came down the last few stairs. He made his way across the basement and stood at the edge of the hole, clearly upset, looking down, growling louder now than before. Very uncharacteristically, he began barking and flaunting his teeth.
“What is that thing?” Beth asked with a nod, referring to the hole in the floor.
“Not sure. Looks like a hole. Maybe there’s a sub-floor?” William couldn’t help thinking that something strange was happening here. Was there a rodent near by, or a fox? If so, that would explain a lot. Hellboy hated wild animals. Always had.
Will made his way to the opening and stood beside his dog, looking down with one hand curled in a fist. “Oh my,” he said. Surprise washed his face clean. “What in the world is going on?”
20
Daniel heard something: a dog perhaps, a dog barking. He didn’t know for sure what he heard; he didn’t own a dog. Had one when he was a kid but that was a long while ago. The dog, Sputnik was her name, had been hit by a car back when Christmas meant toys, girls were yucky, and parents knew everything in the whole wide world. ( A truck, he reminded himself. Damn thing got smucked by a truck, not a car. You were there, remember? Sputnik was squished on a hot summer day by a full-sized transport truck. The streak of blood stretched thirty feet.)
Dan didn’t want to think about it.
He climbed, with arms and legs moving at a rate that would have made his father proud, God rest his soul. His heart raced inside his chest. His fingers throbbed, still sore from renovating. He didn’t notice the pain in his fingers, not yet. Not while he was climbing. His mind was elsewhere: on Patrick and Cameron, on survival, on moving up the ladder as fast as he could and escaping the monster below.
He made his way past the work light, which hung by the extension cables like some ridiculous science experiment designed by children. He heard the sound again, the sound of the dog. A dog was barking, he was sure of it.
Slowing his pace, he looked up.
People were looking down at him, two of them. And there was a dog. Good, good. He wasn’t going crazy, not yet anyhow. And that was a very promising sign, all things considered.
The ladder shook in his hands.
Oh shit , he thought. I’m a dead man now. That goddamn thing is climbing the ladder, coming to get me, coming to chew me into paste.
He slowed his pace another notch and looked down.
The glare from the work light made his eyes squint. The monster wasn’t shaking the ladder. It was Cameron. Thank heaven. He was glad it wasn’t the monster, and glad to see that Cam was all right. He was worried, figured she was a goner too––like Roger, like Patrick.
No, he thought. That’s not fair. I don’t know if Pat is a goner. That thing trapped him, yes, that’s a fact. But I didn’t see him getting killed. He could still be alive. He could still be okay.
Daniel kept climbing. The ladder kept shaking.
He could feel the sweat on his skin, his shirt clinging to his chest. The air was getting warmer now, and with the energy he was expelling he found it hard to breathe. This level of exercise was unexpected after working all day and sinking several beers. But like it or not, he was getting a workout, a big one.
At the halfway point he stopped climbing and he looked over his shoulder. The creature was nowhere to be seen. Cameron was alone and climbing, but moving very slowly. Her lack of speed made him want to strangle her. The fact that she was okay made him want to kiss her.
He thought about Patrick again.
Pat needed help.
Daniel took a deep breath and tried to yell down; the words became snagged in his throat. He put a hand on his chest and tried again: “HURRY UP CAMERON!”
Overhead the dog kept barking.
He could hear people talking, telling the dog to shut-up.
Six more steps, followed by a four more. He wondered what the monster was doing now. Perhaps it was killing Pat, or maybe it had returned to its home,
“What is that thing?” Beth asked with a nod, referring to the hole in the floor.
“Not sure. Looks like a hole. Maybe there’s a sub-floor?” William couldn’t help thinking that something strange was happening here. Was there a rodent near by, or a fox? If so, that would explain a lot. Hellboy hated wild animals. Always had.
Will made his way to the opening and stood beside his dog, looking down with one hand curled in a fist. “Oh my,” he said. Surprise washed his face clean. “What in the world is going on?”
20
Daniel heard something: a dog perhaps, a dog barking. He didn’t know for sure what he heard; he didn’t own a dog. Had one when he was a kid but that was a long while ago. The dog, Sputnik was her name, had been hit by a car back when Christmas meant toys, girls were yucky, and parents knew everything in the whole wide world. ( A truck, he reminded himself. Damn thing got smucked by a truck, not a car. You were there, remember? Sputnik was squished on a hot summer day by a full-sized transport truck. The streak of blood stretched thirty feet.)
Dan didn’t want to think about it.
He climbed, with arms and legs moving at a rate that would have made his father proud, God rest his soul. His heart raced inside his chest. His fingers throbbed, still sore from renovating. He didn’t notice the pain in his fingers, not yet. Not while he was climbing. His mind was elsewhere: on Patrick and Cameron, on survival, on moving up the ladder as fast as he could and escaping the monster below.
He made his way past the work light, which hung by the extension cables like some ridiculous science experiment designed by children. He heard the sound again, the sound of the dog. A dog was barking, he was sure of it.
Slowing his pace, he looked up.
People were looking down at him, two of them. And there was a dog. Good, good. He wasn’t going crazy, not yet anyhow. And that was a very promising sign, all things considered.
The ladder shook in his hands.
Oh shit , he thought. I’m a dead man now. That goddamn thing is climbing the ladder, coming to get me, coming to chew me into paste.
He slowed his pace another notch and looked down.
The glare from the work light made his eyes squint. The monster wasn’t shaking the ladder. It was Cameron. Thank heaven. He was glad it wasn’t the monster, and glad to see that Cam was all right. He was worried, figured she was a goner too––like Roger, like Patrick.
No, he thought. That’s not fair. I don’t know if Pat is a goner. That thing trapped him, yes, that’s a fact. But I didn’t see him getting killed. He could still be alive. He could still be okay.
Daniel kept climbing. The ladder kept shaking.
He could feel the sweat on his skin, his shirt clinging to his chest. The air was getting warmer now, and with the energy he was expelling he found it hard to breathe. This level of exercise was unexpected after working all day and sinking several beers. But like it or not, he was getting a workout, a big one.
At the halfway point he stopped climbing and he looked over his shoulder. The creature was nowhere to be seen. Cameron was alone and climbing, but moving very slowly. Her lack of speed made him want to strangle her. The fact that she was okay made him want to kiss her.
He thought about Patrick again.
Pat needed help.
Daniel took a deep breath and tried to yell down; the words became snagged in his throat. He put a hand on his chest and tried again: “HURRY UP CAMERON!”
Overhead the dog kept barking.
He could hear people talking, telling the dog to shut-up.
Six more steps, followed by a four more. He wondered what the monster was doing now. Perhaps it was killing Pat, or maybe it had returned to its home,
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