Page 90 of D for Dead

‘Amy! Goddammit.’

‘It’s okay.’ Danielle still looked unsure. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Good girl,’ Leslie smirked. ‘Now off you go.’

* * *

Five minutes passed, rolling into ten, then fifteen.

They knew Danielle was in the house; the back door had been unlocked and she’d given them the thumbs up before gently pulling it closed behind her.

Troy watched and waited, his heart beating anxiously. She should be out by now.

Then came the scream: one long bloodcurdling scream, followed by silence.

The twins and Amy looked uncertainly at each other.

‘We should go.’ Leslie Rooney wasn’t sounding so confident anymore.

‘And leave Danielle?’

‘She’s messing with us, Amy. I’ll bet she screamed to scare us and she’s probably on her way back to town.’

‘It came from inside the house.’

‘You don’t know that for sure.’

The girls continued to argue. Crystal was complaining she was tired and wanted her bed, while Leslie tried to convince them all it was a trick.

Amy was insistent they couldn’t leave without Danielle and after much heated whispering Leslie came up with a compromise.

‘If you’re so sure she’s still inside, Amy, why don’t you go and find her?’

‘What?’

‘You heard me. You go find Danielle.’

Leaving the girls to fight, Troy snuck his way through the trees round to the back of the house. He was curious to find out what had happened to Danielle. It was odd she hadn’t reappeared. The backyard was open, leading straight into the woods. Maybe Leslie was right and she had managed to sneak out, ditching the other girls.

He spied the one open window Leslie had talked about. It would have been easy for her to get out and make a run for the woods. Light came from another window towards the end of the house. The curtains were open and the flickering shadows dancing across the yard suggested a television was playing. Curious, Troy approached. Although he was a little afraid, he had an urge to know what the Johnson place looked like inside. Was it homey or as creepy as it looked from the woods?

He crossed the backyard and felt his way along the wall to the window, peering inside. The living room was sparse, with two old-fashioned chairs, a threadbare rug and a television set, lit by a large table lamp on the floor beside the door. There was no sign of Mr Johnson. Perhaps the man was in the kitchen making snacks. Troy liked snacks when he watched TV. Popcorn mostly and it had to be the sweet kind. He passed the window, made his way round to the side of the house and nearly tripped over the hatchway door rising up out of the overgrown grass. Drawing a deep breath he steadied himself, studied the door, wondering where it led. A cellar maybe?

And then he did something crazy. He tried the door to see if it opened.

For a moment it stuck. The way the grass had grown over the door, it probably wasn’t used much. He yanked again, harder, nearly falling over when the door sprang back. He glanced into the hatch, saw three stone steps; the rest disappeared into darkness. This was stupid. He wasn’t gonna go down there.

He toyed with going to find the girls, tell them what he’d found, but knew Leslie Rooney would kick his ass if she realised he had followed them. Reluctant, but scared to go into the hatch alone, he started to close the door. Perhaps he should try it with some of the other kids; come back with safety in numbers. He did want to know where the door led to. It was about to drop shut when he heard the whimper.

Troy froze, catching his breath.

The sound came again: low, guttural and terrifying. And it came from below the hatch.

His heart raced as he tried to think clearly. He should go find the girls, run home and call the police. But what if it was nothing? What if it was something stupid, maybe a cat or a dog, or his imagination? He would be made to look a fool.

Slowly, he eased the door back open. Down in the darkness he thought he could hear sobbing.

What if it’s Danielle? What if she has fallen and is hurt?