Page 8

It was still dark out when Eve jolted awake, heart pounding. She’d been having a nightmare, but of what, she couldn’t remember. Only the vague aftertaste of dread remained. She sat up and looked around. Both Charlie and Shylo were still asleep. She slid her feet off the bed and rubbed her temples. Her head throbbed—low, aching pulses like a distant war drum. Was she hungover? From two glasses of wine?

Either way, she needed water.

Out in the hallway, the door to the study was ajar. As Eve passed, she glanced inside. The family was sleeping, scattered across cushions and foam mattresses. Moonlight spilled in through the stained glass window, lending their skin a pallid hue of green and red. She descended the stairs.

Down in the kitchen, Eve stood over the sink, sipping tap water from a dirty wine glass. The strangeness of last night was fading, and so was the storm outside. By sunrise, this family would be gone. The whole ordeal would become nothing more than a weird campfire story: the family with the sleepwalking father and the hide-and-seek daughter.

Ready to return upstairs, Eve set down the glass, glided into the living room and… the basement door was cracked open. The rather innocuous sight triggered a flood of questions: Wasn’t it closed before? Had Jenny snuck back down there to look for her pen? To hide? Please, God, not again…

In a huff, Eve marched over and threw open the door. She gazed into the uninviting dark. A dim wedge of moonlight stretched downward, the blurry shadow of a swaying tree layered over the coarse brick. She called out, “Jenny…?” Her voice tumbled down. No response. She was about to call out again when she remembered the two-part pattern. The one Thomas had used before. It was a long shot, but… she reached up and rapped her knuckles against the frame.

Duh—duh-duh-duh—duh

Lingering silence followed. No answer. With a shrug, she turned away and had slipped into the foyer when, behind her, around the corner, down at the bottom of the basement stairs, two hollow knocks echoed. Knuckles against dry wood.

Jenny.

Eve bolted back and slid around the corner. Almost falling, she caught her balance on the doorframe and peered down. “Jenny?” Squinting, she forced her eyes to adjust, but the shadows were stubborn. She was about to leave, go get a flashlight, when… at the bottom of the stairs, a small silhouette. Motionless. Child-sized. Shrouded by the shifting darkness. Jenny.

Eve crouched, making herself smaller. The same way one did when trying to coax the attention of an unfamiliar cat. “Hey, Jenny,” she said, almost whispering. “Do you think now would be a good time to come back upstairs?”

Jenny remained silent, unmoving.

Eve cleared her throat, changed strategy. “If you come back up, I bet your dad will tell you more secrets about the house…”

Jenny’s head tilted, but otherwise, she remained motionless. Now, all Eve could see was the slightest glint of moonlight in the child’s eyes—two white flecks in a distant sea of black. There was something off about her stare. Almost like Jenny was trying to tell Eve something without saying a word. A long silence dragged by as Eve’s eyes slowly adjusted and…

Jenny wasn’t blinking. Ten, maybe twenty seconds had passed, and she hadn’t blinked. Not once.

Suddenly, as if in reaction to Eve’s realization, the figure rose up to standing. It wasn’t child-sized after all—it had only been hunched down. It rose to its full height—over six feet tall. Slender. Gaunt.

Eve, in one quick motion, jumped to her feet and slammed the door shut. She scrambled upstairs in a cold sweat.

As she raced down the hall, she glanced into the study. The whole family was still there. Still asleep.

She burst into the main bedroom and shook Charlie awake.

“W-what?” Charlie mumbled.

“There’s someone in the basement.”

Charlie blinked. “The kid?”

“No, an adult.”

Charlie rubbed her eyes and pushed up to sit. “One of the parents?”

“No…”

“In the basement?”

Eve nodded. “On the stairs.”

Charlie frowned. Is this another mistaking a bush for a black bear incident? she seemed to be thinking. “Was it dark…?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t a trick of the light?”

Eve scoffed. “I know what I saw…”

“Okay…” Charlie said, still unsure. Even Shylo looked skeptical, curled up at the foot of the bed, one eyebrow raised. “I’m spent,” said Charlie, “and still a little drunk. Can we figure this out when the sun’s up?”

“Charlie, there’s a stranger in the basement.”

“I know. I believe you, but not enough to look around half-drunk in the pitch dark. Let’s do it in the morning morning. That’s only like”—Charlie looked at an alarm clock: 3:27 a.m.—“a few hours away.”

“I— Charlie, I’m serious, there was—”

“Eve. I’ll look when the sun is up, okay?”

Eve took a deep breath and let it out. Despite herself, she relented. “Okay…” Maybe Charlie was right? In her mind, Eve replayed the image of that figure rising to its feet. The brick walls, the shifting tree branch shadows. Now, she was less certain of what she’d actually seen, and… no. There was no way that was a trick of the light.

She opened her mouth, ready to try one more time, but her partner had already fallen back asleep. Charlie had this uncanny ability to doze off in seconds. Didn’t matter the time or the circumstance. Earthshaking construction next door? No sweat. Plane full of crying babies? Who cared. Girlfriend freaking out about a shadow person on the basement stairs? Good fucking night.

Eve looked over her shoulder and peered into the hallway. She listened. Listened for the click of the basement door, the creak of floorboard footsteps. Anything. But there was only silence. Eve huffed, marched across the room, pushed the door shut, and locked it. Just in case.

She sat up in bed after that, arms crossed, eyes glued to the door, vigilant. Whatever she’d seen, it hadn’t been a trick of the light. This wasn’t another Redwoods Incident.

Right?

As the minutes crawled by, her eyelids started to grow heavy…