don’t see—” Mr. Frasier started to say, his eyes dancing wildly behind his glasses, his hands balled into tense fists at his sides. “In the wall! He’s in the wall!” Cally’s mother screamed, pointing. “Come get me. It’s too dark in here.” James’s voice sounded even softer now, more frightened. With a frantic cry, Cally’s father began clawing at the wallpaper. “I’m coming, James! Daddy is coming!” Kody moved quickly. She grabbed her father by the shoulders and struggled to pull him back. “Daddy—your hands!” Mr. Frasier’s fingers were cut and bleeding. “He’s in the wall! Get him! Get him out of there!” Mrs. Frasier shrieked, still tugging her hair. “We need tools! A sledgehammer!” Mr. Frasier declared. “I—I’ll get it,” Cally said hesitantly. She felt so helpless, standing in the doorway, gripped with terror, watching the horror sweep over her family. “I’ll get the sledgehammer.” Before she even realized what she was doing, Cally was running barefoot down the creaking stairs toward the back hall. Pulling open the basement door. Clicking on the dim light Making her way down the steep wooden stairs. The concrete basement floor felt so cold under her bare feet. The sledgehammer, she thought. Where? Her eyes searched desperately over the cluttered floor. The moving floor. The squirming floor. Moving? “Ohhhh.” Cally uttered a low cry as the rats came into focus. At least a dozen of them, their tiny eyes red in the dim light, their snakelike tails sweeping along the floor as they squirmed and scuttled. Why hasn’t Mr. Hankers killed them yet? Cally wondered, gaping at the disgusting creatures, trembling all over. Why are there still so many rats? Cally spotted a sledgehammer and iron pick leaning against the basement wall. As she started toward them, the rats all stopped moving. Cally froze. The rats reared up on their hind legs, their red eyes trained menacingly on her. They’re going to attack, Cally realized. A wave of fear made her entire body convulse in a cold shudder. A shrill hissing sound rose up from the staring-rats. A warning cry? A call to battle?
With a desperate wail, Cally lurched to the wall. Grabbed the sledgehammer. Then she spun around, turning to the rats. She raised the heavy hammer high with both hands. The rats didn’t move. The red eyes glowed brightly. Their shrill hissing grew louder. Are they going to attack? Are they going to charge all at once? Slowly, Cally lowered the sledgehammer. She grabbed the metal pick. Then she sucked in a deep breath—and plunged back toward the stairs. The shrill rat hiss pierced the air, a deafening, terrifying sound. Cally struggled to ignore it as she stumbled up the stairs, dragging the heavy tools with her. Her heart pounding so hard it hurt, she reached the top and slammed the door behind her. At last, the hissing stopped. Cally swallowed hard. She hurried through the darkness, carrying the sledgehammer and pick. Up the stairs. She could hear her mother’s loud sobs as she reached the second-floor landing. And she could hear her father’s frantic shouts. “We’re coming, James. Hold on. Hold on. We’re coming.” Her father grabbed the sledgehammer from Cally. He dove toward the wall and began slamming it wildly against the dark wallpaper. “We’re coming, James! We’re coming] Daddy’s coming now!” he shouted as he worked. Dropping the hammer, he grabbed the pick and tore through the wallpaper. Then clawed away at the plaster underneath. Cally sank down beside her sister on James’s bed, watching her father’s desperate stabs at the wall. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap, Cally fought back the waves of nausea that rose up from her stomach. Kody was breathing hard, gasping with each breath, her arms crossed tightly, protectively, around her chest. Mrs. Frasier stood hunched against the far wall, sobbing loudly, shaking her head and moaning. “I’m coming! Daddy’s coming, James!”
With a desperate wail, Cally lurched to the wall. Grabbed the sledgehammer. Then she spun around, turning to the rats. She raised the heavy hammer high with both hands. The rats didn’t move. The red eyes glowed brightly. Their shrill hissing grew louder. Are they going to attack? Are they going to charge all at once? Slowly, Cally lowered the sledgehammer. She grabbed the metal pick. Then she sucked in a deep breath—and plunged back toward the stairs. The shrill rat hiss pierced the air, a deafening, terrifying sound. Cally struggled to ignore it as she stumbled up the stairs, dragging the heavy tools with her. Her heart pounding so hard it hurt, she reached the top and slammed the door behind her. At last, the hissing stopped. Cally swallowed hard. She hurried through the darkness, carrying the sledgehammer and pick. Up the stairs. She could hear her mother’s loud sobs as she reached the second-floor landing. And she could hear her father’s frantic shouts. “We’re coming, James. Hold on. Hold on. We’re coming.” Her father grabbed the sledgehammer from Cally. He dove toward the wall and began slamming it wildly against the dark wallpaper. “We’re coming, James! We’re coming] Daddy’s coming now!” he shouted as he worked. Dropping the hammer, he grabbed the pick and tore through the wallpaper. Then clawed away at the plaster underneath. Cally sank down beside her sister on James’s bed, watching her father’s desperate stabs at the wall. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap, Cally fought back the waves of nausea that rose up from her stomach. Kody was breathing hard, gasping with each breath, her arms crossed tightly, protectively, around her chest. Mrs. Frasier stood hunched against the far wall, sobbing loudly, shaking her head and moaning. “I’m coming! Daddy’s coming, James!”
Similar Books
