Amberville - By Tim Davys Page 0,9

crow.

He took a step past the bear and knocked firmly on the door to the right. If it were possible, the stillness in the building seemed to intensify during the seconds that followed. They stood, waiting, but nothing happened.

The crow knocked again, harder this time, calling out at the same time.

“Sam! It’s us! It’s Tom-Tom!”

Another minute passed without anything happening, and Eric lost patience.

“It’s no coincidence,” he said, “that the screams we heard have gone silent. Knock down the door.”

“Should I?” asked Tom-Tom.

“Knock down the door,” repeated Eric.

Tom-Tom moved away a little, took a deep breath, and ran up against the closed door, heaving himself against it with his whole body and feeling how it gave way. In order not to give Sam a chance to take the back way out, both Tom-Tom and Eric stormed in. The gazelle was sitting on a little stool next to a bed on the farther wall.

The gazelle looked up in terror. His torso was bare, his naked, white belly turned toward the door, and it seemed as though the black rings around his eyes had become even larger. His sand-brown fur glistened beautifully thanks to expensive shampoo, but the freshness of the fur stood in stark contrast to the horizontally ringed horns. The right horn had broken off in the middle even before he’d started at Casino Monokowski more than twenty years earlier, and he’d never managed to get it fixed.

In the bed next to Sam an old duck was lying, tied up. He looked unusual, mint-green with a blue beak. Alongside him, both on the mattress and on the floor, newly plucked feathers were whirling in the draft from the broken-in door. Certain feathers were scorched on the edges, and there was a faint odor of burnt animal.

The old duck stared at Eric and Tom-Tom with a look of panic.

“Help,” he said unexpectedly.

There was no strength in his voice, the word was more like a statement.

Sam twisted toward the duck and looked at him with surprise. The old bird took a few breaths, filled his chest with air, and cleared his throat.

“You must help me,” he said in a somewhat steadier voice. “The gazelle has hurt me. He has really hurt me.”

And tears ran from the duck’s eyes.

“Sam, let him loose,” said Eric.

Sam gave a start. He’d thought there was something familiar about the figures who had broken down his door, but in his clouded brain he had a hard time placing them. Now that there was a voice to go along with the bear’s face, the lights came on.

“Eric?”

“Send the duck away, Sam,” Eric repeated. “We have to talk.”

“Eric, darling!” exclaimed Sam, and now there was an exaggerated delight in his voice. “And Tom-Tom! You look really old!”

And with a laugh like the ringing of small bells, Sam got up from the stool. In a particular way that couldn’t be accused of being exactly feminine, but definitely wasn’t masculine, he minced over to his uninvited guests and embraced them both. Eric froze. He’d always had a hard time with touching. Tom-Tom, on the other hand, squeezed back, hiding the gazelle under his wings, feeling that he’d missed this fragile being.

“Damn, it’s been a long time,” said the crow. “And I didn’t even know I missed you.”

“You’re sweet, darling,” Sam smiled. “Thank the good Magnus for dumb crows!”

And he giggled happily. Eric nodded toward the duck. Sam shrugged his shoulders, but went over to the bed and loosened the ropes that bound the duck from head to foot.

“That you come here to visit,” said the gazelle elatedly while he struggled with his own buttons, “in the middle of the night…”

“Sam,” said Tom-Tom gently, “for heaven’s sake, it’s the middle of the day.”

“As if that should be important, sweetheart?” said Sam. “When you come here to visit…at last…finally…and together. It almost makes me want to cry. I guess it’s just Snake that’s missing.”

“Soon it’ll be his turn,” informed Eric.

The duck got out of the bed, recoiling from the gazelle and making a large detour around him in order to make his way to the door.

“I’m thinking of calling the police on you,” he said, pointing at Sam.

Eric Bear and Tom-Tom weren’t fooled. They both knew that the duck had paid Sam Gazelle for…special services. The duck disappeared out to the stairway and they heard his rapid, flat footsteps echo on the way down to the entry.

Sam went over to the kitchenette and poured himself a glass of water. He looked at Eric and