Before...
SOMETHING IN THE DARK
MICHAEL BRAY
HE HEARD IT slithering out of the basement. Impossible as it was, the sound was easy to pick out in the utter stillness of the house. It was impossible because Billy had shot the man in the Trans Energy uniform in the face from close range, sending his body tumbling down there in the first place. But now he was back, and Billy had neither ammo nor the strength left to run. In the movies, the hero always had a plan, always had an idea, but in reality, there was only the cold grip of fear and the certainty his life was now over.
As he cowered in the darkness behind the sofa, his broken arm and shoulder throbbing in agony, he was grateful at least Tyler and Angeline would be safe, no matter what was about to happen to him.
He could hear it now, the thing from the basement, dragging itself across the kitchen tiles towards where he hid. As if that idea wasn’t surreal enough, it had started to whistle that tune again. The one he was sure was from an old movie or TV show but couldn’t quite place, only now it was garbled and wet, a sloppy, half slurped expulsion of air.
He knew it was empty, but he checked the gun hanging in his one good hand anyway, wishing he had saved a bullet for himself. But hindsight was a wonderful thing, and for as much as he could wish to go back and change things, he couldn’t, because what was done was done, and what would be would—
Silence.
The slithering and whistling had stopped, but instead of relief, it brought fresh terror raging through Billy, as he would rather hear it and know where it was, than not hear it and risk it sneaking up on him. He checked the perimeter of the room, wishing for the lights to come back on, wishing those shadow draped corners were visible enough to give up their secrets. Most of all, he wished he had told his wife and son he loved them before he had sent them away. He supposed they knew, but he still didn’t say it often enough, and if by some miracle he survived this, he promised himself he would make sure that changed.
A thud from the hallway snapped him back to the present, and he licked his lips, which were dry despite the sweat pouring out of him. He knew the man in the Trans Energy uniform was outside the door. He just knew. Billy tightened his grip on the gun, ignoring the little voice in his head told him it was now useless, re-reminding himself it had been useless even when fired at point blank range because the thing in the cellar had taken it, and come back anyway.
He fought the urge to scream as the door creaked open, and the slithering thing entered. He had just about succeeded when it started to whistle again, that wet throaty sound which reignited his horror, as it sounded even more disgusting from a few feet away. As he cowered, Billy asked himself the same question that had been racing through his mind since the entire thing began.
Why did this happen to us?
