Chapter 7 - The Splintered Wood
A thick vertical crack split the center of the white door from top to bottom, releasing a gust of freezing air that smelled powerfully of ozone and wet soil. Buster scrambled backward, claws clicking frantically against the hardwood as he sought refuge behind Sarah's legs.
"Get back!" Vance ordered sharply, dropping his calm demeanor for the first time. He lunged forward, pressing the red button on his remote.
A sharp, high-pitched whine filled the room, like a charging capacitor. A lattice of glowing blue laser lines shot out from the floor around the doorframe, forming a geometric grid that locked the splintered wood in place. The door shuddered violently against the invisible barrier, a muffled, wet thud hitting the other side with enough force to rattle the pictures on the hallway walls.
Sarah screamed, burying her face in her hands.
"What is that thing?" Mark demanded, his voice trembling despite his anger as he stared at the glowing blue grid holding the door back.
"An isolation chamber installed during the 1974 municipal expansion project," Vance said, his breath coming in short, controlled gasps as he adjusted settings on the remote. "Most of them were decommissioned and filled with concrete. This one... was missed. Or intentionally left active."
"Left active for what?" Mark shouted, stepping up to Vance and grabbing him by the collar of his canvas jacket. "You knew about this! You and Henderson rented us this apartment knowing there was something trapped in the walls!"
Vance didn't flinch. He looked down at Mark's hand gripping his jacket, then up into Mark's furious eyes. "We didn't trap it here, Mr. Miller. We were assigned to watch it. And until tonight, the containment index was stable. But your dog—your golden retriever—has been scratching at the lower seal for three days, hasn't he?"
Mark froze, his hand loosening slightly on the fabric. "How do you know what Buster has been doing?"
"Animals have a frequency sensitivity we can't replicate with sensors," Vance said, gently removing Mark's hand from his jacket. "He didn't want to play with a toy, Mr. Miller. He was trying to dig a trench to let the pressure out. Because something on the other side of that door has been calling to him."
May you like
A low, melodic humming sound began to emanate from the crack in the door, vibrating right through the floorboards—a sound that sounded disturbingly like a human voice trying to hum a lullaby.
---
