David Morrell - Creepers

"Where?" The professor wavered in pain, supported between Vinnie and Rick.

"The only place we can go. Down. One thing's sure, we can't stay put. Passive is dangerous. Passive means we lose . "

Balenger led the way. He returned to the corridor and paused at the FIRE EXIT door he'd opened, scanning his lights down a narrow, cobwebbed stairway. As everybody joined him, he tugged down the zipper on his Windbreaker, reached inside, and pulled out the pistol.

"Oh, Christ, a gun," Cora said.

Rick stared at him with deep hostility. "Who are you?"

"Your guardian angel," Balenger said. "Now keep quiet. Walk as softly as you can. Don't let them know where you are. For now, the only lights we need are mine."

"Hey!" the first voice yelled from below. "I asked you to tell us more about those gold knives and forks."

Balenger eased down the narrow stairs. He tested each board, fearful that the steps would collapse. Cora came next, then Vinnie and Rick edging down sideways, supporting the professor. Their shoes thumped. Their jackets scraped against the walls. The combined sound of everyone's breathing was amplified in the stairwell.

Balenger reached a closed door at a landing, presumably the entrance to the fifth level. Was anyone hiding behind it? Would someone step out after they passed? Feeling dizzy, as if he dropped from a great height, he shut off his flashlight and holstered it. Then he took off his hard hat and held it away from him at head level. With the light angled toward the door, he stepped back, pressed himself against the wall, tucked the gun under his belt, and used his free hand to open the door a crack. Then he drew the gun and used its barrel to nudge the door the rest of the way open. All anybody would see was the light. Someone on the other side would attack it, thinking it was above his head when actually it was away from him.

Nothing happened.

Balenger's palms were moist. His stomach felt hot. He peered beyond the door, seeing a deserted hallway. Nothing appeared wrong or out of place. With a nod of momentary relief, he put on his hard hat, then followed the downward continuation of the stairs. They seemed darker and narrower, more smothering.

Behind him, the professor groaned, his good leg barely holding his weight as Vinnie and Rick eased him down the steps. Too loud, Balenger thought. He's making too much noise.

Then he heard other noises, the footfalls of one or more people climbing the stairwell.

"Ssshh," he told the others. Halting, he strained to listen. Yes, someone was climbing toward them, but he didn't see any lights, which meant that whoever made the sounds was still far below. It also meant that his own headlamp was for the moment not visible.

He saw another door. Ten steps below him. Partly open. Suddenly, he realized that this was the door to the fourth level, where Vinnie had fallen through the rotted section and where they'd seen the white cat for the second time. The partly open door was how the cat had gotten onto that level.

Balenger crept down the ten steps, opened the door all the way, and waited tensely for the others to follow him into a hallway. The moment the group entered, he shut the door and guided everyone around the hallway's corner, hiding them on the balcony. When he extinguished his headlamp, nearly absolute darkness enveloped them. The exception came from the skylight three levels higher, faint moonlight filtering past swiftly passing clouds.

"Don't move," he whispered. He concealed most of his body behind the balcony's corner while he aimed along the hallway toward the unseen door. Moments passed. As time lengthened, his mouth became dry, as if someone had rubbed a towel around his tongue, the roof of his mouth, and the inside of his cheeks. The heat in his stomach spread.

He heard wary footsteps, then the rustle of cloth. He saw faint lights beyond the bottom of the door. Now the creak of wood was replaced by the scrape of hinges. The door came open. As lights probed the hallway, Balenger ducked fully behind the balcony's corner.

"Think they're in there?" the first voice whispered.

"Don't see any sign of 'em," the second voice said.

"I'm telling you they're still above us," the third voice said.

"Then what are we waiting for? It's party time."

The footsteps crept higher. The lights dimmed, then disappeared.

Balenger peered around the corner. They'd left the door open. From this angle, he could see their receding lights. As soon as he estimated that the three were far enough away, he would take a position on the stairs, aiming upward, providing cover while Vinnie, Rick, and Cora got the professor down the rest of the stairway, into the tunnel, and out of the building. We're almost finished, he told himself. Close. It was awfully close. But in a half hour, this'll be over.

Now, not even the slightest reflection from the lights was visible. Time to get going. He raised his hand to turn on the headlamp, then stiffened. The heat in his stomach was replaced by a surge of ice shooting along his veins, almost paralyzing him. A floorboard made a noise in the darkness. Not from behind him. Not from the group or from his own movement. The sound came from the floor in front of him.

He realized that they hadn't all gone up the stairs. Someone was standing in the darkness before him.

Alarms jangled in his mind. He remembered that he hadn't seen lights when he'd peered over the balustrade and shouted down to the whistler. At home in the dark. We like it here, the voice had said. What did that mean?

Again weight shifted on the floor. Balenger aimed at the sound.

Abruptly, a hard object crashed down on his gun hand. The unexpected impact shocked him, the pain making him groan. The gun was twisted from his hand. Something drove into his stomach, doubling him over, breath rushing from his lungs. His feet were kicked from under him. As he landed hard on the side of his head, a shoe rammed into his side. He rolled in the darkness, crashing against a wall.

"I got him!" a voice yelled.

" Who said that?" Cora called.

"And I got something else! A gun!"

Balenger heard the slide being racked, someone making sure a round was in the firing chamber. Damn it, they know how to handle firearms.

"Frank," the professor managed to say. "What happened?" He sounded helpless in the gloom. "Are you hurt?"

Footsteps rumbled down the stairs. Two people charged onto the balcony. But as Balenger peered up through pain-blurred eyes, he didn't see any lights. Have I gone blind? he wondered.

"Friggin' smart," a voice said.

"I told you it would work."

"You're ahead of me," a third voice said. "Let me give him a kick to catch up."

"As soon as we know who's who and what's what."

Why can't I see their lights? Balenger thought frantically. What happened to my head? At home in the dark. We like it here.

"What do you want?" Rick shouted.

"For you to shut up," the first voice said.

Balenger heard a groan. Someone struck the floor hard. Was it Rick?

"You won't let me hit anybody," the third voice said. "But you go ahead and whack the shit out of them."

"Okay, okay, the next one who doesn't listen, you get to play catch-up."

Balenger's head ached. He had the confused sense he was spinning in the darkness.

"Uh!" Cora shouted. "Somebody touched me!"

"Only us ghosts."

"I want all of you on the floor," a voice said.

"You heard him! On the floor!"

Vinnie groaned and fell. Then the professor, wailing in pain as he landed, no one there to hold him up.

"Take off your knapsacks," the first voice ordered.

"Stop touching me!" Cora yelled.