Slowly, I turned to look at my dad, but he didn’t even glance up. He was still calmly chopping vegetables, humming along to the soft music playing from his little kitchen radio.
“Dad?!” I whispered. “Did you hear that? Who’s out there?”
He didn’t answer. Just kept chopping.
“Dad!?” I whispered again with more urgency.
“Hear what, Rowan? Did you finish setting the table? The salad is done.”
Another knock. Louder this time. Heavier. Like fists made of stone pounding against the wood.
Chills ran down my spine.
“Oh, someone’s here! Wonderful,” he said with sudden cheer, pulling off his apron and heading toward the door.
“No! What are you doing?! Don’t open it! What if it’s Arca?! We need to hide!”
But he didn’t look at me. Didn’t even blink. He moved like someone caught in a trance. Like a zombie.
“Dad, please!” I lunged for him, grabbing his arm and pulling with all my strength. “Don’t open the door!”
He didn’t budge. He was too strong. I was a weakling, nothing against his alpha strength.
Then I heard the deadbolt turn with a click. He had unlocked the door.
“No!” I cried, trying again to stop him. But he only stepped aside, standing motionless, expressionless, his eyes staring into nothing.
“Dad?” I whispered, waving a hand in front of his face. Nothing. No reaction. Just that same empty stare.
A faint noise behind me, wet and slithering, drew my attention to the salad bowl.
Something told me not to look.
But I did.
The bright, fresh tomatoes I had picked just minutes ago, were black with rot. Maggots writhed from the pulp. Flies buzzed low over the bowl.
I gagged.
When I looked up, every plant in the kitchen began to wither. Their leaves curled inwards, brown and brittle, turning to dust before my eyes.
“Dad!” I turned back.
He was gone.
My breath caught in my throat. Where had he gone?
Then I saw it. The door handle turned slowly.
I suddenly remembered the knock. The unlocked deadbolt.
I lunged for the door, trying to reach it before it opened. But the hallway stretched like elastic, lengthening impossibly as the door creaked open.
And then I saw them.
Twisted creatures that looked like wolves, or maybe dogs, but wrong. With forms made of thick, roiling smoke. Eyes like dying stars glowed through their black cloudy haze. The smoke poured into the house, curling around me, choking the air, blotting out the light.
“Dad!” I screamed, reaching out for him.
