Stuffed Bear

He bumped into a stuffed bear, hit his knee into an angle of a desk and quietly cursed. Then he swiftly opened the closet and stepped inside, closing old heavy wooden doors behind him. Even though the closet doors were now shut, he could still peek at the room because of roughness and bumps on the edges of the doors. It was dark around him, Archer managed to turn off the lights before he heard the steps in the hallway. He blinked for a couple of times to help his eyes to adjust to the darkness and tried to breathe in and out deeply to calm down.

Archer was mad with himself, not only for being in this bloody situation, but also for his indiscretion. He was supposed to find the documents, see what Ben had prepared against him for the trial and leave through the window, the same way he got in here. He assumed it would take him just a few minutes, but the old man must have taken the papers with him to the office this day. And now he was back at home, not having a clue that Archer Jones, the billionaire, his employer’s main competitor was hiding in his workroom’s closet.

He glazed at the room enlightened by the moon through the window. It was the first time that he took a good look at it. It was a small but exquisite room, making him feel as if he was in a genuine gentleman’s territory. The walls were made out of oak, there was a huge chandelier made of hundreds of crystals hanging on a ceiling and in the middle of the room there was a huge dark green carpet with many different brown dots on it. But he wasn’t really paying attention to those details. He was looking at Ben’s stuffed animals, put on every possible shelf and edge in the room. It seems as if they were watching him and Archer realized that he began to breathe faster once again.

He never liked Ben. And the feeling was mutual. He’s known him for many years now and Ben, who was a professional lawyer, has always represented his competitors, making Archer lose money. But that wasn’t what bothered Archer, he was convinced that a healthy competition was a great sport for a businessman. Truth be told, Ben was a dreadful creepy disabled old man. A few of Ben’s cases were so successful that it made some of the clients leave the country, a couple of them even killed themselves, like John Michelson for example.

Ben himself was attacked by a bear while hunting. After the accident he was left a hobbling cripple. Archer gazed at the big grizzly bear near the window, he was absolutely sure that it was the same bear. Old man always likes to say that none of his enemies leaves this world unpunished. But hunting and taking revenge on rich clients weren’t his most beloved hobbies, it was animal stuffing.  Archer despised the look that Ben possessed. It was a look of a man that could do anything, a look that does not tell you anything about his thoughts and feelings. He had the same look as his stuffed animals. Empty and dead.

Suddenly the steps in the hallway became louder till they finally stopped in front of the workroom. Archer froze and did not move at all. He wasn’t even sure that he was breathing and he prayed to God that he wouldn’t faint. Ben confidently put the key into the lock and opened the door. Archer couldn’t see his face, but he was sure it was Ben. One strong step with his left leg to the front and one long, annoyed and twitchy pull of his other disabled leg. He slowly walked to the desk, creating a frightening rhythm, leaving it hanging in the air. Step, pull. Step, pull. Step, pull.

The lawyer turned the lights on and took something from a shelf. Then he started to giggle to himself.

“I know you are here, Archer. Stop hiding like a small boy in the closet.”

Archer did not know what to say. He was furious and the hatred to the old man grew by a second. He was sure of his success tonight when he left his house, he was sure that Ben was out, that he hid the papers in his drawer and that he will win the trail. And now his little adventure was over. He pushed the wooden doors and stepped out of his dark shelter. Ben was standing in front of his stuffed bear, holding a bottle of scotch in his hand.

“Care for a drink?” He asked pointing with his free hand to an armchair near his desk.

Archer was bewildered. He couldn’t take his eyes of the bear, holding his enormous paws lifted up, standing still behind Ben, as if he was attacking him once again. Ben’s smiling face lightened by a small desk lamp from beneath his chin look like a hideous mask. But Archer wasn’t really surprised by that. He sat onto the armchair and continued to observe Ben. There was no point in apologizing or asking to keep this between them two. Ben was a clever lawyer, Archer made a foolish mistake and he was about to get punished.

“I assume you came to look for the papers.”

Archer nodded and took the glass of scotch that Ben was offering him. He took a long mouthful, it tasted too sweet and mild.

“Well, you could have saved the effort. I don’t have anything against you.”

Archer gave him a look of confusion and mistrust. Ben Walker didn’t have anything against his client. Now that’s something new and entirely rubbish. Ben had something in his mind, but he couldn’t say what. He just kept on looking at Archer with his stuffed animal eyes.

“And yet I am most certain that you have.” Said Archer.

“I guarantee that I do not. There was no point in doing that. You are too precious to put in a jail, Archer.”

Archer didn’t understand a thing he was saying, he just felt that he needed some fresh air, he was sweating and wanted to have some water. Because he couldn’t do any of those things, he pulled his collar to the left and to the right and drank the rest of his scotch.

“You see, I need you for something personal, very delicate. And the fact that you came to me by yourself just proves that I was right by choosing you. I’m sure you know my favorite saying, boy.”

Ben looked down to him, smiling, waiting for his answer. Archer suddenly felt that he really wished that the grizzly bear was still alive and it could get his job done with the old man.

“None of your enemies leaves this world unpunished, I suppose?”

“Oh, now.” Said Ben and started laughing as if Archer said a joke that only he understood. “It’s " one more and my collection will be done.”

Archer could barely concentrate on what he was saying, his shirt was soaking from his sweat and he felt an urge to throw up. Ben moved towards him in his own slow way, when he finally reached him, he pushed Archer from his chair to the floor. He couldn’t properly move his body, he blinked and blinked, trying to stay conscious. The scotch. He never should have drank that creep’s scotch. Ben took him by his forearm and pulled him on the green carpet. Archer was laying on his side, being able to watch only Ben’s shoes and the carpet. And then it was when he realized, those were not brown dots on the carpet. Those were dry blood stains.

“I watched you for years, Archer, you handsome boy. The second I saw you, I knew you are going to be a perfect specimen to my collection.”

“What… what collection?” Ask Archer as he tried to roll on his back.

“The best one. Definitely more interesting than the one you see in this room. You will meet John Michelson, Tom Ralley and many others again. Soon, very soon.”

Ben walked around him in circles, re-creating his former rhythm.

“They are dead… John hanged himself… and Tom drowned.” Objected Archer, gasping.

“They are, they are, my dear boy. And soon, you will be too.”

Archer struggled to get up, to fight and to run away from Ben, but he was paralyzed and laid on the dirty carpet. Ben opened the third drawer of his desk and took a big leather bundle out of it. He rolled it out on his table and chose one big knife of his instruments. Then he got back to Archer and leaned over him, giving him the same hideous smile.

“But are you really dead if I make you look alive, boy?”