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"
Get
out
of
there
,
"
Louis
whispered
.
Church
hissed
again
.
It
did
not
move
.
"
Get
out
,
"
I
said
.
He
picked
up
the
first
thing
that
came
to
hand
in
the
litter
of
Gage
's
toys
,
a
bright
plastic
Chuggy-Chuggy-Choo-Choo
which
in
this
dim
light
was
the
maroon
color
of
dried
blood
.
He
brandished
it
at
Church
;
the
cat
not
only
stood
its
ground
but
hissed
again
.
And
suddenly
,
without
even
thinking
,
Louis
threw
the
toy
at
the
cat
,
not
playing
,
not
goofing
around
;
he
pegged
the
toy
at
the
cat
as
hard
as
he
could
,
furious
at
it
,
and
scared
of
it
too
,
that
it
should
hide
here
in
the
darkened
closet
of
his
son
's
room
and
refuse
to
leave
,
as
if
it
had
a
right
to
be
there
.
The
toy
locomotive
struck
the
cat
dead
center
.
Church
uttered
a
squawk
and
fled
,
displaying
its
usual
grace
by
slamming
into
the
door
and
almost
falling
over
on
its
way
out
.
Gage
stirred
,
muttered
something
,
shifted
position
,
and
was
still
again
.
Louis
felt
a
little
sick
.
There
was
sweat
standing
out
in
beads
on
his
forehead
.
"
Louis
?
"
Rachel
,
from
downstairs
,
sounding
alarmed
"
Did
Gage
fall
out
of
his
crib
?
"
"
He
's
fine
,
honey
.
Church
knocked
over
a
couple
of
his
toys
.
"
"
Oh
,
all
right
.
"
