Chapter 4 – Chap 4

My mind keeps replaying what we saw last night.

What is in the hatch? Why is it hidden? Who is the lady in the red stilettos?

I roll over on my bed to turn to Natasha, but her bed is empty. Just as I am about to look for her, I hear a toilet flush, a few footsteps, and she returns through the bedroom door.

“Tash,” I begin, “What happened last night? The hatch… how did you – how did you find it?”

She stares at me for a few seconds. She’s an intelligent kid; her eyes flutter between mine. She grabs some paper, a pen, and sits on her bed. She begins writing.

I didn’t find the hatch. Uncle Curtis did

“You – you told him about the key, Tash? Then why were you hiding?”

With an annoyed scoff and a roll of her eyes, she writes again.

NO I was looking for where the key goes. Then he came down and I hid. He had his own key and opened the hatch and went down it

“So he didn’t use the key we found? Where is it?”

Natasha moves her pillow to reveal the brass key that I had found yesterday. She shoots me a worried glance, before concealing it once more.

“Tash, what did you see last night? Anything?” I ask.

Natasha shakes her head.

“Are you sure? You must have seen that lady come into the house, if you saw Uncle Curtis open the hatch?”

Natasha writes.

The lady never came in. She was already down there.

–

Uncle Curtis calls us down for breakfast. I take the key from under my sister’s pillow. Just in case.

As we reach the dining table that we had hidden under just hours before, I look through the glass to where the hatch sits, now covered by a carpet; concealed.

Uncle Curtis seems distracted; quietly racing around and placing some toast on the table for us before bounding up the staircase at impressive speed for a man his age.

I hear him clear the first staircase and begin on the second. He’s going up to the second floor. We can use this time to quickly check out the hatch.

I bite my lip. My mind races as to how we’ll pull this off without getting caught. Every second we sit here, our window of opportunity grows thinner. I know how we have to do it, I’m just desperately trying to think of another way.

But, I can’t think of another way. So, I turn to Natasha and tell her my plan.

“Tash, listen to me okay?” I begin, “We are going to quickly look into the hatch. I’m going to be lookout. I’ll go up the stairs a bit and peek through the railing to see if he’s coming. If he comes, I’ll tell you. You – you have to go and open the hatch, okay?”

She shakes her head, eyes wide in fear.

“Look”, I say, “Unless you want to decide to speak right now, you can’t be lookout.”

Silence.

“No? I didn’t think so.” I push the key across the table to her and give her a nod, “It’ll be okay. Now go.”

I glance up the staircase; empty, quiet.

Natasha fiddles with the carpet behind me, pulling it aside and revealing the hatch. I turn to see her standing above it, staring at it as if she could see through the wooden floors.

“Tash,” I hiss, “Hurry up. Open it.”

I look back up the staircase; all clear.

Natasha slides the key into the lock and twists it.

Nothing happens.

She tries again; it’s jammed. She worriedly looks up at me and shakes her head.

“It wont open?” I ask, my voice hushed.

She shakes her head harder.

“Try again!!”

She does as I say; the same result.

I take one last glance up the staircase before pacing over to Natasha. She sits back as I reach past her and I twist the key.

She’s right, it doesn’t twist. I try again.

Nothing.

This key, our key, isn’t for the hatch.

“Girls?” Uncle Curtis’ voice rings through my entire body; both Natasha and I jump, spinning around.

“Girls, what do you think of these?” Uncle Curtis asks as he climbs down the upper level of the staircase, his back to us.

We snap into action. Natasha quickly grabs the corner of the rug, ready to fling it over the hatch.

I pull the key. It’s not coming out. It’s not coming out! Why won’t it come out?!

“Girls, be honest. Okay?” Uncle Curtis is a few steps away from making the turn on the staircase to face us. Natasha races back to her seat.

I yank the key. I pull it. I twist it. It doesn’t budge.

Uncle Curtis makes the swivel on the staircase, facing us. His head is down, focusing on his tie – or rather, two ties – one blue, one red. The blue one is nicer.

“Which tie do you think is nicer?”

Finally, as if I willed it out myself, I remove the key and pull the rug over the hatch. In one swift movement, I pivot toward my chair and slide the key into my pocket.

As I sit at the table, he looks up at us both.

“Blue, or red?”

Natasha points to the red tie.

–

Our uncle has a meeting with a lawyer; about what, I’m unsure. I wasn’t listening.

What I do know is that Natasha and I are going to search for the hatch key.

As soon as he leaves, we spring into action. I check the first floor; the one with all the knick-knacks. Natasha takes the second; starting with his room.

I find nothing, so join Natasha upstairs.

Uncle Curtis’ room is very plain; more so than the rest of the house. A large, white bed sits against the far wall with a walk in closet to its left, a desk at its foot, and a small cabinet on its right.

In the cabinet, along with an abundance of others, a large brass key.

–

A quick look out the front door making sure Uncle Curtis is still out and we’re in the clear.

We hoist the section of carpet away from the hatch and slide the key in; a perfect fit. With a twist and a click, the hatch door pops upward. Slightly elevated, we grab the edges and lift the heavy door till it sits upright.

In the light, the ladder is much clearer. It leads down to wooden flooring, similar to that of the rest of the house. I look up at Natasha who kneels beside me.

“Shall I go first then?”

…

That’s a yes.

I move off my knees and slide my feet down the frame of the ladder until I feel a foothold. Once on, the climb down is easy. Natasha begins hers as I hit the halfway point.

The last few steps of the ladders are missing, so I hop onto the floor below.

Thud.

Maybe that’s the thud I kept hearing last night…

I look up to Natasha, helping her with the jump down as she reaches it.

I gather my bearings. We’re in a large room; crates, lockers reminiscent of high school, old desk chairs, and dusty towels and rags are strewn all over. At the far end, a door.

“Come on,” my voice now a whisper.

I lead the way, approaching the door.

The room has a musty smell. It makes it slightly awkward to breathe; every step creates a shadow of dust around our feet.

I place my hand on the door and push.

As it creaks open, the room before me holds something that takes away my breath better than any amount of musty air could.

Old cages; all varying in size. However, it is not the cages that shocks me. It’s what lays within them.

Inside some of the cages; skeletons, vaguely resembling humans.

They are all disfigured in some way; curved backs, backward hands, half a skull. They just lie in the centre of their cages as if on display. No dust touches them; they are spotless. Above each skeleton, a strong light beams, accentuating its white features.

There are two things I notice; two disfigurements that are consistent with each skeleton.

Long locks of hair, varying in colour, sprout from each of their scalps. And from their fingers and toes; long, curvy nails grow their way out into the ground below.

Both the hair and nails are unnaturally long.

A car horn blazes from somewhere above us.

Uncle Curtis is home.