Chapter 4 - The Fourth Figure
Arthur’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird as he stared up at the television monitor. The camera angle was impossibly high, looking down from the corner near the shattered light fixture. In the center of the screen, Arthur, Elena, and Lily were huddled on the floor amidst the broken glass.
Standing right beside them, towering over Arthur’s protective crouch, was a tall man in a dark, oversized suit. The figure’s face was obscured by a heavy shadow, even though the kitchen was flooded with the bright light of morning. The man’s long, pale fingers rested casually on Arthur’s shoulder, right where Arthur’s own hand had been moments before.
“Arthur, look at me,” Elena pleaded, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look away from the screen. Her eyes were bloodshot, swimming with unshed tears. “There’s nothing there. It’s a glitch. The system has been hacked.”
“It’s not a hack, Elena,” Arthur whispered, his voice dead and flat. He pointed a trembling finger upward. “Look at the screen. Look who is touching me.”
Elena slowly turned her head, her gaze shifting to the monitor. Her breath hitched, cutting off mid-inhalation. Her pupils dilated into black voids as she stared at the tall, suited figure standing invisibly among them.
“Who is that?” Elena breathed, the sound barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.
“He’s the one who let us in,” Lily said softly. Her crying had stopped completely, replaced by a strange, unnatural calm. She leaned over, ignoring the broken glass, and picked up her stuffed pink rabbit, brushing a piece of sharp glass from its soft ear.
Arthur’s blood ran cold. He grabbed Lily’s arm gently, pulling her closer. “What did you say, Lily? Who let us in?”
“The man in the wall,” Lily replied simply, tilting her head with innocent curiosity as she pointed directly at the dark figure on the television screen. “He said we lived here before, before the fire.”
Arthur and Elena exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated horror. They had bought the house three years ago, completely remodeled, from a corporate developer. They were told the previous owners had simply relocated out of state. Nobody had ever mentioned a fire.
Suddenly, every smart-home speaker in the house crackled to life. A low, distorted rasping sound filled the kitchen, forming words that sounded like they were spoken from the bottom of a well.
“Welcome home, Arthur. Time to pay the rent.”
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The heavy front door at the end of the hallway slammed shut with a deafening crash, the deadbolts sliding into place by themselves with a series of heavy, metallic thuds.
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