The Lost Door

by Marc Buhmann

  They made their way around the side of the building. At each window he peered in and only saw abandonment.

  The backyard was worse off than the front. Not only was the grass long and unruly, the maple tree’s leaves had begun to blanket the ground. A gust of wind caused a wave-like movement.

  The back door opened easily, and Stavic gave Willem and Claire a nonchalant shrug.

  “Do you feel like we’re walking on eggshells?” Willem asked. “I mean… whatever is in here… it doesn’t sense us—not yet—but if we make one false move…”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”

  “You two are just being paranoid.” While Stavic wasn’t in on whatever it was they were feeling, their mood was infectious. If he wasn’t careful it would begin to cloud his judgment.

  The warmth that must once have dominated this house was no more, replaced by a rot that permeated throughout. A wisp of decayed breath coursed through the cold under belly, as if the house were now a living breathing creature.

  Stavic looked in the empty pantry, tiny mouse turds littering the corners. He moved to another door, this one open an inch, though what lay beyond was shrouded in darkness. Stavic aimed his gun, finger alongside the trigger, and opened the door with his foot. It creaked, the sound deafening in the stillness. The room dimmed as the sun fell behind a cloud. “Perfect,” Stavic mumbled.

  “Downstairs,” Willem said, pointing. “That’s where we have to go.”

  Through the doorway stairs descended, the basement barely lit. Just inside the stairwell was a light switch, though flipping it yielded no results. Stavic pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, pressed the ON button, and a thin stream of light illuminated the stairs. He started down, Willem and Claire following.

  With each step a wooden stair groaned. He felt he was moving towards the entrance of an immense labyrinth of unseeable evil. The hair on his arms stood up, sensitive to the barest touch of the fabric of his shirt, almost painful. He wondered if this is what Willem and Claire were talking about. It didn’t feel like a presence, but his flight instincts were up to the max.

  Stavic reached the bottom and moved the light across the room. Half windows near the ceiling allowed a fraction of light in. A wooden door was set in the wall ahead, and to the right was an open entryway that went deeper into the bowels of the house. He hoped they didn’t have to go that way; a stench waft from that direction.

  “Ideas?” Stavic whispered. “I don’t want to be down here any longer than needed.”

  There was a moment of silence before Willem responded. “It should be just through that door.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “No, but I’m getting a definite vibe and it’s not the bad kind.”

  He reached for the door handle and the knob turned easily. The light from his flashlight was swallowed by the inkiness.

  “Where?” Stavic hissed.

  “Just ahead.”

  Stavic crept forward, passing the beam across wooden shelves. “You sure? There’s nothing here.”

  Willem was at his side, pointed. “Right there.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  Willem pointed to a hole in the wall. “In there.”

  Perfect. The last thing he wanted was to stick his hand in the wall. He’d seen movies, and he knew what usually happened. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached toward the hole and stopped, hand quivering. “How do you know?”

  “Same way I know something is here.”

  Stavic reached into the hole and felt only coarse brick and dust. He shined the light in the hole, saw no necklace. “You sure this is right? There’s nothing there.”

  “Impossible!” Willem slid next to Stavic and peered in. He was sweating, a tiny droplet dangling from the tip of his nose. “But… this isn’t right. It’s supposed to be here.” Willem reached into the hole and felt around. His shoulders slumped as he slowly pulled back, hand covered in dust. “Where is it?” he hissed.

  Claire asked from behind, “How long has it been buried? Could someone else have found it?”

  “If it was gone I don’t think I’d be sensing it. No… it’s here somewhere.”

  Willem grabbed the light from Stavic and waved the light across the floor, going in circles, careening it every which way. A piece of dirty red cloth caught his attention. He grabbed it, shook it. No necklace.

  “Fuck!”

  “Slow down! You could be missing it,” Claire offered.

  Either Willem didn’t hear her or didn’t care. “Willem… slow down,” said Stavic as he grabbed for the light and missed.

  “It has to be here somewhere!”

  Claire’s slender hand wrapped around his arm. “The door!” she hissed. He couldn’t see her face, but the grip said it all. He strained his eyes and, in the strobe-like light from Willem’s frantic movements, he saw a small silhouette.

  “Stop Willem.” The authoritative command got through, and Willem turned and pointed the light towards them.

  “What?” he asked, annoyed.

  “The door.”

  In his peripheral vision he saw a figure standing in the doorway, but when he pointed the beam towards it the figure vanished.

  “What the hell?” Stavic said.

  The room’s presence was suddenly gone, as if they were now in a vacuum.

  “Oh hell,” Willem said. He looked at Stavic, terror in his eyes. “It knows we’re here.”

  * * *

  The feeling was sudden. One minute he felt as if they were sneaking behind some unseen giant, the next it was focused on them. “We have to hurry!” he said, swiveling back to where the necklace should have been. God! Where was it? He could sense it right here, right in front of him, yet it wasn’t there!

  Ever since he’d touched the metal ring again he felt as if he were awakening to an unseen world around him. He could feel the tug of the necklace before he knew what it was, knew it was necessary. It was a feeling, something he could see, a golden pulse of light. That had all disappeared when they’d gotten into the basement, the darkness consuming that magical light like a black hole. He could sense the necklace, just not see it.

  From the shadows he began to hear whispers, distant but growing louder. They didn’t have much time.

  “Keep an eye out! It has to be here somewhere!”

  Willem dropped to his knees, shined the light under the shelves. Nothing! Where the hell was it? It’s supposed to be right here! He felt sweat streaking down his face.

  Whatever was coming was almost here.

  Claire, panicked, said, “We have to go, Willem!”

  “Not yet! If we don’t find it we won’t get another chance!”

  “And if we don’t leave we’re dead!”

  “We need that necklace!”

  Stavic dropped next to him. “Where is it? Come on, Willem, if we’re going to do this it has to be now. Where!”

  Willem aimed the light and saw it. “Yes!” Willem shouted. It had fallen into a crack in the floor. He grabbed it.

  “Guys,” Claire urged, the whispers now unintelligible talk.

  Willem and Stavic stood and turned, pointing the light toward the door. Shadowed figures evaporated in the light, screeching, and behind them a maggot covered stood. It growled.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Claire whispered.

  The dog barked as Willem pocketed the necklace. Stavic raised his gun and fired. The bullet went through the dog and ricocheted off the stone wall. It howled, the shadows reaching toward them. Stavic swiveled the light across the room burning away the shadows and the approaching creatures. They hissed and shrieked. Huddled as a collective, Stavic, Willem, and Claire shuffled toward the door, the flashlight their only salvation.

  “Don’t forget behind us!” Claire urged.

  Stavic pointed the light behind them, shimmering teeth in oily maws twinkled. “What is this place?”

  Willem said,
“A trap of some kind? Set by DeMarcus maybe?” As soon as he said it he knew it to be wrong. No… this was something else.

  They were almost at the door, another ten feet and they’d be out. Willem could see the natural gray light in the next room. It was dimming, but if these things didn’t like light then maybe it was enough to keep them at bay until they could get out.

  “Keep moving,” Stavic said. “Do not stop for any—”

  Something crashed into them.

  * * *

  Claire pushed herself up to a sitting position. Stavic had knocked her back into the shelves, one of the boards smashing her kidney. Pain shot through her side and she fell to the ground. Good thing, too, considering the gun went off seconds later. She was less likely to be hit by a stray bullet while hugging the cold concrete floor. That’s what she told herself at least.

  Her ears rang as she tried in vain to focus. The light from the adjacent room filtered in through the open door. The beam from the flashlight extended across the floor, pointed away, from where it had clattered to the ground.

  “No. Oh God, no!” Willem cried out.

  The gun fired again, the muzzle flashed to her left. Something inhuman screeched and snarled.

  The voices continued to mumble their unintelligible chatter. She crept along the floor towards the small flashlight. Something scraped across the floor.

  Claire stopped. “Stavic? That you?” She held her breath, waiting.

  “Yeah,” came his response, a little raspy. “Something took a chunk out of my leg. You okay?”

  She exhaled. “Fine.” Claire crawled the few feet needed to grab the flashlight and pointed it in Stavic’s direction. He was holding his leg, blood oozing from between his fingers. She guided the light in front of him and saw what looked to be a decaying dog. It whimper-howled as the light stayed fixed on it, its chest rising and falling rapidly in distress. It gurgled, a guttural sound escaping its maw, then its chest was still.

  A few feet from Stavic, Willem was sprawled on the floor. He held the gun loosely in one hand. Claire swung the light around. The creatures seemed to have backed away, at least for the moment. Willem mumbled something, she looked back. “What?”

  “On the precipice of belere—the in-between realm.” He looked into her eyes. “I’m starting to remember.” A creature cried out, the whispering again returning. Willem looked around as if coming to then stood. “Let’s get out of here.”

  With the help of Willem and Claire, Stavic stood. She shined the light on Stavic’s leg, the jeans stained red, blood oozing from puncture wounds. “We’re going to need to stop this bleeding.”

  “I’ve got some rags in the car,” Stavic grunted.

  Stavic put an arm over each of their shoulders and they hobbled to the next room. The shadows seemed to have taken on a life of their own; they moved across the windows shrouding the basement in a blanket of gloom. They were at the foot of the stairs when the sound of cracking wood and exploding concrete echoed through the basement.

  They looked back. A big mistake, Claire realized. The walls were pulsating, transforming into arms of splintered wood and rusty nails. The door to the fruit cellar exploded knocking them to the ground. Squarish holes appeared in the wall.

  Claire’s eyes went wide. They were looking at a manifestation of a creature, the wall transforming into a crooked face. It howled and reached for them.

  “Jesus Fucking Christ!” Stavic bellowed.

  Claire screamed and was on her feet, propelling Stavic up the stairs.

  Willem screamed. They looked back and saw him being dragged away, arms flailing about, a colossal stone hand clamped around his foot. Below him on the floor was the gun.

  “Shit!” Stavic tried to push himself up but dropped, grabbing his leg. “Wait!” he yelled as Claire hurled herself down the stairs.

  Willem squirmed, helpless to break free, inching closure to the splintering mouth. “Help me!”

  Claire jumped the last three stairs, collapsed to her knee, and picked up the gun. She aimed it at the creature and fired. The bullet penetrated the wood but did no damage. She aimed for the eye, pulled the trigger. This time the bullet disappeared into the hole. Willem was almost at its mouth.

  “Look out!” Stavic shouted. She looked to her left and saw the giant wooden arm reaching toward her. She swiveled, aimed, fired. The shot went wide and smashed through the window. Light cascaded in washing away some of the shadows. She shot out a second window, the daylight landing on the wooden arm. The creature cried out in pain. She shot out the remaining window.

  Light streaked across the back wall blinding the protruding face. It pulled back, dropping Willem. He grunted as he landed on his shoulder and rolled. Without hesitation he bolted for her. She guided him past and followed. Halfway up there was an explosion and the staircase vibrated. She looked back, the creature pulling it’s fist away from the destroyed bottom stairs. She went faster, almost at the top now. Then suddenly the stairs were gone and she was falling.

  She managed to catch herself, struggling. Willem and Stavic grabbed her arms and pulled, wood biting into her flesh. Both men’s eyes went wide and pulled harder. She looked back, a closed fist rearing back. She kicked helplessly, ignoring the pain in her abdomen.

  Her knees bumped the edge of the stairs, her shins, then she was standing again. She pushed into the two men, all three falling. The remaining stairs exploded seconds later, and a howl echoed up from the basement.

  The creature reached for them. She sat up, grabbed the doorknob, and yanked it open. They were jettisoned from the basement and landed in a heap in the kitchen.

  “Move!” Stavic bellowed as the claw reached through the doorway. They staggered to the back door, were almost through, when they were propelled out, and hit the ground hard.

  As the ringing in her ears died down she realized it sounded like any other day in a rural town. Birds chirped and the wind blew; a lawn mower idled in the distance. Claire looked through the broken door, and saw the basement was as they’d initially entered it. She stood on shaky legs and helped the other two up.

  “What was that thing?” she asked.

  “That was a gormock,” Willem said. “They’re the guardians of belere.”

  “Guardians? For what purpose?”

  “Our realm and that of Turmoore—all realms, in fact—are not intended to intersect. The gormock are there to prevent people from passing between.”

  Claire saw the expression on Stavic’s face, one of bewilderment. “Where are you getting this shit anyway?” he asked.

  “Like I said, my memory is coming back. Let’s get to the car, and I’ll explain what I know on the way.”

  thirteen

  The storm had swung north, dumping whatever torrential downpour it had planned elsewhere. That was fine. Stavic didn’t much care for the idea of going to an unfamiliar and hostile environment in the dark let alone in the rain. It made things much more difficult. And after what they’d experienced in Rottingham’s house he’d rather this take place on a sunny beach. Nothing bad ever happened on a sunny beach.

  Stavic lay in the backseat, Willem tending to the laceration, while Claire drove. His leg burned with infection—no telling what crap that dog had in its saliva—and he kept pressure on it.

  My memory is coming back, Willem had said. Memory of what? Five minutes into the drive he’d said nothing, just stared out the windshield.

  “Mind telling us what the hell that was back there? What did you call it… a gormock?”

  “Yes,” Willem said quietly. “A guardian of the belere.”

  “Gormock? Belere? Come on Willem… you gotta give us something here. Your memory—”

  “It’s coming back.”

  “So you said. Memory of what?”

  Willem glanced at Claire who kept her eyes on the road. “Everything.”

  Stavic closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “You better start making some sense, or I’m likely to push you out the fucking door
. Just tell us in layman.”

  Willem sighed, “Alright. I’ll do what I can.” Willem dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded scrap. He opened it, gave it to Stavic. It was a faded family photo. The people didn’t looked familiar except maybe… He looked more closely at the middle child, looked at Stavic. “This you?”

  “Yes. Notice anything else?”

  Stavic examined the picture, scanning it for any anomalies. He shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Above me.”

  “That white dot?”

  A nod.

  “What of it?”

  “That’s me. Or, more precisely, a part of me.”

  He could feel his temperature rise, his face turning red. “What did I tell you—”

  Willem waved down his objection. “I know. Bear with me. You know some of the details already from David, his and Lilly’s encounter with DeMarcus. Turmoore is another plane in layers of existences, our plane below theirs.”

  “I have to admit none of that made a whole lot of sense to me.”

  “Layman terms,” Willem mumbled. He said, “Okay. Let’s use religion as an example. Heaven and hell and all that. That doesn’t need to be explained, does it?”

  Stavic shook his head no.

  “While not heaven, for our explanation let’s pretend that’s Turmoore. We die here on earth and depending on if we were good or bad we ascend to heaven. Right? Same thing with hell. If we’re bad we’re cast down to be tormented for all eternity. Now imagine there are infinite heavens and hells.”

  “Planes?” Stavic asked.

  “Exactly. If we were on the heaven plane then we would be in Turmoore’s hell, and whatever was above them would be heaven. Each plane has its own heaven and hell.”

  “But religion is all about faith. There’s no proof.”

  “True, but all religions share a common thread, and all religions are ways of interpreting what we see and experience around us. Maybe in the shadows of our subconscious we have some innate knowledge of this because, if we have been moving up on some cosmic lift for eons, then why couldn’t some of those details travel with us? Almost like a computer hard drive… you can format it, overwrite files, but fragments remain.