"These quarters are entirely unsuitable," said Hannibal. Clarice quite agreed, though not for the same reasons Hannibal objected to the caretaker's apartment. It was not the tiny kitchen nor the simple furnishings that she didn't like, it was the fact that the space was oppressively sad. She noticed Hanni standing out in the corridor. Even he felt it.
"But we can't turn on the heat for the entire facility. I don't think we have a choice."
"My dear, we always have choices. Our choice today is to forego a very unsavory six months in favor of more comfortable accommodations. Our stipend should cover a good portion of the expense, and we'll be gone before anyone makes it up here after the snow breaks."
They explored a few rooms off the main corridor and selected a spacious suite near the elevators, and Hannibal left to see whether it would be possible to rig the backup generator and heater to these rooms. Otherwise, they would have to either depend upon the few cords of wood when the power went out, or move into the dreaded apartment. Clarice shuddered and started unpacking.
They'd settled into an easy routine, the care of the immense property not overly taxing in such capable hands. Clarice spent quiet days in the library or surfing the net on the office computer. Hannibal went about his errands, and spent the rest of his time in the piano lounge, or sometimes drawing in the main room.
Their son explored.
Hanni heard the odd noise long before he came upon its source. He'd never seen such a thing, though its purpose was quite obvious from its mechanics. It was silent now, as if inviting him, and he looked at it with inherent disdain, its vulgar red and yellow plastic construct loudly offensive in the quiet. He turned to make his way back to the main hall through the seemingly endless corridors, but it seemed as if the halls rearranged themselves to lead him always back to the same spot.
The third time he found himself outside the door to room 217, he thought he heard sounds behind the door. He leaned closer and heard animated voices and music, as if from a distance. His fingertips were just brushing the doorknob when the obnoxious conveyance made a second appearance at the intersection near the head of the corridor. It turned to face him, and then was once again still and silent.
Hanni paused briefly, torn between his curiosity of what lay behind the door and how the mechanism with the big wheel operated without an apparent power source. Deciding upon inspecting the room, he reached for the doorknob again, but had to desist and make a run for it as the thunderously approaching Big Wheel threatened to run him down.
When he finally reached the main hall, he breathlessly turned to look just as the frightening apparatus disappeared behind a distant bend in the corridor. He patted the Merlin in his shirtsleeve, and gathered himself before deciding to leave it be for the moment. He wasn't frightened; he just wanted to go back for it prepared. That's all.
He hurried down the grand staircase to find his mother.
Only a week after their arrival, the snows had come, bringing gloom. It was the first bright and sunny day they'd had in a month, and they were blanketed in a sparkling wonderland when Clarice tried to gather her men.
"I'm perfectly capable of finding suitable entertainment indoors. You two may proceed with such silliness if you feel it necessary."
"C'mon!" Clarice pled, "It'll be fun! There's no one to witness your 'silliness,' Hannibal. We'll even let you name him!" She looked at Hanni who merely shrugged his concession.
"How generous of you, but no, thank you." He buried his nose in his book until they'd left him.
After a few minutes, he moved to the lounging area on the upper level of the main room where the view from broad windows encompassed the entire foreground of the property. From there he could see his wife and son efficiently building a snowman. He watched as Clarice instigated a snowball fight and was subsequently pelted by a very accurate young arm. A part of him longed to join them, and he sat back in his chair, admitting to himself that it was far more than an aversion to snow and indignity that kept him from sharing in their festivities.
"Noooooo!" The harsh scream seemed to echo throughout the cavernous room, startling Hannibal enough that he dropped his book. In a moment, he caught his breath, realizing the scream had only resounded in his head, a memory from his past; his dreams had been suffused with the cries ever since they'd arrived here. He picked up his book with a shaking hand, and moved away from the window.
Outside, Clarice screamed as another tightly packed snowball hit her squarely in the head, "Ouch!"
"Are you all right?" Her son ran over to help her off the ground, concern etched on his face. She waited until he'd bent over her before smashing a handful of powdery snow into his face, laughing maniacally.
"No fair!"
"And who says I fight fair?" They tussled briefly and she gave him a bear hug. "C'mon, let's finish him."
They got up and dusted off, examining their six-foot monstrosity. "He needs a face," said Hanni.
"Well, let's see," Clarice looked around. "Why don't you go get a carrot from the kitchen, and anything else that we can use. I'll look around for stuff out here."
"Okay," he scuttled off as Clarice headed for the garden.
He bounded into the lobby, and immediately quieted his step; something about noises in the building troubled him. He made for the kitchen and something caught his eye as he passed the banquet hall. He gasped, coming to a complete halt at the sight of the formally dressed banquet table, his father in tails at the head of the table.
His breathing was loud in the eerie silence as his father extended his hand and gestured for Hanni to come to him, and the boy very likely would have done so had the face not broken into a broad smile.
The boy blinked hard in disbelief and the image disappeared. The table was once again hidden beneath a drop cloth, the room empty. After a paralyzed moment, he turned and ran for the front door, but slammed into another body rounding the corner.
Mouth open, hand on his Merlin he turned to run back the other way, but was grasped by his collar from behind.