrambled off the bed. He dressed hurriedly and headed out down the hall toward Evan’s room. Evan’s door flew open before he reached it.

“Goddamn!” Evan said. “You should see what’s happening!”

“Bunch of bugs on your window screen?”

Evan nodded. “Yours, too?"

“Yes, we better tell the boss.”

Evan paled. He whispered, “You think so? He’s already unhappy about that fucking wimp.”

“It was his plan. Did you think for one minute that plan was going to work?” Daniel whispered back.

“No, I did not. Not for one minute.”

They fell silent and made their way toward the kitchen. Daniel heard the sound of running water as they came closer to the kitchen door.

He put a hand on Evan’s forearm, halting his progress. “Did you leave the water running in the kitchen sink?”

Evan, listening to the rushing sound coming from the other side of the kitchen door, shook his head.

Daniel steeled himself and pulled the door open. He flipped on the light and jumped back against Evan. “What the hell!”

The floor was moving. From beneath the door on the opposite wall, which led to the back porch, a steady stream of brown beetles squeezed through an opening and joined the others that filled the kitchen floor. In the next moment Daniel saw that they seemed uninterested in coming through the door he had just opened-in fact, they did not come near Daniel or Evan. Instead, they all moved in one direction, clambered over one another in their eagerness to reach one destination: the door to the basement. There a great pile of them scrabbled against that barrier in a futile frenzy to overcome it.

“Open the door!” the voice from the basement called.

“My lord?” Daniel answered.

“Open the door to the basement, you fool! Let them come to me!”

Daniel tried not to think about the crunching beneath his shoes as he walked over to the door and unlocked it. He opened it, and the beetle river plunged past him and down the stairs. He felt the rush of them against the sides of his shoes, and stood paralyzed. Even when he squeezed his eyes shut, he could hear the click of their bodies knocking together, a sound that became louder, as if someone were pouring gravel down the stairs. After another moment, though, it began to taper off.

“Not enough! Not enough!” the voice from the basement said angrily.

Daniel opened his eyes.

“Evan!” his lordship commanded from below. “Open the door to the porch!”

“Yes, my lord!”

Daniel looked back to see Evan cross the kitchen floor. There were not so many beetles now, and though the stream continued to come in from beneath the porch door, Evan was able to cross the floor without stepping on any of the insects.

But when he opened the door, what seemed to be thousands of the beetles came rushing in, scrabbling over Evan’s shoes toward Daniel, who quickly moved back from the doorway to the cellar. They charged past him, and again the flow down the stairs became noisy, their shiny, hard wing cases battering together in their eagerness to go below.

Eventually the river of beetles became nothing more than a trickle, although a steady procession of them still made its way from the open door.

His lordship spoke again, and it seemed to Daniel that his voice was stronger than ever before.

“You shall leave that door open, Evan, until I tell you otherwise.”

“Yes, my lord.”

A silence fell, and then Daniel realized that this was not quite silence. There was a continuous crunching sound coming from the basement.

At last there was a pause. “Daniel, you need not bring me any more remains. As you have probably guessed, I’m able to feed myself now.”

“Yes, my lord,” Daniel answered, a little shakily.

His lordship laughed, but his voice was sharp when he said, “Do not interfere with anything that comes through that door, do you both understand me?”

“Yes, my lord,” they answered in unison.

“Good. Now, soon I shall finally be able to emerge from this hovel and find us a decent place to live. But when we leave this house, you must never use my title when addressing me before others. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” they answered again.

Daniel wanted to ask him what they should call him, but didn’t dare. He saw Evan open his mouth and shot him a look of warning, which Evan had no trouble reading. They waited in silence for dismissal.

“Henceforth,” said the voice, “refer to me as Mr. Adrian. You might as well start practicing that here at home. I don’t want any slipups in public.”

“Yes, sir,” they said.

“Very good. Daniel, take off your shoes and toss them down the stairs. Leave the door to the basement open.”

“Yes, Mr. Adrian.”

When this task was accomplished, the voice said, “You may go. I bid you both a good evening.”

They wished him a good evening in return, as they had been trained to do. They exchanged a look of shared fear and confusion, but did not speak to each other as they made their way to their rooms, except to say good night when they reached their doors.

Daniel took off his shoes and climbed back into bed. He lifted the curtain over his window. The screen was empty. He let the curtain fall back into place.

He did not fall asleep again for several hours, but over that wakeful time no answer to his most worrisome question occurred to him. Even his dreams did not tell him how he might escape from someone or something he must now call Mr. Adrian.