The Southern Cross by Skip Horack

Author:Skip Horack
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mariner Books

Rabbit Man

Milam raised meat rabbits, and what wasn’t dead was dying. All save a few were bleeding from their nares. Hemorrhage. Hell. The old man sighed, then watched two more of his Hotots die as he waited for the federal inspector to drive over from Baton Rouge.

Something familiar. It clicked. The rabbit blood reminded him of that distant Sunday his carton-a-week wife collapsed at the altar of Holy Ghost, a crimson flower blooming on the handkerchief she’d pressed against her face. Milam shook his head to clear the image as he opened the door of the hutch that sheltered Gretta, heavy with kits. The big white doe still seemed healthy, and Milam gathered her into his arms.

It was early October but still hot as summer. A train rumbled by, rattling the tin shed and setting a distant crow to caw. The tracks ran just behind the chainlink fence that bordered the yard, and, with his free hand, Milam out of habit waved to the engineer before taking Gretta inside his home, away from the dying rabbits.

In the living room the grandfather clock announced nine A.M. Milam whispered, “Love you, Dottie,” then placed Gretta on the kitchen floor. The clock had been a gift to his wife, a surprise for their fiftieth. When it chimed he told her he loved her. Even on the one-strike half-hours. Even in an empty house.

Gretta watched him pour cool tap water into an aluminum pie pan, then followed like a puppy as he walked to the bathroom. Milam knelt, set the pan down, and stroked her soft back while she drank. He made a nest of towels where she could bed down, and his pregnant girl was still drinking when he slipped quietly back into the hallway. He clicked the bathroom door shut behind him.

The inspector would be arriving soon. Milam went outside and settled onto his front step with a cinnamon roll. He lived maybe a mile off 190, in an ethnic ghetto of sorts. A Gaza Strip of Cajuns wedged between the Union Pacific line and the settlements of the Opelousas black majority. Two teenagers, shirtless in the heat, sauntered past his square prefab, all headphones and attitude as they laughed and traded rhymes about the crazy Rabbit Man. Milam glared after them.

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