Part 8 (1/2)

”I've got one,” Liz said, and pointed to the main room where she'd been using theirs to cut in along the ceiling.

”Oh, perfect, thanks,” Carl said.

He carried it upstairs and Liz followed. He placed the ladder beneath the crawls.p.a.ce in the ceiling and climbed up. He lifted the panel out of the way, and got his flashlight from off his belt.

Liz glanced into the empty rooms. They all looked so bare.

Of course they do, she thought. They're empty.

But it was more than that. Obviously they were empty, but there's a difference between an empty room and a barren one and these rooms were absolute wastelands. She tried to imagine what they would have looked like furnished by people who'd lived here before.

”Well, the crawls.p.a.ce up here is too small to get into but from what I can see, there's nothing in the ceiling,” Carl said. He stood near the top of the ladder, and his head was up in the ceiling.

”So no squirrels, then?”

”Well, I didn't say that. I just can't see everything up here.” He went down a rung and pulled his head from the hole. ”And they could get in, really, any number of ways. Through a crack in the dormers, maybe. They could still get into the walls and no holes show up in the crawls.p.a.ce. It could be mice.”

”It could be anything,” Liz said.

”It could, yes. I'll also take a look in the bas.e.m.e.nt and around the outside of the house. Where's your bas.e.m.e.nt door?”

”I'll show you.”

But before they could move, something knocked above Carl's head. They both looked up.

The crawls.p.a.ce had two panels. One in the ceiling, and a cap over the top, outside, that had to be lifted and moved aside, which led to the roof. Whatever had made that noise, it was on the roof, not in the ceiling.

”What was that, now?” Carl asked.

”Don't know,” Liz said.

It came again, something knocking on the roof.

Carl clicked his flashlight on again and shone it up at the cap.

Another knock and dust fell from the roof, sprinkling his gla.s.ses. He climbed higher on the ladder and was reaching up to the cover when a final series of knocks came. All timidity was lost and whatever was out there was pounding on the roof, beating at it with everything they had, shaking the top floor of the house and Carl lost his balance, grabbed the top of the ladder for support, but fell anyway, cras.h.i.+ng to the floor and kicking the ladder out from under him, across the room.

”Oohhhhh,” he said, trying to sit up and rubbing his hip.

”Oh my G.o.d, I'm so sorry,” Liz said, moving to try to help him up.

”No, that's alright,” he said, climbing to his feet. ”I'm fine. Just more surprised than anything.”

”Really, I'm sorry.”

”Don't be. Not your fault. I mean especially in this house, huh?”

”What do you mean?” she asked. ”Especially in this house?”

Carl looked like he'd accidentally revealed the secret sauce while sitting in the compet.i.tion's kitchen.

”Oh, nothing,” he said. ”Just, you know, big old houses like this, they get reputations. Even when they don't deserve them. You know, people see big houses like this one, they hear a few weird noises, and they think the worst.”

”Yeah,” Liz said.

”But the truth is, it's just, like you said, squirrels in the walls, stuff like that.”

That was no squirrel, Liz thought. Her second thought was And he's lying.

”So, let me just put that cover back and we can look in the bas.e.m.e.nt.”

They both looked up, staring at the roof cover, waiting for the knock to come again. They watched it for a very long time, but nothing happened.

”That was very strange,” Carl said, as if to himself. He stood for another second, looking up, before grabbing the ladder and replacing the crawls.p.a.ce cover.

Liz led him to the bas.e.m.e.nt, careful on the stairs to be quiet.

”My son's taking his nap,” she told him. Carl took the hint and practically tiptoed down the stairs. Liz glanced back at him and Carl was lifting his feet way too high and setting them back down with the utmost caution. Liz thought he must have learned to tiptoe from watching Yosemite Sam or Daffy Duck.

She eased the door open and flipped on the light.

”Now, there are two levels down here,” she explained. ”You'll go down these few steps here, then turn. You can then either go straight, up a few steps to the laundry room, or turn again and go down to the bottom level, which is where the water heater and the furnace are.”

”Gotcha,” Carl said. As he stepped down, the phone rang.

”Excuse me,” Liz said and tried to get down the hall quickly, but quietly. In the middle of the afternoon, while Joey slept and everything was turned off, the phone rang to shake the walls. She grabbed it before it could ring again. ”h.e.l.lo?”

As soon as the greeting was out, a dread came over her, seeping through the phone lines and penetrating her, making her suddenly wish she'd let it ring.

”You're dead,” a hoa.r.s.e whisper came over the line.

She flashed back to the day in middle school, this same phrase--for all Liz knew, it could be the same voice--scaring her so bad she'd had to hide in her parents' room until someone came home. She stood frozen, listening. It had only said it once, ”You're dead,” then fell silent and Liz listened to the silence, trying to pick up anything in the background, a voice, a television, traffic, anything that said this was real, that the caller was someone sitting bored at home. But the only noise coming over the line now was nothing. Not even white background noise. The line was just dead. Soon the dial tone started, but Liz hadn't heard a hang up click.

She listened to the tone for a second, then set the phone down She looked around the room, wondering who, what, if anything, was watching her.

She could hear Carl through the vents, moving around in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

She'd go down with him. She wasn't sure what to make of him, but he was company and Liz didn't want to be alone in the big empty house right now.

She got to the hall and turned toward the stairs, then stopped.

Standing on the bottom step was a man. Someone, anyway. The face was blank, blurred out, it looked from Liz's end of the hall. But the figure was facing her. It was still. Liz looked at it, but didn't move. The hall was dim, but light shone in through the front door at the top of the stairs, casting eerie light behind the figure, silhouetting it even more.

She knew there was no one in the house, except Carl, herself, and Joey. She attempted a step toward it. The figure stepped backwards up one step. Liz took another step, echoed again by the figure's backward step. Liz stopped. The blank face nodded once, then the arms raised as if to take its head in its hands. Instead, the entire torso began shaking violently, rapidly. The motion was blurred and Liz thought she heard a droning buzz coming from it. Then the body stopped shaking, suddenly, as if a b.u.t.ton had been pushed, or an outlet unplugged.

The body's head turned toward the open bas.e.m.e.nt door where Carl could be heard b.u.mping around in the laundry room. The figure turned and climbed the stairs, vanis.h.i.+ng around the landing.

Liz found movement, finally, and ran to the bottom of the stairs. Daylight gave her small courage. She wanted to go up, to see where it had gone, if it was still around, but she heard Joey, faintly, in his bedroom.

She peeked in and listened. He was lying down, curled up, crying.