by Ike Hamill
Joe looked like he was going to ask something else, but instead he cocked his head.
“What?” Alan asked.
“Don’t you hear that?” Joe asked.
“All I hear is the rain. That metal roof makes so…”
Joe shushed him and held his hand up. Alan walked into the dining room and listened.
“I don’t hear anything,” Alan said, but as he finished the statement, he did hear something. It sounded like…
“Is there someone upstairs?” Joe asked. Alan looked back at his son. The boy looked terrified.
What am I supposed to do? Send him outside where there might be a bear lurking around?
“Stay right here, Joe. Don’t move,” Alan said. He moved to the hall and reached to the back of the closet. His hand came back with a broom.
It will have to do.
“Don’t go,” Joe said from the kitchen.
“Just stay there,” Alan said. He hunched down and walked sideways so he could look up towards the stairs as he moved down the hall. Footsteps creaked on the floorboards overheard. A deep voice murmured up there, paused, and then repeated the unintelligible syllables.
“Who’s up there?” Alan called. He thought about how he’d left the boys inside, unattended while he went out and talked to that game warden. Anything could have happened. “I’m coming up. Identify yourself.”
A door rattled shut with a bang. Alan began climbing the steps. He held the broom upside down, with the stick out in front.
“Come on out,” Alan said. His voice echoed in the stairway.
“Dad?” Joe asked.
“Go back to the kitchen, Joe,” Alan whispered. He was halfway up the stairs. He could see the door to the master bedroom and the door to the guest room. Both were closed. Alan reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the master bedroom door. At his back, the hall led to Joe’s room and the guest bath.
I heard a door shut, he thought. The intruder must be behind one these closed doors. What if there’s more than one?
Alan reached forward with the broom handle and tapped on the door to the master bedroom.
“Come on out,” he said. He tried to make his voice sound calm and authoritative. He heard another murmur. It was indistinct. He couldn’t pinpoint which direction it was coming from. Alan braced the broom handle against the door and gave it a good shove. The weird ball-latch popped in and the door swung inwards. Alan sidestepped through the door and turned on the light. Rain pounded against the window—it was coming down nearly sideways now. The lightbulb buzzed and pulsed. He pushed the door with his broom and checked behind it. Next, Alan got on his knees and used the broom handle to lift the bed skirt—nothing but dust under there. He checked the bathroom and closet. Alan stood in front of the little hatch that led to the steep attic stairs.
He heard heavy feet pounding down the stairs—not the attic stairs, the stairs down the first floor where Joe was. Alan dropped the broom and ran. He tore through the bedroom and ran down the stairs.
“DAD!” Joe screamed.
“I’m coming,” Alan yelled. He rounded the newel post and pulled himself down the hall. His socks slipped on the wooden threshold to the dining room and he stumbled, catching himself as he came into the kitchen. Joe wasn’t there.
“Joe?” Alan asked. The dryer stopped and buzzed. “Joe?”
He heard his son’s whimper. The boy was under the table.
Alan pulled out a chair. Joe cringed.
“What are you doing under there?”
Joe didn’t answer. A car came up the drive. Alan saw the barn door go up and Liz’s car pull in.
X • X • X • X • X
In the shed, Liz banged on the entry door.
“Come out from there, Joe,” Alan said. He crouched next to the table and held out a hand for his son. Joe took his hand. “Are you okay?”
They held hands and walked down the hall to open the door. Liz was on the other side, soaked.
“Thank you,” she said. “I thought I was going to have to break a window. What happened to you two?”
“My pants are in the dryer,” Alan said. “Joe had a scare.” He let go of his son’s hand. Joe ran forward and hugged his mother. “Why don’t you guys go get in the car and lock the doors. I’ll look through the house.”
“What? Why?” Liz asked.
“We heard something,” Joe said.
“There might be someone in there,” Alan said.
“We stay together. Strength in numbers,” Liz said. She closed the door behind herself. Alan reached forward and locked it.
“I don’t know,” Alan said. “I’d rather not have us all at risk.”
“Too bad,” Liz said. “If something happens, then at least we’ll all be together.”
Alan thought about it for a second and took a deep breath. “You’re right. In fact, let’s just get out of here. Let’s go find a hotel. We can call the police and have them check the place out.”
Liz nodded. “We might have a small wrinkle. The road is washed out completely on the south side, and it’s flooded up near the dump to the north. I had to drive through several inches to get here and they were putting up roadblocks as I was doing it. We’d have better luck in the boat.”
“You’re kidding me,” Alan said. “We’re flooded in?”
Liz shrugged. “I’ve heard of it happening in the spring. It doesn’t happen often, but when we get a lot of water at once…”
“Okay, fine,” Alan said. “Let’s just call the police and wait. Stick together.”
Alan led the way towards the kitchen. He ducked into the shop, grabbed a hammer, and then closed the door behind him. Alan pushed open the door to the kitchen with his foot. He looked around and the ushered his family in. Joe had his eyes glued on the doorway leading from the hall to the dining room. Liz took Joe’s hand.
“Land line is out,” Alan said, setting down the handset. “I guess a tree took down a pole and killed both the power and phone.”
He picked up his cell.
“No signal,” Alan said.
“I’ll call,” Liz said. She fiddled with her phone for several seconds and then slammed it down on the table. “Damn it.”
“We’ll go to a neighbor’s house,” Alan said. He opened the dryer and pulled out his pants.
“Yeah? Which one?” Liz said. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but this road is not very densely populated and we aren’t very popular with the folks who do live nearby. We might have a better rapport with the intruder. Speaking of which—did you get a look at this guy?”
“No,” Alan said. “We just heard him.”
“You heard footsteps from the bedrooms and then heard someone run down the stairs?” Liz asked.
Joe nodded. Alan didn’t respond.
Relief spread across Liz’s face. “Honey, I told you, that’s what the ghost does. Don’t you remember I told you that the Colonel used to tell the story about the first time he heard someone walking around up there? He almost shot out the mirror in the bedroom. Everybody has heard that ghost, that’s why I was so careful to tell you about it.”
“You know I don’t believe in that stuff,” Alan said.
“The ghost doesn’t care if you believe in it or not,” Liz said. “The Colonel was the most skeptical man in the world. Even he eventually accepted the sounds in this house. It’s okay—they don’t hurt anything. Come on, let’s check out the place from top to bottom and make sure nothing is here. All the doors are locked, right?”
“Yes,” Alan said. He was shaking his head, rejecting his wife’s assertion.
“We stick together, start at the top and work our way down,” Liz said. “We’ll close all the doors along the way.”
She tugged at Joe’s hand. Joe used his other arm to hug himself.
“Come on, boys,” she said. “Let’s find out what’s going on around here.”
“It could be dangerous, Liz,” Alan said.
“I understand,” Liz s
aid. “And it could be nothing. Grab your hammer and let’s go.”
“Fine.”
Alan led the way. He flipped on the lights to the dining room and crossed through to the hall. Joe leaned down to look under the table before they approached. Alan paused at the hall. He shot a hand forward and locked the door to the cellar. It was a flimsy old bolt—it looked like it could be snapped with a hard shove.
“Hand me the chair,” Alan said.
“That’s my grandmother’s good Windsor chair,” Liz said.
“Fine, then another one,” Alan said. Liz brought one of the dining room chairs. Alan pushed it under the handle of the door to the cellar.
Alan opened the door to the coat closet and shoved aside the coats and made sure he could see the back of the closet. He nodded to Liz and Joe. They followed him down the hall to the stairs. Alan held his breath as he turned to look up the stairs. He braced himself. They saw nothing. Before they climbed, Alan verified that the front door was shut soundly and locked. He put a finger to his lips and crept up the steps. Liz and Joe followed close.
Upstairs, only the door to the master bedroom was open.
The broom was lying on the floor with the handle disappearing under the bed skirt. Alan knelt next to the broom and snatched it back, almost expecting something under the bed to offer resistance. He lifted the skirt and saw nothing. With a gesture, he asked Liz to close the door and turned his attention to the bathroom. Alan didn’t take any chances. He checked all the cabinets and slid open the glass door to look in the tub. Joe was focused on the door that led to the walk-in closet. Alan closed the door to the bathroom.
“Attic?” Alan whispered.
Liz nodded. Alan felt his heart pounding in his chest as he opened the door to the closet. The hanging garments looked like they could all be crouching evildoers, ready to pounce. Alan stood, waiting for movement with the broom in one hand and the hammer in his other. Liz reached forward and pulled the chain to light the room.
Joe gasped.
Alan and Liz looked at their son.
Joe shrugged. “Sorry. I thought I saw something.”
A smile touched the corner of Liz’s mouth.
Alan pulled the panel from the small door to the attic.
“Let me go first,” Liz said.
Alan shook his head.
“If there’s really someone in the house, they’re not going to know about this door to the attic,” Liz said. “They would be coming from behind us. I’ll go first and you’ll come last, in case there really is someone.”
Alan took a breath and considered her logic.
She’s right, he thought. Except… He didn’t allow his mind to complete the thought.
“Okay,” Alan said.
Liz pushed back her hair and crouched in front of the little door.
“Wait,” Alan said. “Hand me that extension cord.”
Liz reached in and came back with the thick orange cable. She gave it to Alan and he stretched it out to reach the outlet. When he plugged it in, Joe jumped. Upstairs, the compressor for the nail gun buzzed to life. When it finished recharging its canister, the compressor shut off and they heard the distant static from the radio. It was barely audible over the sound of rain thumping against the metal roof.
Liz nodded at Alan and pulled herself through the hatch. After her feet moved, Joe followed. Alan watched his son’s feet turn towards the stairs and then wait. They heard the radio click off.
From above, Liz said, “Oh, no.”
“What?” Alan asked. “Joe, move. Move!”
He pulled himself through and rushed Joe up the narrow steps.
“What is it?” Alan called. His head rose above the level of the floor and he saw Liz standing over near the front window—the rocking-chair window. “What?”
“There’s a little leak,” Liz said.
“Oh,” Alan said. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I like what you’ve done up here. It’s starting to look nice,” Liz said. “Really cleans…” She stopped because of the noise. They all heard it. It sounded like a muffled conversation at the bottom of the attic stairs.
Alan waved his family together. “This room is empty—everyone agree?”
Liz and Joe nodded.
“Okay. Let’s work our way down. I’m first,” Alan said.
He led them down the stairs. The murmuring voices seemed to keep their distance as the family traveled down the stairs. They never seemed to get any closer. When the three got to the closet, the voices faded away. Alan re-checked the closet and then the bathroom. The master bedroom was empty as well, and the door was still shut. Alan ushered everyone back in the hall. He turned off the lights in the bedroom. The rain beat at the bay window. Alan shut the door. He positioned Joe’s back to the door.
“You yell if you see or hear anything, okay?” Alan asked.
Joe nodded.
“We’re just going to check out this room,” Alan said. He pointed at the guest room.
Aside from the furniture, the guest room was the mirror of Joe’s. It had enough space for two single beds, dressers, and a closet that held a bigger bureau. Alan checked it quickly while Liz stood in the doorway. They exchanged a nod and then turned out the lights and shut that door.
“Okay, this side is clear,” Alan said. “Liz, I want you to guard the top of the steps while Joe and I check his room and the guest bath.”
When they returned, Liz circled her thumb and index finger—everything was okay. The family stood at the top of the steps.
“Keep going?” Liz asked.
Alan nodded. “They must be downstairs.”
Alan gave the broom to Liz and they all joined hands. Alan went first, Joe was in the middle, and Liz brought up the rear. Alan held the hammer out in front of them to ward off whatever they might face. They made quick work of checking the den and TV room, shutting the all the doors behind themselves. Outside, the rain came in bursts and spatters. The wind picked up and whistled and rumbled against the side of the house.
They were halfway down the hall next to the stairs when the front door flew open. It banged against its stop. Alan whirled and put his arms back, protecting his family. The storm door was bent back on its hinges and the heavy wooden door rattled with each gust. The noise of the generator added to the din of the storm.
“What is that?” Liz yelled over the shriek of the wind. She was pointing at the knocker. From it was hung the bear carcass that Alan had found on the porch. Alan pulled away from Liz’s grip. He leaned into the wind and gripped the heavy door. He slammed it shut against another burst of wind.
“Alan, what was that thing?” Liz asked.
“Come help me, Liz,” he said.
The latch on the door wasn’t catching right. Alan pressed his back against the wood to hold it shut. The wood floor was slick with rain. Liz ran over and added her weight to the door.
“Joe, give me a hand,” Alan said. He opened the door to the den and led his son through. Together, they lifted a small filing cabinet and walked it back into the hall. “Move, babe,” Alan said to Liz. He turned the cabinet sideways, wedging it between the door and stairs. It held the big door shut.
“Come on,” Alan said. He led his family through the rest of the first floor at a frantic pace. They checked every closet and behind the furniture. They ended their sweep of the first floor at the door.
“See?” Liz asked. “It was either a ghost or they got away when we weren’t looking.”
“They couldn’t have gone through this door,” Alan said. “You have to unlock it to open it, even from the inside.”
“Then through the front door,” Liz said. “Maybe that’s why it blew open.”
Joe looked hopeful at Liz’s suggestion.
“You can hear that door close all over the house, Liz,” Alan said. “It would be easier to sneak out by crashing through a window.”
“So it was a ghost, or the wind,” Liz said. “Whatever it was, the house is empt
y. We just checked.”
Alan considered this for a moment.
“The cellar,” he said. “What if we just locked the intruder in the cellar.”
“Then let him rot there,” Liz said.
“The gas lines go through there. The oil tanks are down there. Electrical, phone, cable, everything goes through that space. We’ll be at his mercy if he decides to mess with any of it.”
Liz sighed. She pulled Alan a few feet away from their son and whispered to him.
“Alan, I don’t like going down in that cellar. We’ve got it locked. Isn’t that enough?” Liz asked.
“No,” Alan said. “I don’t like the idea that we don’t know if anyone’s down there, and I want to check to make sure the bulkhead is locked from the inside.”
“Fine,” Liz said. “But you’re going first and you’re going to make sure there are no snakes.”
Alan nodded. He opened the door to the shop and pulled three flashlights from the shelf. They were old and the beams were weak and yellow. He handed one to Liz and one to Joe.
“It will only take a minute,” Alan said.
They walked in silence to the cellar door. Joe twisted the head of his flashlight, trying to focus the beam. Alan pulled the chair to the side, unlocked the bolt, and put his hand on the knob. He held his flashlight out and had the hammer tucked under his arm. He glanced at both Liz and Joe. They nodded back. Alan pulled open the door. The stairway to the cellar was a dark hole cut into the center of the house. A metal conduit ran up the left wall and ended at a circular metal box with a switch mounted on the faceplate. Alan flipped the switch. Down in the cellar, a couple of bulbs throbbed with the generator’s power.
A few feet down, the plaster on the walls ended and they could see the bare lath covering the studs. Alan took his first step down. The worn board sagged under his weight.
Liz grabbed Alan’s arm.
“Look between the steps,” she whispered.
Alan shot her a questioning look.
Liz pointed. The stairs had no risers—they were open to the back. She wanted Alan to hunch over to be sure no hand—or perhaps snake—was going to come through the back of the stairs and grab his ankle.