The Night Has Teeth: Chapter 3

John reflects while being trapped in the attic about his marriage and the monsters down below.

Dust fluttered down into my face as I pulled the stairs to the attic down from the ceiling.

My body scrapped against the small opening as I pulled myself up through the hole and into the dark, musty attic.

Hundreds of pounds of muscle and teeth collided on the stairs on the second floor. They were coming, and I didn’t have much time before they would find the attic steps.

I leaned down through the hole and grabbed the stairs. I pulled with all my might, but the weeks of malnutrition and little to no sleep had taken their toll. I might as well have been Atlas holding up the world on my shoulders.

Teeth gnawed at the railings leading to the third floor. They were coming.

I pulled as hard as I could, stifling my agonized groans as I pulled the stairs up and slowly secured them into place.

The floor beneath me thundered as the clawed feet of the creatures filled the third floor. I could hear them ripping through furniture and tearing down doors as they looked for me.

I held my breath for longer than I had in my entire life. Even when Addy and I were teenagers, we bet all the money in our wallets to see who could hold it the longest, or the loser had to buy dinner. I went under the water at her family’s pool that summer night and went home with empty pockets. I couldn’t even hold it for close to a minute.

But time slowed down as I held my breath in that attic. I don’t think I inhaled or exhaled for three years while I listened to those things rip the memories we had created to shreds.

I leaned back onto the floorboards of the attic.

Turning slowly, I took stock of what I had up there.

One small window. A trunk of old clothes. Boxes of Halloween and Christmas decorations, as well as old photo albums.

I slid the bug-out bag under my head and rested on it like a pillow as the creatures tore through the house like a tornado.

How had they heard me? I wondered. If they didn’t have ears, how did they hear the bag hit the floor?

As a kid, I remembered seeing a horror movie about giant snake-like worms that could sense people’s footsteps. I figured that maybe, just maybe, the creatures could feel vibrations. It would make sense. It wasn’t until I had caused a ruckus with the fire poker that they had shown up. Besides that moment, I had been moving like a church mouse since Addy had left.

I closed my eyes as the scratching and clawing died down.

My thoughts drifted to Addy.

We met when we were freshmen in high school. We had both been placed in an advanced algebra class, even though I didn’t want to be there. I was good at math, but I hated it. So, every moment in Mr. Quick’s class was torture as I had to go through problem after problem on the board. And god forbid I’d get asked to go up and solve one. I had never sweated so much in my life. I wasn’t afraid of getting it wrong; I was afraid of being ridiculed by him if I got it wrong.

But not Addy Johnson.

Addy would walk up from the back of the classroom and take whatever Mr. Quick could throw at her. Any problem, any theorem…I admit I didn’t care at all about math. But I cared when Addy walked up to the board. I can’t even say it was an attraction at first. It was more like…wonder. Suppose that’s the best way to put it. Just walking, she effortlessly confronted this guy who, by all means, had pulled more sweat from students than the gym coach, Mr. Sternberg.

For a whole year, I sat in wonder at Addy. With every trip to the board, I realized that I was excited when she spoke, sad when she missed a class, and delighted when she had any excuse to talk to me.

I only sweated more than I did in Mr. Quick’s class when I finally asked her out.

It was raining. School had been let out early, one of those weird half-days I can’t remember. She was on her way to the bus when I stopped her at the curb.

I asked her if she was in a rush to get home.

She said only if she had a good reason.

I told her that there was a coffee shop four blocks away. We’d probably get soaked, but I’d make up for it with coffee.

She asked me if I was worth the effort.

I froze. At that moment, I couldn’t tell if it was the rain or the sweat that I had mentioned earlier.

She stared at me with a sweet little smile. While it felt like an eternity had passed, like time had slowed down, it sped back up when I finally mustered the courage to answer her.

“I hope so,” I said.

I woke up coughing and clamped my hand down on my mouth.

Silence.

The dust had kicked my allergies into overdrive. My eyes itched, my face ached, and my throat felt like I had swallowed steel wool.

I turned over slowly and placed my ear against the house's frame. Holding my breath, I listened closely to every creak and movement in the wood.

Nothing.

Only the tiny tremors from the wind that howled outside and shook the house with every large gust.

I slowly got to my hands and knees and retook stock of my bug-out bag. It hadn’t changed, but it was something I could control and do up in the cold, musty attic.

I reached into my pockets to pull out what I had stuffed in my jeans, but my phone slipped as I took it out.

My hand snatched it in midair, but the screen had lit up, and the notifications were right up front on the screen.

The green highlighted text of Addy’s audio message was right there, hanging like a phantom on the home screen. In a fumble, while I tried to prevent it from striking the wood and alerting the pale ones to my hiding spot, my thumb hit the notification.

The audio message started to play.

TO BE CONTINUED!

Want to read more books I’ve written? Click the link down below!