Darkfall

scare her.
    No! she thought. That’s silly.
    Besides, it wasn’t a thing , wasn’t a boogeyman. She was too old for boogeymen. That was more Davey’s speed.
    This was just a… a mouse. Yes! That was it. Just a mouse, more scared than she was.
    She felt somewhat relieved. She didn’t like mice, didn’t want them under her bed, for sure, but at least there was nothing too frightening about a lowly mouse. It was grody, creepy, but it wasn’t big enough to bite her head off or anything major like that.
    She stood with her small hands fisted at her sides, trying to decide what to do next.
    She looked up at Scott Baio, who smiled down at her from a poster that hung on the wall behind her bed, and she wished he were here to take charge of the situation. Scott Baio wouldn’t be scared of a mouse; not in a million years. Scott Baio would crawl right under the bed and grab that miserable rodent by its tail and carry it outside and release it, unharmed, in the alley behind the apartment building, because Scott Baio wasn’t just brave-he was good and sensitive and gentle, too.
    But Scott wasn’t here. He was out there in Hollywood, making his TV show.
    Which left Daddy.
    Penny didn’t want to wake her father until she was absolutely, positively, one hundred percent sure there actually was a mouse. If Daddy came looking for a mouse and turned the room upside- down and then didn’t find one, he’d treat her as if she were a child , for God’s sake. She was only two months short of her twelfth birthday, and there was nothing she loathed more than being treated like a child.
    She couldn’t see under the bed because it was very dark under there and because the covers had fallen over the side; they were hanging almost to the floor, blocking the view.
    The thing under the bed-the mouse under the bed!-hissed and made a gurgling-scraping noise. It was almost like a voice. A raspy, cold, nasty little voice that was telling her something in a foreign language.
    Could a mouse make a sound like that?
    She glanced at Davey. He was still sleeping.
    A plastic baseball bat leaned against the wall beside her brother’s bed. She grabbed it by the handle.
    Under her own bed, the peculiar, unpleasant hissing-scratching- scrabbling continued.
    She took a few steps toward her bed and got down on the floor, on her hands and knees. Holding the plastic bat in her right hand, she extended it, pushed the other end under the drooping blankets, lifted them out of the way, and pushed them back onto the bed where they belonged.
    She still couldn’t see anything under there. That low space was cave-black.
    The noises had stopped.
    Penny had the spooky feeling that something was peering at her from those oily black shadows… something more than just a mouse… worse than just a mouse… something that knew she was only a weak little girl… something smart, not just a dumb animal, something at least as smart as she was, something that knew it could rush out and gobble her up alive if it really wanted to.
    Cripes. No. Kid stuff. Silliness.
    Biting her lip, determined not to behave like a helpless child, she thrust the fat end of the baseball bat under the bed. She probed with it, trying to make the mouse squeal or run out into the open.
    The other end of the plastic club was suddenly seized, held. Penny tried to pull it loose. She couldn’t. She jerked and twisted it. But the bat was held fast.
    Then it was torn out of her grip. The bat vanished under the bed with a thump and a rattle.
    Penny exploded backwards across the floor-until she bumped into Davey’s bed. She didn’t even remember moving. One instant she was on her hands and knees beside her own bed; the next instant she banged her head against the side of Davey’s mattress.
    Her little brother groaned, snorted, blew out a wet breath, and went right on sleeping.
    Nothing moved under Penny’s bed.
    She was ready to scream for her father now, ready to risk being treated like a child, more than ready, and she did scream, but the word reverberated only in her mind: Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! No sound issued from her mouth. She had been stricken temporarily dumb.
    The light flickered. The cord trailed down to an electrical outlet in the wall behind the bed. The thing under the bed was trying to unplug the lamp.
    “Daddy!”
    She made some noise this time, though not much; the word came out as a hoarse whisper.
    And the lamp winked off.
    In the lightless room she heard movement. Something came out