Page 84 of Forever Dead

“Hey!”

No answer.

Harold stepped closer. The door moved inward a fraction, then returned to the frame.

Thud.

His first thought was that somebody was leaning against it. Maybe drunk. Maybe hurt.

“Open the door.”

Nothing.

Harold placed his free hand on the knob. The brass felt cold.

He turned it.

Unlocked.

“All right. I’m coming in.”

Harold pushed.

The door opened two inches.

Something struck it from the other side and knocked it back toward him.

Thud.

Harold released the knob and stepped away. “What the hell?”

The door settled almost closed. A second later it moved again.

Thud.

Not a fist.

Not someone kicking.

Whatever hit the door carried weight but no violence behind it. The same force each time. The same interval.

Harold listened.

Three seconds.

Thud.

Three more.

Thud.

The rhythm made the hair along his forearms rise.

“You better get out here,” Harold called. “I’m callin’ the sheriff!”

No answer came.

Harold took out his phone. One bar.