AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not the floor creaking overhead, or the pipes expanding as water flows through them.
Not the slap of Penny’s ever present flip-flops on the stairs, or the squeak of Danielle’s sneakers.
I tell myself to dismiss it. It could have been any number of things—a mouse scurrying between the walls, the water heater kicking on—and anyway, there’s nothing to worry about down here.
But still. Maybe it’s Penny’s comment about the basement, or the unsettled feeling I’ve had for the last week, but I can’t ignore the noise that easily. I go still, my hand on the handle of the filing cabinet, and cock my ear toward the doorway, listening.
A minute goes by, and the only noise is the sound of my breathing.
So it’s nothing. Just mild paranoia caused by my concussion, which Dr. Emmerson assured me was a real thing when I mentioned how jumpy I’d been feeling. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said at my last appointment. “It’ll go away as you continue to heal.”
I’ve almost convinced myself of it when I hear the noise again, but more clearly this time. And closer. A soft scuffing across the floor, not a mouse or some other small rodent, but something bigger.
Maybe it’s Penny looking for me? I didn’t check her shoes, so it’s possible she’s wearing something different today. But then why wouldn’t she call out to me? It’s what we all do when we come into the basement looking for someone; to avoid this very situation.
After Iris nearly hit Danielle with an encyclopedia after being startled down here, we all came to an agreement. Always announce yourself when you go into the basement.
But maybe Mrs. Plimpton is giving her a really hard time, and Penny just forgot. So I call out, “Penny? Are you down here? Danielle?”
Nothing.
And then another little scuffle.
My chest turns to ice. Air whistles through seizing lungs.
Who’s down here?
All rational explanations—a child snuck down here, someone playing a trick, a library patron exploring—are ignored as adrenaline surges through my body, panic digging its claws into me.
I freeze in place, my pulse drumming in a staccato rhythm. Each beat echoes in my ears, drowning out everything else.
Which means I can’t hear if the noise gets any closer.
A burst of clarity breaks through the icy fear. Am I just going to stand here and do nothing?
No.
I lunge for the door and fling myself against it, slamming it closed with a heavy thud. It takes me three tries to slide my key into the doorknob, nearly sobbing with relief when it locks with a little snick.
Still leaning against the door, I press my ear to it, as if I’m somehow going to be able to hear that tiny noise through inches of wood. But I still strain my ears as if I can somehow develop superhuman hearing by sheer power of will.
I don’t.
And as the minutes go by and nothing else happens, I start to feel a little foolish. While my heart rate gradually returns to normal, I scold myself the same way I did two nights ago, when I was certain that the same car kept driving by my house all night.
Stop overreacting. Plenty of people drive black SUVs. Old basements make funny noises.
I’m just gathering up my nerve to leave the archive room when a voice makes me yelp in surprise.
“Thea, are you still down here?” It’s Penny, sounding both hassled and worried.
How long have I been down here? Long enough for Penny to come searching for me, and definitely long enough for Mrs. Plimpton to get annoyed.
I quickly smooth my hair down and unlock the door, pulling it open just as Penny is raising her hand to knock. She jumps back, startled. “Why did you have the door closed? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I force a smile, though it feels like a grimace. “I must have bumped the door.”
“Oh.” Her brow wrinkles. “Well, did you find it? Mrs. Plimpton is getting kind of impatient.”
