part0021

His father stopped the car in the turnout at the end of the driveway, and turned to his son in the back seat. “Larry asked us to bring our children, so here you are,” he said.

“Why does Larry get to tell you what to do?”

“He's my boss, you know that. He wants to have a special day for all of his employees' kids, since he doesn't have children of his own. Can't you at least pretend to have fun?”

His mother turned around in the passenger seat and looked at him sternly. “There will be kids here that are your age, and it'll only be for a few hours. You need to get out of the house more, you're too pale.”

“Oh my God,” Steve groaned. “Whatever.”

He hopped out of the car and gave his parents a final irritated glance. Slamming the car door, he walked to the front of the immense, brick mansion, and looked up at the brightly colored sign hanging from the porch .

The front door opened, and a skinny old man in a lame Easter sweater walked onto the porch.

“Little Stevie Appleton,” he exclaimed. “I'm so glad you could make it.”

Steve eyed him warily, as he did with all strangers. Larry, with his hunched back, thick tufts of silver hair sprouting from his ears, and sporting a pair of thick-lensed glasses, looked ninety years old. His fake teeth – dentures that had turned a muddy shade of yellow – protruded from behind thin lips.

Steve turned, and watched his father's Mercedes slowly bounce down the driveway. His mother stuck her hand out the window, and gave a final wave, as the taillights disappeared around the bend. Steve was alone. Steve, and Larry, and Barry the friggin' bunny, and whatever bunch of kids were unfortunate enough to waste their night in some old creep's house

My parents are assholes , he thought.

“Come, come,” Larry said, waving Steve onto the porch. “Come inside, meet the other guests, sample the treats I've laid out for you. You like cake, don't you?”

“I guess,” Steve mumbled.

“Of course, you do. What kid doesn't like cake? You go right on in.” Larry laid a gnarled hand on Steve's shoulder and nudged him toward the door. The old man turned and scanned the driveway. Everyone had arrived. Steve was the last.

Larry stepped inside and closed the thick, oak door behind him.

“I know you're all excited to get started,” Larry croaked, “but, every game needs rules. If you give me one more second of your time, we can get that out of that way.”

Steve watched as a man in an obnoxious bunny suit entered from the side of the room, carrying a tray of plastic cups full of what looked to be orange juice. So, this must be Barry the Bunny , Steve thought. His suit is stained and smells like old mothballs. Where'd they get this guy ?

A few of the younger kids jumped in their seats, reaching out and petting the soft fur of the suit. Barry took it all in stride, handing them their orange juice, walking down the row as the kids poked and prodded his legs and stomach. Steve took his orange juice, and put the cup beneath his chair. He didn't like orange juice, especially orange juice from a stranger, delivered by a six-foot asshole in a stinky bunny suit.

Larry coughed and spread his arms at the front of the long room. It may have once been a dining room, but the table had been removed. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling; most of the little bulbs were missing or burned out. A massive fireplace stood at the far end of the room; the mantle was covered in faded, framed portraits. Steve noticed twelve names written on index cards, and taped in a row on the wall, six on each side. His name was closest to the fireplace.

“Listen up, boys and girls,” Larry called over the children’s shrill chatter. He waited until the room quieted, and looked at each of them with a smile. He seemed like a nice enough old man. Maybe Steve was being too critical of the whole thing. He shrugged and watched Barry join Larry at the front of the room. Steve wanted to laugh out loud. The man in the suit looked ridiculous.

“Are we gonna be finding Easter eggs?” a girl squealed. She looked to be about seven years old, and she had two little, pastel-colored bows in each of her pigtails.

“We’ll be finding all kinds of neat things,” Larry replied to scattered applause and cheers, “but first, I need to tell you how the game is played.” More clapping and excited shouts. “This isn't your typical scavenger hunt, boys and girls, this is a magical scavenger hunt. All over my house, I've hidden packages. Boxes wrapped in brightly-colored paper with a photo of Barry the Bunny on them.” Barry waved, and the younger kids waved back, in awe of the giant, gray rabbit. “When you find a package, bring it back to this room, and place it on the floor beneath your name. Never look in the boxes, or you'll be disqualified from the chance to win the grand prize.”

“What's the grand prize?” a boy asked .

“That's a secret,” Larry said. “We'll all find out together, when the packages are found, and returned to this room. One box will have a special item. The person who finds that box will be the winner of the grand prize, but don't worry, everyone will go home with something they'll never forget! Everybody wins!” The room erupted with cheers again. Steve and another boy about his age were the only two not clapping. They looked at each other and nodded, sharing their disinterest in the entire silly show.

“There are several locked doors in the house,” Larry continued. “These doors are not to be meddled with. Those rooms are off-limits, and anyone seen trying to enter those areas will be disqualified. That's all you need to know,” he said. “No locked doors and no peeking in the boxes. That's as easy as it gets, boys and girls.”

“Are you ready?” Larry asked.

“Then, good luck, and happy hunting,” he yelled. “Go!”

The younger kids scattered like cockroaches, exiting through two doors, one on either side of the room. Steve and the other boy walked toward each other: two strangers seeking comfort in an uncomfortable situation.

“I'm Steve,” he said to the boy.

“Paul,” the other boy replied .

“You want to do this together?” Steve asked.

“Sure. At least it won't be totally lame if we have each other to talk to.”

“I guess we’d better go,” Paul said. “That stupid rabbit is watching us.”

Steve looked over, and saw that both Barry and Larry were watching them. Creepy bastards. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They exited the dining room side-by-side, walking slowly down a long hallway with doors on each side. Several were closed. A little boy with a mop of red hair stood at one of the closed doors, turning the knob, back and forth in his hand.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Steve warned.

The kid looked at him, startled. He poked his tongue between his lips, flipped them the middle finger, and ran down the hall, and around the corner. Paul looked at Steve and laughed. It was all they needed; they were instant friends. Suddenly, this stupid party was tolerable. At least they had each other to complain to.

Steve and Paul crept down the long hall, carefully dodging the younger kids intent on bringing back their multi-colored packages. Some were scarcely the size of ring boxes, while one was so large, the young girl who found it had to push it across the floor. Steve felt a smile come to his lips, suddenly feeling like this might not be so bad, after all. He nudged Paul's arm, before entering a small bathroom on the right. There weren’t many places in there to hide anything. Steve opened the large cupboard beneath the sink and found his first package-pink paper with a frilly, yellow bow. He laughed and held it in front of him, showing it to Paul.

Paul shrugged, and opened a door into a small linen closet. On the top shelf, partially hidden by clean, fragrant towels, was another box, just a bit larger than the one Steve had found, with blue and purple polka dots, no bow.

“Who wrapped these things?” Paul asked. “They're totally ugly.”

Steve laughed and nodded. “Yeah, they are, but maybe one of us will win the prize.”

“A secret prize,” Paul added. “What kind of idiot has a contest, and doesn't tell us what we're playing for?”

“The idiot hanging out in the living room, with a man in a bunny suit.”

They erupted into laughter.

It took a second for Steve to realize that Paul was no longer laughing. Steve quieted, then followed his new friend's gaze. Standing in the hall, watching them, was Barry the Goddamn Bunny. He didn't move, didn't speak. Steve wasn't sure he was even breathing.

“Oh, hey,” Steve said, “we're sorry, man. I was just kidding.”

Barry said nothing. Slowly, his arm moved, pointing down the hall, toward the dining room, from where the anxious squeals of children filled the hall.

“I think he wants us to take our boxes to the dining room,” Paul said.

Barry nodded his head, as a pair of tattered bunny ears bobbed along. They could have at least bought a new suit , Steve thought.

They walked back to the dining room, careful not to be run down by frenzied children. Colored boxes were scattered on the floor, beneath the individual names on the wall. One little boy already had six boxes, while another had none. The room was organized chaos. Steve and Paul took their small boxes to the designated place on the floor, watching old man Larry at the end of the room, grinning, hands folded in front of him. His bunny-suited cohort stood directly to his left, fuzzy, gray arms crossed.

Steve shuddered, as a chill suddenly came over him. That damn bunny gave him the creeps.

He turned to leave the room, as Paul joined him and nearly bumped into Barry the Bunny, standing at the room's entrance. “What the hell?” Steve said. He spun around, and saw Larry standing exactly where he'd been before, watching over his guests with rheumy, blue eyes. Barry wasn't there - Barry was here . There's no way he could have crossed the room, and gotten in front of him, that quickly. What kind of game was this old man playing?

“Come on,” Paul said, “we can look upstairs. I didn't see any kids going up there. Probably scared of the boogeyman.”

“Or the bunny-man,” Steve uttered .

“Nothing, let's go.”

Once upstairs, Steve saw that Paul was right in the assumption that kids weren't coming up here. The house was quiet. Doors yawned open on either side; dim light from the setting sun bathed the floor in patches of reddish-orange. The voices from the first floor had become distant and whispery, but high-pitched. If Steve didn't know better, he'd think those voices were screaming instead of laughing.

“Look!” Paul exclaimed. “In here.”

Steve followed him into a large bedroom, painted a drab shade of green. A dusty bed sat in the center of the room, and resting on the pillow was another colorful box.

“These things are everywhere,” Steve said. “We can clean house up here.”

Paul opened the closet door and pointed. “Another one.” He grabbed it, and placed it on the bed, next to the other. “I think we should see what's in them.”

“That's against the rules,” Steve whispered. Why did the rules suddenly seem important to him?

Paul saw the look on Steve's face and chuckled. “What? Are you scared, now? I thought you didn't care about this stupid game.”

“I don't,” he huffed.

“So, what's the big deal? No one's going to see us.”

Steve walked to the doorway, and looked down to both ends of the hall to make sure they were alone. He closed the bedroom door, and joined Paul at the edge of the bed. Something inside him screamed to keep the boxes closed, but his curiosity slowly took over. Paul put his fingers beneath the lip of the box's lid, and lifted ever so slowly. He bent and squinted. His tongue poked between his lips, and he bit down on it, as he peeked through the widening crack between the box and its lid.

His eyes and mouth popped open simultaneously, a comic look of surprise and shock etched into his features.

“Ohmygodholyshit,” he blurted.

“What, what is it?” Steve cried. “What's in the box?”

Before Paul could answer, the doors to an antique wardrobe were flung open, and Barry the Bunny jumped out with a grunt.

“How the hell did you get in there?” Steve shouted. “How are you everywhere all at once?”

Paul backed toward the door, his new friendship forgotten. His only thought was of getting out of the room, out of the house, running five miles home if necessary, and never setting eyes on this place again.

Paul grabbed the doorknob and pulled; the door opened a few inches before Paul felt warm, fuzzy arms wrap around his chest from behind. He tried to scream, as he was dragged back, but Barry the Bunny clapped a musty, furry hand over his mouth before he could make a sound.

“What are you doing?” Steve shrieked.

Barry turned, and glared at him with fake, painted eyes as he pounded Paul on the back between his shoulders. Paul dropped to the floor with a thump .

“You're not allowed to look in the boxes,” Barry said. His voice was deep, gravelly, muffled by the fabric of the costume.

Steve trembled with fear, yet couldn't help but be surprised that Barry had spoken. There was a real man under all that dirty fabric.

“Show me your face,” Steve demanded, choking back a sudden urge to cry. “What do you look like under there?”

Barry grabbed the costume head and lifted.

Steve took one look, and screamed, his stomach suddenly roiling with acid and undigested Easter cake.

He ran for the door, tripped, scrambled back to his feet, and bolted through the opening into the hall.

“Where do you think you're going?” Barry called. “There's no leaving here. Trust me. I know.”

Steve ran, and ran, and ran, down twisted hallways, up flights of stairs leading to dead-ends, and solid walls; he tried locked doors, peered through windows into absolute darkness, feeling the gaze of invisible eyes looking back.

He slid beneath an ancient-leather, cigar sofa and covered his mouth with his hands. The dust was so thick, it clung to his clothes and moist skin in fat clumps. He couldn't hear voices from the floor below, as if the kids waited silently for Barry to find Steve, and reunite them all for the reveal of the day's grand prize.

The door screeched open, an inch at a time, allowing a shaft of dim light into the room.

Steve saw Barry's fuzzy feet enter .

“I know you're under there,” Barry said. “I always know where the kids are hiding.”

Steve exhaled harshly, and started crying. “What do you want? What's going on here?,

“Larry will explain everything, once the game is over. Why don't you come out now? If I have to drag you out, I'm not going to enjoy it, but I will do it.”

Steve slid from beneath the couch and looked up at the man in the bunny suit. The costume head was back in place.

“Why are you doing this? Why did you hurt Paul?”

“Listen carefully,” Barry said. “I've been doing this for ten years; ten long years. I was just like you—just another boy—whose parents thought this would be a fun little party; an exciting evening at the boss's house. My time is up. The magic holds for ten years, before the old man needs more.”

“Needs more what ?”

“Energy. Power. Whatever essence he drains from them. Every ten years, one is chosen.”

“You're crazy,” Steve screamed. “Insane!”

Steve bolted for the door, but Barry stepped in front of him, blocking his only way out.

“We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,” Barry said. His voice sounded tired, old, drained. “Either way, you're coming back to the dining room with me. Time is short, and the old man doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

Steve spun in a circle, frantically looking for another way out, another door, a window, anything. He was trapped. Barry came closer, wrapped his arms around him, and Steve went still in his grasp. He dragged him down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and into the dining room where the children—including Paul—sat in their chairs silently, staring ahead blankly, as Larry stood and spread his arms.

“Now we're all here,” Larry exclaimed. “Time to announce the grand prize.”

A cheer went up in the room, robbed of all enthusiasm, or emotion. Dull. Monotone.

Steve's eyes fluttered open, as he was dragged to the front of the room, and dumped on the floor at Larry's feet. He felt like he'd been drugged; his body wouldn't cooperate. He tried to move his legs but couldn't. He felt saliva dribbling down his chin, but couldn't reach up and wipe it away.

“Don't worry, son,” Larry said. “You'll get the feeling back in no time at all.”

The old man was right. Already, his fingers and toes were coming back to life.

“Behold,” Larry exclaimed, “the grand prize winner.”

Voices once again joined in a monotonous drone of a cheer. Steve watched them clap lifelessly; emotionless automatons, running on autopilot. He tried to shout, but his voice was little more than a faint breath. Paul stared at him without recognition, stared through him .

Larry walked over to the spot on the floor where Steve had deposited the few small packages he had found. He picked one up, opened it, and pulled out a gold ring with a large black stone. Strange symbols were etched into the ancient band.

Barry the Bunny quickly reached down and rubbed at his hand. The ring was gone. The ring he'd been forced to wear for ten years was now held up in Larry's gnarled hand. He exhaled a long, shaky breath, and barked a single, short laugh. It was the first time he’d laughed in a decade. Barry removed his costume head, and the room gasped in a single voice. Barry was a thousand years old, a million; an ageless mummy wrapped in thin, brown skin that tightly hugged his skull. A few thin wisps of gray hair stuck up from his desiccated flesh; his eyes had turned completely white, and had sunk into his head. Lips retreated from rotten teeth, like a fetid tide revealing green and corroded pilings below the waves.

“Barry is going to leave us now,” the old man said. “His job is done.”

“Where's he going?” a young girl asked.

“Where all good bunnies go, of course.” Everyone nodded, as if this explained everything. “Say goodbye to the boys and girls,” Larry said.

Barry waved, smiling, as the skin around his mouth cracked and split. The room lit with a brilliant green glow and the bunny costume crumpled to the floor, empty.

“What you've all been part of today is something that has been happening for thousands of years,” Larry said calmly. “I'm older than your parents, older than your grandparents.” Kids gasped and giggled, covering their mouths to hide their laughter. “I'm older than your cities, and older than your race. I've always been here.”

“What's in the boxes?” a boy of eight asked.

“You,” Larry said plainly. “Every time you lay your hands on one of these packages, a little piece of your essence is held inside. You won't even miss it.”

“But, why?” another boy asked.

“Well, to keep the Bunny alive, of course. Being the Easter Bunny is hard work, and he needs your energy to see him through.”

The room flashed with the same green light, and when their eyes adjusted, they saw Steve now standing in the ragged costume. He felt like he weighed a thousand pounds. He could barely move in the thick suit; he was sweating within seconds. He tried to yank the suit away from his neck and hissed in pain. It wasn't going anywhere. It was part of him. It was him.

Steve blubbered quietly. This wasn't normal. Whatever the old man was telling them, was a lie.

“Put your head on,” Larry ordered. “The kids want to see their new bunny.”

“Put it on. Put it on. Put it on,” they chanted.

Larry grabbed the costume head from the floor and handed it to him. “You have to put it on yourself, kiddo. That's how this works.”

“I don't want to,” he whispered. “I don't want to be the bunny- man.”

“But, you will,” Larry said.

Slowly, Steve raised the head, and placed it over his own. He could see the room through thin pieces of cloth that acted as the bunny-man's eyes, could see the children watching with innocent wonder. Steve sniffed back tears, and smelled the musty, sour stink inside the mask. Barry had lived in this suit for ten years. How many had come before him?

Larry opened one of the boxes and Steve's legs began to tremble, as he felt immense power rush into every molecule of his being. One by one, the brightly-colored packages were opened, and Steve was imbued with the energy the old man had stolen from all the children. He didn't understand why; he didn't understand anything. His memories were slowly beginning to blur. He couldn't seem to recall his mother's face, or the name of the girl he had his first crush on.

“Why me?” he croaked.

“It could be anyone,” Larry said. “You're not special, Steve. You're just the one who was chosen. I've given you the power—their power—to keep you alive for the next ten years. I'll teach you everything I know, show you things no living human has ever seen. You'll be filled with wonder every day of your life, until you're replaced.”

“I don't understand,” Steve whimpered. “I don't understand any of this.”

“You don't have to understand it,” Larry said. “Do as you're told, and one day you'll follow Barry into the clearing in the forest. Your essence, combined with the essences I've given you, will keep me alive for the next decade, will allow me to feed while our plans grow closer and closer.”

“Feed? You're going to eat me?”

“In a sense, but you won't feel a thing.”

“For my race to return, of course!” Steve was more confused than ever, but, as his body became one with the suit, he grew numb.

Larry wasn't human. Every ten years he charged a new human battery and fed on it, sucked it dry, until it was time for another. Larry's will was already exerting force over Steve's mind, and the boy was powerless to resist.

Steve had no idea what Larry was, what his plan was, or what happens next. He only knew he had to obey.

“Okay, kids,” Larry said. “Time for everyone to meet their parents outside.”

One by one, the kids filed outside, through the front door, into a world that Steve would never see again. As Paul walked past, Steve grabbed his arm, and stopped him. The old man nodded, allowing just this one, final question.

“What did you see in the box?” Steve asked.

“You,” the boy replied. “I saw you, locked up in a cage. You were screaming.”

Paul pulled his arm from Steve's grip, and exited.

Larry walked to the front porch, and watched the kids join their families. Not one of them would remember Steve the Bunny-man, in the morning. He spied Steve's parents, sitting patiently in their Mercedes, along the edge of the driveway. Steve's mother looked up at the man, her eyes opening a bit wider. Larry nodded and relayed the message wordlessly. Steve's mother hung her head briefly, and nodded back. The children’s parents knew; they always knew, and they were reimbursed handsomely for that knowledge. Amazing what a person, what a parent, was willing to overlook, for a suitcase full of hundred-dollar bills.

Larry closed the large front door, and shuffled into the dining room, where Steve stood motionless, quietly crying.

“Don't worry, my boy,” Larry said. “It won't hurt a bit, I promise. Your parents will be taken care of, and you'll live by my side, until the time comes to move on.”

Steve felt his head nod. He looked down at the gold ring around his finger, a magical shackle that tethered him to his new body. He knew no matter how much he tugged, he could never remove it.

“You didn't answer me,” Steve said.

“There will be a time for questions and answers,” Larry explained. “I'll let you have one more.”

Steve cleared his throat and looked Larry in the eye. “Why a fucking bunny?”

“Simple,” Larry replied. “Everyone trusts the Easter Bunny.”

“How do you know it's stupid, if you're not willing to go inside and see?”

The boy huffed, and exited the car, his shoes crunching on the loose gravel of the driveway. The house was huge. He listened as the faint strains of other voices echoed from inside.

“We'll be back for you at nine o'clock,” his father said.

“Don't be late,” the boy said. “I don't want to be here any longer than I have to.”

“You might have fun,” his mother said. “Who knows? Maybe you'll never want to leave.”

“Your mother’s only teasing,” called his father.

The boy frowned. His mother giggled, as the car pulled away.

His skin broke out in goosebumps.

“Here, boy,” a deep, raspy voice called from behind. “The party is inside.” He walked up the steps to the porch and stopped. “I'm Larry and this is my home.”