28
Salem
The Thing in the Cellar
“S alem! Oh, God—fuck— Salem !”
Gasping, I lay stiff as a board until I sucked enough air back into my lungs to feel alive. Dust drifted around me, shards of wood poking into my back.
First of all: Ouch . Second: Where the hell was I?
Groaning, I pushed myself into a sitting position. A shadow moved through the light above me, and I looked up to see Rayne standing at the edge of the gaping hole in the cabin’s floor. Loki paced beside her, whimpering and barking.
“I’m okay!” I shouted. “I’m not hurt, I don’t think, just sore.
Ugh. Really sore.” Wincing as I got to my feet, I picked up my knife, which had flown from my hand as I fell.
I was lucky I hadn’t landed on it. I rubbed the back of my aching head and peered up into the light as Rayne’s silhouette looked back at me.
“Can you see a way to get back up? Can you climb?”
Looking around, there weren’t many options.
I’d fallen about fifteen feet into a dark cellar.
The walls were dirt, and crooked wooden support beams braced the house’s floor.
Copper piping and frighteningly old electrical wiring ran willy-nilly through the space, but there was nothing I could climb on.
“I don’t see a way out!” I yelled, then immediately whirled around when I heard scuffling behind me.
“What’s wrong? Salem?”
The space was less a cellar and more a dark pit. Tree roots stuck out of the wall like crooked fingers. Splintered wood, collapsing beams, and the petrified corpses of indistinguishable small animals littered the dirt floor. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.
But my brain told me something was there.
“It was nothing,” I shouted. “But I’d really, really like to get out of here.”
“I’m going to find something to get you out. Here!” She tossed her flashlight down, and I caught it. “I’ll be right back!”
“Okay! I’ll just... wait here...” With a gulp, I swung the flashlight’s beam around me. Dust floated through the meager light. The air was stale and musty, making me cough every time I took a breath.
Suddenly, something scurried over my foot. I shrieked, dropping the flashlight as I flailed. But it was just a rat, running away into the shadows. With a heavy sigh, I laid my hand over my pounding heart and took a few deep breaths.
As I bent to pick up my light, I spotted something illuminated in its beam: a dirty piece of red cloth, sticking out of the dirt.
I crept closer, crouching down to have a better look.
The cloth was stiff with age as I took hold of it and tugged.
The resistance told me there was more buried beneath the soil.
Digging quickly with my bare hands, I found something beneath just a few inches of dirt. A slightly squishy, rectangular shape wrapped in red cloth. Peeling the wrapping back, I found a moldy cardboard shoebox within, tied shut with twine. Multiple things rattled around inside.
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. A distinct feeling I wasn’t alone sent shivers up my spine.
Slowly, I turned the light behind me. There, like a gaping mouth in the dirt wall, was a hole.
A burrow .
It was narrow, just big enough for me to crawl inside—if I’d been crazy enough to do so. Instead, I stared at it in horrified silence as something moved within.
“Fuck no,” I whispered. I hurriedly wrapped the shoebox again and tucked it into my jacket. “God, Rayne, please come back...”
First, one long, boney limb extended from the hole. Then another. Then the rest followed, like a spider moving its knobby limbs. A pale, eyeless face poked out, its mouth hanging open, an insect-like chattering sound coming from its throat.
The angel was here.
My eyes stung; I was so terrified I couldn’t breathe.
The angel moved slowly, its head bobbing up and down as it sniffed the air.
It was coming closer; I had no choice but to back away, ducking around beams and squeezing under piping.
I couldn’t see where I was going. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the beast for even a moment.
As I stepped back and put weight on my foot, there was a crunch, followed by a burst of sharp pain.
I clapped my hand over my mouth, but not before a shocked cry tore out of me, and the angel’s head snapped toward me.
Choking on my screams, I moved my foot and saw a bloody nail sticking out of the board I’d just stepped on.
“I’m back, Salem! Where—hey, where’d you go?”
The beast’s head immediately jerked upward, looking for the source of the voice. Tears of pain poured down my cheeks as I remained silent, limping slowly backwards. If I could just get around this thing, back toward the gap in the floorboards...
“Salem... where... where...”
My heart was in my throat. That wasn’t Rayne’s voice, but it was close. It was a near-perfect imitation.
A mess of broken wood stood between me and the gap in the floor.
Down on my belly, I dragged myself through the mud, squeezing beneath the wooden beams and shoving trash out of my way.
Rats scurried over my hands, fleeing in fear.
I had to press my cheek to the dirt to make it under a massive beam, the scent of ammonia and rat feces cloying in my lungs.
I had to keep crawling. Just keep crawling.
“I see you, Salem! Hang on...” Rayne’s boots pounded across the floorboards, her shadow moving above me. For a split second I was filled with hope, the adrenaline rush making me crawl faster.
Then, right behind my head, I heard “Salem... I see... you...”
Trembling, I dared to look over my shoulder. The angel was there, limbs spread between the beams, holding its body suspended in midair as it crawled toward me, mouth gaping open. Splinters jabbed into my palms, my foot screaming in pain as I scrambled away.
“Run, Salem!”
A wooden ladder slammed down, my only hope of escape.
There was a crack of gunfire and the beast shrieked, a terribly high-pitched, furious sound.
Rayne fired her rifle again, the sound terrifyingly loud in the enclosed space.
Loki’s barking reached a fever pitch, with vicious snarls and snapping teeth.
Finally out from under the wreckage, I scrambled to my feet—but my ankle was wrenched back, slamming me to the dirt.
Gripping my knife, I whirled around and slashed, screaming when I saw the boney, clawed hand holding onto to me.
The blade opened a thick, bloody gash across the creature’s face and it thrashed backwards.
For a moment, I was a rabbit frozen in front of a predator. My eyes were fixated on its unnatural form, my hand trembling in a death grip on the knife. Time seemed to slow, my heart thumping in my ears. I couldn’t get enough air.
Then the moment was gone, and I ran.
I seized the ladder’s ancient wooden rungs and began to climb—but the beast was close behind. Its claws raked the wood, shattering the step below me. Only my grip kept me from plummeting to the ground and into its clutches.
“Look out!” I ducked my head at Rayne’s warning as she fired again. The bit of wood I was standing on gave an terrifying crack, and I screamed, scrambling for the next rung. My stability gave way but Rayne seized my arm, leaning dangerously over the ledge to keep hold of me.
“Hold on!” she yelled, teeth bared with effort. My sweating hands nearly slipped, but her grip was tight enough to bruise. Loki stood by us, hackles raised, saliva foaming around his mouth as he challenged the angel below, daring it to come closer.
Rayne hauled me up, and I fell into her arms. Gasping, almost sobbing. We peered together into the cellar, but the beast had vanished into its burrow.
Rayne held me tight, one hand slowly stroking my hair as she murmured, “You’re okay. Goddamn, just breathe, you’re okay.” I never wanted her to let me go, and I almost entirely forgot about the strange red-wrapped parcel tucked inside my jacket.
But as we parted, Rayne’s eyes drifted down to the squishy bulk between us. She gently tugged down my jacket zipper, frowning as she looked closely at the parcel. “What’s this?”
“I don’t know,” I said, still breathless. “I found it down there.”
She took it, curiously feeling the fabric. Her face fell. Disbelief, then alarm, filled her eyes.
“No way,” she whispered. “This can’t be...”
The fabric was ripped and crumbling, but as she unfolded it, it became clear it was a piece of clothing.
“This was Mom’s coat,” she said. Her words shook, but whether it was out of anger or fear, I didn’t know. “I haven’t seen it since...” She frowned, shaking her head as she swiped her hand across the dusty lid of the box. “This doesn’t make any sense. She was buried in this coat. Dad said...”
She opened the box. Inside, an old camcorder sat next to a collection of VHS-C tapes.