It was perhaps two feet tall, a squat, pink skinned ape. Its fur was whiter than new snow and a single menacing horn protruded from its head. It stood before him, about ten feet away, barring his path, surveying him with every ounce of his dread and disappointment. It shuffled slightly, waiting for him, waiting for him to move. The ape was not for budging.
Kerger awoke with a start, bathed in sweat, unsure of his locus.
His crusted eyes took a while to focus on the figures standing over him, like standing stones, except they were people, who looked a bit like stones, stone people in the half light.
“Doctor?” he croaked.
“No, Kerger, not the doctor.” He heard.
It was Dahlia's family, the Rooknotherts. He could make out Isaac, the oldest brother, the head of the family since their father had died in mysterious circumstances.
A research scientist, Mandrake Rooknothert had been discovered dead in his empty lab on the day he was due to retire, clutching a picture of a laughing zebra, a half finished macramé bun cover cast to one side. No-one could establish a cause of death. His tombstone read “Let me out! There’s been a terrible mistake!” Kerger had liked him.
Isaac, with his flaxen hair and impenetrable eyes make Kerger feel uneasy, like there was a wasp in his sandwich. Otto was there as well, poor, dull Otto, picking at a wound on his forearm, no doubt self inflicted. He smiled when he saw Carla, Dahlia’s sweet little sister. She tried to smile back he thought, but a frown crept across her face instead, as if the friendly gesture had been strangled on the way to her face by some nameless, faceless smile-strangler. Dahlia’s mother moaned softly in the corner her head covered by what appeared to be an embroidered throw rug.
“Wha..what happened?” he managed.
“You are in hospital Kerger. You had a shock. You will be well treated here.” Said Isaac, his thick Montenegrin accent scraping Kerger’s ears like iron filings spat through a washcloth.
“It is alright. No-one is blaming you for what happened.” Carla said as Mother Rooknothert wailed a dry tromboney wail of anguish and scampered from the room, her head still completely obscured by her expansive tapestry.
“Well Mother blames you, but no-one else.” Said Isaac.
“No-one blames me? No-one blames me for what?” Kerger asked, pulling himself up to a sitting position.
The Rooknotherts glanced uneasily at one another and said nothing.
“It…doesn’t matter right now. You need your rest.” Said Carla, motioning to pat his arm. Isaac stopped her and pulled her away.
“I remember coming home and then…the cats! My God, the cats! I passed out!” said Kerger, becoming agitated.
“Yes.” Said Isaac.
“But why? I thought she understood! Why would Dahlia do something like that?”
Kerger’s mind was swirling now as he tried to get up out of bed only to find his legs as weak as overcooked egg noodles. He collapsed on the floor with a thud.
“Dahlia didn’t do it Kerger. She couldn’t have.” Said Isaac.
"Dahila was killed dead two days ago.”
