Chapter 12 - The Neighborhood Covenant
The street outside was dead silent, not a single car passing, not a single tree swaying in the wind. Every house on the cul-de-sac displayed the same eerie tableau: utility room doors propped open, plates of cold spaghetti and unpeeled hard-boiled eggs resting on appliances, casting a pale, uniform glow into the night.
“The whole neighborhood...” Marcus whispered, the horrifying truth finally cementing in his mind. “You all knew before we bought this place.”
Clara didn't deny it. She looked down at her hands, tears finally spilling over her lashes. “We tried to move away twice, Marcus. Both times, the moving truck crashed a mile down the road, and we woke up right back in this bed. The only way to keep the sinkhole from swallowing the entire county is to feed the foundation a sacrifice every decade. Maya was born in the tenth year.”
Marcus gritted his teeth, the adrenaline surging past his physical pain. He slammed his fists against the floorboards, feeling the coarse, pulsing roots beneath the wood. He grabbed a jagged piece of the broken glass pitcher Clara had dropped.
“I don't care about their covenant,” Marcus snarled, his voice ringing with fierce, protective fury. He drove the shard of glass straight into his own palm, drawing a thick line of red blood.
He smeared the fresh blood across the pulsing black roots near his feet.
The reaction was instantaneous. The roots shrieked—a high-pitched, metallic squeal that vibrated through the foundation walls. The double standing in the kitchen doorway stumbled backward, clutching his chest as dark sap burst through the fabric of his gray henley shirt.
“Dad! Look at the laundry room!” Zuri screamed from the hallway.
Marcus scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his hand, and bolted down the dark hall.
Inside the laundry room, Maya was standing on top of the washing machine, her arms raised toward the ceiling vent. A thick, branching network of black roots had wrapped around her ankles, pulling her slowly upward into the dark drywall opening like a living vine dragging its prey into the earth.
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Marcus lunged forward, grabbing Maya around the waist with both arms just as the roots pulled her shoulders level with the ceiling hole.
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