The Christmas Rat by Avi Page A

Was the stairwell in this direction . . . or that?
    I reached my arms out to full length—fingers extended. No matter which way I turned, there was nothing but empty air.
    There I was, in the basement of my own house—The Eden Apartments—totally lost.
    Breathing deeply, clenching my fists now, I struggled to keep from getting into a total panic. “Be cool,” I whispered to myself softly. “Be really cool.” The sound of my own voice helped. I tried to center myself. Gradually, I got control.
    Find a wall , I told myself, and move along it. Move until you find something you know.
    Taking little steps, I followed my own orders.
    I came up against a wall. Once there, I paused and rested and tried to determine where I was by moving my hands about. There was nothing but hard cement. I kept moving. I touched something. The door that led to the steps? No! Another wall. Walls all around me. I couldn’t find the door. . . .
    He had trapped me.
    I felt so shaky, I thought I might fall. I turned, and found the elevator door. I leaned against it. I could just stay here, I told myself. Until morning. Until Christmas.
    That was when I heard a sound.
    It came from . . . I had no idea where. It was so small, so quick, I couldn’t grasp what it was. I strained my ears. I hoped it would come again even as I wished it wouldn’t.
    It did. I knew what it was then: a squeak. The rat. He was still alive, moving about. I felt a surge of joy that almost made me laugh it was so stupid. How could I possibly care so much about a dumb, ugly rat?
    No sooner did I ask myself than I heard another sound. It was a click . I knew what that was, too: the sound of Anje’s crossbow being cocked.
    I mean, he was standing in the dark somewhere with his crossbow cocked and ready to shoot. It came to me that in that darkness, if I made a sound, he might think I was the rat. Or was it me—all along—he was after?
    Oh man, I felt cold, a lot colder than when I had been outside. I mean, didn’t he say he thought of me like a rat? And then there was that penalty he said I’d agreed to. Yeah, he was going to shoot me.
    And right about then I knew why I cared so much about the rat. Because he was alive. Just as I was alive. I wanted him to live. I wanted to live. I mean, it was Christmas.
    Do something to stay alive, Eric! I fairly screamed at myself.
    â€œIt’s me!” I shouted out loud. “Me! Eric. Eric Andrick. I’m over here!”
    No answer.
    â€œI know you’re there Anje. I know you are!”
    Again, no answer.
    â€œCan’t you say anything?” I screamed. “Come on!”
    That time there was an answer from the dark. “I warned you about interfering, dude,” came Anje’s voice.
    My knees nearly buckled, my stomach churned. “I’m sorry,” I cried out. “I just want to go home. Please! Will you let me?”
    â€œGo ahead and try,” he replied.
    â€œWhy don’t you let me go?” I asked.
    â€œBecause of what you did.”
    â€œWhat did I do?”
    â€œYou wanted to kill the rat.”
    â€œIt was you who wanted to, not me!” I screamed.
    â€œJust a test,” he said. “Remember what you said? ‘I got nothing better to do.’ So you kill.”
    â€œBut I changed my mind!”
    â€œToo late, bud. You’re the Christmas rat now. How does it feel to be the hunted one? To have someone after you? Makes you scream to be alive, doesn’t it? Or is being alive,” he sneered, “too boring? ”
    Fighting back tears, I knew I couldn’t stay where I was, but I could only inch along the wall, hands pressed back against the cement.
    My fingers came up against something. I stopped, felt around. It was a doorknob. The door to the steps. I was almost out of there. I gave the handle a twist. This time it moved. It gave a squeak.
    The next second I heard a twanging