“Hello?”
There is no response. Tom covers his nose and mouth with his free hand. The stench is awful. He continues down the hall. Coming to a door on his right, Tom enters a room. It’s a bathroom. The bristles echo on the tile. There is a damp, moldy smell of unused plumbing. He pokes at the shower curtain and checks the tub with the broom. Then he finds the medicine cabinet. There are pill bottles. Tom pockets them. He kneels and rifles through the cabinets beneath the sink. He hears something behind him and he turns.
He is facing the bathtub.
You just checked it. There was nothing in there.
One hand is on the counter behind him. The other slowly raises the broom. He holds it out before him, blindfolded.
“Is someone in here with me?”
He inches forward, toward the tub.
He swings the broom once. Then twice.
His stomach is turning. Hot. The smell.
Tom lunges forward and swings the broom wildly about the bathtub. He checks the ceiling above it. Then, stepping back again, he lets the broom fall to the bathroom floor, where it connects with something and makes the same sound he heard while kneeling before the cabinets.
He quickly locates a plastic bottle. It’s empty.
Tom sighs.
He exits the room and continues down the hall. Quickly, he comes to another door. This one is closed. He can hear Jules moving faintly downstairs. Tom breathes deep and opens the door. It is cold in here. The broom tells him there is something in front of him. He feels for it and discovers a mattress. It’s a little bed. Without opening his eyes, he knows this is the boy’s bedroom. He closes the door, searches the room entirely with the broom, then turns on the light.
Then he takes off his blindfold and opens his eyes.
Pennants hang from the wall. Local sports teams. One for the zoo. The bedcover is Formula 1 racing cars. It is stuffy in here. Unused. Because the electricity works, he puts the flashlight back into his pack. A brief search tells him there is nothing of real use in here. He thinks of Robin’s bedroom.
He closes his eyes again and leaves.
Farther down the hall the smell grows more terrible. He can’t leave his mouth uncovered. At the end of the hall, he comes to a wall. As he turns, the broomstick connects with a door behind him. Tom freezes as the door slowly opens.
Did you and Jules check this room? DID YOU?!
“Hello?”
There is no response. Tom enters slowly. He turns on the lights and searches the walls for windows. He finds two. Both heavily fortified with wood. The room is big.
It’s the master bedroom.
He crosses the room. The smell is so strong in here it feels physical, like he can touch it. The broomstick guides him to what feels like a walk-in closet. Clothes. Coats. He thinks of taking them with him. He thinks of the winter they will soon face.
Turning, he discovers another, smaller door. A second bathroom. Again he checks the medicine cabinet and the drawers. More pill bottles. Toothpaste. Toothbrushes. He searches for a window. He finds one. Covered in wood. He uses the broom to guide him out of the bathroom. He closes the door behind him.
Believing he’s checked the windows, believing he is safe, Tom, standing by the closet, opens his eyes.
A child is sitting on the bed, looking at him.
Tom closes his eyes.
Is this what the creatures look like?
You weren’t safe! YOU WEREN’T SAFE!
His heart is thundering. What did he see? It was a face. An old face? No, it was young. Young? But decayed. He wants to call to Jules. But the longer his eyes are closed, the clearer the image becomes.
It was the boy. From the photos downstairs.
He opens his eyes again.
The boy is wearing a suit. Propped against a dark headboard, his face is unnaturally turned toward Tom. His eyes are open. His mouth hangs. His hands are folded across his lap.
You starved here, Tom thinks. In your parents’ bedroom.
Stepping toward him, his mouth and nose covered, Tom compares him to the photos. The boy looks mummified. Shrunken.
How long ago did you die? How close was I to getting you out of here?
He stares into the boy’s dead eyes.
Robin, he thinks. I’m so sorry.
“Tom!” Jules yells from below.
Tom turns.
He crosses the room and enters the hall.
“Jules! Are you okay?”
“Yes! Yes! Come quick! I’ve found a dog.”
Tom is torn. The father in him doesn’t want to leave this boy. Robin lies in a grave behind the house he left a long time ago.
“If I would have known you were here,” Tom says, turning toward the master bedroom, “I would have come sooner.”
Then he turns and rushes to the stairs.
Jules found a dog.