by Aaron Polson
“You said it yourself about the bathroom, that he—”
“Easy. Nobody had been here for months. It was enough to spook Sarah and make her want to leave. And that—that was enough to convince me to hotwire the damn RV.”
“The house is alive, Johnny.”
“Bullshit. It was Ben’s game and now it’s out of control.”
“How do you explain Erin?”
Johnny’s mouth twisted. Shadows poured like ink over his features, twisting into grotesque, not-quite human shapes. “I don’t know.”
“You knew a few minutes ago when you ran upstairs to find her.”
“Jesus, Kels. Is that it? Are you jealous?”
“She’s gone, isn’t she? We’re next Johnny. This house—this monster is alive. It’s like a maze, a maze for my rats and we’re trapped. We’re the rats and the maze is alive.”
He made a little grunting noise and walked away from her, flicking the beam of his flashlight into the basement’s farthest corners. She stood where she was, waiting, curiosity nibbling at the edges of her attention until she broke in two and allowed her eyes to travel to the nearby boxes. They were familiar somehow. Not from the basement of the big brick monster in which she found herself, but from a place further away, a place of memory and time gone. She moved closer, studying the black script on the box’s side, a handwritten note.
“Moving boxes,” she said. The memory came like a rush of cold water from a shower tap. She was seven again. The new house, the house in Springdale was empty and her uncles, red-faced and stout bellied farmers from southern Nebraska, carried in furniture piece by piece. The moving truck was filled with boxes and crates they’d gotten from a grocery store in Beatrice before the move. Mother had scribbled with black marker the names of each room to which the boxes belonged.
“These are from my house.”
The words slipped out of her mouth like vapor, fog in a light breeze. She hadn’t intended to say them, but there they were. The noise of Johnny’s clambering stopped. A flashlight swayed toward her.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said, snapped back to the present and trying to cover. “Nothing.”
“No.” Johnny’s voice was firm and cool. “You mentioned the boxes.”
“It was nothing—”
“About them being from your house.” Johnny strode across the basement, a much larger space than Kelsey remembered from her exploration with Erin earlier in the day. This basement looked large enough to be under the entire house, not the tiny, clean space with unfinished walls. This was a different basement, a basement she remembered from three-quarters of her life ago, from a time when she was a little girl with nightmares even years before the cave.
“C’mon, Kels. What is it?”
“These boxes—they look like something from my house, when I was a little girl.”
“That’s imposs—” Johnny caught himself in mid-word. His eyes were wide and scanning her face for the truth. “How do you know?”
“The writing.” Kelsey reached out with a finger, hesitating for a moment before touching the cardboard under the black script. “It’s my mother’s.”
“It couldn’t be.”
“It is, Johnny. I’d know it anywhere.”
“Have you looked inside?”
Kelsey swallowed. There was the challenge. What would be inside the box, tiny trinkets from a world vanished under two decades? She turned to the top box, one labeled with the word kitchen. She glanced at Johnny, his face lined and heavy with shadows. The yellow flashlight glow shimmered. The cardboard was dry and dull under her fingers. She pulled the folds open as he held the light higher.
“Fuck,” she said, stumbling backward. Her light tumbled to the ground and rolled across the floor, casting grim, carnival-sideshow shapes against the wall.
“What was it, Kels?” Johnny asked. He turned to the box, and then swung the light toward the stairs to catch her feet as they scurried toward the first floor.
Chapter 28: Raw Truth
Kelsey staggered through the dark kitchen into the dining room. Her left thigh struck the table’s corner, sending her tumbling sidelong against a wall. Pain shot through her leg, hot pulses launched with each throb of her hammering heart. It was wrong, all of it. The basement, the bathroom, the missing people…
“Kelsey?”
Ben. He stood in the doorway leading to the living room. A shadow lurked behind him, short and thin—Daniel. They were still here, and maybe Sarah, too. Johnny’s footsteps thumped on the stairs behind her. A light flashed across the dining room wall.
“What’s going on, Kelsey?” Ben stepped closer. He held a flashlight in his hand, but it was pointed at the ground.
She held her throbbing leg. The fleshy bit of thigh which had struck the table was already swollen; her fingertips found the lump under her jeans. She felt as though she could fall to the ground and sob until her face slicked with tears, to cry until her body melted and seeped into the floorboards.
“The basement,” she said. “There were boxes down there. Boxes from my house—with my mother’s handwriting.”
“It’s not a fucking game, Ben.” Johnny stood opposite Ben, his flashlight clutched at his side like a gunslinger waiting for action. The beam shone on Ben’s face, a face still pale without the hint of a smile. “I didn’t know earlier… I wasn’t thinking. I thought we’d be out of here. Sarah was scared—terrified. I have to hand it to you on that. Congratulations, fucker.”
“What are you talking about?” Ben’s light rose from the floor. Johnny’s face appeared across the room, strained and tense.
“All of this, Ben. I bought into it, just like Sarah and Kels. It unsettled me, I’ll admit. You got to me. Good fucking drama and all that. How did you do it?” Johnny stepped into the room as he spoke, still holding his light at his hip. “How did you manage to hide your crew without us finding them? And the bathroom—stroke of genius. It’s locked, you said. Bullshit. You wanted us to go in there. You practically left breadcrumbs on the floor.”
“The bathroom… Are you suggesting I’m behind all this? That this is part of the plan?” Ben sneered.
“Exactly. I didn’t think of you as this good of an actor. Give it up, okay? It’s not funny anymore, and it sure as hell isn’t entertaining.” Johnny had crossed the room, circling the end of the big dining room table as he spoke. He stood a few feet from Ben. “You almost killed Sarah, Ben. You didn’t count on the storm, did you?”
“The show’s over…” Ben shook his head. His light pointed toward the floor. “I’m in the dark as much as you. As much of any of us. I fucked up, okay? This house—”
“It’s just a house, isn’t it?”
“No,” Ben said. He cleared his throat. “It’s not just a house. I didn’t plan for anything like this—I figured Sarah and Kelsey might get a little spooked. Maybe Erin would think she heard a noise in the night and…” his gaze flicked to Kelsey and back to Johnny. “I don’t know what’s happening here. Those people—Erin, the crew—they’re gone.”
Johnny held his flashlight a little higher, shining the beam into Ben’s face. “The crew. I should have put it together sooner. Erin was in on this, too. Probably Daniel. All of your imports from Hollywood. One more trick on your old friends.”
“This is bullshit,” Ben said.
“Yes. Bullshit.”
“Fuck you, Gilbert. You’ve always been so self-righteous. Some of us tried to keep it together while you ran away to play war.”
Johnny swung with his free hand. His fist struck Ben’s temple, sending him sprawling. Ben dropped the flashlight, and it rolled across the floor toward Kelsey. Johnny still held the other light in his hand, even as he drew back his fist and struck Ben again. The light flashed in and out of focus as the two men struggled until it dropped to the floor, pointing at the wall. A loud crash sounded, followed by a deep thump, the sound of a body striking an immovable object. Kelsey knelt, rummaging for the flashligh
t. She found it and rose, the flashlight in one hand while the other pushed hair from her face.
On the big dining room table in front of her, Ben lay sprawled with Johnny over him, face twisted into a snarl. The bright glint of stainless steel—a knife—shone from Johnny’s clenched right hand. He’d dropped the flashlight which now sat on the table. His left hand held Ben by the neck; one knee pressed against Ben’s chest. Sweat glistened on both men’s foreheads.
“Turn off the light, Kels,” Johnny growled.
“Put the knife away,” Kelsey said.
Ben groaned.
“This sick fuck nearly killed Sarah. He’s playing with your head, too. Why are you defending him? He’s a sack of shit. I didn’t put it together until we were downstairs—until you freaked down there.”
“Look at him, Johnny. He’s turning purple for God’s sake. Put the knife away and let him go.” Kelsey stepped closer to Johnny, holding out her free hand. “Hurting Ben isn’t going to help anything.”
Johnny’s face slackened. His shoulders dropped half an inch. “Kels…”
“Please, Johnny. I don’t want this. It isn’t going to help us out of this God-forsaken house. And once we are out—and we will get out—what then? You’re a murderer? You’ve killed Benjamin Wormsley for what? It won’t bring the other’s back—”
“That’s just a ploy, Kels. Part of his script.”
Kelsey shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. The others—are gone. I don’t know where, how… But they are gone. Lost.”
“Part of the show…” Johnny’s voice had begun to soften. He released Ben’s throat. “Wormsley needs to own what he’s done… He needs to tell the truth…” Johnny slid from the table, removing his knee from Ben’s chest.
“I-I am,” Ben coughed. He rubbed his throat, coaxing his strained voice. “I’ve been trying to t-tell you all this—the disappearances, the bathroom upstairs—isn’t p-part of any plan. Not my plan. I only picked the t-time and place.”
“It’s not possible…” Johnny backed away from the table, heading for the living room. He shook his head from side to side. A vital tether inside the man had broken, snapped in two. He didn’t have the same, confident swagger with which Kelsey had fallen in love. He looked almost childlike, his eyes softened and his bottom lip hanging limp at his chin. Kelsey wondered what had become of the man who hotwired the RV not three hours before. What had happened to Johnny?
“What now?” Kelsey asked as she moved to the table to gather the other flashlight. “What do we do?”
“We can’t go outside,” Daniel said. His voice was sudden and unexpected—Kelsey had almost forgotten his presence. “We can’t leave, thanks to Mr. Wormsley’s mistakes. Thanks to the weather. We are trapped here.”
“Trapped.” Kelsey moved the word around on her tongue, feeling the weight and power of it. They were trapped, rats in a maze, waiting until… What?
“We need a good night’s sleep,” Ben said, still rubbing his throat. “We can’t do anything tonight.”
“It’s going to get cold.” Johnny spoke like a phantom, a pale shadow which survived the splitting in two. “I couldn’t find the breakers downstairs. Even if I could, there’s no guarantee they were the problem. Winds probably knocked out the power. Miles of countryside and power lines and snow and wind… That and the bullshit about a generator. Whatever happened to the generator?”
“I don’t know,” Ben said. “We should sleep. It’s too dark. Too cold. In the morning, we’ll put a plan together. We can’t do anything tonight… It’s too dark to think about the generator. Too dark and too cold.”
Johnny shook his head. “Damn you and your plan. We’ll need blankets.”
Daniel held a hand toward Kelsey. “I will take a flashlight. No one goes upstairs alone.”
Chapter 29: Midnight
Kelsey lay on the second couch. It was slightly shorter than the other and without the subtle paisley pattern. Ben and Johnny had carried it after Johnny and Daniel brought a number of blankets from the second floor. All five survivors—a word she hadn’t chosen but slipped into her mind all the same—slept in the living room. She listened as one by one the others drifted into sleep, their breathing slowing and becoming more rhythmic until, lullaby-like, it coaxed her from the waking world. Sleep came uneasily, but when it did, it carried a sweet, comforting blackness and silence, until the silence cracked with her whispered name.
“Kels…”
Kelsey’s eyes opened. A thick, midnight-blue stillness clung to everything, lay over everyone, covered the room. Light and shadow shifted in front of her. Sarah’s eyes were open, too.
“Kels…” Sarah’s head rolled toward her friend—a few inches of monumental effort measured by the strain on Sarah’s face.
“Shhh…” Kelsey whispered. “Don’t move.” She slipped from the couch. As the blanket slid from her, the chill came, the deep cold Johnny had promised as the latent heat dissipated in the deep and frigid sureness of night. Kelsey knelt at her friend’s side and locked her eyes on Sarah’s.
“Oh shit, Kels… My head feels like it’s been split open by a jackhammer.”
Kelsey raised a hand and almost touched the side of Sarah’s face. A sudden chill, a coldness more mood than lack of ambient heat, stayed her. A faint noise sounded from somewhere deep in the heart of the house, a tapping. Almost a knock. Kelsey held her breath and searched for their companions under the blankets. Johnny, Daniel, and Ben slept upright in chairs placed around the couches, one being dragged into the room from the parlor.
“Did you hear that?” Kelsey asked.
“I can only hear my own head.” Sarah tried a faint smile. “I feel sick, Kels. Like I could puke.”
Kelsey closed her eyes, listening for the muted sound.
“Kels…”
Her eyes snapped open. “Yes.”
“My head. Do you have anything—some pills or something—I could use to plug this God-awful pounding?”
“Sure Sarah. I’ll find some Advil or Tylenol.” She touched Sarah’s cheek and brushed a bit of hair from the side of her face. “Back in a sec, all right?”
A faint smile flickered on Sarah’s pale lips.
Kelsey stood and moved toward the tight little group’s border. She hesitated for a moment almost as though an invisible barrier held her in place. She felt the hesitation in her arms and legs, a heaviness which clung to her. The tapping noise had grown louder. Sarah wanted some medication. She needed painkillers for her head. The tapping stopped, and icy silence hung in the air, a thick, blue-black nothing. She turned and looked toward Sarah.
The pills—a small vial of Advil for travel—waited in Kelsey’s suitcase on the second floor. The sound of her heart rattled her chest and worked into her arms and legs. She moved, one step, then another. Sarah needed the pain pills. She needed more than Kelsey could provide, but the pills would be a start. The stairs squeaked under Kelsey’s bare foot. She paused.
They hadn’t squeaked before.
A man mumbled in his sleep.
Kelsey lowered her head and climbed the remaining stairs in quick, padding steps, not stopping to listen or waiting for any response from the woodwork. It groaned, she knew, just like a good, old house should. The house had dropped its guard in the basement. The house was alive—not silly as Sarah had said at all. It was a monster and they were inside, swallowed by the beast. Toys like mice to a cat. After a quick trip to the yellow room, she could go, running if she chose, back downstairs. She would have the pills for Sarah. The house had all of them, any time it wanted.
Kelsey flicked the wall switch without thinking. The hallway remained dark. She looked over her shoulder, thinking of the flashlights on the coffee table next to Sarah’s couch. She could go back—she should go back and grab one of them. Her hand stuck to the wall. Her feet wouldn’t move.
No, Kels. Just a quick trip to your room, grab the pills, and head down.
She listened. The tapping had stopped; no
sound moved through the silent house save her hurried breath.
Easy enough.
She trotted down the hall. Toes tapped against the carpet runner as she went. She almost floated over the floor like a ghost. A ghost. A spirit. Tap, tap, tap…
Her hand froze against the cold, metal doorknob. She blinked and turned the knob. They’d left the curtains open earlier in the day, and a blue glow washed over both beds from the open window. The sky, still starless, was dark, but not the full, soul-stealing dark inside the house. Shadows waited, thick and predatory, in the yellow room’s corners. The color—yellow—was a myth lost to the deep blue of moonless nights.
Kelsey stepped into the room, trying to remember where she’d left her bag with her pills.
In and out.
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
The sound, the knocking, came to her louder than it had on the first floor. This was a second floor sound, not some distant third floor code, not the same, quiet scratches she and Erin clambered to the attic to find.
Knock, knock.
The hallway past the stairs. Kelsey turned her back on the open window, moved away from the bed, her open bag, and the pills for Sarah. She paused in the open doorway, feeling the weight of hallway shadow.
Knock, knock.
“Hello,” she said. The emptiness swallowed her voice in one gulp.
The knocking came from the bathroom—or the non-bathroom, the empty space behind a door at the hallway’s opposite end. Kelsey found her feet moving, taking her forward, step by step, until she faced the door. No one stirred below. She listened, holding her own breath so as not to taint her ears.
A scratching sound leaked from under the door.
Someone was inside.
Kelsey gulped a breath and pushed the door open—click—and tumbled inside.
Empty.
“Hello,” she said again, sure of the sound from inside the empty space, sure of the knocking and the scraping sound not unlike a stick against a large rock.
