Kerri’s hair back. She rubbed her friend’s back and whispered soothing words. Kerri stayed there for a few moments more, retching. Finally she tottered to her feet and wiped her mouth.
“Are you hurt?” Brett asked.
“No, I—” She turned away and vomited again.
“Sorry,” she said when she was finished. “I’m not hurt, but I definitely hurt it—whatever it was. I think I might have bitten its tongue off.”
They shined their lights toward the floor and found dime-size splotches of blood.
“I’ll say you did,” Heather agreed.
Kerri spat, trying to rid her mouth of the horrible taste. Her teeth, tongue, and the insides of her cheeks felt like they were covered with slime.
“Can you bleed to death from your tongue?” Brett asked, eyeing the scarlet droplets. “I wonder how badly it’s injured.”
“Let’s not stick around to find out,” Javier said. “Come on.”
Using his cell phone, he snapped a quick picture of the hallway. Then he crept down the passage. Kerri picked up her club, and she and Heather followed. Brett balked.
“Hold up.”
“What now?” Javier asked, annoyance creeping into his voice.
Brett pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. “We’re not going that way?”
“There’s no other way to go.”
“Yeah, but whatever it was that attacked Kerri—it went that way, too.”
“Good,” Javier replied. “If it ain’t dead yet, then we’ll finish the job if we run across it.”
He started forward. The girls followed. Sighing, Brett trailed along behind them.
When the lighter grew hot again, Kerri put it back in her pocket. With the flame gone, the darkness seemed denser. The cell phones did little to lessen the gloom. As far as she could tell, there were no rooms along this corridor. The walls were featureless.
Javier halted, staring ahead into the darkness. The others followed his lead.
“This doesn’t feel right,” he muttered. “There’s no doors leading off. No rooms. It just keeps going. If Kerri’s attacker came this way, I don’t know where he went.”
“I told you,” Brett said. “We ought to go back.”
“We can’t go back,” Kerri reminded him. “Remember? The hall is blocked.”
Brett didn’t respond. Heather rolled her eyes.
Javier cursed in Spanish again. “I don’t know what to do, guys. I guess we just keep moving forward. See where it goes.”
Without another word, he started down the hall again. After a moment, the others followed. Kerri slid her hand into her pocket, but her lighter was still too hot to flick. The floor changed under their feet, becoming uneven. The floorboards began to squeak and groan with each footstep. They slowed their pace, almost tiptoeing.
The dark hallway ended in three doorways—one directly ahead of them, and one on each side. All three doors were wide open. Each doorway opened into more windowless rooms full of junk and debris. Kerri moved up to the front of the group and stood alongside Javier. Their arms touched, and she felt a momentary flush of warmth. The sensation comforted her. She glanced at him, but Javier seemed oblivious. He stared at all three exits, his eyes flicking from one to the next as if waiting for something to jump out at him. When nothing happened, he held his cell phone aloft like a torch and stepped into the room directly ahead of them. Then he stopped and turned.
“Let me see your lighter?”
Nodding, Kerri handed it to him. Javier winced as his fingers came in contact with the hot metal.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “It hasn’t cooled down yet.”
Javier pocketed his cell phone and held the lighter high over his head. Then he checked the room thoroughly. He stepped around a rusted bunk-bed frame and thrust the flame into the corners. Then he returned to the hall.
“It’s empty,” he whispered, “but it’s a dead end. No way out.”
His voice sounded resigned, as if he hadn’t expected anything less.
“What about the other two?” Brett asked.
Scowling, Javier entered the room on the right. A few moments later, he emerged from the room and reported the same. He handed Kerri her lighter and then sucked his thumb and index finger.
“Burned the shit out of me.”
“Sorry,” she said again, and returned the lighter to her pocket.
Kerri watched as Javier stepped into the third room. He pulled out his cell phone and fumbled with it as he walked. He’d only gone a few feet into the darkness when the floor disappeared beneath his feet. One moment he was there, glancing around the room and opening the cell phone. The next instant, he plummeted from sight, as if the house had opened up and swallowed him. He didn’t even have time to scream. The only sound was a crash. To Kerri, it sounded like a million glass windows breaking.
One heartbeat. Two.
And then Javier began shrieking.
Gasping, Heather pushed past Kerri and dashed through the door. At the same time, Brett made a noise behind them, and there was a loud thud. Kerri leaped forward, grabbed Heather, and looped an arm around her waist, pulling her back. Heather struggled, shouting for Javier.
“Stop it,” Kerri warned. “Don’t run in there.”
“Get off me,” Heather yelled. “Let me go! He’s hurt.”
Kerri tightened her grip. “It’s a trap! I think there’s something wrong with the floor. We have to go slow.”
As suddenly as they’d begun, Javier’s screams stopped. He didn’t cry out. Didn’t plead for help.
Kerri thought that the abrupt silence was even more terrifying.
Heather pushed away from her, but Kerri grabbed her shirttail and tugged.
“Listen to me,” she urged. “Watch your step.”
And then Brett began shouting, his voice rising in pitch.
“Get it off me . . . Oh Jesus, get it the fuck off me!”
Kerri whirled around, distracted by his frantic cries. Heather broke loose from her grip and ran to help Javier. Kerri barely noticed. Javier and Heather were no longer her primary focus. She gaped, horribly transfixed by what she was seeing, needing time for her brain to process it. She almost wished that her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness, that instead, she was groping blindly, because then she wouldn’t have to watch. Brett was on all fours in the middle of the hall. His lips peeled back in a sneer of pain. A shape clung to his back, trying to crush him to the floor. Kerri squinted, trying to see whatever was behind him more clearly. The figure’s arms and legs looked out of proportion to its body. Brett slapped at it repeatedly, but each time he did, the figure smashed him to the floor again. His glasses, cell phone, and the shard of glass he’d been carrying all lay nearby, but out of reach. Blood streamed from his nose. His eyes locked with hers.
“Kerri . . .”
Before he could finish, the figure clutched a fistful of Brett’s hair and rammed his face down. Brett’s cries became muffled. The thing on his back chattered insanely, babbling nonsense words and noises.
Kerri raised the club and tried to appear menacing.
“Hey,” she shouted.
The thing still clung to Brett’s back, but it ceased pummeling Brett and glanced up at her. White teeth flashed in the darkness.
“Let him go,” Kerri warned, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
The attacker spat at her. Something warm and wet and sticky splattered against her cheek and clung there. It slowly rolled down the side of her face, leaving a slug-like trail. Disgusted, Kerri wiped at it with her fingertips. The stench was revolting.
Brett took advantage of his attacker’s momentary distraction and pushed himself upright. Still kneeling, he reached behind him and punched the thing in the head. It must have hurt, because then Brett jerked his hand away and shook his fingers as if they’d gone numb. The thing tumbled off his back and staggered. Then, squealing in what sounded like frustration, it waddled forward again. Its movements were jittery. Spasmodic. But it was incredibly
