by Mark Lukens
“They’re in the basement!” Shane yelled. He bolted across the kitchen to the basement door. He twisted the door handle, trying to turn it, but it felt like it was frozen stiff. “Warren! Laura!”
“Shane!” Warren called back from the other side of the door.
“Are you both down there?!”
“Yes. We’re stuck in here. And there’s … there’s something down here with us.”
Shane felt his blood run cold for a moment. He thought of what he’d seen the first time he had looked down those basement steps—Old Lady Cranston. He also thought of Mike’s face in the hole in the wall.
I want to show you something. Mike’s voice from his nightmare echoed in his mind.
Nick and Kristen were suddenly beside Shane, snapping him out of his thoughts. He looked at Nick. “The door’s stuck.”
“Hurry!” Warren screamed from behind the door. “There’s something in here with us!”
“Oh God,” Kristen whimpered. “What’s down there with them?”
• • • • •
Laura felt a blossom of hope when she heard Shane’s voice on the other side of the basement door. She looked back down the steps, shining her flashlight beam down at the black liquid oozing up the steps. The black liquid shined in the light like oil. The liquid seemed thicker now, like it was gaining mass somehow, like it was growing. There were more things squirming around inside of it, like baby eels or snakes. Little tendrils snaked out from the edges of the ooze, working their way up each basement step like fingers, pulling itself up higher and higher, closer and closer to them.
“Hurry,” Laura said through clenched teeth.
Warren was still twisting at the door handle.
“Who’s down there with you?” Shane yelled at them from the other side of the door.
“I don’t have time to explain!” Warren told them. “You need to get this door open!”
“Just hold on!” Shane yelled back. “I’m going to find something to pry the door open with.”
The ooze was steadily making its way up the stairs. It was now almost halfway up to them. It seemed to be taking its time, like it knew there was no hurry, like it knew there was no hope of them ever opening the door and escaping.
“What the … what the hell?” Warren whispered.
Laura turned around and shined the light on him. “What is it?”
“The door handle,” Warren said. “It’s … it’s got me.”
Laura shined her flashlight beam on the door handle and saw that it had grown into some kind of snake-like thing, the gold paint flaking off revealing pink flesh underneath that had wrapped around Warren’s wrist now, holding him next to the door. Warren was trying to yank his hand away from the thing that looked like some kind of giant pink muscle, but the thing was still connected to the door where the handle used to be and it held Warren securely.
“What the hell is that thing?” Laura yelled.
Warren didn’t have an answer for her. He tried to pull away, but the pink snake-like thing coiled around his wrist even tighter. He pounded on the door with his free fist. “You guys need to hurry!”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
The Third Floor
Nigel walked with Billy and Harold down the hallway towards the sunroom. Most of the doors along the way were opened up to the dark rooms. Some of the doors were only opened a crack, and others were wide open.
“Warren!” Billy shouted. “Laura! You guys up here?!”
No answer.
Billy shined his flashlight into each of the open rooms as they walked past them, the beam of light seemingly swallowed up by the darkness. Nigel kept his flashlight aimed in front of them so they could see where they were going, and Harold stayed in the middle of the hallway, filming.
“Maybe we should go back down and check on the second floor,” Harold said. “I don’t think they’re up here.”
Billy stopped and looked down the hall at the door to the sunroom. “We’ll go check the sunroom and then head back down.” He started marching towards the sunroom, not waiting for them to follow.
Nigel and Harold fell in behind him.
“You can stop this anytime,” Nigel said.
“What do you mean?” Billy asked without turning around to look at him.
“This hoax you and your boss are trying to perpetuate.”
“This isn’t a hoax,” Billy said.
“Oh, I think it is. And I think this wild goose chase for Laura and Warren is all part of it.”
Billy didn’t answer him.
Nigel just sighed. They wanted to play it that way, then fine. He was going to expose this whole thing when they got back. Just think, one of the biggest names in Hollywood getting caught faking a paranormal documentary. Nigel could already see the talk shows lining up to interview him. He could even see another book deal out of this one. He should’ve been walking on air with excitement, but he couldn’t help that nagging feeling that something was really wrong here, that there was so much more to all of this than just a ghost hunting documentary. He couldn’t help feeling that he was in danger … serious danger.
Billy pushed the door to the sunroom open and stepped inside. It was dark inside the room, but much lighter than the hallway because of all of the windows along the two exterior walls. Another strike in the endless flashes of lightning lit up the room for them as they stepped inside.
“Warren,” Billy called out. “Laura!”
“It’s pretty obvious they aren’t—”
“Holy shit, look at that,” Harold said, cutting Nigel’s words off.
Nigel and Billy looked at Harold to see where he was aiming his camera. He was filming the static camera on the tripod at the other side of the room that was pointed at the windows. There was a white object on the floor not too far away from the static camera.
“Is that what I think it is?” Billy asked in a hushed voice. He crept towards the object with Harold right beside him.
“Someone put the hardhat back,” Nigel said. “Big deal. It was one of you guys, or whoever else Nick has on this island.”
Nigel knew they were ignoring him as they bubbled with excitement over the return of the hardhat. Well, he wasn’t going to ooh and ah over a damn hardhat that one of Nick’s crew had returned to this room. He was going to go back down to the ground floor. Obviously Warren and Laura weren’t up here on the second or third floor. He stepped out of the room, not waiting for the others to join him. They could stay up here and play ghost hunters all they wanted to—he was done with it. He was ready to lie down on his uncomfortable sleeping bag, eat a bowl of the bland canned stew they’d brought with them, take a few more sips of his whiskey, and then nod off for the evening. The quicker he got this night over with, the sooner tomorrow would come and he could get off of this stupid island.
Nigel stepped out into the hallway and started walking, but then he stopped abruptly. It was dark down the hallway, but he was sure somebody was standing at the other end of it, watching him.
His skin crawled with goosebumps as those fears from his childhood came rushing back to him. The dream last night had brought those buried memories to the surface and it was giving him the creeps.
There’s no one there, he told himself. He forced himself to start marching down the hallway, shining his flashlight beam into the darkness as far as it would go. God, it was so dark in here. He was only a few yards away from the sunroom door, and it felt like he’d entered a cocoon of blackness.
The person still seemed to be standing there at the end of the hall.
The Tall Man, his mind whispered.
No, he wasn’t going to fall for that. He wasn’t going to let his imagination run away with him like the others had. He’d been in too many of these supposed haunted houses over the years to give in to this one. He’d seen the worst the world had to offer, and this was nothing compared to some of the places he’d stayed the night in.
He kept on walking. He listened, but he didn’t hea
r Billy and Harold following him, but he didn’t turn around to look for them, either.
As he got farther down the hall, he became more certain that someone was standing at the other end, blocking the way to the stairs that led down to the second floor.
“Warren?” Nigel called out. He didn’t like the quiver in his own voice. “Laura? Is that you?”
No answer from the shadowy figure.
It couldn’t be Laura, the person was too big.
Too tall …
The person was way too tall to be Warren, too tall to be any of them. But the darkness could play tricks on a person’s eyes. Nigel had to be strong and fight against it.
He stopped suddenly. He was close enough now to see the person more clearly. It was definitely a man … a tall man with a stovepipe hat on his head. He was bent forward slightly even though he wasn’t in any danger of touching these high ceilings with the top of his hat, but it was like this was a habit for him, like he’d been in many homes and hallways where he had to stoop forward to avoid the ceiling.
Like my hallway, Nigel thought.
It can’t be. No, this isn’t real. This is … some sort of trick, some kind of actor.
But how would Nick have known about the Tall Man from Nigel’s childhood? How would anyone have ever known? He’d never told anyone about the Tall Man, not even his own parents, even when his dad was whipping him for screaming in the middle of the night, he hadn’t spoken about the Tall Man.
Laura had known. Somehow she had known … and she must’ve told Nick about it.
Nigel stood his ground, not moving any closer.
The Tall Man wasn’t moving, either.
“Okay,” Nigel said, his voice cracking just a bit. “You’ve had your fun. Whoever you are, I’m on to your game now.”
No reply from the Tall Man.
Nigel looked behind him, shining his light back down the hall from where he’d come. Billy and Harold weren’t coming down the hall. Of course they weren’t, they were part of the setup.
Footsteps thundered from the other end of the hall—the Tall Man was running towards him.
Nigel spun back around. His heart stopped in his chest for a moment, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe for a second. He aimed his light down the hall at the Tall Man who was running towards him now—he was just a black silhouette in the darkness. Nigel didn’t even think about what he was doing, he turned around and ran back towards the sunroom. He raced past open doorways, suddenly afraid that some pale, dead thing was going to pop out of one of those rooms and grab him, pull him inside.
… inside the walls …
The sunroom door opened up and Billy and Harold bolted out of the room, their eyes wide with fear.
“What’s wrong?” Billy asked Nigel.
Nigel stopped running and turned back around, aiming his flashlight beam back down the hallway.
“Did you see something up here?” Harold asked.
Nigel didn’t answer them; he just kept his flashlight beam aimed down the dark hall, his hand trembling so badly now that the light was shaking back and forth. He was breathing hard, his heart pounding against his breastbone, the blood rushing in his ears, he could actually feel his pulse in his throat—he was afraid he might have a heart attack.
“What is it?” Billy asked again. He was shining his flashlight beam down the hall, adding his light to Nigel’s.
But there was nothing there. The Tall Man wasn’t running down the hall towards him.
“You saw something, didn’t you?” Harold said.
Nigel shook his head no, still trying to catch his breath.
“Was it Warren or Laura?” Harold asked.
Nigel wished they would quit with the rapid-fire questioning and let him catch his breath for a moment. He shook his head no and answered Harold’s last question. “It was nothing,” he finally whispered.
“You sure were running like a wild man for it to be nothing,” Billy said.
“Well, I was …” Nigel stammered, trying to think of an answer.
“You were screaming, too,” Harold said from behind his camera.
“I … I don’t remember screaming.” And Nigel didn’t remember that at all—the whole thing seemed like a blur to him now.
The walkie-talkie on Billy’s hip blasted with a screech of static. Nigel almost let out another scream and he had to bite it back. God, he needed a drink right now.
“Billy, you there?” Nick’s voice crackled on the walkie-talkie.
Billy grabbed the walkie-talkie off of his belt. “Yes, boss. I’m here.”
“We found Warren and Laura. They’re stuck in the basement. Get back down here and help us.”
“You heard the man,” Billy said and then he hurried down the hall.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Shane ran from the kitchen to the foyer where the tools, materials, and other construction supplies were piled up. He shined his flashlight over a pile of tools, looking for something to pry the door open with. He saw a tool belt with a hammer in it—he grabbed that. He was about to run back to the kitchen with the hammer but at the last second he saw a long metal bar out of the corner of his eye—he had almost missed it completely in his haste. He grabbed the metal bar out of a tangle of electrical cords and looked at it for a second. It was a pry bar; not extremely long—only about two feet—but with the hammer it would be enough to do the trick.
He ran back through their base of operations. He was hurrying, but still trying to be careful so he didn’t trip over something in the darkness. At least Kristen had left one of the battery-powered lamps lit on the table next to the laptops that were still open, displaying their dark screens. The battery-powered lamp was providing enough light for him to sprint through the room around their sleeping bags and other equipment and supplies to the other end—an oasis of light in this sea of darkness. The drapes were still pulled back from the row of windows, and another flash of lightning lit up the room for him as he ran to the doorway that led to the kitchen.
As soon as he was in the kitchen, Shane raced down the wide walkway between the sinks, countertops, and the gigantic brick oven. Nick and Kristen were still at the basement door, still pounding on it, still trying to twist the door handle.
“I got a pry bar!” Shane said as he ran up to them.
Nick and Kristen moved out of the way.
“Here,” Shane told Kristen as he handed his flashlight to her. “Shine the light on the door.”
Nick added his flashlight beam to Kristen’s and they backed up to give Shane some room to swing the hammer. He drove the sharp and flat end of the pry bar into the edge of the door handle, between the metal and the wood, and then he hammered the curved end of the pry bar with the hammer. He’d done plenty of years of construction so swinging a hammer was almost second-nature to him now.
“Hurry!” Warren shouted from the other side of the door.
“Back away from the door!” Shane yelled.
“I can’t!” Warren yelled right from the other side. “It’s got me!”
What’s got you? Shane almost asked, but didn’t … he didn’t have the time. He swung the hammer down at the pry bar again, swinging faster and faster.
• • • • •
Laura shined her flashlight back down the basement steps. The black ooze (that looked so much like black blood to her) was almost up to them now. It was washing up over each step like a wave of thick water. Only this black wave had all of those squiggly things squirming around inside of it.
She aimed her flashlight back at Warren’s wrist which was still trapped in the pink tendril thing that had once been the door handle.
Shane pounded on the door from the other side, and it sounded like he was striking metal. Maybe the hinges … no, the hinges were on this side. He was hitting the door handle. Yes, he must be beating the door handle off with some kind of hammer.
“It’s loosening,” Warren said, fighting to pull his hand out of the pink snake-like thing that
was wrapped around his wrist. There was no mouth or eyes or anything else on the pink cylinder of flesh that identified it as some kind of animal; it looked more like a giant tongue. But at least it was loosening its grip on Warren now.
Laura looked back at the black ooze—it was almost up to them now, only two steps away. She could imagine it rising up like some kind of tidal wave to overtake them.
• • • • •
Shane struck the door handle one more time and the handle broke off. The door swung open, free now, the end of it splintered wood. A second later the door flew all the way open. Shane backed out of the way as Warren and Laura burst out from the doorway. Laura turned back around and shined her flashlight down at the basement steps.
“What’s in there?” Kristen practically screeched.
Laura didn’t answer; she just shined the flashlight beam down at the wooden steps, breathing hard.
“Nothing there,” Warren whispered in shock as he massaged his wrist.
Shane watched Laura as she aimed the light beam at the stairwell. She looked confused and scared at the same time.
“Who was down there with you?” Shane asked.
She shook her head a little like she was trying to clear it, then she looked at Shane. “Not a who … a what.”
“What did you see?” Nick asked her, and then he looked at Warren. Nick looked more fascinated than concerned.
“There was this … this black liquid that came out of the wall,” Laura answered. “And then the door handle on the inside of the basement door turned into this kind of pink tongue or piece of muscle, like a thick snake. It wrapped around Warren’s wrist, holding him there.”
Nick looked to Warren as if asking if this was true.
Warren nodded.
“Why did you go down into the basement in the first place?” Shane asked. He had moved closer to the doorway to the basement.
“I saw my daughter,” Warren said. “She was calling me.”
“It wasn’t his daughter,” Laura said and then looked at Warren. “It was this thing in this house pretending to be your daughter.”