Part 1 (1/2)

THE THIRD FLOOR.

C. Dennis Moore.

THEIR NEW HOME IS OUT TO GET THEM.

Welcome to Angel Hill, Missouri, a town that shot blood from the ground at its own groundbreaking. There are only two roads in or out of town, and everything within those borders is subject to the whims of reality. Those who grew up here are immune to the town's peculiarities. But Jack and Liz have just moved here, and for their young son, Joey, it's almost like coming home again.

As the Kitches start settling into their new home, a large abandoned house in need of a lot of TLC, Angel Hill welcomes them the only way it knows how. Footsteps in the middle of the night. Voices on the phone. Their big empty house wasn't so empty after all. There's a presence, and it's growing stronger. And angrier.

DOES MADNESS LIVE ON AFTER DEATH?.

A hulking figure stalks the halls while childlike voices whisper in mourning. And there's something unexplainable happening to Joey. His hair is shorter now, and his eyes . . . they didn't used to be that color, did they? And that birthmark on his neck looks more like a scar every day. Jack doesn't want to believe his own eyes, but for Liz the threat is all too real, and it's closing in.

From the invisible shapes under the sheets, the eyes she feels on her constantly, and the banging coming from the third floor . . . is that something trying to get in? Or something wanting out? Welcome to Angel Hill.

Chapter One.

The Kitches entered Angel Hill the same way everyone did: US 169. They came from the south, having arrived after an almost two day drive from Houston. They spent the night just over the Missouri border in a small town they couldn't remember the name of and drove the rest of the way to the northern part of the state in one stretch. Jack was ready for bed. Liz was ready for something besides sitting in the car. Joey was asleep in the back seat.

Once they entered town, Liz was ready to find the first motel and search for the house in the morning.

”Come on,” Jack said. ”We're in town now; we'll just find the house. We'll be there in twenty minutes.”

”We don't even know the streets here,” Liz said. ”Let's just get some sleep and we'll find the house in the morning.”

”I've got directions,” Jack countered, pulling directions from his breast pocket. He handed it to Liz, then turned on the dome light. ”Read it to me.”

Liz took the paper and tried to focus her eyes in the glare of the light.

”Turn right when you get to Vogul,” she said.

”Then what?” he asked.

”Then turn left when you get to Seventh Street.”

Jack followed her directions, turning when he found the street she mentioned, then looking for the next one. And, like Jack had said, before they knew it, the Kitches were on Fourth Street, pulling up in front of their new house. Liz looked past her husband to the three-story block standing thirty feet back from the street. Even with a street lamp in front of their house, it was dark. Not just the house, but everything around it, as if the house sucked up any light that dared come near it.

”That's it?” Liz asked, sounding less than thrilled.

”That's it,” Jack said. He didn't sound entirely convinced, himself.

”Is there going to be electricity?”

”Of course,” he said. ”I had it turned on two days ago. And the Realtor said they'd have it aired out for us. The only things we'll be missing tonight are beds.”

They got out and Liz lifted Joey from the back seat while Jack got the sleeping bags from the rear compartment. He closed the door and went up to the porch. After some jiggling and fighting, they got the door opened and were inside. Jack locked the door behind them.

”So they aired it out,” Liz asked, ”or they were supposed to air it out.”

”She said they did,” Jack said, wincing at the smell of dust. He found a light switch and flipped it. Nothing happened. ”Nice to know quality work is alive and well in Angel Hill,” he said.

”Where are we going?”

”Downstairs,” he said, leading the way.

The porch entered onto a landing between the first two floors and the way down looked, to Liz, like a physical invitation to h.e.l.l. ”You didn't bring a flashlight, did you, Mr. Genius?” she teased.

”We weren't supposed to need one.” He missed the last step and stumbled, spilling the sleeping bags and his keys all over the dark hall. There was a jangling and Jack said, ”s.h.i.+t!”

”What,” Liz asked, s.h.i.+fting Joey to her other shoulder.

”I think I just kicked the keys down the cold air vent.”

”Nice.”

”Hush up.”

They found one of the bedrooms--at least, they thought it was a bedroom--in the dark by running a hand along the wall until coming to a doorway. That was where they spent the night. They spread the sleeping bags on the floor, slept on one, covered with the other. In the middle of the night Jack woke up when he heard a door close, then footsteps padding down the hall. He reached over and felt Liz next to him. Joey had to pee, he thought, then was asleep again before his son came back. He woke up again, what seemed like only seconds later, to Joey's screams.

s.h.i.+t, Jack thought, he's realized he doesn't know where he is. He's lost in the hall in the dark.

He began to get up, then realized Joey was right next to him. Liz was already comforting the boy who was crying over a nightmare. Jack put his head back down and fell asleep again instantly.

By the time he woke up, Joey and Liz were gone. Jack raised his head and looked around, trying to force focus on the room. Liz had opened the windows, and Jack's first Angel Hill summer breeze blew by. He leaned up and realized they'd spent the night in the living room. He could see Liz in the kitchen just ten feet from him. She had her back to him, staring out the back door. From outside, he heard Joey laughing.

”What time is it?” he asked.

She didn't answer, so he asked it again, louder. Liz jumped and caught herself before she yelled. ”s.h.i.+t, you scared me.” She looked at her watch. ”It's almost nine.”

”Good, the movers should be here by noon. We can get something to eat and be back with plenty of time”

”Plenty of time for what?” she asked.

”Good point,” he said.

Then Joey rushed in, slamming the tin storm door behind him. ”Dad,” he said. ”Is this whole house ours?”

”It sure is,” he said, sitting up and smoothing the wrinkled length of his pant legs. ”Will this be enough room for all your toys, do you think?”

”It might be,” Joey said. Then he turned to Liz. ”Who lives up there?” He pointed toward the ceiling.

”n.o.body lives up there,” she answered. ”The whole building is our house. And n.o.body else's.”

”Wow,” Joey said, his eyes wide with childish joy.