Read Online Tunes for Bears to Dance To by Robert Cormier - Free Book Online Page B

on the mallet.
    Such a little thing to do, the grocer had said.
    He picked up the mallet and walked on legs still stiff from the cramped position of his sleep to the old man’s bench. The mallet was heavy and he put it down. He removed the sheet, careful not to disturb the figures. Letting the sheet fall gently to the floor, he gazed upon the village in the dim light of the distant bulb. The village and its inhabitants were caught in a kind of twilight. He touched the figure of the man as a boy, the blue cap on his head, the dark jacket. A toy, really. All the figures toys. Not a real village and not real people.
    Don’t think. Do it.
    He picked up the mallet. Raised it above his head. The weight of the mallet sent him slightly off balance and he swayed a bit. Sweat broke out on his forehead like small explosions from his pores. His hair was suddenly damp, a moist lock falling across his forehead. Fastening his grip on the mallet as he held it aloft, he looked down at the village.
    Such a simple thing. You don’t have to do anything.Let the mallet do it. Let it drop, like an atomic bomb falling from a plane.
    Blood drained from his arms above his head into his shoulders, flooding his heart, causing it to thump dangerously in his chest.
    Do it.
    But could not.
    Could not move either.
    He stood frozen like a statue in a park or a church, utterly unable to move, the pain spreading throughout his body now, his heartbeats thudding in his temples. Trapped this way, as if for eternity.
    Then, a small darting movement to his left at the corner of his vision. Looking down, unable to move anything except his eyes, he saw a rat leaping to the bench, saw it slithering among the buildings and figures. Henry, too, leapt, startled, gasping, dropping the mallet, then watching in horror as it smashed into the village, splintering the farmhouse, sending figures askew, the old man’s mother spilling out of the window. Other figures, including the old man as a boy, tumbling and falling and then the bench itself breaking in two, like a crack in the stir-face caused by an earthquake, the building and figures disappearing into the crack.
    A sound came from deep inside him …
Ahhhhhh
… like the sound the old man had made the day Henry told him about Eddie’s death, a sound of anguish and heartache that filled the centeras Henry looked down at the ruined village. The village blurred as his eyes filled with tears.
    The silence in the center was almost deafening.
    Get out of here.
    Get far away.
    He swiveled away from the broken bench, unable any longer to gaze at the horror of his accomplishment. He stalked toward the door on legs as stiff as wooden stilts.
I didn’t want to do it.
    But he had done it, after all.

A thundering waterfall greeted him as he stepped out into the dismal and deserted street, lit up suddenly by a flash of lightning. He drew back, pressing himself against the door.
    He knew that he could not risk hanging around the center. Someone might spot him here and remember his presence later. Despite another flash of lightning and the instant boom of thunder that followed, he dashed onto the sidewalk, hunching his shoulders against the rain and a sudden blast of wind. His breath caught as he raced along. Rounding a corner gasping, he came face to face with Mr. Hairston.
    “In here,” Mr. Hairston said, indicating the doorway of a furniture store closed for the night. Thunder boomed again and Henry ducked in beside the grocer. His wet clothes clung to his body.
    He had never seen the grocer outside of the store before. He was smaller, thinner, shivering with the chill of the rain.
    “I’ve been waiting for you,” he said, eyes bright with anticipation. “Did you do it? Is the village smashed?”
    “The village is smashed,” Henry said, his voice cracking as he spoke.
    Rain beat against the store windows.
    “Excellent, excellent,” Mr. Hairston said, briskly rubbing his hands together, savoring his moment. He reached