The Family Plot by Cherie Priest

was gone, and climbed inside through the hole the bulldozer had left. They’d brought dinky plastic flashlights, and a disposable film camera. None of the pictures ever came out. Even with the flash turned on, there was nothing to see but dirty junk and the occasional white orb reflected off a mirror or a window, bleaching even the junk away.
    Dahlia nodded. “I remember the garbage. The Tupperware containers Mr. Hunt had labeled with masking tape and a marker … all of them full of mold and black slime.”
    â€œYou remember the plants?”
    She finished pushing the door far enough open to let Gabe inside with the ladder. She could hear him closing up the truck, so he’d be along shortly. “They’d been dead for so long, they looked like statues made out of sticks.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t let us steal anything, you goody two-shoes.”
    â€œThere was nothing worth stealing, you thug. I still have trouble breathing, just thinking about that place.” The mold. The mildew. The dander of animals long since rendered as ghostly as the potted plants.
    Gabe announced himself with the jostle and clank of the aluminum ladder knocking against the scrap heap, the doorframe, and then the edge of the door itself. He strolled past his father and Dahlia, and set it up firmly beneath the big square hole in the ceiling. “Wow—I left you alone for two whole minutes, and you didn’t bite each other’s heads off.”
    â€œDahlia’s not your mother,” Bobby shot back. “She gives me a fighting chance.”
    Dahlia coughed to mask a laugh. She followed Gabe, and pressed on the ladder’s braces to double-check that they were set, and set firmly. Everything looked good. “All right, kid. You toted the equipment, so you get first gander, if you want it.”
    He was halfway up the ladder before the last word was out of her mouth. It made her smile. Bobby was in it for the money, such as it was … but Gabe had been well and truly bitten by the bug. His head and shoulders disappeared through the hole, followed by his arm, holding a light aloft.
    â€œWhat do you see?” his father asked.
    â€œY’all hang on. It’s dark up here.”
    â€œI know. That’s what the light’s for.”
    Gabe sighed, and took another step up on the ladder. “Thanks for the tip. There’s a lot of space, all right? It’s all cluttered. It’s hard to see anything.” He pulled one knee up onto the landing. “It’s just walls and walls of stuff, like, closing in on you, almost.”
    Dahlia winced to hear a timber groan beneath his weight. “Gabe, baby—be careful.”
    â€œI am. ”
    The other knee came up too, and the beam moaned, but did not crack. He bounced gently. “I think it’ll hold me.”
    â€œYou think ?” his father demanded.
    â€œIt looks more solid over here. This part, it’s rotted out. There’s…” He huffed, and puffed, and pulled himself off the ladder altogether, bringing his whole body onto the second floor. “There’s a hole in the ceiling. Water’s gotten inside, but only right here. Right over the hatch.”
    â€œSo that’s why there’s no ladder left behind,” Dahlia observed. “It must’ve rotted out.” But a glance around the floor didn’t reveal any hints of an old ladder, wooden or otherwise. Whoever had last used the place for storage must’ve taken it with him.
    It was a small detail, but it bothered her all the same. She couldn’t shake the idea that someone had thought they shouldn’t look up there, like there was something they shouldn’t see, or something that wasn’t safe.
    She should’ve gone first. She shouldn’t have let the biggest member of her crew climb up in an uncertain space. She regretted it with every noisy footfall overhead. “Gabe, I’m coming up behind