Subj: Dessplaced - Chapter 3
Date: 4/11/99 4:52:53 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Doreen Gregoire

Barnabas morosely turned the dial on the television set. With all the dubious progress mankind had made since the eighteenth century, one would think that there would be something of better quality than "I Love Lucy" reruns, "Gunsmoke" or "Batman".

Being newly married, he could relate somewhat to the adventures of Lucy and Ricky (even if the show *was* far-fetched). He watched "Gunsmoke" solely for the horses (and the saloon girls, though he didn't let on to Julia) -- he didn't even know the names of the main characters.

Of all the inane programming, surely the most difficult for him to understand was "Batman". Why would a grown man go around in his long underwear, fighting people who clearly belonged in an asylum?

And he didn't even want to *think* about "The Munsters".

He shook his head and switched the machine off. Maybe this was why he had held out against installing electricity for so long. But Julia had insisted on a telephone soon after they were married, and he had given her that -- being a doctor, she needed a telephone.

Then had come the plumbing. He had more reluctantly agreed to that, but was now the first one to appreciate not having to make the trip to the outhouse on cold winter mornings. And Julia had shown him that a shower could be used for more than mere solitary bathing. He grinned at that thought in spite of his sour mood.

Once she had gotten him to realize that plumbing and a telephone were definite improvements, and just as he started wondering how he'd lived without them, *then* she'd started working on electricity. And Willie, the traitor, had chimed in as well to wear him down.

Of course he could deny Julia nothing. He gruffed and grumbled, but one look from those incredible eyes of hers, accompanied by the smile she reserved only for him, and his icy resolve melted to puddles of vacillation, until he finally wound up giving her whatever she wanted.

He turned from the television and selected a book. Books never failed a person -- they could be depended on to carry a reader away to wherever the writer wished to take them.

As he settled into his favourite chair by the fireplace, he heard Julia puttering about in the kitchen. He thought of asking her for a cup of coffee, but then decided against it. He wasn't really thirsty, and Julia sounded like she was busy, whatever she was doing.

He had just started to get immersed in the adventures of Horatio Hornblower when he was startled by a flash of lightning, immediately followed by a clap of thunder. The house was plunged into darkness, except for the light from the fireplace.

He started to rise from his chair to light the candles that were ever-present in the drawing room -- there were some traditions a man just couldn't give up -- when something fell on his head. He felt something sharp digging into his scalp. It smelled awful, and it was *moving*.

"Julia!" He tried to get hold of whatever it was to remove it, but it hissed menacingly. Trying to ignore it, he took hold of what felt like a tail and pulled. "Ow! It bit me! JULIA!!"

He was relieved to hear her footsteps coming down the hallway.

"Barnabas, I've told you before -- please don't shout at me from the other end of the house. If you want to talk to me just --" She stopped in the doorway and just stared in astonishment.

Illuminated by the light from the fireplace, Barnabas was rooted to a spot in the middle of the drawing room. His face bore an expression of near-panic. But it wasn't Barnabas who caused her sudden inaction.

On his head, clutching for dear life, was a *creature*. It was about the size of a chihuahua, but there all similarity ended. It was completely hairless, with wrinkled skin the colour of a pink elephant that has just taken a dust bath. (In the back of her mind, Julia wondered how she came up with *that* comparison.) It had huge round eyes that glowed a bright purple in the dim light. The claws it used to grip Barnabas' skull seemed to be very sharp, as evidenced by the tiny puncture marks around his scalp.

"Barnabas, what -- how --?"

"Julia, I know even less than you do, because you at least can *see* this bat! Can you help me get if off?"

Julia at last stirred herself, and approached nearer. Seeing her, the creature hissed in warning, its eyes wide in fright. In spite of the situation, Julia chuckled. "Barnabas, you of *all* people should know that bats, even trapped ones, don't land on peoples' heads. This isn't a bat, but I don't know just what it is."

She reached out slowly and carefully, trying not to frighten the creature more than it already was. The little creature flattened itself and clung even tighter as her hands approached, oblivious to the discomfort it caused its reluctant host.

Julia carefully took a front and back leg in each hand and lifted it from Barnabas' head. As it left its perch, the creature started to struggle, interspersing its hissing with piteous whines and cries. She went over to a table and held the creature so it was spread-eagled, its long arms and legs stretched out far enough so she was in no danger of being bitten by the mouthful of needle-sharp teeth she glimpsed as it opened its mouth to hiss again. She also made sure to avoid the sharp talons at the end of each finger and toe.

Barnabas retrieved a candelabrum and lit all five candles, then brought it to the table where Julia was struggling with the little creature while at the same time trying to get a closer look at it.

"What is it?" Barnabas asked. He put the candelabrum down and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to dab at the tiny runnels of blood that trickled down his cheeks.

Julia shook her head. "I don't know. I've never seen anything like it. I can only tell you that it's warm-blooded, it's a mammal, and I *think* it's female." She glanced over at Barnabas. "What I'd like to know is where it came from."

He stuffed his handkerchief back in his pocked. "I have no idea how it got in here. One minute I was reading, then the lights went out, I felt this creature and --" He leaned closer and sniffed. The creature lashed its (her?) tail, whipping Barnabas' wrist as he leaned on the table. He withdrew quickly, rubbing his wrist. "Sulphur. *That's* what I smelled when it was clinging to me."

He leaned over, careful to stay away from its tail, which looked prehensile and which was still whipping dangerously back and forth across the table. He glanced over at Julia and noticed her trying to take the creature's pulse while still holding her immobilized.

"Julia," he said, amusement in his voice. "Why don't I hold her -- it *is* a her? -- and you can get your bag. I can see how you are dying to hold a stethoscope to that small chest."

Julia made sure he had a sure grip on the creature's arms and legs before she let go and ran out of the drawing room and upstairs.

"Well, little one," Barnabas said to the creature, "what are we going to do with you? And what are we going to call you?"

The creature ceased her struggles the moment Barnabas touched her. She lay quietly on the table, her arms and legs still immobilized, and regarded him with her huge round eyes, which had dimmed from bright purple to lavender. "Dessssssssss," she hissed.

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