Brian Keene - Urban Gothic

“Yeah, but we don’t know what’s ahead. Or where Heather is.”

“She’ll be okay. We’ll find her.”

“I hope so,” Javier said. “I don’t know what . . .”

His voice trailed off, choked with emotion. Kerri felt him trembling beside her. She touched his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered.

He glanced up at the ceiling and frowned. Kerri followed his gaze. A crude string of electrical cords and bare lightbulbs dangled from the ceiling. They didn’t look like part of the house. To Kerri, it appeared as if they’d been added as an afterthought.

“Weird,” Javier muttered.

She nodded.

Javier stood and helped Kerri to her feet. Moving cautiously, they tried the first door. It opened easily, revealing a brick wall.

Javier grunted. “What the hell is this shit?”

Kerri tapped him on the shoulder. “Do you think Heather came through here?”

“Through the wall?”

“No! Through this hallway.”

Javier shrugged. “She must have. I don’t see any more footprints, though.”

“Maybe her foot stopped bleeding.”

He turned back to the bricks and placed his palm against them. Kerri studied them, too. The mortar was cracked and covered with moss and mold, but the wall still stood firm.

“We can’t just stand here,” she said. “That thing could come back at any minute.”

Nodding in agreement, Javier started forward. The floorboards creaked slightly as they walked. They froze, waiting to see if the sound had attracted attention. The house remained quiet. Kerri pulled her lighter out and flicked it on again. Dust swirled around the flame. Moving on, they stopped at the next door, on the opposite side of the hall, and listened. Hearing no sound from inside, they opened it.

Kerri slapped her hand over her mouth and bit down, trying not to scream.

Beyond the door was a small room devoid of furnishings save for an old, rusty heater sitting against one wall—

—and the scattering of bones that littered the floor.

There was no question that they were human remains. The two and a half human skulls were a dead giveaway. The other bones were too big to belong to an animal—at least, any kind of animal that would be found in a Philadelphia ghetto. One of the hands still had a wedding ring on its finger. The flame from her lighter glinted off of it.

“Jesus.” Javier turned to her. His eyes were wide and wet. “Jesus Christ, Kerri. What the fuck have we stumbled into here? What is this?”

The scream she’d been suppressing turned into a giggle. The sound alarmed her, but she couldn’t help it.

“It’s like you said, Javier. Shit happens.”

Then the laughter bubbled over. Javier hissed at her to shut up. Kerri could tell by his expression that she was freaking him out. Hell, she was freaking herself out. But the laughter came anyway, and echoed off the walls.

It didn’t stop until another door on the other side of the hallway crashed open and a figure jumped out at them.

FIVE

Perry Watkins peered out his smudged window and shook his head. Behind him, his wife, Lawanda, made a clicking noise with her tongue and mirrored the motion with her own head.

“What the hell was that all about?” Lawanda’s tone was shaken. “I heard shouting. Those slingers fighting for the corner again?”

Perry shook his head harder, picked up an empty beer can, and spat a wad of phlegm into it. His heart was beating fast, and his knees felt weak and rubbery. The house at the end of the block had always had that effect on him. Had since he was just a little boy. Still did. Especially when someone went inside.

“Damn fools. That’s what it’s about. Goddamned fools.”

“Who?”

“Bunch of white kids. Looks like their car broke down or something. Leo and that group of kids he hangs out with tried to help them, but the white kids run off.”

Lawanda paused. “Which way did they run?”

Perry lowered his voice. “Guess.”

“Oh Lord.” Lawanda’s eyes grew wide. “No one goes near that building. Not if they want to live. Everyone round here knows that place is haunted.”

“Everyone around here ,” Perry stressed. “But I’ll be damned if them kids were from around here.”

“Come on, baby.” Lawanda pulled nervously at his shirt. “Get away from the window. Somebody might see you.”

Perry resisted the urge to pull away. “Who’s gonna see me? The ghosts in the house? They’re busy right now. They’ve got . . . company.”

“You know what happens when folks don’t mind their own business with that place.”

“What? You think they care about an old man looking out the window? They gonna come up through our basement? Get me while I’m sitting on the toilet? Bullshit, Lawanda. There ain’t nothing supernatural in that house. It’s just crazy, inbred crackheads.”

“Since when did you stop believing the stories about that place? After all the folks that have gone missing?”

“I ain’t saying I don’t believe. Sure, the place is dangerous. Spooky. But it ain’t monsters. Whatever it is that lives inside there, they don’t bother anyone unless folks go sticking their noses inside. It’s just like everything else in this neighborhood—the best way to stay out of trouble is to not get involved. Long as we stay out of it and don’t go bothering them, we’ll be alright. You know how it is around here. You’ve got to watch your back and take care of your own shit. If you don’t, sooner or later the street will get you.”

He pulled back the shade and peered outside again. He noticed that several of his neighbors were looking through their windows, as well—just as worried, just as perplexed.

Just as guilty of inaction as he was.

But what were they supposed to do? Storm in there with torches and pitchforks? It had been tried, and the neighborhood had paid the price in blood. Call the police or the fire department? That had been tried before as well, with even worse results. Picket city hall and demand action? Hell, city hall was part of the problem. They knew all about the house. They just didn’t care. Wouldn’t do to have something like that show up in the press. Not with its history—not with the string of murders and disappearances. No, city hall was content to sweep it under the rug, just like they did with all the other problems down here.

“Now if it was happening in the suburbs,” Perry muttered under his breath, “you know damn well they’d do something about it.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

“Nothing. Leo and them boys are coming back this way. They probably gonna steal the car.”

“You always think the worst of people.”

“Maybe I do, but can you blame me? Leo used to be a good kid, but he don’t come around no more. He’s probably into drugs. You know how all these kids down here turn out eventually. Rotten. Or dead. It’s like this place poisons them.”

“Not always,” she said, even as she nodded in reluctant agreement. “What are they doing now?”

“It looks like they’re . . . oh, hell no. They’re coming up on our porch. What the hell do they want? I ain’t getting involved in this shit.”

As if on cue, there was the sound of footsteps plodding up their porch stairs, followed by somebody beating on their door. It sounded like the knocker was using their fist. The door rattled in its frame, and the chain lock at the top jingled.

Still muttering, Perry rose from his seat. Lawanda grabbed his arm.

“Don’t answer it, Perry.”

He pulled his arm free. “If I don’t, they gonna knock the damn door down. Now stay here.”

The pounding increased—thunderous blows that seemed to shake the entire house.

“Hold your horses, goddamn it! I’m coming.”