"Just waiting," Paul said.
"I stopped by this afternoon," Couch said gravely. "It's just a matter of time." Couch had an air of lawyerly importance thatNeely immediately disliked. Teague the optometrist then provided a lengthy narrative about the latest advances of Rake's cancer.
It was almost dark. The joggers were gone from the track. In the shadows a tall gawky man emerged from the clubhouse and slowly made his way to the metal poles supporting the score-board.
"That's not Rabbit, is it?"Neely asked.
"Of course it is," Paul said. "He'll never leave."
"What's his title now?"
"He doesn't need one."
"He taught me history," Teague said.
"And he taught me math," Couch said.
Rabbit had taught for eleven years before someone discovered he'd never finished the ninth grade. He was fired in the ensuing scandal, but Rake intervened and got Rabbit reassigned as an assistant athletic director. Such a title at Messina High School meant he did nothing but take orders from Rake. He drove the team bus, cleaned uniforms, maintained equipment, and, most important, supplied Rake with all the gossip.
The field lights were mounted on four poles, two on each side. Rabbit flipped a switch. The lights on the south end of the visitors' side came on, ten rows of ten lights each. Long shadows fell across the field.
"Been doing that for a week now," Paul said. "Rabbit leaves them on all night.His version of a vigil. When Rake dies, the lights go out."
Rabbit lurched and wobbled back to the clubhouse, gone for the night. "Does he still live there?"Neely asked.
"Yep.He has a cot in the attic, above the weight room.Calls himself a night watchman. He's crazy as hell."
"He was a damned good math teacher," Couch said.
"He's lucky he can still walk," Paul said, and everyone laughed. Rabbit had become partially crippled during a game in 1981 when, for reasons neither he nor anyone else would ever grasp, he had sprinted from the sideline onto the field, into the path of one Lightning Loyd, a fast and rugged running back, who later played at Auburn, but who, on that night, was playing for Greene County, and playing quite brilliantly. With the score tied late in the third quarter, Loyd broke free for what appeared to be a long touchdown run. Both teams were undefeated. The game was tense, and evidently Rabbit snapped under the pressure. To the horror (and delight) of ten thousand Messina faithful, Rabbit flung his bony and brittle body into the arena, and somewhere around the thirty-five-yard line, he collided with Lightning. The collision, while near fatal for Rabbit, who at the time was at least forty years old, had little impact on Loyd.A bug on the windshield.