On the outside, at least, the home of Ms. Mandisa was disappointingly unremarkable. It was a typical white cape, sort of stately if you accepted a loose definition, dormers extending the second floor headroom. Maybe it had been painted once in the last ten years, but the lawn was overgrown and the rust on the chain-link fence was worse than Pete’s acne. A blue Volvo was planted in the yard, the fraying Bilsford High School parking sticker looking like its newest part.
Not that it was unusual. Most academics weren’t big earners, and—head in the clouds anyway—some just let their places go to seed. What bothered Chelsea more was how far she was from home. The bike ride that she’d told her mother would take fifteen minutes was closer to forty. Thirty-seven minutes, eighteen seconds. And she was cold despite her warm jacket.
Chelsea pedaled onto the gravel driveway. She hopped off, laid her bike against a thick pine and noticed that all the first-floor windows were barred. This was also not unusual. The university town suffered from many a petty robbery. Usually no one was hurt, but there was always some down-and-out student willing to test your doors or windows. The newer colonial Chelsea shared with her parents had a full-blown alarm system, but her parents had only installed that so she could sleep at night.
She looked up and thought the bars on the second-floor windows were pushing it. Bilsford thieves didn’t bother to climb. Too much effort. She made a quick circuit around the house, counting. Twenty-one windows, all barred.
Back out front, a cheerful yipping made her turn to see a creature from a fantasy story galloping straight toward her. She gasped at the little brown body and white mane. Except for the floppy ears, it looked like a tiny horse. She thought she was hallucinating until she recognized the dog’s breed: Chinese crested. They’d had one just like it at Rhett’s when she started there. Pete nicknamed it “Ming the Merciless” because of the way it shredded chew toys. This little fellow had the same coloring.
Wait a minute. Could it be?
“Ming?”
The dog yipped again and lolled its tongue. It was Ming! Chelsea bent and patted the tiny horsey head, noticing the dragging leash. “You’re a surprise! Yes you are! A nice surprise! Where’s your owner, baby, huh? You got a tag?”
She felt around the neck and pulled a pink collar with silver studs into sight. Could it get more tacky? Well, what other sort of person would want a dog that looked like a little horse, anyway?
“Aristotle!” a sandpaper voice cried out. Chelsea remembered the tall, elegant woman who’d bought the dog two months ago as she strode up on her long legs. At five foot ten, she was a sight to behold. Straight, bleached-blonde hair dipped below her shoulders. Straight bangs hung over plucked eyebrows and eyes so blue, they had to be contacts. The light colors she wore, faded jeans and white turtleneck, coupled with her pale skin made her seem fragile, like porcelain.
“Bad, Aristotle!” the woman said. To Chelsea: “I’m so sorry. He’s so frisky. Just a puppy!”
“It’s okay. I know him. I work at Rhett’s.”
The woman’s mouth rounded with recognition. “Yes. I remember. You kept counting the change, like it was going to be different each time.” She scooped the little dog into her arms and nodded at the house. “You live there?”
“No, my teacher does. Ms. Mandisa.”
“Hope she’s hiring you to mow her lawn.”
“Sorry. Just pet sitting.”
“She has a dog?” the woman said, surprised.
“Uh…lizard.”
“Ew,” she said reflexively. “Well, if you need anything, or if Aristotle gets loose again, I’m Tess Sullivan. I live right across the street.” The woman spun and walked toward her box-like home, the long leash dragging behind them.
Turning back, Chelsea crept up the leaf-laden path to the door of the cape and tried to avoid counting her steps. There were only four stairs leading up to the porch, though, so she took them in at a glance before she could stop herself.
It wasn’t really an OCD thing. More an observation. Perfectly normal, right?
Before she could press the paint-covered buzzer, the door opened, revealing Ms. Mandisa. She wore a brown housecoat with orange accents that matched some of the dead leaves, and a wide grin that was singularly hers.
“I was afraid you’d decided not to come, and then I saw you with my neighbor. Quite a character, isn’t she? Come in, come in.”
As Chelsea entered, Ms. Mandisa lingered at the door, fidgeting with a big lock that seemed, strangely, to have a key on the inside. “The door’s a little complicated,” she said. “I’ll explain all that later, so you don’t lock yourself in.”
The door had opened to a staircase heading up. To the right was a small hall leading deeper into the house, a single doorway on the side. Further right was the living room proper, open to the hall and stairway. Outside the afternoon sun was shining, but the living room was dark enough for a small lamp to be turned on. Thick green drapes smothered the windows. The flower-patterned couch looked expensive and foreboding. Chelsea, afraid she’d have to sit on it, scanned for things to count.
But Ms. Mandisa kept walking, down the hall and into a wide, sunny kitchen with a back door. Chelsea followed her hostess, sliding her windbreaker off as she went. She was sweating already, and the house felt very warm, steamy even. Old radiators pinged and hissed.
“Juice? Coffee?”
“OJ with water would be great, Ms. Mandisa.”
“Call me Eve. Just not in the classroom, all right?” she said pleasantly.
Chelsea nodded and sat, not at all sure she wanted to call her teacher Eve. She liked the way Ms. Mandisa felt when she said it, but now, of course, the woman might be hurt if she didn’t use her less-lyrical first name. The table she sat at was a massive thing that looked like it could stop a tank, but at least it was clean. Though there wasn’t a spot of rust or decay, the design was very retro; silver edges, thin silver legs and a white Formica top. In the pattern lay scores of swirling dots, like instant coffee grains melting in hot water. The urge to count them was strong, but she resisted.
“Mostly I live in the kitchen. The living room is so depressing. I only go in there at night to read,” Eve Mandisa said as she retrieved the juice from the refrigerator.
“Why not take off the drapes?” Chelsea asked, quickly adding, “Eve.”
Eve made a face that revealed her skin was not as smooth as Chelsea thought. Tiny crow’s-feet stalked her beautiful eyes and mouth. “The bars are more depressing than the dark. Mrs. Tenselbaum, the last owner, was a shut-in. Spent the last decades of her life without ever stepping outside. Sad, isn’t it?”
Chelsea assumed Eve was fishing for her to say something about her own condition, but it was a bad tack on a few counts. Shut-ins generally had agoraphobia. OCD could strike anytime, anywhere. It didn’t matter where she was. Still, there were days when she felt like locking herself in her room.
“Emily Dickinson was sort of a shut-in,” she answered defensively.
She heard the juice pour from behind the open refrigerator door. “Would you really want to be Emily Dickinson if it meant never going outside?”
Chelsea shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
Eve raised her head above the fridge door, smiled and shook it. “I guess you like her poetry more than I do. Mrs. Tenselbaum didn’t write anything except checks. All the window bars and locks she put in would be ridiculously expensive to replace.”
She put the juice in front of Chelsea. Throat dry from the cold outdoor air, Chelsea drank greedily.
“Upstairs is my bedroom and a lot of junk. I’d rather you didn’t go up there. Not that you would. Everything you need is down here anyway. You can put your coat in the hall closet if you like.”
Stay downstairs. Check. But then, where was the big, bad lizard? She twisted her head back toward the hallway, scanning, wondering if she’d missed a cage or a terrarium in the shadows of the living room.
“So where’s Koko’s cage?”
Eve’s face broke into a grin. She raised her hand to her mouth in a gesture that looked like she was catching a laugh before it escaped. “Sorry, I should have explained. It’s not a cage, exactly. Koko’s habitat takes up most of the basement. The only part of the house that has my special touch. Had to have the whole thing redone, special heating, infrared lights and such. That’s really why I couldn’t afford to remove the bars from the windows.”
Chelsea reared, noticing the remaining door in the kitchen that must lead to the basement. “Whatever he’s in, he can’t get out, right?”
Eve laughed and this time didn’t bother to stifle it. “Of course. Koko’s smart, but there’s no way he’s getting out, unless he charms you with his cute eyes and pouty expressions. Ready to see him?”
Chelsea nodded, even though she wasn’t. Eve rose.
“First the gross part. Get through this and I promise the rest is a snap. Koko only eats every other day, and I leave tomorrow.” She stepped toward a second, larger refrigerator Chelsea hadn’t noticed before.
Her eyes shot to the tabletop. How many dots were there? 6, 8, 10, 12…
Eve bent over and took something out of the fridge. Not wanting to seem like a complete idiot, Chelsea forced her head up. Eve held a large plastic bag in her hands. There was something in it heavy enough to make the bag sag, wet enough to cause a reddish liquid to pool in the bottom seam. Interior moisture blurred the surface, but white and brown fur was visible.
“Rats,” Eve said. “I buy them prepackaged. It’s amazing what they do these days.”
Wanting to look at anything except the horrid bag, Chelsea’s eyes scanned the kitchen, but there was no comfort to be found. The two refrigerators were crammed on either side of a large gas-burning stove. She’d hated gas stoves ever since that propane truck exploded on the interstate. The article said the whole back of the truck flew across the earth like a missile, crashing through three houses, setting them ablaze before coming to rest and starting a forest fire. Immediately, the OCD assured her that the same fate was in store for her.
Nerves increasing, Chelsea turned back to Eve Mandisa and, try as she might to stay riveted on the woman’s pleasant face, could not help but take in the bag again. This time she made out their little noses, whiskers and long hairy tails, curled like wet string. There were three in the bag, eyes closed. One had its head shoved into a corner, reminding her of a sleeping rabbit.
Seeing her reaction, Eve lowered the bag, making it easier to ignore. “You don’t need a psychological condition to be disturbed by this part. It is gross. But if you’re serious about pursuing animal studies, it may be something you want to try getting used to. It is the hardest part, I promise.”
Eve took her hand and pulled her to standing. “Come along and let’s see Koko. He’s really quite fascinating.”
Counting quickly as she could, Chelsea stared down at the table top (12, 14, 16, 18) as her teacher pulled her gently along, deftly hiding the bag at her side. “It’s okay.”
They stepped toward that door in the far kitchen wall. Eve opened it and a blast of hot, moist air hit Chelsea in the face. She stared down and saw gray-painted wooden stairs curving left. A yellow light from below traced a semicircle on a dark wood-paneled wall. Eve started down, and then looked back at Chelsea.
“Are you good?”
Chelsea nodded. She had to do this. Had to, if she didn’t want to be stuck the rest of her life, afraid of the echoes in her own brain. So she followed Eve down, counting the steps, trying to guess their height in inches and the depth of the basement in feet. She had trouble with inches, but over the years she’d developed an unerring eye for exactly how long a foot was. Each step was less than a foot tall, maybe eight inches. And by the time they reached the last one, she knew there were twelve.
Twelve steps in all.
All painted.
All gray.
She was about to count the height of the ceiling in feet, when a surprise, a pleasant one for a change, took her aback. The moist heat had intensified, but at the base of the stairs, rather than harsh concrete or the fiery pits of hell, there was a nice, clean sand-colored carpet.
She looked up and felt as if she were standing in a zoo.
No windows, yes, but light and heat were everywhere. Occupying most of the basement was the cage, or the habitat, as Ms. Mandisa had called it. Three quarters of the space was sealed off with thick Plexiglas walls five feet tall. Some kind of chicken wire led up from the top of the Plexiglas to the remaining three feet of ceiling. There was a Plexiglas door in the middle of the biggest wall with strong bolts holding it shut, and near that, a small round window that looked like it opened. Chelsea assumed it was for putting in the food.
On the far side of the clear plastic was a whole other world. There were thick vines, a tree trunk, patches of grass and other plants, as well as a small pool of gurgling water. A hissing made Chelsea think she’d spotted the lizard, but the sound was coming from some sort of humidifier that sprayed mist. Three powerful lights hung in the ceiling above the enclosure, shining on the water like small suns. The back walls, beyond more wire and Plexiglas, had been painted to look like the sky.
Intrigued now, Chelsea scanned the little jungle for signs of animal life. In a corner not far from the circular window was a huge, thick pile of leaves, twigs, and what looked like straw. Poking out from the pile, quiet as you please, was Koko. His head, anyway. The rest of his body was hidden in the pile.
He—it—looked…cute. His flat, broad head was huge, tapered to a snout. His lips were curved where they met in a way that made him look like he was smiling. Black, as if all pupil, his eyes were small and set beneath a ridge in his clay-gray skull. They looked intelligent somehow. Maybe it was the smile.
He rested his lower jaw on the back of one five-fingered claw. The way he just lay there, lazy, smiling, with that human-looking hand of his, he looked sort of like Kermit the Frog. Or perhaps a distant cousin.
Eve and Chelsea stood in the smaller section of the basement reserved for humans. There, recessed fluorescents glowed in a hung ceiling and light oak paneling covered the walls. It, unlike the rest of the house, was tasteful.
“See, he’s not so bad, is he?”
Chelsea shook her head. It was like looking at one of her nature books, only close up. The OCD warnings had faded and she found herself pleased to be seeing this amazing thing.
“How big is he?” she asked, stepping closer to the Plexiglas.
“Five or six feet, last I measured. But that’s mostly tail.” Eve rapped on the Plexiglas with a knuckle of her right hand. “This was the most expensive part. Three inches thick, but he could have dug through drywall or even wood with those claws of his, and I’d have spent my entire life replacing walls.”
Chelsea looked again at the thick “hand” Koko rested his head on, this time noticing the sharp, thick claws. “He tries to get out?”
Eve shook her head. “Not really. He’s pretty happy, but any intelligent creature gets a little antsy now and then. I couldn’t risk him wandering off in the winter. He’d die in a few hours in the cold. And they’re not stupid. Monitors are the most advanced lizards on earth. They can recognize individual faces. Koko even knows the sound of my voice, don’t you Koko?”
As if in response, the big head flicked out a forked tongue. Chelsea was startled by the sudden movement. It proved Koko was really alive.
“Ready for the big event?” Eve asked. Not waiting for a response, she walked over to the circular opening and grabbed something long and metal leaning against the wall. Then she set the plastic bag on the floor and withdrew one of the rats. Shed of the wetness inside the bag, it looked less gross, as if it really were just sleeping. “I’ll do the first, you do the next two, okay?”
Again, Chelsea wasn’t given time to respond. The metal thing Eve had grabbed, about six feet long, she noticed, had some kind of mechanical claw. The bio teacher grabbed the dead rat with its business end, lifted it, slid the little window open, and pushed the long arm, rat dangling, toward the darling giant Kermit head.
SNAP!
Chelsea barely saw Koko move. One minute the rat was dangling in front of him, the next, it was gone, Koko was chewing on something, and Eve was withdrawing an empty metal claw. When Koko swallowed, apparently not bothering to chew much, a rat-sized lump appeared in his throat and shortly disappeared.
Chelsea was repulsed, terrified, and fascinated.
“Your turn.”
Chelsea turned to her teacher, not bothering to wonder exactly what sort of shock was on her face. What are you, out of your freaking mind? she wanted to say, but she didn’t. Instead she made a little squeaky sound in the back of her throat.
Gently but quickly, like an impatient mother, Eve reached out and pulled her closer. “Come on, come on. Please. I couldn’t find anyone else. Chelsea, if you can’t do this, I’ll have to cancel my whole vacation, and I’ve never been picked up by a limo before. Please. It’s not so bad. I swear. Just try.”
Chelsea let the woman guide her a few steps closer, let her put the metal thing in her hands. It was heavy. Heavier than a baseball bat or a rake. She noticed scratches at the end and a few dents. Teeth marks?
Eve held up the open bag. “You don’t even have to touch them with your fingers. Just use the claw to pull one out.”
Trying not to shake, Chelsea maneuvered the claw end into the bag. It worked pretty easily. In seconds, she snagged one of the two remaining rats and hefted it. It dripped a little as it came free of the bag.
Chelsea thought she would puke, but Eve was thrilled. “That’s it. That’s great. Just put it into the window and reach it toward him. Koko will do the rest.”
Eve slid the window open and even pulled the claw closer to the hole, as if she were guiding the efforts of a child. The woman was so calm, so certain, Chelsea felt a little stupid as she stuck the claw deep in the habitat toward the big head.
“Talk to him. That way he’ll recognize you when you come again.”
She cast her teacher another glance, then said, weakly, “Hey, K-Koko. Here you go, fella. Nice…”
THUNK!
The bite was so powerful it nearly knocked the metal pole out of her hands. It didn’t feel like a living thing at all had touched the pole—more like it had been hit by a truck. Chelsea opened her eyes wide and, eager to get it over with, as if the claw were her arm, started quickly pulling it out as Koko chewed and swallowed.
Eve slowed her. “Not so fast. Don’t want to drop it. If you do, there’s a spare here, but sometimes I use it to clear out the crap if I don’t want to go in. If you have to, you can use it to get the first pole back, but clean it with bleach before you feed him again. And don’t lose both of them. I don’t have a third. Come on now, one more and we’re done.”
Chelsea made that involuntary whining noise again, but managed to fish out the last rat and stick the claw back in.
THUNK!
She was done. With a sense of accomplishment she carefully withdrew the claw again and laid it against the wall. Eve was beaming. “Great! Just great! You did it!”
Chelsea was feeling pretty good about things, but then Eve stepped closer to the clear wall. She laid her forehead against it, watched Koko chew and said, “You know, if you think about it, it’s not a bad way to go.”
Chelsea’s face scrunched. OCD or not, that was a creepy thing to say. “What do you mean?”
“You’re young, maybe you’ve never seen anyone die slowly from cancer,” Eve said. “I guess I think it would be like giving yourself over to a greater intelligence rather than something that just doesn’t care.”
“My grandmother died from cancer.”
“Oh…I’m sorry.”
“It took three weeks, but I don’t think we ever considered feeding her to a monitor lizard,” Chelsea said. Then she stepped away. She wasn’t so much offended as freaked, but she used her indignation to mask that, a trick she’d done many times before. Only her parents and Dr. Gambinetti knew her well enough to call her on it.
Eve sounded abashed. “I am so sorry. I only meant that it was quick and seemed merciful.”
The explanation didn’t help. Chelsea started backing toward the steps, but Eve stopped her.
“Just a few more things,” Eve said, sounding like a teacher again. “Then you can go.” She indicated a set of thermostats and dials on the wall. Next to them a printed sheet with instructions and phone numbers had been posted. “The entire system is automated, so there shouldn’t be any problems, but when you feed him, just check to make sure that the temperature and the humidity are at the right levels. He also needs all three lights on during the days in order to digest, and the UV light so he can produce vitamin D3. Maybe you can do a paper on that for your bio project! If anything goes wrong—anything—there are phone numbers here for you to call.”
She turned to Chelsea. “Okay?”
“Got it,” she answered, but she was already at the base of the stairs. As she started climbing, she could swear Koko lifted his head slightly to follow her movements, and flicked his long forked tongue.
Chelsea counted the twelve steps going up, grabbed her jacket from the kitchen table and headed for the front door. The rush of victory had faded, replaced with the image of her grandmother being eaten by Koko. The OCD was screaming:
It’ll get you. It’ll tear the flesh out of your legs. It’ll rip open your chest.
None of which seemed terribly unreasonable. To keep it from happening, she looked at the staircase heading up from the front hallway and furiously counted the steps to the second floor. She stopped at eight, turned to the door, twisted the handle and pulled. It was locked. The key was missing from the lock. She felt her heart begin to pound.
Eve came up behind her, a chain of keys dangling from her hand. “Another gift from the shut-in. All the doors work like that. I think she was terrified she might wander outside while sleepwalking or something, so she locked herself in every night. Here.”
Chelsea took the keys in her hand. They looked worn. The labels on them were old and difficult to read.
“This will be your set while I’m gone. I was going to have new ones made, but this is the set the former owner gave me. They work. Just don’t force the wrong key into the lock, it might snap when you try to get it out.”
Chelsea nodded, and in an extreme act of self-control, slowly found the right key, inserted it in the lock and pulled open the door before ever so gently pulling the key back out. The cold air, so much colder than the basement or even the living room, sobered her, but not much.
“Sorry if I got a little nervous, there…Eve,” she said as she stepped onto the porch. “I’m working on it.”
Eve lingered at the door, leaning her head against its edge, regarding her carefully. “I know. I could see how difficult this was for you and I’m sorry if I said anything stupid, but it is terribly important that you come back every other day for the next two weeks. You will do that, won’t you? Bring a friend with you if need be. And if for some reason you absolutely can’t, call me. I’ll have to fly back. It’s my first vacation in ten years, but if that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is. Okay?”
Chelsea caught her breath, feeling terrible. “I’ll do it,” she said. “I promise. Really. It wasn’t so bad. And he looks kind of like Kermit.”
Eve smiled, but her eyes still scrutinized Chelsea. “He does, doesn’t he? Good, then. I believe you. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
She shut the door, but as Chelsea walked down the four steps and mounted her bicycle, she felt eyes on her. Eve’s from the window? Or Koko’s?
It’ll rip you apart.
Just a lizard in a cage. Just a lizard in a cage. She repeated it over and over, then counted the number of times she said it. Her throat was so dry. She stopped at the end of the block and entered a small convenience store. There she stood counting the bottles of Coke in the refrigerator until finally she started to feel a little better.
“Yeah?” a gruff voice said. She turned to see a fat fifty-something man behind the counter. He had hair stubs everywhere, not just on his face, but even on his neck. There was so much fat around his face, his eyes were like slits. Normally he would have set off her OCD, but it was already roaring, and he did at least look better than a lizard that could swallow a rat in one gulp. A little better anyway.
“Dasani, please,” Chelsea said.
“A dollar twenty-nine,” he said back. He had a watery voice that almost sounded like a gurgle. She pulled a crumpled five from her pocket and handed it over. He gave her the bottle, but before she could open it, he handed her the change, almost all of it in quarters.
“I’m out of singles.”
She stared at the coins. 11, 12, 13, 14 quarters. 1, 2 dimes. 1 penny.
The owner watched as she counted them again, and then again.
“What’s the matter?” he said. “Don’t you trust me?”
That was the problem. She didn’t. She didn’t trust the man whose eyes vanished into the folds of his head skin. She didn’t trust the change. She didn’t trust the water. She didn’t even trust the world not to open up and swallow her whole, like a giant, merciful lizard.