by Ike Hamill
Eric looked around the circle. Everyone nodded. Lily and Jessie split off while Eric was still trying to call out. He should have told them to switch so he could volunteer for the cellar. He should have, but he didn’t.
Officer Libby and Wendell headed towards the laundry room.
Eric waved Nicky over towards the rear door. The door had a deadbolt and a rail between two hangers to block it shut. His uncle had put that in place back when the hall didn’t have a floor. He had always been paranoid about someone falling through.
“I’ll let you out and then I’ll bar the door again. Go right to the police station and tell them what’s going on,” Eric said.
“No,” she said, even though her eyes were fixed on the door. “Libby is right—we’re going to finish this. Besides, if I told them everything I’ve seen, they would lock me away.”
“Nicky…”
“Stop, Eric. This is my decision and I’ve already made it. I’m going upstairs with or without you—your choice.”
He took a deep breath and studied her face for a moment. The only time he ever won an argument with her was when she decided to concede. There was no concession in her face.
“Fine, but please be careful,” he said.
“It’s a deal.”
In the closet near the bottom of the stairs, Eric had stashed some of his tools. For Nicky, he found a sledge hammer. Testing it in her hands, she shook her head.
“Too heavy.”
Eric replaced it with a shovel. For himself, he grabbed a framing hammer. It was slightly longer and heavier than the other hammer in the closet. With Nicky watching their back, Eric began to climb the stairs, peeking around the corner before he climbed up to the landing, halfway up. The hammer felt good in his hand. Uncle Reynold always said that he had an eye for finish work, but Eric preferred framing. He liked the way the big slabs of wood went together. The structure grew stronger and stronger with each new member. A perpendicular wall squared up the previous until the whole took shape and became perfectly rigid. It always astounded him to think that he could make something permanent from pieces of wood, just by beating them with a hammer. But the hammer could also destroy. His thumbnail still had a ripple in it from when he had blasted it with the hammer and the thumbnail had come off.
“Eric,” Nicky said. “Go.”
She was right. He was hesitating.
Eric forced himself to climb. They reached the top of the stairs where the door was pinned open with an antique iron as a doorstop. Waving Nicky through, Eric checked behind the door and then swung it shut until it clicked. Down the hall he saw Lily’s room, his own, and the other bathroom. Then through the door at the far end, the front hall. It seemed like every door was wide open—they were going to have to check them all.
“I’ll close the far door,” he said.
“No,” Nicky said. “One room at a time. We leave it an escape route towards the front.”
“Okay,” he said, nodding.
They checked the linen closet, just to be sure, and then Eric made sure the door was shut. Lily’s room wasn’t easy. Nicky stood in the doorway while Eric got down on his hands and knees to look under the desk, bureau, and bed. He checked behind everything and even pushed the books back in her bookcase to make sure that nothing was lurking behind the fronted books. The thing they were searching for was about the size of a large house cat, but there was no telling what kind of space it might squeeze into.
“Okay,” he said, returning to Nicky.
She shook her head and pointed at the closet.
The door was almost all they way closed, but Nicky had a good point. There was no guarantee that the thing hadn’t slipped inside and then used one of its talons to pull the door shut.
Testing the weight of the hammer in his hands again, he reached out and used the claw to pull at the closet doorhandles.
Something black tumbled out and Eric jumped back, crashing into the lamp on the desk. Nicky leaned forward and steadied it. She raised her eyebrows and pointed at what had startled Eric. There was a black lace bra on the floor. Eric took several deep breaths until his pulse slowed again. He nudged the closet door open the rest of the way and then used the hammer to sweep the garments over to the side. Another bra fell off a hanger. He even slid the boxes around up on the shelf even though there was no way the thing could have climbed up there.
When he returned to Nicky, she nodded in agreement.
One room down.
The door latch click was satisfying.
His own room felt less mysterious. Eric moved through it quickly until Nicky gasped.
She was looking down the hall.
“I thought I saw something,” she said, raising her finger to point.
Eric knew what her finger was going to land on. She was pointing towards the opening to the other closet. Eric had added it, reclaiming a chunk of unfinished space, so he could eventually put in stairs to the attic. For the moment, it only had a ladder and a hatch.
“We should yell for Libby,” Eric said. He guided her towards the hall so he could close the door to his own room.
“No. It was probably nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Eric said, trying to win at least one argument with her. “He said to yell if we saw anything.”
“So, go check it out. If you see something, then you can yell.”
Eric rolled his eyes. He had to remove the hammer from his hand for a second so he could shake out his tendons and muscles. Gripping the handle so tight, they were starting to bind up. Behind him, Nicky was breathing hard enough that he could hear it over his own heartbeat in his ears. Regardless of how calm she managed to act, she was just as frightened as he was.
Above, he heard something moving across the rafters. It wasn’t the groan and creak they made when he stepped from beam to beam. This was more of a scrabbling, clawing sound. Whatever made that noise was moving quickly. Nicky’s hand touched his shoulder and he knew that she had heard it too.
“Okay, maybe now we can yell,” she whispered.
It was his turn to say no. “Rats make that same sound. You were right. Need to be sure.”
He started inching forward again.
“You have rats in your attic?”
“Maybe.”
Eric had an idea. The hatch he had made at the top of the closet wasn’t permanent. It was just a piece of plywood fitted into the opening to stop drafts. It should be the way he had left it—resting at the bottom of its stops.
He lowered himself down and peeked up through the doorway.
The hatch was askew.
“What is it?” Nicky asked.
“Something went up through there.”
“So I should yell for the others, right?”
“Yeah.”
# # #
He knew it was a mistake as soon as Nicky began to call. They should have been more careful. They should have closed the closet door, blocking off the space, and then they both could have screamed their heads off without worrying.
Instead, as soon as Nicky cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Frank?” the panel at the top of the hatch began to shift. Eric dropped the hammer and his hand shot forward to grab the doorknob.
He wasn’t fast enough.
The little monster pushed the plywood out of the way and came through from the dark attic teeth first. Its claws hooked around the top rung of the ladder as it pulled itself down, faster than gravity. Eric pulled the door shut, pushing the hammer out of the way as he closed it.
Just before it slammed shut, claws hooked around the door. They bit into the wood, stopping the door from closing.
“Oh, shit!” Nicky said.
Eric’s feet slid forward across the floor as the thing pulled so hard that the door began to creak and groan. It pulled the door open several inches before Nicky grabbed him around the waist and added her weight to his. The knob began to slip from his sweaty grip. Another claw appeared around the edge of the door and he got a good look at
it. It was curved, sharp, and black. The way it dug effortlessly into the wood door, it might as well have been made of steel. Even when they pulled hard enough to compress the claws between the door and the stop, the thing showed no sign that it was going to let go. Feet were pounding up the front staircase.
With a deafening snap, a crack appeared in the door, running from the floor up to the knob. Nicky lost her grip on his waist and she fell backwards. Eric was sliding forwards as the thing renewed its pull. He knew he couldn’t let go. If he only managed to hold his ground, help would arrive soon. It was just a lie he was telling himself though, because the monster was gaining momentum, and the gap between the door and the jamb would soon be wide enough for it to slip through.
“Help!” Eric called and at that very moment he saw a form appear at the end of the hall.
Officer Libby was running towards him.
The door snapped. The corner flew inwards and Eric fell back. The monster squeezed through the broken part of the door, pulling with its arms and gnashing its teeth. The claws were moving so fast that they were just black blurs shredding the splintered door.
Officer Libby had a knife.
Eric rolled out of the way as he brought it down.
The blade glanced off the skull of the creature and Eric saw the metal bite into flesh before it was deflected by the bone underneath. That was the only good swing that Officer Libby got. When he raised the knife to stab at it again, the thing raced beneath his arm and reached Officer Libby’s foot before he could jerk it away. It didn’t bite at the man’s foot or ankle. If it had, Officer Libby might have had a chance. Instead, the monster used its claws and teeth to scale the leg so fast that Officer Libby couldn’t attack it with the knife. The claws ripped through his pants before it disappeared between his thighs and then continued to climb his back.
Eric found his hammer. Nicky circled with her shovel, but there was nowhere to strike. As Frank Libby arched his back and tried to reach around, the thing was already passing beneath his arm and circling to the front, lacerating him with its claws. It spiraled up around his chest, passed by Officer Libby’s neck, and then launched off of the man, like it was propelled by the fountain of blood that erupted in its wake.
Nicky’s shovel came down on the floor a moment too late. The monster was already bounding down the hall towards Wendell who stood in the far doorway.
“Shut it!” Eric yelled.
Wendell tried, but before he could pull the door shut the creature slipped through the gap and leapt onto him. Eric ran, his foot slipping in blood. He nearly lost his balance. Tipped forward, legs pumping, Eric saw Wendell fall backwards around the corner, screaming.
The screams ended before Eric even reached the doorway. Wendell’s feet beat and bounced against the floor. When Eric reached the junction of the two halls, nearly tripping on the low step, his shoulder slammed into the door frame and his vision blurred for a moment. He saw Wendell, lying face up. The boy’s eyes were deep red holes, vomiting blood. Eric dropped to the floor, slipping a hand under Wendell’s head as the body convulsed. The only sign of the monster was a set of red splashes that led down the hall towards the front stairs.
Down the other hall, a door slammed.
He heard his cousin Lily yell, “Frank? Frank!”
In Eric’s hands, Wendell’s shaking stopped. The boy seemed to settle into the floor.
Eric’s own hands went up to cover his eyes. After his mother had died, Eric had vowed he would never cry again. It never helped. Tears he kept inside only soaked into his soul, keeping the fetid wound from scarring over. By holding back his sorrow, he could press it down and harden himself to it. That’s what he had to do with Wendell. In a way, they had already mourned him. There was no time to sink into that again.
He sat up.
Lily saw his bloody hands and Wendell’s outstretched feet. She was crouching over Frank Libby, pressing a hand to the wound on his throat. When she stood up, Eric saw the blood slowly dripping from her hands. It looked like it was moving in slow motion. Each droplet took forever to fall to the floor.
Eric and Reynold had put those floorboards down together and sanded the whole length of the hallway by hand before they brushed on the finish. For a year, nobody had even worn shoes on that wood. Now it was splintered, torn, and soaked with blood.
Lily accelerated back into normal speed and then kept accelerating as she ran towards Eric.
“Wendell!” she screamed, shoving Eric out of the way. Her hands ran up the length of her brother’s body, probing him for wounds and trying to coax him back to life. She said his name over and over as she finally got to his face. That’s where all the real damage had been inflicted. His eyes hadn’t just been gouged out, the claws had penetrated into the boy’s brain.
Lily lifted Wendell’s head in both of her hands, gently shaking him as she implored him to be okay.
Eric wiped his hands on his jeans and looked up. Jessie and Nicky were standing there.
Nicky was looking down at Wendell’s feet.
Jessie’s eyes searched down the hall, following the trail that the thing had left.
“It’s downstairs,” Jessie said. His voice was cold and hollow. Eric saw that he was holding the knife that Frank Libby had tried to use. There was black fluid on the blade—proof that the monster could be hurt.
Jessie’s sister was still moaning and calling Wendell’s name when Jessie said, “He took Wendell from us twice. Let’s finish this.”
# # #
They shut every door that they passed. There was no need to guess where the thing had gone. Even after the smears of Frank Libby’s and Wendell’s blood, the thing left a trail of dots like black oil. Eric wondered how badly the monster had been hurt. Given enough time, it might just bleed out. None of them were prepared to take that chance.
Jessie led the way down the stairs but then Lily pushed past him. Her only weapons were her outstretched hands. She wanted to tear the thing apart and looked like she could do it.
Back down in the kitchen, the trail ended.
Eric moved the chair that blocked the door and shut the kitchen off from the living room. The four of them stood near the breakfast table, scanning the room and waiting for something to twitch.
“There’s nowhere to lean in here,” Jessie said, echoing his father.
“Snap out of it, Jessie,” Lily said.
“Cabinets,” Eric said. “It has to be in one of the cabinets, right?”
“Come on out, you murderer,” Lily called.
“Maybe we should just burn the whole place down,” Jessie said. “The Trader didn’t seem to like fire.”
“What happens if it gets out?” Lily asked. “I’m not leaving here until that thing is dead.”
“Agreed,” Eric said.
Jessie nodded. “We do it the hard way then.”
Eric looked at the doors. There were three doorways on the kitchen—one led to the living room, one to the back hall, and one to the side porch. There was no door mounted on the doorway to the back hall, but the only place to go was the laundry room.
“Nicky, last chance,” Eric said.
She shook her head. “I’m here until the end.”
“Cover that door then?” he asked, pointing to the door to the porch.
She nodded, blinking and moved to her post. She put her back to the door and anchored herself with the shovel on the floor between her legs. All he could hope was that the thing had lost enough blood that it was slower than before. Otherwise it would go through her like butter.
“Lily, cover the door to the living room?” Eric asked.
Lily showed her teeth and eyed him. “I can fight,” she said. Lily had picked up a softball bat along the way. She gripped it so hard that her knuckles were white.
“I’m counting on it,” Eric said.
Reluctantly, she took a position in front of the door. It was one of the old doors in the house. The wood was a little bowed and the latch wasn’t great.
She would have to defend it well to prevent the monster from escaping back into the front of the house.
Eric turned to Jessie.
“I’ll open them. You hang back with the knife. If it gets on me, swing away. Don’t try to spare me and miss your opportunity,” Eric told him.
“Goes without saying,” Jessie said.
Eric considered that and nodded. Jessie was angry at the entire world. He was angry at Eric and Lily for not going along with him on his plan to bring back their parents, and he was angry at his parents for dying so quickly after he had wished them back. Eric hoped that all that anger would be translated into fighting the monster. Once that was settled, they could address their other grudges.
Taking a breath, Eric moved to the cabinet under the peninsula. Aunt Zinnia had always called it an island, but Uncle Reynold had always insisted it was a peninsula because it attached to the wall.
Glancing at Jessie to make sure he was ready, Eric reached for the handle. He saw his cousin’s muscles tense.
Snatching open the door, it seemed like the light took its time infiltrating the dark. Boxes of cereal and crackers were lined up in a row. Eric pushed his hammer against them, nudging them towards the back until he was sure.
Exhaling and taking a fresh breath, they moved to the next cabinet.
Eric tried to picture exactly what they would see before he pulled them open, so he could quickly check for anything awry. Each time, Jessie started a knife swing into the cabinet before his eyes assessed that there was nothing there.
They moved to the next cabinet.
When Eric pulled it open, Jessie stabbed forward into the dark. Eric jerked back.
There was nothing there.
“Jessie, you can wait until…”
The thing came out like a flash. It had been clinging to the underside of the counter, out of sight. Jessie was looking towards Eric and he didn’t see it at first. More than likely, what made him turn was the panic that burst onto Eric’s face. Jessie swung the knife, moving at lightning speed, and caught the back end of the creature with the blade. The thing’s momentum pulled the knife from Jessie’s grip as it clawed up his arm.
