The Ghosts of Rabbits Past. John R. Erickson

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СКАЧАТЬ the evidence?”

      “The evidence is that we have no evidence, which is irreguffable proof that a cat was behind this whole charade.”

      He yawned. “I’ll be derned.”

      “Please don’t yawn while I’m reviewing a case.”

      “Sorry.”

      “It’s very discouraging when I look out at the audience and see dogs who are yawning.”

      “Sorry, but it’s the middle of the night.”

      “That is not my fault, Drover. I don’t pick the times when the cat chooses to sabotage our systems.”

      “Can I go back to bed?”

      “No, not until we make some progress on this case.” I began pacing, as I often do when my mind is racing after the Rabbit of Truth. “Okay, make a note and enter it into the Daily Log. The Sinking Ship Episode was a fraud from start to finish, a distraction created by the cat to disrupt our systems. At our first opportunity, we will thrash the little snot and park him in a tree. Make three copies and post one on the bulletin board.”

      He glanced around. “Where’s the bulletin board?”

      “Drover, I deal in large concepts. You figure out the bulletin boards. Now, unless you have further questions, I’d like to get some sleep.”

      “Can I yawn now?”

      “Yes. Yawn all you want. Fall into your yawns, I don’t care, just don’t make any noise.”

      I rumbled over to my gunny sack, fluffed it up, and collapsed. Exhaustion leaped upon me like a lurking tiger. I was drifting off when I heard an odd sound. It was Drover, yawning. “Boy, that was a good one. I love to yawn. I’d rather yawn than chew a bone. There’s another good one!”

      I sat up and melted him with a glare. “Drover, if you continue making noise, we will have to impose a ban on yawning. Is that what you want?”

      That got his attention. “Gosh, I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t yawn.”

      “I’m sure it would become a personal crisis, so yawn quietly. And don’t mutter about how much you love to yawn.”

      “Okay, sorry. I’ll try.”

      “Good night.”

      At last he shut his beak and I began drifting out on the snorking honk of barbecued snicklefritz fiddle blossoms and spiral tomatoes…I must have dozed off, but not for long. All at once, another horrible scream penetrated the perpitude of my turpentine.

      I shot straight up and staggered to my feet. “Drover, did you hear something?”

      “Affirmative.”

      “A scream?”

      His eyes were wide with fear. “Yeah, and it wasn’t me.”

      “Then who could it…” And then we heard it again: an unearthly scream that made my hair stand on end. It wasn’t Drover’s yawning, and it wasn’t the cat. “Good grief, what is that?”

      Drover moved his lips but couldn’t utter a sound, until at last he gasped, “I think it’s the Hoodian Voles!”

      Those words sent a scorching jolt of electricity down my spine. “Hoodian Voles! Do we have those things on this ranch?”

      “Yeah, I saw five of ‘em, right over there. They’re everywhere!”

      “You saw five Hoodian Voles?”

      “Twenty-five.”

      “Good grief. What are they? Give me a description. Facts, we need facts and details.”

      His teeth were clacking together. “They looked just like twenty-five monsters, only ten times worse.”

      A wave of fear washed over me. “Okay, let’s settle down. We’ve got to be professional about this.”

      “Yeah, let’s head for the bunkers.”

      “I agree. To the bunkers!”

      And so it began. We had ourselves an invasion of…whatever Drover had said, some kind of creatures, and you’re probably worried sick. You should be. This had turned into a very dangerous night on our ranch.

      Chapter Two: Something Big and Hairy

      The first reports were sketchy, but we had reason to think that a force of Hoodian Voles had overrun ranch headquarters and captured the barn and chicken house. I had never gone up against a Hoodian Vole, but our intelligence units had warned us that they were more dangerous than skeletons, ghosts, or monsters.

      We responded in a professional manner and dived into our bunkers, the heavily fortified areas beneath our gunny sack beds. Once there, we closed the hatches and waited for something to happen. In the deadly silence, we heard a burst of high-pitched screeching and cackling.

      Pretty scary, huh? You bet. Hey, I’m no chicken liver and over the course of my career, I’d heard some creepy sounds, but this! It was goose-bump creepy. For several moments, we listened as the sounds changed from hideous cackles into howls.

      Drover was the first to speak. “You know what? That sounds like coyotes.”

      “Don’t be absurd. Coyotes never come up this close to the house. And besides, your report stated that you saw twenty-five…whatever you called them.”

      “Hoodian Voles?”

      “Exactly. Follow the trail of logic. If you witnessed an invasion of Hoodian Voles, that’s what we’re hearing.”

      “Yeah, but sometimes my eyes play tricks.”

      I glared at him in the darkness of the bunker. Actually, it was so dark in there, I couldn’t see him, but I glared anyway. “Drover, is it possible that you turned in a garbled report?”

      “I’d hate to put it that way.”

      “How would you put it?”

      “Well, it was dark…and I was scared and half-asleep…and I thought I saw something, but maybe there weren’t twenty-five of them.”

      “All right, maybe you miscounted. How many did you see?”

      “Maybe five or three or only one. Or maybe I didn’t see anything.”

      I was stunned. “Drover, the first thing we need to clear up is…what exactly is a Hoodian Vole?”

      “I don’t know. It just СКАЧАТЬ