The Dark Stairs R/I (5 page)

She continued deeper into the basement.

Outside, by the hardware store, Meat's eyes were so heavy he couldn't hold them open.

He sighed. His eyes closed in sleep just as the dark figure of a man came out of the shadows and stopped at the gate of Dead Oaks.

In the basement Herculeah moved past a stone deer that had once, she imagined, graced the lawn. She rested one hand on the fawn's head. Again she paused to listen. She heard nothing.

Slowly working a path around the tools and boxes, she made her way to the end of the room and stopped at the wall. She lifted her hands and laid them flat against the cool concrete.

She moved sideways, feeling for an opening. The cellar was darkest here. Her fingers felt cobwebs, and she brushed her hands together. Herculeah wasn't afraid of spiders either.

She moved the length of the wall, but she found no door. This was just one room—a toolshed, a work area—separate from the rest of the house.

Disappointed, Herculeah turned. The doorway was lit from the hardware store, but the rest of the basement was completely dark now. There was nothing more to do here. She started forward.

At that moment she heard footsteps outside. The footsteps were coming toward the house.

Fear stabbed at her.

Herculeah ducked quickly behind the stone deer. She held her breath. Her heart began to pound.

She knew her hair must be going wild, and this was not the time for it. She drew her expanding hair against her head like a cap.

For a brief moment, she thought it might be Meat. She hoped it was Meat. She desperately longed to see his round silhouette in the doorway, to hear him say, “Herculeah, aren't you finished yet? I'm tired of waiting. I want to go home.”

She wanted to call Meat's name, but something about the heaviness of the steps held her back. Meat was large but he walked lightly. It was not Meat who was coming toward her with those slow, threatening steps.

She waited. She thought about that old ghost story that had scared her as a child: “I'm on the first step.... I'm on the second step.... I'm on the third step....”

But if it wasn't Meat, she wondered, why hadn't Meat sounded the alarm? Why hadn't he knocked over the garbage can to warn her?

She wanted to lift her head, but she didn't dare. Even with her head pressed against her knees, with her eyelids squeezed shut, she knew the exact moment the person got to the basement door.

The door had been left open, but it creaked as if someone bigger than Herculeah was planning to come in. There was a terrible silence as the person stood, looking inside.

Herculeah's heart had moved up into her throat.

Nothing happened. The awful moment stretched on and on. Silently Herculeah glanced around the side of the deer.

Silhouetted in the doorway was a man. Highlighted by the strange misty light, the man looked huge. Herculeah drew in her breath. He was more than huge. He was a giant.

He ducked his head to peer into the basement.

Herculeah rested her forehead against the cold stone of the deer. There had been something frightening and familiar about that shape.

The man reached into his pocket and brought out a cigarette lighter. There was a faint click, and in the glow from the small flame, Herculeah saw his face. It was the Moloch.

Her knees began to tremble. She had to breathe through her mouth to get enough air.

The Moloch came into the basement and stopped. Herculeah cringed as he lifted the lighter and its pale glow touched the objects around her. She clutched her hair tighter about her head.

The Moloch did not come back to where she crouched in fear. Instead he moved over to the workbench. He stood there, and then, as if he were familiar with the table, he picked up something, opened a drawer, and took something from it. Herculeah longed to stand up so she could see, but she remembered the burning look of the Moloch's eyes in her living room, the fear she had felt at his terrible smile. She stayed where she was.

Her heart was beating so loud, it pounded in her ears.

Apparently, the Moloch had found what he needed. Herculeah heard him move toward the door. She heard him take a step outside.

Herculeah lifted her head. Silhouetted against the light from the parking lot, she saw him raise his arm. For one terrible moment, Herculeah thought he had seen her and was lifting his arm in a terrible and final gesture of farewell.

But the moment lengthened. He seemed to be reaching for something. She heard a faint crumbling sound. What was he doing? Why didn't he leave?

She didn't move. The Moloch lowered his arm, and Herculeah heard the faint click as he extinguished the cigarette lighter. She heard the creaking sound as the Moloch began to close the door.

Herculeah had a moment of such relief that she felt weak. The Moloch hadn't seen her. The Moloch was leaving. And just as soon as he was gone, she could leave too. She could get Meat and—

Then Herculeah froze.

For she heard something that turned her blood cold. She heard the sound of hammering.

The Moloch was nailing the door shut.

And she was trapped inside.

Meat awoke, and for a moment he didn't know where he was. His body felt stiff and uncomfortable, the way it did when he fell asleep on the floor watching TV. He hated that, especially when the channel had gone off the air and he was faced with a screen of snow.

But this was worse. There was no screen, and the world itself seemed to have lost its color. Everything was sort of white.

Meat tried not to panic. Perhaps something had gone wrong with his eyes. He rubbed them, but there was no change.

“What is this?” he murmured.

All the good colors in the world—the ones he found so restful—the blues and greens—had faded, and he was left in a world of grayish-white.

It was like the time the color on the TV set had gone bad, and for weeks—until his mother got the money for repair—he had watched a world of gray. All his favorites, even Norm on
Cheers,
had been pale and insignificant.

Well, he knew one thing. Wherever he was, he had to get out of there. He had to get home.

He rolled over, bracing himself on one knee, and staggered to his feet. He stumbled clumsily.

As he struggled for balance, he knocked over something, something big. It felt like a—maybe a garbage can.

The sound was an explosion in the quiet night. The metal crashed against the pavement. Then the lid fell off and clattered around and around.

Meat put his hands to his ears. What was this terrible noise? Where was he?

At that moment he came fully awake. He remembered it all. He was here on sentry duty. He closed his eyes in dismay as the full horror of the situation washed over him.

Herculeah had gone into the basement of Dead Oaks. And his part in the disaster was to stand watch and turn over the garbage can if anyone came. She had trusted him. And he, like a fool, had fallen asleep and knocked over the garbage can by accident.

Herculeah would be furious with him. He began to create a quick story.

“I thought I saw someone. I swear I thought I saw someone. Maybe it was a shadow. Oh, all right, it was a shadow but it was right at the gate. I thought it was a big man. Or maybe I dreamed it. I have to admit I did doze off for a second—”

He opened his eyes. He began to feel a little better.

“That's it. I thought I saw someone at the gate, and I didn't want to take any chances and so I knocked the garbage can over. Your life is very valuable to me, Herculeah. ”

His eyes began to focus and he looked down the alley. He expected to see Herculeah running toward him.

Instead, he found, to his dismay, that the story he had created was true. There was someone at the gate. It was a big man, a very big man.

Meat paused, frozen with fear. The man turned in the direction of the parking lot. The lid of the garbage can was still clattering at Meat's feet, drawing attention to his unfortunate position.

Meat wanted to duck down, but there was nothing big enough for him to duck behind. He froze. He knew how animals felt caught in the headlights of a car, waiting to be clobbered.

The man was bound to be able to see him. He was in the light.

But Meat couldn't see the man clearly. He was in the shadows. All he could see was that the man was large and he had on dark clothes.

Maybe, Meat thought, the man was some sort of night watchman—they wore dark clothes—or a policeman. He would have to think up a pretty good story if it was a policeman.

“I was on my way home from a Boy Scout meeting, sir, and I didn't feel well and I decided to sit down for a moment and—”

Maybe it would even be Herculeah's dad. And Herculeah's dad would forbid her to do these dangerous things, and they could all go home and have hot chocolate.

The figure began to walk toward him. The steps were slow and heavy.

It was not a policeman or a night watchman or Herculeah's dad. With increasing dread, Meat made out a huge man in a black coat and a black hat.

His mouth dropped open. It was the last person in the world Meat wanted to see. It was the Moloch.

Meat stepped back. He found himself flat against the wall of the hardware store.

He had a moment of terrible decision. He didn't know whether to run or to—

He tried hard, but he couldn't think of another choice. Running was the only thing to do.

The Moloch was still coming toward him in that slow, heavy way, one step at a time.

Meat knew that in a few more steps, he would be able to see those burning, terrible eyes. He made a decision.

He pulled himself away from the hardware store, turned, ran around the corner of the store and headed for home.

At the corner he turned and ran backward a few steps to see if the Moloch was still following. He was not in sight.

“I'll be back,” he called over his shoulder. He hoped Herculeah could hear him in that musty black basement.

Well, he thought, at least he had warned her. He
had
knocked over the garbage can.

His heart raced with fear and with a determination to, once again, save Herculeah.

He paused in front of the House of Cards store. He put his fingers in his mouth. He would give a whistle so loud it would shatter windows, wake the dead, cause dogs all over the county to bay at the moon.

He blew but nothing happened. For the first time in his life his whistle failed. He knew the truth. A person could get too scared to whistle.

Using the statue for support, Herculeah pulled herself to her feet and stood in the darkness. The blackness around her was complete—not a glimmer of light to show her the way.

She stepped around the deer and bumped into the wheelbarrow. There was a thud as her knee hit the metal.

Herculeah froze, waiting to see if that sound would bring the Moloch back. In the seconds that followed she noticed three things.

1. There were no footsteps coming back to the house.

2. Her knee was beginning to throb where she had struck it on the wheelbarrow.

And 3. Someone, somewhere, had just turned over a garbage can.

“Now you warn me,” Herculeah said. “Why didn't you warn me when I could have done something about it?Meeeeat!”

She broke off and listened to make sure neither the Moloch nor Meat was coming. Then she began to grope her way toward the door.

Her hands touched rakes and shovels. She found a hoe, a trowel.

In all these tools, she thought, there has to be a pickax or a hatchet. If she could get her hands on something sharp, she could hack at the door until it gave. The wood was half rotten.

She felt garden hoses, the old lawn mower—nothing she could use. By now she had made her way to the door.

She put her hands against the wood and rested for a moment. No sounds came from the yard. She wondered if the Moloch was gone, or if he was still outside, waiting at the gate.

If she could get the door open, she knew she could get away. The Moloch was huge, but she was fast. If she could break out of the basement, she could streak across the yard and vault over the fence. She wouldn't have to bother with the gate.

She took a deep breath. She rested one shoulder against the door and pushed slightly, testing the strength of the wood.

There was some give in it. The nails might not hold. He had only put in one or two.

Herculeah pulled back and rammed her shoulder into the door. Pain shot up to her neck. She drew back and pushed again, again.

It took four tries, and then, with a screeching sound, the door burst open. Herculeah staggered out into the cool night air. She stood for a moment, bent forward, gasping for breath.

She looked up, ready to run, but the Moloch was nowhere in sight. She didn't take any chances. She decided to run anyway.

Herculeah streaked across the yard, the weeds whipping around her ankles. She got to the fence, grasped the metal rail, and vaulted cleanly over it.

She ran down the alley and out onto the sidewalk. She looked around wildly, but the Moloch was not in sight.

There were just ordinary people, doing ordinary things, driving cars, looking in shop windows, coming out of the frozen yogurt shop, eating cones.

Herculeah stopped her desperate run and paused to catch her breath. After a moment she began to jog for home.

As she turned the corner onto her street, she saw Meat and his mother coming toward her. They were walking fast.