Underneath that house was a series of rooms. A series of rooms that, as crazy as it sounds, I think were built just for me. They showed me how…throughout my life…I’d had the people I loved taken from me—not just because of bad luck or coincidence, but as part of somebody’s plan. I don’t know who is behind it or if there’s supposed to be some point to it all other than just to make me suffer. I knew before I went down there that I had some kind of cloud, call it a curse if you want, that seemed to always follow me around. It was like my entire life had been designed to teach me that I was better off not getting close to anyone so I didn’t risk losing them too. I just hadn’t realized it really was someone’s design until I found what was waiting for me down there.
I didn’t stay to get answers though. There was a door…there was a last room that had no other door than the one I came through, but then a new door appeared and started opening. When I ran out of there, I was terrified, and part of that was because I didn’t understand what I’d seen. I tried to rationalize it and tell myself that I’d missed it or it was just well-hidden. That yeah, I had clearly walked into something strange and awful—a serial killer or stalker that had the time and resources to set all this up to freak me out…But it’s not like I grew up believing in magic and hoodoo, right?
I drove away not knowing what to believe, but after a few minutes I went back. I’d already called 911, but I went back because I wanted to make sure the cops checked it out thoroughly and understood how the things down there showed that someone had dedicated nearly three decades to ruining my life. Turning around and going back to that house was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I felt like a scared animal that had escaped a trap and just to head back to it out of some self-destructive sense of curiosity. The only way I managed it at all was by telling myself that there were explanations for all of this. It was something the police could help with. It was something that could be understood and controlled and ultimately stopped.
When I got back to the house, it was burning. I was a suspect, but it never amounted to much beyond a couple of interviews. They found the rooms underneath the house, but that was about it, and they never saw a second door, hidden or otherwise, in that final room.
My boss told me to take a couple of days off, and when I went back the third day, I was worried it was going to be to just pack my stuff. But he didn’t fire me. Instead he brought me in, asked me how I was doing, and told me that he was going to see about getting me a raise at the start of the next business quarter.
“Um, okay. I…I mean that’s great, but I’m a little confused.” I’d been nervous since coming in his office, but now I was just baffled. He was a nice enough guy, but I didn’t know why he was rewarding me for getting involved in a house fire investigation, especially of a customer’s home.
He gave a little shrug. “Look, Daniel. Normally I’d be pissed about you doing side work. Especially using company equipment. Hell, twenty years ago I’d have fired you on the spot. But you’re a good guy. A good worker. I’ve never had to worry about you being dishonest, not showing up, or doing a shit job on something. And I’ve been at this long enough to know how hard it is to find good help.” He smiled a little. “And how hard it is making ends meet when you’re young.” Glancing away, he let out a sigh. “I’ve been underpaying you I think. I want you to stay with the company long-term, and that means paying what you’re worth.”
I’d been trying to not interrupt, but when he finally paused for a moment, I had to get it out. “Jim, I wasn’t doing any ‘side job’. It was for one of our customers. And I know this sounds weird, but I think they, whoever it is, is stalking me or something.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Dan, I’ve already checked the order logs for that day. I did as soon as you called in about the fire. You weren’t on a job for us. We haven’t had any work orders or calls about going out to that address now or ever.”
I felt myself getting scared and angry as I started shaking my head. “No. No. That’s not right. I went out there last week after a lady called in and asked for us to come out. Marisol took the call. You can ask her about it. I even talked to her about it because the service note just said undern…”
“Dan, who is Marisol?” He was the one looking worried now, and even through the haze of my own frustration and fear, it looked genuine.
I stood up and pointed out to the reception area. “Marisol? The girl that answers the phone?” I could tell I was raising my voice, but I didn’t care. It felt like everything was just there to fuck with me, and I was tired of it.
He rose from his chair slowly, his hands raised. “Stay calm, okay? We’ll figure this out. But Dan, no one has ever worked here called Marisol. The girl up front is named Jenny. You know that. She’s my brother’s kid, remember? I’ve known her since she was born.”
I looked out the office window and saw Marisol sitting there. Wasn’t that her name? I felt my certainty start to slip, but then I remembered the order sheet in my pocket. Jim looked scared when I reached in my jacket, and I hated the relief I saw in his face when I only pulled out a folded piece of paper. Did he think I was crazy? Dangerous even? Bullshit. They were fucking with me, just like the thing under the house.
“Look at that. That’s the work order. That’s Marisol’s note. Think I’m making that shit up now?”
He glanced up at me and then back at the piece of paper. “I mean, yeah, this is one of our work orders. Let’s just go ask…her about it, okay?” He stepped to the door, gesturing for me to go first before following me out of his office and over to the front desk. “Jenny, did you do this work order last week?”
The girl took the paper and gave it a bored look before shrugging. “I don’t know, Uncle Jim. I don’t think so. Something wrong with it?”
Jim frowned slightly and pointed a thumb in my direction. “Dan here says that you gave him this work order last week. This is the house that burned down a couple of days ago. Do you remember any of that? Or talking to him about it?”
She looked at me and shook her head. “Daniel, I don’t remember that. I know I can be scatterbrained, but I don’t think I’m that fu…”She glanced at Jim. “That messed up. I’m sorry.”
Gritting my teeth, I stepped forward and pointed at the paper. “But that’s your handwriting. That’s your note. We talked about this. About the lady that called in.”
She sat back, looking slightly startled as she glanced between me and the note before turning her gaze back to Jim. “I mean it looks like my handwriting I guess, but it’s hard to tell. And I really don’t remember it.”
I forced myself to retreat a couple of steps and tried to sound calmer than I felt when I spoke next. “Will you at least tell him that you go by Marisol?”
Jenny looked confused for a second and then started laughing. “Oh shit. Um, shoot. You’re just messing with me. That’s awesome.” She was grinning as she looked between me and her uncle. “I don’t get the joke really, but it’s still pretty…freaking funny.”
I could feel my hands balling up at my sides as Jim looked at me with renewed concern. I ignored him and focused on her. “So you’re saying you don’t go by Marisol?”
Her smile started to fade. “Um…no…I…no. Why would I? That’s not my name.”
I was going to say more, but Jim stepped between us, putting a strong hand on my shoulder. “Dan, I think you’re still rattled from what happened the other day. Totally understandable. Go home and get some rest. Take a few more days off and then we’ll figure this all out, okay?”
I felt a rock growing in my belly. “I’m not crazy. This all really happened.”
He gave my shoulder a squeeze. “No doubt, son. But I think you’re getting upset about it, and I bet if you have a few more days to relax and get over it, everything will make more sense, okay? I’ll give you a call in a day or two to talk about when you should start back.”
I never got that call. Three days later my final check came in the mail along with a letter saying I was being terminated and was to stay away from the premises. I thought about calling Jim and trying to get my job back, but in the end I didn’t bother. I was either insane or something was controlling my life. Either way, nothing much mattered any more.
I had a few weeks where I sank into a deep depression. Had some dark thoughts about just ending things. It was an attractive idea, in part because I felt like it’d be a way of beating this thing that was after me. Of not playing its game any more.
But then it occurred to me that maybe that’s exactly what it wanted. For me to give up. Kill myself or just stop living. And while I didn’t feel like I was any closer to any real answers after a month of morose pondering, I didn’t want to give up either. If I couldn’t stop it from taking things from me, I would try to build a life where I didn’t have much to be taken away.
And that’s the way I’ve lived for the last fifteen years. I know you’re probably thinking—aside from that I’m a nutjob—that this is some sob story about how my life has sucked. And sure, I’ve had some bad times both before and after that day at the house. But honestly, I can’t complain too much. I’ve never gone hungry, I’ve moved away from worrying about jobs and money and the other traps so many people fall into. I’ve tried to be a good person, tried to appreciate what I have, and to not dwell on the things I don’t. Overall, it’s worked out pretty well, and my life may be kind of lonely, but it’s not a bad one all things considered.
I’ve always liked you, Andy. Maybe it’s because you remind me of myself some. I could see you having a future with friends and a family I’ll probably never get to have. A different kind of happy life. And I made a point of not getting too chummy with you, but when I saw you so worried after losing your job…well, I really was trying to help when I suggested the sleep study. I didn’t know it was going to be like that. I just knew you needed money and that your pride would only let me help you out so much. I…I know it doesn’t matter now, but I wanted you to know that I never would have gotten you involved if I’d realized this was somehow connected to…whatever this is.
But the other thing I need to tell you is…after it was over and we got home the other night, I was freaked out, okay? I didn’t lie to you, not exactly, but I didn’t tell you everything either. That creepy dude I saw in the dream? The one at the black house? Well, I didn’t recognize him, but the house he was at…It’s been so long, and it looked different all black and burnt, but somehow…fuck, man. Somehow I think the house in the dream was the same house from all those years ago. The one I watched fucking burn.
I nodded absently. We’d been sitting in our driveway for the past few minutes while Daniel talked, and while part of me wanted to run inside and hide, a more pragmatic part realized that it probably didn’t matter. Whatever was after us, a house was as good as a street was as good as a car, because no where was probably safe. A few hours before, that realization would have terrified me, but now it barely penetrated the numb haze I was in. My voice sounded distant but steady when I finally spoke up.
“I saw the house again today. It was after me.” I glanced at him. “It was in the middle of the street you came down to get me. Did you see it?”
Daniel stared at where the headlights were illuminating our closed garage door as he shook his head. “No, I didn’t see it. But then no one saw the man when I ran into him today either. I…I don’t know how any of this works.” He swallowed and turned to look at me, the fear naked in his eyes. “But I saw that door. That red door opening on the wall when I came and got you. It looked like the one from underneath that fucking house.”
I nodded again. I felt like I was underwater, or maybe suspended in amniotic fluid. In the world, but not part of it, as my grandmother used to say. I knew I was probably either in shock or that the door and bells had done something to my head, but at least I wasn’t dying of fear. And what did it matter? How could you fight something like this? I might as well be afraid of a tidal wave or some huge, gathering storm. As if reading my mind, Daniel spoke again.
“I think we need to go back to the sleep study. Or at least I am. I’m done dragging you deeper into this if I can help it. But I don’t know of how else to try and learn more of what’s going on. Try to figure out how to stop it.” He let out a sigh as he laid his forehead against the steering wheel. “And I know it’s probably just making it easier for him or it or whatever to get us. But…” He sat back and turned to me, his eyes still uneasy, but his voice firm. “But I can tell you that running doesn’t work. I’ve spent most of my adult life running from it, and here I am, right back where I started. So fuck running. I’m going to try to understand it. Make it stop, if I can. And if I can’t, then at least I don’t have to wait around worrying about when the other shoe’s going to drop.”
I let out a dry laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s go.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure, man? You seem kind of out of it. I don’t know if another bad trip is what you need right now.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I’m good. Or good enough.” Shrugging, I went on. “And you’re right. We might as well try. What the fuck else are we going to do?”
Daniel sighed as he put the car in reverse and started backing out of the driveway. “It’s like my cousin Brucie used to say. What do you do on a deserted island when you’ve drank the milk from the very last coconut?”
I was staring out the window now, watching the world turn black as we headed back to the research center. “What’s that?”
“Fuck it.”
We arrived ten minutes late for the night’s sign-in and orientation, but they let us in without complaint. I knew I probably looked half-crazy and stunk from my long run, but I didn’t care. I didn’t know these people, and social niceties were pretty far down my list at the moment.
Still, when a pretty dark-haired woman came and sat down next to me, I felt myself getting nervous in spite of everything. I should have washed my face or changed my shirt before we came here, and now this girl, who had barely looked at me the last time we were here, was sitting down and staring at me and…
“You look about like I feel.”
I blinked. “Huh?”
The woman blushed slightly and gave a small smile. “Sorry, not trying to be rude. You just look freaked out, and I wondered if it was because of what happened last time we were here.”
Daniel was on my other side, and he wasn’t looking at us, but I could see him tense as soon as she mentioned the sleep study. Trying to sound casual, I gave a shrug. “I’m sorry. What are you asking about exactly?”
The woman’s blush grew slightly. “Nothing, never mind. I’ll quit bothering you.” She had started to rise from the chair when I reached out on impulse and touched her arm.
“Wait. You mean the dreams? Did you have the strange, bad dreams too?”
She looked down at me and nodded as she sank back into the seat. “Yes. Tell me what you saw. I mean, please.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Um, not to be a dick, but you first. Please.”
Letting out a sigh, she seemed to weigh things for a moment before nodding. “I saw a couple I’ve met before. And a man. Him, I didn’t know. And a door. The same fucking door.” She trailed off for a moment, her expression growing dark. “Your turn.”
I went to speak, but Daniel beat me to it, speaking in a low, deep voice just above a whisper. “We’ve seen a man. A house. And yeah, we’ve seen a door too at different times.” He extended his hand. “Daniel Grey.”
She smiled and took his hand in a brief handshake. “Consuela Sanchez. But call me Connie.” She glanced between the two of us and then around the room before speaking again in a lower voice. “We should talk more, after. Just be careful…please. Don’t trust the people here, including me, until you hear what I have to say.”
“We’re being hunted.”
I’d blurted out the words without realizing I was going to say them, and while my voice was low, Daniel still grabbed my arm, muttering for me to keep it together while Connie glanced around nervously. A look passed between the two of them, and then Connie turned to me, her eyes full of anger and sadness.
“Me too. They faked my brother’s suicide and now they’re after…”
A voice came over a hidden loudspeaker.
“Please report to your designated rooms. It is time to begin.”
---
Credits
Comments