“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.
“Okay,” Alan said.
He crouched and looked between the steps as he descended. The bulbs left deep shadows in the corners of the cellar. Alan pointed his weak beam towards possible hiding places. He waved to Liz and Joe to follow him. Enormous granite blocks defined the walls of the cellar. They had been dragged by “ox strength and ignorance,” as the Colonel said, eleven miles from the quarry. The floor was crushed stone. Overhead, the big beams that held up the floor were criss-crossed with wires and pipes. They provided a sturdy scaffolding for the spiderwebs and dust.
Alan’s family formed a tight knot at the bottom of the stairs. The stone walls masked the sound of the storm, but the generator’s hum buzzed through the air.
Even with its primitive materials, the cellar felt orderly. It held little more than the electrical panel, furnace, water heater, and oil tank.
Alan headed for the first corner. Their feet crunched across the gravel. As they passed beyond the naked lightbulb hanging from a joist, their shadows darkened the corner even more. Alan squeezed his flashlight, as if that might coax more light from the old batteries.
“How long since you’ve been down here?” Liz asked, her voice hushed with fear.
“A few weeks,” Alan said. “When we had the generator installed. Why?”
“I don’t know,” Liz said. Her light darted around the cellar. She had dropped her broom upstairs and her free hand was clamped to Alan’s shoulder. Her fingers dug into his muscles.
Alan raised his voice. “If you’re down here, you might as well come out.” He maneuvered over to the oil tank and cast his light behind it. There were few places to hide in the cellar, and this was the most obvious. Liz squeezed his shoulder even harder.
“Liz, you’re killing me,” Alan said.
“I’m sorry. It’s just—there used to be a big snake that lived under there. I saw it one time when the oil man was here.”
“You told me,” Alan said. “And it was thirty years ago. You also said that the oil guy killed the snake with his shovel.”
“He did,” she whispered. “But what if that snake had babies.”
“Then I’m sure they’re long dead too,” Alan said. “I put out mouse poison. If the snake eats a poisoned mouse, it will die too.”
“Can we go upstairs now?” Liz asked.
“I want to check behind the furnace and water heater.”
“What could hide behind there?” Liz asked.
“Nothing, if we check,” Alan said.
Liz kept her hand on Alan’s shoulder. He could feel his son pressed against his hip, keeping pace as they shuffled towards the appliances. All was clear behind the furnace and water heater. They pointed all three of their lights into the dark space and saw nothing but the cement pad that the machines were mounted on. Alan turned back towards the stairs. Outside, the wind picked up and they heard it howling through the cracks between the foundation stones. The house above them creaked and moaned.
“Dad?” Joe asked.
They stopped.
“Yes?” Alan asked.
“There’s something in the rocks?”
“Are you asking, or did you see something?” Alan asked.
“I think I saw something,” Joe said.
“Where?” Alan asked. He was looking where his son’s flashlight pointed, but there was nothing there. It was just an oval of the gravel floor, lit up by Joe’s weak beam. “Joe, I don’t see anything.” Alan started to move forward again, but Liz’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back.
“No, Alan, he’s right,” Liz said. “I see it too.”
“Some animal or something?” Alan asked. His question trailed off. The thing on the floor shifted towards them. It still looked like the gravel floor of the cellar, but somehow the gravel felt like it got closer.
“What the hell?” Alan whispered.
“Alan!” Liz exclaimed. She tugged at his shoulder. He turned to see her beam pointing towards the wooden steps. The shadow under the bottom stair was sliding. The oily darkness moved to the right and then stopped. Liz’s light was able to chase away all the shadows except that one. Her beam disappeared into that puddle of darkness.
“It’s coming closer, Dad,” Joe said.
“Just calm down, Joe. Maybe our eyes are playing tricks on us. Maybe it’s the…” Alan started.
He jerked his foot back. His big toe felt like it had been stung by a wasp, repeatedly injecting hot fire under the nail.
“Come on,” Alan said. He coughed out the words. Alan dropped his hammer and grabbed Joe’s arm.
Alan bolted for the stairs. Liz cried out as she lost her grip on Alan’s shoulder. He heard her scrambling to keep up. Joe got to the stairs first and pulled himself up over the side. Alan turned to pull Liz ahead. His grip on his wife’s arm switched from pulling her to leaning on her as his toe hit the floor. A new wave of hot pain flared and Alan’s leg buckled. Liz supported his weight and they lunged for the stairs.
The shadow under the bottom step flattened. Alan saw the movement and heard the clatter of gravel.
Liz made the stairs. She pulled herself up the first few steps and Joe reached down to help her. Alan leaped over the shadow. It was stretching towards his feet. The lightbulbs exploded. After the flash, Alan’s light carved a sweeping beam through the cellar.
Joe screamed.
Alan got his injured foot up over the side of the stairs, and Liz and Joe reached for his hand. As he pushed up, fresh pain shot up from his trailing leg. Something was tugging him back down. Liz caught his hand. Joe grabbed around his wrist. Alan pulled on both of them and pushed up with the foot planted on the stairs, but the thing clutching his other leg was like an anchor.
Alan swung back with his flashlight.
As the beam cut across the cellar, Alan saw a dozen faceless dark shapes. They were closing on his position. The flashlight connected with something and the impact broke Alan’s grip on the metal. The flashlight bounced from his hand and flipped as it fell away. The light flickered and then extinguished. Alan felt the grip on his leg soften and he pulled with all his force.
Liz and Joe pulled. The family clawed their way up the steps. They fell through the doorway to the hall and Alan spun on his knees. He slammed the door behind them and shot the bolt. He dragged the chair over to the door and jammed it savagely under the handle. The wooden legs creaked as Alan slapped it into place with his palms.