Chapter 3 - The Gas and the Glass
The metal-on-metal impact was deafening. Sparks erupted from the breaker box in a shower of brilliant white and orange light. The heavy overhead garage lights slammed off, plunging us into total darkness save for the ambient moonlight filtering through the open driveway door.
Nancy shrieked—a sharp, feral sound—as the electrical arc singed the sleeve of her coat.
I didn't wait. I reached out in the dark, my hand connecting with her wrist, twisting hard. The plastic remote clattered onto the concrete floor. I smashed my boot down, shattering the controller into a dozen useless pieces of plastic and wiring.
"You insolent fool!" Nancy hissed in the dark, her claws raking across my forearm, tearing through my shirt.
I shoved her back into the dark garage, snatched the photo album and the tape recorder from the freezer, and bolted through the doorway into the kitchen.
The house smelled faintly of old lavender and stale tea, but beneath it, I could already hear a subtle, ominous hiss coming from the floor vents. The gas was leaking. The mechanical valve in the basement had failed-safe open when the power grid died.
"Rachel!" I yelled, taking the stairs two at a time in the pitch black. "Rachel, wake up!"
I slammed open the door to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Moonlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating Rachel sprawled across the king-sized bed. She was fully clothed, her eyes half-open, staring blankly at the ceiling. On the nightstand sat a half-empty glass of wine and an empty prescription bottle of heavy sedatives.
"Rachel!" I grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. Her head flopped back like a ragdoll's.
"David...?" she slurred, her voice thick, her pupils dilated into tiny pinpricks. "What... what are you doing here? It’s not... Friday..."
"Your mother poisoned you, Rachel! We have to get out of here right now!" I pulled her off the bed, slinging her arm over my shoulder. She could barely keep her feet under her, her toes dragging against the carpet.
"Mom... mom gave me my night medicine..." Rachel mumbled, her head resting heavily against my neck. "She said... she said we were going away..."
"We are going away, but not with her!"
I half-carried, half-dragged Rachel down the hallway. Below us, the smell of natural gas was growing rapidly stronger, making my eyes water and my lungs burn.
As we reached the top of the staircase, a figure stepped out from the darkness below, illuminated by the moonlight reflecting off the foyer mirror.
Nancy stood at the bottom of the stairs, holding a heavy iron fireplace poker in both hands. Her spotless beige coat was torn at the shoulder, her gray hair wildly disheveled, her eyes fixed on us with a terrifying, demonic clarity.
"You aren't taking my daughter, David," Nancy said, her voice echoing in the stairwell. "She belongs to this house. She belongs to me."
May you like
"Nancy, the house is filling with gas!" I shouted, holding Rachel tightly against my side. "One spark and this whole place blows!"
"Then we will all burn together," Nancy whispered, stepping up the first stair. "It’s much cleaner that way."
