THE NURSERY
by Daniel Davis

Sarah told him to go outside and make sure the dog hadn't dug under the fence again. This was Todd's excuse for not being in the house. Sarah herself was in the garage, going through the cabinets, collecting old clothing for Goodwill. Todd was in the kitchen, and she shouted that she hadn't heard Freddy barking for a while. Todd hadn't either, and said, "Maybe there's nothing to bark at."
"Will you just go check, please?"
Todd put down the wrench he'd been using to fix the leak beneath the sink. He knew Freddy couldn't have dug outÑTodd had put a cement block in the last hole, and the dog wasn't clever enough to dig elsewhereÑbut he went out the backdoor and scanned the yard anyways. Freddy wasn't in sight, but Sarah wouldn't be satisfied unless he checked around the side of the house, so Todd walked out into the yard and found Freddy near the south gate, sniffing the ground. The dog looked up, saw him, then squat-ted and took a dump.
"Good boy," Todd said. He walked over as Freddy finished. The dog tried to jump on him, but he pushed him down. He went back around to the kitchen, grabbed a baggie, and shouted that Freddy was just fine. Sarah didn't answer him. He went back to clean up Freddy's mess. As he was twisting the baggie closed, a scream came from the nearest window. It was followed by another, and another. Todd's mind went blankÑevery rational thought left his head. The screams were alien, unnatural. He'd never heard them before in his house. He couldn't think who they belonged to, what they belonged to. His first thought was something mechanical. What was in that room? The computer?
Then it clicked. Kevin. The nursery. Todd dropped the baggie and ran, Freddy at his heels, barking as if it were some kind of game. He burst into the kitchen, hollered for Sarah even though she'd surely heard the baby's screams already. He rushed down the hall towards the nursery, found Sarah standing in the doorway, her face pale, her hands raised, as if she were wanting to do something but couldn't think of what. Todd reached her, almost tripping over the dog, and ran into the room.
He wasn't sure which sound was worse: Kevin's screams, or the buzzing of the hornets. They weren't everywhere, but they appeared to be: crawling on the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Kevin's crib was at the far back of the room, beside the window. The hornets seemed to be concentrated in the opposite corner, also along the back wall. Todd stepped forward, cautiously; the insects hadn't noticed him yet, were moving around him as though he weren't there. He saw a crack near the floorboards, in the corner. He'd mentioned it to Sarah before, said they should have someone look at it. She'd said some-thing about expenses.
Freddy jumped into the room, barking. He must've stepped on a hornet, for he yelped and rushed back out of the room. The hornets stirred. Todd didnÕt think; if he'd thought, he would've decided not to do it. He ran forward, not bothering to wave the hornets away, and scooped Kevin from his crib. Then he turned and ran back out of the room, the baby crying into his ear, his own eyes watery with the pain stinging his arms and neck and face. He didn't stop running until he was in the front of the house, as far from the hornets as he could get. Even there, above Kevin's wails, he could hear them.
Sarah followed him, walking stiffly. "Call 911," he said, and she moved towards the phone. He turned back to Kevin; the infant was still crying, which Todd took to be a good thing. He felt the baby for lumps; just two, thank God, one on each arm. He went into the kitchen and ran a rag under the water, then came back and wrapped it around Kevin. He didn't know if it was the right thing to do. He just had to do something.
When Sarah came back into the room, she ignored him when he asked if the paramedics were coming. His back was to her; when she didn't answer, he turned. She slapped him hard across his cheek, her ring leaving a red welt behind. He reeled back, almost falling on top of Kevin. She slapped him again with her other hand, and would've hit him more if he hadn't pushed her away.
"You were supposed to be watching him," she said. Her voice was uneven, ragged, as though each breath was painful. He wished she'd been shouting. If she'd been shouting, he could've attributed it to anger, and believed that she didn't mean it.
"I know," he said, which was all he could say at the moment. There was more to sayÑhow it was her fault he wasn't, how it was her fault they hadn't had that wall checked out soonerÑbut none of it mattered in that instant. The truth was so remote as to be nonexistent.
When the paramedics got there and took Kevin awayÑone of the young men re-assuring Todd that "he'll be just fine"ÑSarah was leaning against the window, glaring at her husband. Todd tried to get her to come with him to the hospital, but she turned away, her last look cutting through all the kind words that had ever passed between them. "You were supposed to be watching him," she said again, and this time he didn't bother to re-ply. He left her there, gazing out at the front yard, her chest heaving. In the background, the sound of the hornets became quieter, settling into a slowly pulsating rhythm, comfort-able, familiar, as though they'd always been there.