Chapter 6 - The Date on the Yellow Notepad
Mark stared at the photograph in his hand, his mind spinning into a vortex of sheer disbelief and rising panic. The girl in the vintage snapshot was wearing the exact same teal knit sweater that Lily had worn to dinner tonight. She was holding the exact same white stuffed bunny.
Mark brought the radio up to his mouth, his voice shaking uncontrollably. Sarah... are you still listening?
Yes! What is it? What did you find down there? Sarah's voice demanded, practically shouting through the static. Did you reach the house yet?
I found a box, Sarah, Mark said, his eyes scanning the faded ink of the open notepad resting inside the lunchbox. Photographs. A little girl from nineteen-eighty-five who looks exactly like our daughter. Down to the sweater. Down to the toy.
That's impossible, Mark. Stop playing a sick joke on me right now, Sarah snapped, her voice cracking with emotional strain. Generational fashion repeats itself, sure, but a specific handmade sweater? That's statistically absurd.
It's not a joke, Sarah, I'm looking right at the date on this notepad, Mark replied, his throat tightening as he read the words written in messy, childlike handwriting. The note says: They locked the door from the outside today. The water is coming up through the floor. I am waiting for someone to find my bunny.
Mark, get out of there right now, Sarah screamed through the radio, the sound of her panic echoing faintly from the basement door above the tunnel. You're scaring yourself with trash left behind by squatters years ago! Come back upstairs!
I have to go up the ladder, Sarah, Mark said, his voice dropping into a determined, grim resolve. The maintenance ladder leads straight into the Miller house cellar. I have to see for myself who is standing in that window.
Before Sarah could reply, a sudden, violent rumble shook the earth beneath the drainage tunnel. The sound of cracking concrete echoed like a gunshot through the pipe, followed by the heavy roar of water rushing from the ravine above.
Mark! The northern retaining wall just gave out! The floodwaters are rushing toward the basement stairs! Sarah yelled, her voice nearly drowned out by the roaring water. You have to get out of the tunnel right now! The exit is blocked!
May you like
No, the exit behind me is blocked by the cave-in, Mark realized with absolute horror, shining his flashlight backward to see a wall of mud and shattered concrete sealing off the sub-basement entrance fifty yards away. The only way out is forward. Up into the Miller house.
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