evenly, quietly, calmly. And still I felt it measuring me, testing the
air for the shrill scent of fear in me. I tried to shepherd the fear
back to some deep place inside where calm could protect and shield me
and maybe breed an uncertainty of its own. Moments passed.
While I waited, Casey could be dying.
There was no choice. I knew what I knew.
I heard it breathing. Shallow, moist and heavy. As though through
clotted blood.
It was possible to imagine anything in there.
In the dark.
For a long while I was only a heartbeat. Then I sensed a change.
I waited to be sure.
Whatever it was, it was gone.
I didn't even bother turning on the light. I backed out the way I'd
come. Fast.
With the flashlight in one hand and her book bag in the other, ran for
the stairs. I sprinted them two at a time.
I remember only silence from this. Not the sounds of my own footsteps
not the sounds of my own heavy breathing. Only silence. My own
strange motion through the hall and up the second flight of stairs.
Down the corridor to Steve.
I think he must have taken one look at me and known everything.
With badly fumbling fingers I untied his wrists. It was no surprise
that he'd already rid himself of the rope around his ankles. I blurted
out the story. I watched his eyes get wider and wider.
"This is no joke?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"Let's get Kim."
I handed him a flashlight and we ran down the hall. Our feet sounded
heavy on the old rough floorboards. Beams of light swooped and
skittered along the walls.
Kim was exactly as I'd left her. Except now she looked scared. I went
after the rope around her wrists and Steve freed her legs.
"Jesus! What's going on? It was sort of fun till I heard you guys
running around out there-" Her words played out into something like
understanding. Her voice went harsh and bloodless. "Where's Casey?"
"Missing."
"There's a hole in the wall down there and some kind of tunnel. I
found her book bag there. Two of the flashlights were in it. The
other was lying in the tunnel. I don't think she left it there on
purpose."
She looked at me. I could tell it wasn't registering with her.
"There's something in there, Kim. I don't know who or what but
something. I think it's got Casey."
She swallowed. "Clan, please don't fool with me."
"I'm not fooling."
"Oh, my god."
"We've got to get help," said Steve.
"No."
I snapped it out at them. The two of them just stared at me. I could
feel panic dart suddenly between us like bats in an unfamiliar room. I
tried to explain, to keep it under control.
"I don't want to leave her. You understand? It's too late. By the
time we got back here, she could be ...."
"Wait," said Kim. "Back up a minute. How do you know there's anybody
in there?"
"How do I...?"
"Yes! How the hell do you know there's anybody in there with her? If
she's alone we can just go after her, can't we? If she's just hurt or
something?"
"She's not alone, Kim."
"How do you know?"
I remembered. And remembering must have showed on me. That feeling of
something just out of reach in the dark. That terrible
communicaiion.
"Believe me. I know."
^^H
I watched her stare into my eyes and shudder.
"I felt it there, Kim. Very close to me. And it was not like us. It
I saw them exchange glances. I knew what they were thinking. If it
was as bad as I seemed to think, Casey could already be dead. But for
me that didn't change a thing. Not as long as I still didn't know.
"You've got it," said Kim. "But what can we do? We don't have guns.
We don't have anything."
"There's stuff in the cellar."
I guess I'd made the rope too tight on her. She rubbed her wrists hard
to restore circulation. She winced and looked at Steve.
And for a moment I felt their confusion. Real fear will do that to
you root you dumb and empty to the spot, bankrupt of ideas. I could
feel a whirling inside me.
"Look," said Steve finally, "I think you're right. We have to try to
find her. But we won't be doing any good going off half-cocked, will
we. I mean, what if this is just some elaborate asshole practical joke
of hers? You know Casey. Whatifshe'sjustspoofingyou? You didn't
actually see anything. How can you be sure?"
Try mixing terror and frustration together sometime. You get a fine
rage. I felt like I was exploding. My hands were making fists on his
shirt collar before I even knew what I was up to.
"You want to see the fucking joke? You want to see it? Come on!"
I dragged him to his feet. He didn't fight me. I pushed and dragged
him down the hall, anger pouring out of me in huge burly waves. Kim
followed, trying to get me off him. She hadn' the muscle for it. When
we got to the stairs, I shoved him to one side and marched down in
front of them, through the kitchen and down into the cellar.
The anger made me stupid and careless. If anyone had been waiting for
us it would have been a very simple matter bringing me down. I was
lucky, though. The basement was empty.
I waited for them at the foot of the stairs. I walked them past the
piles of storage and threw my beam on the hole in the wall. Seeing it
made the fury rumble up again. I grabbed Steve by the back of the
neck. I forced him down in front of it.
"Smell it," I hissed at him. "Smell it, goddamn you! Inside. That's
where I found her bag. She's in there. You think it's fucking funny?
You think that's a joke?"
I saw something tumble off his cheek.
"Clan, I..."
I let him go. He pulled away. I'd wounded him, all right. I watched
him wipe his eyes. I felt great and wonderful. I felt like a damn
bully.
Kim moved between us and faced me.
"Are you through now?"
Her voice was ice water. It was good for me and bad too. The shame
was as strong as the anger had been. Nothing Steve had said was
particularly out of line. It was only reasonable from his point of
view. Another time it might have been typically Casey. I couldn't
blame him for wanting to believe this was like the others. He hadn't
sat in that tunnel like I had. He had no way of knowing.
"Clan ... I... I was trying to say..."
"I'm sorry, Steve. I'm just scared, I guess, that's all."
He stopped stammering.
"I was trying to say that I'll help you. Only..."
"Only he's not quite as dumb as you are, Daniel. Suppose you're
absolutely right. Suppose there's someone or something in there. Then
suppose we go in, and it's something big enough so that three rusty
knives can't quite handle it. What happens then? Sorry, Casey? We
tried?
"I don't think that's good enough, Daniel. Not good enough for Casey,
or for us."
I looked at them. There was no need to apologize further. They knew.
They were pretty good people and they knew.