Dead Echo Page 118
by C.G. Banks
*
In Rebecca Bourgeouis house the toilets in both bathrooms suddenly burbled with a thick wet gasp and coughed gouts of filth against the walls and ceiling. She heard it from her place, hunched near the fireplace, and by the time she made her way into the hallway the sickening stream was already an inch deep and growing. She screamed and charged to the front door, her throat closing from the poisonous fumes that wove a noxious web through the house. It was locked, stuck, refusing to release its hostage.
She beat and clawed at the door like some caged animal in the grip of a flood.