Jim Shepard - Lights Out in the Reptile House

Karel followed him on his rounds, in shock and feeling he had nowhere else to go. They dropped in on a woman who was being released as soon as she recovered fully, and Kehr asked if she’d write down for him her full name and address. “I like to keep in touch with my girls,” he said. He told Karel after they left the cell that he’d drop her a card every so often to see how she was doing. In the courtyard they passed a file of prisoners with sticks tied to their legs who were being taught to march. The partisans would not go away and this contrary political activity would not go away, Kehr remarked as they left the center. But we’re not here to adjust to this world, he said. We’re here to adjust it .

The next night, while kehr and stasik were out, he heard a noise downstairs. He was in bed. The noise was weight somewhere on the floorboards; it was too large and too heavy for the ringtail. He went down the stairs expecting nearly anything. He passed the bathroom and could smell the ringtail’s droppings on the tile. The house was still dark. Something moved over the bathroom sink, and he looked closer. There was a cough and a face bloomed in the dark mirror as he fumbled and scrabbled for the light switch. He got it and flipped it on and his father was behind him, reflected in the mirror, wearing the uniform of the Civil Guard.

“Surprise,” his father said.

“You,” Karel said. “You.”

“They have an animal living in the house?” his father said. He gave Karel a dubious look and sniffed around.

“How’d you get here?” Karel asked. “How long have you been here?” His father was exploring the living room, turning on lights. Karel was trembling. He asked if his father wanted something to eat or something.

His father told him not to bother, that he had eaten at the center before coming over. He sat on the sofa, still sniffing.

“How long can you stay?” Karel asked.

His father straightened the service cap on his belt. He had fewer stripes than Kehr and no antipartisan badge. Until tomorrow night, he said. They’d put a lot of work into the house, hadn’t they? It looked good.

Yes, they had, Karel said. He sat in a chair across the room.

Had he helped? his father asked.

Karel nodded. Something skittered along the wallboard behind the couch.

“Is that the animal?” his father said.

They were both sitting in the chairs the same way, feet together, knees apart. Karel didn’t say anything.

“They told me about it,” his father said.

Karel had his hands between his thighs. He was not going to cry in front of him.

“What a guy like him wants with a filthy little pack rat I don’t know,” his father said. “Don’t ask me.” He was uncomfortable around Karel but even so seemed more relaxed than usual, and happier with himself.

“What happened?” Karel said, his voice a little hoarse. “What happened to you?”

“Fell in with the wrong crowd?” his father tried, and then looked apologetic. He explained that that had been a joke. He concentrated. He’d been picked up by the Security Service. Remember he’d told Karel that morning that he might’ve gotten in trouble? He’d been shooting his mouth off. He’d been frustrated, he didn’t have a pot to piss in, it was natural. Someone nearby, it’d turned out, worked for the Service. They’d had some talks with him, nothing rough, and then referred him to Kehr, who it turned out had been very interested in his abilities.

“Kehr was?” Karel asked. He didn’t know who to believe anymore. “Why didn’t you call or write?”

“I did,” his father said.

“ You know what I mean! ” Karel wailed.

“Okay, okay,” his father said. “I wanted to. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Karel said. He was crying.

“They just thought it was better that way,” he said.

“I looked everywhere,” Karel said, sick. “You told me you’d never just leave like that.”

“I didn’t,” his father said. “They took me away.”

Karel shook his head. He wiped his face with his hands. “And you joined the Civil Guard,” he said.

“I was told you knew all that,” his father said.

“I didn’t hear it from you ,” Karel said. The ringtail nibbled at the back of the couch. It sounded like someone scratching burlap.

“You think it’s such a terrible thing?” his father said, peeved. “You remember what it was like before?”

Karel put his forefinger and thumb to his mouth and looked at the floor and said nothing.

“What should I be doing?” his father said. “You tell me. What should I be doing? Nothing? Should I be doing what you’re doing?”

Karel put his hands over his eyes. “Kehr took me to the center,” he said. It was half lament, half accusation.

“I know that,” his father said, and Karel looked up. “I know what you’ve been doing. And let me fill you in on a little something, since you’re so ashamed of your father: I never took part in any prisoner assessment sessions. The first time they asked me I refused.”

Karel gaped at him for a moment and then broke down.

He could see a blurry father sitting back on the couch, unimpressed. “Here I come back after how long and all you can do is blubber,” his father said.

“Why didn’t you call me or write me?” Karel asked. “Why couldn’t you have let me know you were there? Why couldn’t you have looked out for me?”

His father fumed. He said grimly, “So now this is Dad’s fault, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Karel protested. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Let me tell you something,” his father said. “I didn’t tell you because that was the way it had to operate. I didn’t tell you because Kehr told me not to. That was the way we worked it. You think all of this is coincidence? You think all of this just happened? ” He spread his hands, and then gave up on Karel and looked away.

Karel could see himself sitting there, open-mouthed. “You let them do all that?” he said, with as much force as he could get into his voice.

“Please,” his father said. He raised his rear up and felt behind the sofa cushions. Karel got out of his chair and went upstairs and slammed his door.

“Very adult,” his father called after him. “Very impressive.”

Karel could hear him banging around in the kitchen. The faucet over the sink went on two or three times and he knew he was testing the plumbing.

He lay on his back in the dark and listened but there were no more sounds. He couldn’t concentrate. His shirt was humid and smelled. He thought how stupid and alone he’d been. The thought of Kehr and his father having done this together made him want to split his head open on the floor.

He’d run away. He’d find Leda. He lay on the floor and starting flexing his knee impatiently, as if leaving in minutes.

Later he heard Kehr come back. Karel’s father suggested they sit on the front steps; the house was like an oven. Ice tinkled in a glass. It was quiet.

He got up and went to the windowsill and peered over. They were just around the corner; he could see their legs.

“How’d our friend handle the reunion?” he heard Kehr say. He couldn’t make out his father’s response.

“Where is he now?” Kehr asked. His father said he was upstairs, asleep.

His father started explaining to Kehr his position, and Karel couldn’t tell if Kehr was listening or not. His father asked in a low voice what people expected him to do. The situation was the situation; was he supposed to change it? The thing to do was to try to protect yourself, keep your mouth shut and do the best you could. Karel listened with his back against the wall and his head beneath the window sill, drained of energy, a marionette.