Page 16

When Eve’s eyes fluttered open, she found herself lying on the living room couch, a dull pain pounding in her forehead. Fractured memories floated through her psyche: the attic, tire chains, and… a leaky pipe? Rising to sit, she took in her surroundings.

Paige sat near the fireplace, knitting away. At her feet, Newton and Jenny were playing with Legos. Where did they get those from? Kai was standing off near the kitchen, hands in his pockets, staring out a window. And Thomas… he was nowhere to be seen.

Paige, catching Eve’s movement, looked up, her face etched with concern, maybe even a hint of fear. “Are— are you all right?” she asked.

Before Eve could respond, Thomas emerged from the foyer, his face a grim mask. Upon seeing Eve, his severe expression gave way to relief. “Oh, thank God you’re awake,” he said.

Eve rubbed her temples, still struggling to think through the throbbing ache. “What— what happened?”

“You were in the attic,” Paige answered. “Screaming, terrified.”

The kids stared at Eve, eyes tinged with apprehension. Thomas went on. “You took a nasty fall. Hit your head and blacked out for a few seconds. We helped you down here, but you passed out again…”

“How long was I out?”

“Ten, fifteen minutes.”

Eve narrowed her gaze. “And you didn’t call an ambulance?” She realized the answer before the words left her mouth:

“No phones,” said Thomas with a shade of remorse.

Digital fucking detox. In the middle of a cross-country move.

Right then, Paige’s earlier comment finally registered. “Wait,” said Eve. “I was screaming?”

Paige and Thomas exchanged a glance.

“You were calling for help,” said Thomas. “You sounded, uh, quite distressed.”

A memory shot to the surface of Eve’s mind: the woman, draped in a hospital gown. “There— There’s somebody in the…” She trailed off.

Thomas nudged. “I’m sorry?”

“There’s an intruder in the attic,” said Eve, a sudden urgency in her voice.

Jenny and Newton gaped at her, fear rising in their eyes. Thomas, picking up on this, said, “Go play in the other room.”

Kai slouched off around the corner, disinterested by it all, like he thought Eve was making things up for attention. Jenny and Newton, still wide-eyed, left their Legos behind and started filing out.

“And, Newton,” Thomas added, “keep Jenny close. Anything happens, you come right back here. Understood?”

The boy gave a single nod.

Once the kids were out of earshot, Thomas sat opposite Eve and lowered his voice. “What exactly did you see?”

“There, there was a woman…” Eve paused, head still pounding, memories still foggy. “She was wearing a hospital gown. I think I saw her before, last night on the basement stairs, but—”

“Last night?” Paige interrupted. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“I— I convinced myself it was nothing…”

Thomas tapped a finger against the side of his leg. “What did she look like?”

Another image flashed: those pale hands, splayed with bluish veins, held up like she was playing peekaboo. “I— I couldn’t see her face.” Half to herself, Eve added, “Do you think it was…?”

She fell silent. The notion that Alison might still be around here had been gnawing at the back of Eve’s mind since last night, but…

Thomas prodded, “Do I think it was…?”

Uncertain, Eve ventured, “Your sister?”

“Alison?” Thomas balked. “No, not possible, she’s… it’s not her.”

She’s what? Institutionalized? Dead?

“Before you moved in.” Thomas shifted the topic. “How long was the house sitting empty?”

Eve blinked at him. How is this relevant?

Thomas tried again, “When did the previous owners move out?”

“A year ago, I think.”

“A year?” He looked to Paige, then back to Eve. “Could be a squatter,” he said.

Eve scoffed. “A squatter? I don’t think—”

“Eve,” said Paige, “are you sure about what you saw up there? It wasn’t just a trick of the shadows?”

Eve sent her a stabbing glare, not in the mood for debate.

“Well,” Paige huffed, “did they seem dangerous?”

Eve leaned forward, rubbing her temples. “They sure as fuck didn’t seem friendly, Paige.”

Paige grimaced. Her eyes flicked to her husband. “We should call the police.”

“With what?”

“The neighbor’s phone.” Paige bristled.

Thomas waved away her suggestion. “Let’s not escalate things, not until we know what we’re dealing with. I’ll go check first, might be a drifter, somebody trying to stay out of the cold.”

Paige scoffed. “What are you going to do? Ask them to leave? We should call the authorities…”

As Thomas and Paige argued back and forth, Eve fell into another nightmarish daydream, as if part of her was still locked in the attic—screaming for help. She could almost feel her fists pounding against the hardwood, hear those footsteps shuffling closer, closer, closer—

Thomas said, “I’m going up to take a look, all right?”

“I— I don’t think it’s safe,” Eve thought aloud.

“I’ll be fine.” He pushed himself up to stand and made his way toward the foyer.

“Don’t forget the tire chains,” Paige called after him.

Thomas mumbled a reply and disappeared around the corner. As the sound of his footfalls marched upstairs, Eve was about to tumble down yet another doom spiral when…

A rhythmic creaking disrupted her thoughts. Paige was knitting again, rocking back and forth in her chair. An unfamiliar red rocking chair; Eve hadn’t noticed it until now. Catching Eve’s stare, Paige slowed to a stop.

“Nice chair,” said Eve.

“Thanks…” Paige’s lips pressed together in a straight line. “Thomas grabbed it from the truck,” she explained. “It’s—the movement is good for my spine. I used to ride horses, had an injury, and—”

“Sure.” Eve couldn’t pretend to care.

A solid stretch of tense silence dragged by until Paige murmured, “Sorry about last night.”

Eve looked at her, eyebrow raised.

Paige cleared her throat. “During dinner, when I, uh, interrogated you about your life—it wasn’t appropriate…”

Eve remained silent. You picked a weird time to atone.

“It’s just…” Paige sighed. “I’m not used to how fast the world’s changing these days.”

Eve looked away and replied with a dry “Same.”

Unprompted, Paige said, “I wasn’t always a believer, you know.” She rubbed her silver cross necklace between an index finger and thumb, apparently waiting for Eve’s response. Eve considered asking Paige to please, kindly, shut the fuck up, but the banal conversation was at least keeping her distracted from the headache. Keeping her from falling into another panic.

Paige, interpreting Eve’s silence as interest, went on, “Thomas, believe it or not… He was the one who led me to the Lord.”

Eve tilted her head, surprised but not invested.

“We met at a soup kitchen,” Paige continued. “Thomas was there with his church. I was there for… court-ordered community service, if you can believe that.” She looked to Eve, again expecting some kind of response. Eve, too spaced out to care, said nothing.

Paige went on. “A few weeks into us knowing each other, Thomas asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee sometime. I said no thanks, but a drink would be just fine. Thomas said coffee was a drink, and I laughed. I guess it was the sort of thing I found funny back then.” Paige almost smiled. She seemed about to say something else, but…

Thomas reentered. “Didn’t see anyone.” He shrugged. “Found this, though.” He held out the aluminum flashlight. Eve stared at it like he’d just offered up a dead fish.

“What about the tire chains?” said Paige.

“We’ll be fine without them.” Thomas set the flashlight on the coffee table.

Eve said, “The footprints.”

“Hm?”

“There were footprints up there…”

“Huh.” Thomas shook his head. “I checked pretty much everywhere. Didn’t see anything.” The corner of his mouth twitched; he was lying, Eve was sure of it. He was trying to make her look unstable and—

That’s not what they look like…

The thought came out of nowhere and—once again, Eve’s sanity threatened to slip. On impulse, she jumped up from the couch and headed for the kitchen. Get away from this family. Thomas blocked her path. “Eve,” he said, his face filled with a pity that made her feel pathetic. “Are you sure you’re okay? You, uh, you hit your head pretty hard back there. Maybe you should sit?” His tone was reminiscent of someone addressing a lost senior: Is your home nearby? Do you have a loved one I can call? Despite the patronization, his concern sent a speckle of doubt through her. Is my judgment clouded by the concussion? Have I misinterpreted—

From somewhere upstairs, a familiar sound bled through a ceiling vent: three clear chimes. Eve’s phone? It had the same unmistakably generic ringtone. Without a second thought, Eve brushed past Thomas, hauling herself toward the foyer. He started after her—

“Don’t fucking follow me,” she snapped, her words filled with a vitriol that surprised even her.

Thomas froze, equally startled by the outburst.

“Just—just leave me alone…” she muttered, veering off around the corner.

She heedlessly shot up the stairs, two at a time, and… The sound was coming from the study. She charged in, finding Kai, silhouetted by the stained glass window, fumbling with her cracked-screen phone, trying to silence it. That little thief. “Hand it over,” she seethed.

“W-what?” Kai feigned ignorance, and hid the now silent phone behind his back. Eve stomped over and snatched for it, but he turned away. “It’s mine,” he said, that ever-present smugness twinkling in his eyes.

“Give me back my fucking phone,” Eve growled, seizing his arm. But his grip was strong, and a vicious tug-of-war ensued.

Out of nowhere, Shylo bolted into the room, barking bloody murder, circling the battling duo. As the tug-of-war reached its crescendo, Shylo lunged forward, clamping her teeth onto Kai’s denim-clad ankle. All at once, Eve staggered back, Kai squealed out a warbled yelp, and the phone clattered to the hardwood.

Thomas, Paige, and the other two kids burst through the door, mouths agape at the rapidly unfolding nightmare before them. Shylo, with her teeth still clamped around Kai’s ankle, thrashed, refusing to let go. No matter how much Kai shook, how much he squealed, the dog only bore down tighter.

Eve, struggling to find her words amid the chaos, finally bellowed, “SHYLO, OFF.” But Shylo doubled down, wrenching Kai’s screams into a higher pitch. Just as Thomas rushed to intervene, Kai kicked Shylo in the ribs with his free leg. The dog exhaled a sharp yelp—but held firm. Kai kicked again, harder. With a pained wheeze, Shylo released her grip and fled the scene, vanishing down the stairs, and then…

The room fell silent, save for the sound of Kai’s soft whimpers. All eyes turned to Eve. She sputtered out two thoughts at once: “She never, she’s never done— He, he stole my—”

“That psycho and her dog attacked me,” Kai spat, rubbing his leg like a midfielder playing up a foul. Thomas hunched over his son while the others remained huddled in the doorway, staring at Eve. Horrified.

“Kai, he…” Eve spoke like she was on trial. “He stole my fucking phone,” she asserted, her defensiveness switching to sudden rage. She scooped up Exhibit A and held it out for all to see. “He wouldn’t give it back when I—”

Mid-sentence, she froze. The phone clutched in her hand bore a Portland Winterhawks sticker and—she turned it over—the screen wasn’t cracked. This wasn’t her phone. But— No, she’d seen the…

Kai mumbled, “I’m sorry…” The apology wasn’t for Eve; it was directed to his parents. He went on. “After, after we turned our phones in for the fast, I… snuck mine back. I just, I wanted to keep in touch with my friends.”

Thomas clicked his tongue, disappointed. “We’ll discuss that later.” He let out a weary sigh. “But right now…” He rolled up Kai’s jean cuff, assessing the damage. Shylo’s bite had pierced through the denim. Four red puncture marks stood out against the pale skin, shallow but defined. “Oof.” Thomas grimaced. “We’ll definitely have to get this looked at.” He glanced to Eve, his shoulders tensed. “Your dog’s up to date on shots, right?”

Eve tried to mumble a response, but she could scarcely think. That had been her phone, she was certain of it. She’d seen the cracked screen, the background photo of Charlie and Shylo—

“Eve.” Paige butted in, enunciating each syllable. “Is your dog up to date on shots?”

Eve finally mustered a meek “Y-yeah.” It felt like the room was tilting, the floor shifting—as if the house itself was sinking into the earth. Kai had stolen her phone. She knew it. She’d seen the cracked screen. She knew. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life and—

Paige wasn’t done. “That animal needs to be put down. This is completely—”

“Paige,” said Thomas. “Let’s focus on our son right now.”

Paige shot Eve a cutting glare before turning back to her husband. “We need to call an ambulance,” she said. “Get him to a hospital.”

“It’ll be quicker if we drive.” Thomas gave his son a serious look. “Think you can walk?”

Kai, going for the Oscar, said, “I— I can try,” his lip quivering.

His father supported him as they made their way to the exit, Kai wincing with each step.

Paige looked at Eve. “You’ll be hearing from us, do you understand?”

Another jolt of sudden rage flared in Eve’s temples. She stifled it, barely. “All right, Paige.” None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t come here in the first place.

Thomas gestured at the other kids. “Go get your stuff,” he said. They trailed after him, down the hall, out of view. Paige lingered behind, still bludgeoning Eve with her cold blue eyes. Eve held her gaze, defiant. Paige marched forward, a determined stride that made Eve wonder if she was about to get slapped across the face, but…

… Paige held out an upturned palm. “Kai’s phone,” she said.

In all the chaos, Eve had forgotten she was still holding it. She handed it over. Paige pivoted away and stormed off to join the others. Stopping in the doorframe, she peered over her shoulder, gave Eve one last pitying look, and said, “I’ll be praying for you.” With that, Paige slipped out of view and headed downstairs. Good riddance.

Alone, Eve stared blankly into the now empty doorway. She might have burst into tears—and been perfectly justified in doing so—but she needed to go check on Shylo. She was about to leave the room, when her thoughts came to a sudden, screeching halt.

That stained glass window—the one that had depicted a vibrant apple tree, was gone. Gone and, beyond all reasonable explanation, replaced by an ordinary four-panel, clear-glass window. A knot, sick and twisting, formed in Eve’s chest, and a cold rush of dread crawled down her neck. There’s no way—there’s no possible way… It had been stained glass only minutes earlier; she’d just seen it with her own eyes… Right? She found herself drifting forward. At the window, she ran her hand along the cross sections, the panes. It was real, all right. Terribly, terribly real. The wood was worn and rough, the glass uneven and warped. She leaned in close and narrowed her eyes. There was no evidence of recent installation, no sawdust, no fresh sealant. In fact, it blended in flawlessly with the age-worn room—as if it had been there all along.

Misidentifying a phone was one thing, but this…

Find Shylo. Get out of here.

When Eve stepped down into the foyer, the family was already outside, making their way across the yard. Thomas was carrying Paige’s rocking chair, while Paige assisted a limping Kai. Eve watched as they trudged away and slipped behind a cut of trees. Now it was just her, Shylo, and…

Eve glanced up the stairs toward the closed attic door. Whether or not somebody was hiding up there, she wasn’t sticking around to find out. With growing urgency, she strode into the living room and called out, “Shylo?”

Silence.

She ventured into the kitchen and tried again. “Shylo…?”

At the corner of her vision, a blurred shape slipped out of view. She swiveled to see an empty doorway…

From somewhere in the house, skittering footfalls echoed—click-clack-click-clack—cut short by a shrill whimper. Eve turned. The basement door was half-open. Had Shylo gone down there to hide? Was she injured?

Protective instinct kicking in, Eve hurried over, flung open the door, and was greeted by that familiar, dark descent. Rickety wooden stairs. Dirty brick walls. Another high-pitched whine seeped up from below. Shylo was hurt. Without a second thought, Eve snatched the flashlight from the coffee table and started downward. Yet just as her foot met the cold basement floor, a whimper rang out again—this one from behind.

Leery, she peered over her shoulder. At the top of the stairs sat Shylo, head tilted, quizzical.

“Shylo…?”

The dog’s tail gave a hesitant wag.

Eve swept her light back into the subterranean shadows. Those whimpers—she was sure they’d come from down here. She was straining her ears, listening to the void, when…

A metallic moan churned and creaked. Like a rusty merry-go-round in a nightmare playground. The dumbwaiter?

Fear, sudden and primal, fell over Eve, a prickling whisper on the nape of her neck: RUN. Huffing back up the stairs, she surged into the living room, slammed the door shut behind, and locked it. She herded Shylo to the foyer and quickly checked the dog’s ribs, making sure Kai’s kicks hadn’t done any serious damage. There wasn’t even a bruise. Thank God.

Get out of here. Now.