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He stepped aside. The skeleton walked past him into the room and headed straight for the fire. He placed her tenderly in a chair and began working to rid her of her sopping wet dress.

Gideon glared at the revenant. It was useless anger, but he felt it all the same. With a long, beleaguered sigh, he accepted his new fate. “How wonderful that the hero has returned to us.”

“There is a fence post outside that is tapered more than most. I think in the rain it would fit quite nicely. Go wedge it up your arsehole.” The skeleton straightened and fetched a blanket to wrap it around Marguerite, who was now dressed down to her slip and corset.

His jaw twitched. “Lovely to see you again, too, Leopold.”

* * *

December 1961

Portland, Oregon

Maggie heldher pet in her lap. She was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed, and she cradled the little creature in the crook of her arm. He was wheezing, his chest rising and falling in short, rapid gasps.

Her pet rat Algernon was dying.

His eyes were closed, and she knew it would happen soon.

She understood death. She understood that creatures died. And her little rat had lived a long and happy life for his species. Rats only lived up to three years, Dr. Raithe had told her. He had asked her instead to consider a cat, as they could live up to twenty. She liked cats—she had nothing against them. In fact, she thought that was a great idea and she had gone to the pet store with him with the full intent of coming out with some lovable kitty.

But when she saw Algernon’s adorable little face and whiskers peering up at her from the cage in the pet store, she’d instantly fallen in love. That had been four years ago. He had lived longer than she had thought possible.

She understood his time would come.

But it still didn’t do anything to stop her grief, or her tears. John, her best friend and fellow patient of Dr. Raithe, sat beside her. He had one of his strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. He kissed her temple but said nothing.

“Thank you for all the love you gave me,” she whispered to the little animal. She knew he couldn’t understand English, but she believed animals could feel the intent behind them. “Thank you for all the laughs, and for stealing all my hair ties. Thank you. I’ll miss you.” She sniffled. “I love you, Algernon.”

John hugged her tighter. “He’ll always be with you.”

“I know…I’m just going to miss him so much.”

“It’s all right.” He rested his head against hers. “You gave him a wonderful life, and he adored you. I’ve never seen a rat follow a person around the house.” He chuckled. “Scared the shit out of me a few times.”

She smiled at the memory. But the bittersweet moment turned sour as Algernon stopped breathing.

Maggie wept.

John helped her dig a little hole in the back yard, and she placed her friend in a shoebox, burying it deep enough that the neighborhood animals wouldn’t make a meal of her friend’s remains.

It wasn’t until two in the morning that night that she finally fell asleep, fitfully turning from side to side, wishing she could reach out and feel the warm, fuzzy presence of her pet rat. Gideon always scolded her for keeping him in the bed with her. But the little guy was studiously clean, and never really wandered off. It felt wrong to keep him in a cage when it was clear he had no interest in running away.

At four in the morning, her hand touched something fuzzy on her pillow. Fuzzy—but…not warm.

Opening her eyes, she sat up, instantly awake. Fumbling for the light switch, she flicked it on. There, on her pillow, was Algernon. He was cleaning himself, wiping the dirt from his face and whiskers with his little hands.

No. Her rat had been dead. Was this a miracle? Had he returned to life? Had she been mistaken, and buried her living friend, who had dug himself out of the dirt to come back to her?

Reaching out, her rat eagerly jumped into her hand. She petted him gently, even if she was trembling. He was cold. As cold as—well—the grave.

Algernon had not come back to life. He was still dead.

She fainted.

* * *

November 2019