window.
VI
A ladder.
Partridge had found a ladder in the garage and retrieved it, placing it against the side of the craning house. He climbed up, almost stumbling and tripping on his shoelaces. He was the only one with shoes on, since he had fetched his loafers at the front entrance before running up to his wife. He was doing the same now, one rung at a time, praying to God the foundation would hold, that it wasn’t too old.
He made it to the top with a desperate sigh of relief. He had to get them off the house—that was the most important thing.
“Nancy!” he screamed up. “Nancy!”
The wife looked at him with an aloof expression. Her pupils expanded, muddy as a riverbed.
“Maddy, get down the ladder!”
She didn’t have to be told twice. She was up and over, scrambling down with celerity. Nancy was left now—only Nancy. She was staring into the hole, ever yawning and growing larger, spreading its fiendish mouth.
“Nancy!” he screamed again. “We have to go!”
They were still there, watching her. Those spidery looking beings with lean torsos and wiry arms that flexed along bobbing heads. They were clustered around the hole, three or four (oh so many more) manifesting. You could see right through them, an inky mass of—
Partridge shook his wife by the shoulders. “Snap out of it!”
She had a droopy look as she turned toward him; lips curled up to one side, she screamed all of a sudden, howling like a wounded creature. Spit slobbered down her chin.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Partridge bellowed, fancying a blow to her face. “We have to get down or we’re fucking dead. The house is almost gone!” And it was. Mr. Robins could feel the entire frame quivering, wanting to give up like a drug addict and collapse into the hole—the hole that stretched on for infinity to nowhere. “Nancy, we’ll die! It’s collapsing, it’s going under!”
“Then let it.”
Partridge felt like someone had slapped him.
“What?!” ”
“You killed her.”
“I’m sorry. I told you I was sorry.”
“You didn’t say shit,” she snarled. Lunacy was in her dilated pupils; a stark, raving mad woman who had slipped over the edge.
“I can never live with myself knowing what I’d done. But please, honey, we must get off. You have to live for me.”
A squealing groan echoed throughout the house, as the roots holding up the base of the foundation gave free.
“Why do I get to live?”
“What do you want me to do?” Partridge hollered, wobbling on his feet. Strangely, his wife stood erect. She appeared glued to the house frame. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Get her,” Nancy growled, saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth. “Get her body.”
“Okay,” he said. “Just get down off the house.”
She obeyed his order. He watched her till her feet settled on the soil. He waved.
“I love you,” he said. She didn’t respond back; she was taking care of Maddy and Victor.
Partridge took a deep breath and disappeared inside the house.
VII
The drone picked up the latest activity. After the father figure crept back, the house gave way. A loud, shrill scream could be heard from inside. The house finally gave way and tumbled into the hole.
Partridge let out one last bloodcurdling scream as he fell into the darkness with his daughter a few meters from his reach. He was screaming because he saw his daughter coming back from the dead, rising to her feet, but it was all just a dream, a slight hallucination in his broken, strained mind.
They were both falling now—and the end never came. It was interminable.
Overhead, the drone monitored the house disappearing into the hole and out of sight forever. What the drone could not see was the sliver of a smile spreading on Nancy Robins’ lips.
.
chapter six
There were wide suspicions that perhaps the hole was created by an incendiary device, detonated with a blast as an attack on their home front. That belief
VI
A ladder.
Partridge had found a ladder in the garage and retrieved it, placing it against the side of the craning house. He climbed up, almost stumbling and tripping on his shoelaces. He was the only one with shoes on, since he had fetched his loafers at the front entrance before running up to his wife. He was doing the same now, one rung at a time, praying to God the foundation would hold, that it wasn’t too old.
He made it to the top with a desperate sigh of relief. He had to get them off the house—that was the most important thing.
“Nancy!” he screamed up. “Nancy!”
The wife looked at him with an aloof expression. Her pupils expanded, muddy as a riverbed.
“Maddy, get down the ladder!”
She didn’t have to be told twice. She was up and over, scrambling down with celerity. Nancy was left now—only Nancy. She was staring into the hole, ever yawning and growing larger, spreading its fiendish mouth.
“Nancy!” he screamed again. “We have to go!”
They were still there, watching her. Those spidery looking beings with lean torsos and wiry arms that flexed along bobbing heads. They were clustered around the hole, three or four (oh so many more) manifesting. You could see right through them, an inky mass of—
Partridge shook his wife by the shoulders. “Snap out of it!”
She had a droopy look as she turned toward him; lips curled up to one side, she screamed all of a sudden, howling like a wounded creature. Spit slobbered down her chin.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Partridge bellowed, fancying a blow to her face. “We have to get down or we’re fucking dead. The house is almost gone!” And it was. Mr. Robins could feel the entire frame quivering, wanting to give up like a drug addict and collapse into the hole—the hole that stretched on for infinity to nowhere. “Nancy, we’ll die! It’s collapsing, it’s going under!”
“Then let it.”
Partridge felt like someone had slapped him.
“What?!” ”
“You killed her.”
“I’m sorry. I told you I was sorry.”
“You didn’t say shit,” she snarled. Lunacy was in her dilated pupils; a stark, raving mad woman who had slipped over the edge.
“I can never live with myself knowing what I’d done. But please, honey, we must get off. You have to live for me.”
A squealing groan echoed throughout the house, as the roots holding up the base of the foundation gave free.
“Why do I get to live?”
“What do you want me to do?” Partridge hollered, wobbling on his feet. Strangely, his wife stood erect. She appeared glued to the house frame. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
“Get her,” Nancy growled, saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth. “Get her body.”
“Okay,” he said. “Just get down off the house.”
She obeyed his order. He watched her till her feet settled on the soil. He waved.
“I love you,” he said. She didn’t respond back; she was taking care of Maddy and Victor.
Partridge took a deep breath and disappeared inside the house.
VII
The drone picked up the latest activity. After the father figure crept back, the house gave way. A loud, shrill scream could be heard from inside. The house finally gave way and tumbled into the hole.
Partridge let out one last bloodcurdling scream as he fell into the darkness with his daughter a few meters from his reach. He was screaming because he saw his daughter coming back from the dead, rising to her feet, but it was all just a dream, a slight hallucination in his broken, strained mind.
They were both falling now—and the end never came. It was interminable.
Overhead, the drone monitored the house disappearing into the hole and out of sight forever. What the drone could not see was the sliver of a smile spreading on Nancy Robins’ lips.
.
chapter six
There were wide suspicions that perhaps the hole was created by an incendiary device, detonated with a blast as an attack on their home front. That belief
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