Chapter 11 - Footsteps Above
The heavy dragging sound echoed through the ceiling plaster directly above the bedroom, sounding like iron chains being dragged across dry wood. Lily rubbed her throbbing wrists, watching in stunned silence as Mark’s posture went rigid. The amber glow fading from her fingertips left behind a chilling numbness in her hands.
"Mark, don't go up there," Elena pleaded from the floor, her fingers tangled in her dark hair as she stared up at the ceiling with wide, panicked eyes. "That's what he wants. He wants to draw us out."
"We can't stay down here waiting for him to burn us out again, Elena," Mark growled, his voice laced with grim resolve. He gripped the heavy iron wrench tightly, the knuckles of his hand turning white. "He found where we parked the car. He knows the girl remembers. This ends tonight."
Mark turned and strode out into the hallway, his heavy boots marching toward the pull-down ceiling ladder located near the linen closet.
Lily scrambled to her feet, ignoring Elena’s weak cry to stay back, and crept out of the bedroom. From the hallway, she watched Mark reach up with a long wooden pole, hooking the metal latch of the attic trapdoor. With a sharp tug, the spring-loaded wooden stairs folded down, crashing into the hallway with a loud clatter that kicked up a thick cloud of dust.
A wave of suffocating, freezing air cascaded down the open staircase—a stark, unnatural contrast to the oppressive heat that had just radiated from Lily’s hands. The air smelled of old paper, rusted iron, and a sharp, sweet scent like burnt sugar.
Mark didn't hesitate. He placed his boot on the first wooden rung and began to climb into the pitch-black void above, holding the work lamp aloft in his left hand.
"Dad, wait!" Lily shouted, taking a step toward the ladder.
Mark stopped on the fourth rung, looking back down over his shoulder. His face was pale, illuminated by the harsh yellow glow of the lamp. "Stay down there, Lily. If I don't come back down in ten minutes, take Elena and run out the back."
"Mark!" Elena screamed, scrambling to her feet and rushing toward the stairs, but it was too late. Mark disappeared into the darkness of the attic, pulling the dim work lamp with him.
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The silence that followed was absolute. For thirty agonizing seconds, nothing moved. Then, a sharp, metallic screech echoed from above, followed by the terrifying sound of Mark shouting in pain.
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