Iris screamed.
And the monster laughed.
She laughed and laughed until she was choking, the thick plastic-scented smoke filling her throat and lungs.
Iris was coughing, choking.
The room was so thick with smoke that Vi could hardly see her there, a pale figure standing just behind her. Her shadow, her doppelg?nger.
Vi took her hand, and Iris fought against her, tried to pull away. But Vi held tight, tugged her away from the fire toward the door.
Lizzy
August 21, 2019
TOO LATE, TOO late, I was thinking as I got to the crumbling front steps.
I touched the outside of the door, feeling for heat.
The door was cool and wet.
I put my hand on the knob.
Please open. Don’t be locked.
I could feel Skink behind me, hear him breathing fast.
The knob turned in my hand.
I took a deep breath, stepped in, and let out a relieved sigh.
Candles.
Candles were lit around the main reception area: two on the floor on either side of the door and three more farther in. The flickering light made a path that led to the basement door.
The building smelled like mildew, rotten wood, wet plaster, and smoke.
“Guess she’s expecting you,” Skink whispered, stepping into the room.
I nodded, pulled out my gun, and moved slowly forward, following the candlelit path to the basement stairs.
The floor was covered in chunks of fallen plaster, the mildewed remains of rugs, pieces of broken furniture. The floor gave a little beneath my feet. In places there was no floor at all: just burned-through timbers.
I turned back and whispered to Skink, “Careful where you step.”
He nodded, cautiously moving forward. “So do you have a plan, or what?”
I didn’t answer.
What was the plan?
I had to stop the monster. Save the girl.
Would I kill the monster?
That was how it worked in all the movies and what we’d written in our book: The monster had to die.
Beneath the raincoat, a slick sweat covered my body. The gun felt heavy and cold in my hand.
I paused at the top of the basement stairs. The door stood open, and candles lit the stairway.
I had the feeling I was walking right into a trap. I’d been led here. My sister was down there waiting.
I remembered the old hospital beds, the restraints, the ECT machine.
I started down the stairs, slowly.
Skink followed. “I don’t like this,” he whispered.
Me neither, I thought. But what choice did I have?
The only person I’d ever truly felt kinship with was waiting for me down in the basement.
My sister.
“Quiet,” I told Skink. “Get behind me.”
The walls and ceiling down here were intact, but had been spray-painted by vandals. Smashed beer bottles littered the floor, along with empty bags of chips and fast food cartons. I spied a condom wrapper and shivered—what a strange place to have sex.
Someone had outlined a pentagram with red spray paint on the steel door leading to B West. And written beneath it: The Devil Lived Here.
True enough, I thought.