then the calculator fried itself two minutes later. The look on Rex’s face at that moment was almost worth losing the calculator, but Jack didn’t have anything to do with it breaking. How could he have?
Jack’s ponderings were cut short just as he was emptying a pail of water out the window. He heard something behind him. Something way back on the deep side of the floor. A sound almost like bubbles. A sound like something was coming up from the water.
“Hello?” Jack called back from the window.
There was no answer.
Jack waited a minute, then tried to shake it off. “Probably just some air bubbles,” he told himself as he started back down the stairs. No big deal.
Then he heard the dripping. Heavy dripping, like water running off a person’s body onto the floor. Like a large person stepping out of a bathtub. Or a swamp.
“Hello?” Jack called out again, a little more scared this time. “Is anyone down there?”
The reply was footsteps—watery footsteps from all the way down on the dark side of the basement….
Splish, splash. Splish, splash. Splish, splash.
There was no question about it. Somebody was definitely down there.
Jack walked with his pail to the flooded side of the basement. He stood at the doorway of a waterlogged classroom. “Who’s down here?” Jack called out with all the courage he could muster.
Again, he heard footsteps. Splish, splash. Splish, splash. The sound was coming from another room down the hall. Jack’s first thought was that Rex and his cronies weremessing with him, but everyone was supposed to be out on the field trip. So, who was down there? Slowly and carefully, Jack walked after the footsteps, following the sound.
He was sure the noise was coming from a classroom down near the deep end of the hall. He followed the noise to another warped doorway and looked inside to find dead quiet and an empty room. He checked a few more rooms but found nothing each time. The footsteps were gone. Jack decided it was just his imagination. He filled his bucket with water and started back toward the rickety wooden staircase on the dry side of the floor.
A door shut behind him. Jack turned around with a jump and dropped his bucket. An old, creaky door dragging several inches of water with it had just closed itself at the end of the hall. This was not his imagination.
Most of the classrooms were connected by interior doorways, so Jack had no way of knowing which door had just mysteriously shut. He stared down the hall, looking for a clue. The dim light from the windows flickered ever so slightly off the surface of swirling water at the very end of the hallway. Something was down there. Jack picked up his bucket and started inching down the corridor intoankle-deep water. The closer he got, the better he could see the water churning about, like someone had just slipped beneath its surface. He reached the stairwell, the very place where the swamp was flooding in from below. A lone banister was all that remained to mark the location of the staircase. It reached out from the murky depths in a futile gesture to escape the swamp.
Jack sloshed through smelly water to the open doorway at the stairwell. It was a doorway to both the staircase below and the depths of the swamp.
Jack was scared enough to keep his distance but curious enough that he had to find out what was down there. If Jack had known what was lurking below the surface, he would have run the other way as fast as his feet would take him. That wouldn’t have mattered, though. It had followed him this far already. It had followed him across the swamp, up through the lower levels of St. Barnaby’s, and right up to the basement stairwell, where it could feel Jack’s presence. It was so close. Just on the other side of the water.
The time had come.
Jack was staring into his own blurry reflection in themurky water when the image was dispelled by a grabbing hand reaching to clutch at his wrist.
“AGGHH!” Jack yelped, backing
Jack’s ponderings were cut short just as he was emptying a pail of water out the window. He heard something behind him. Something way back on the deep side of the floor. A sound almost like bubbles. A sound like something was coming up from the water.
“Hello?” Jack called back from the window.
There was no answer.
Jack waited a minute, then tried to shake it off. “Probably just some air bubbles,” he told himself as he started back down the stairs. No big deal.
Then he heard the dripping. Heavy dripping, like water running off a person’s body onto the floor. Like a large person stepping out of a bathtub. Or a swamp.
“Hello?” Jack called out again, a little more scared this time. “Is anyone down there?”
The reply was footsteps—watery footsteps from all the way down on the dark side of the basement….
Splish, splash. Splish, splash. Splish, splash.
There was no question about it. Somebody was definitely down there.
Jack walked with his pail to the flooded side of the basement. He stood at the doorway of a waterlogged classroom. “Who’s down here?” Jack called out with all the courage he could muster.
Again, he heard footsteps. Splish, splash. Splish, splash. The sound was coming from another room down the hall. Jack’s first thought was that Rex and his cronies weremessing with him, but everyone was supposed to be out on the field trip. So, who was down there? Slowly and carefully, Jack walked after the footsteps, following the sound.
He was sure the noise was coming from a classroom down near the deep end of the hall. He followed the noise to another warped doorway and looked inside to find dead quiet and an empty room. He checked a few more rooms but found nothing each time. The footsteps were gone. Jack decided it was just his imagination. He filled his bucket with water and started back toward the rickety wooden staircase on the dry side of the floor.
A door shut behind him. Jack turned around with a jump and dropped his bucket. An old, creaky door dragging several inches of water with it had just closed itself at the end of the hall. This was not his imagination.
Most of the classrooms were connected by interior doorways, so Jack had no way of knowing which door had just mysteriously shut. He stared down the hall, looking for a clue. The dim light from the windows flickered ever so slightly off the surface of swirling water at the very end of the hallway. Something was down there. Jack picked up his bucket and started inching down the corridor intoankle-deep water. The closer he got, the better he could see the water churning about, like someone had just slipped beneath its surface. He reached the stairwell, the very place where the swamp was flooding in from below. A lone banister was all that remained to mark the location of the staircase. It reached out from the murky depths in a futile gesture to escape the swamp.
Jack sloshed through smelly water to the open doorway at the stairwell. It was a doorway to both the staircase below and the depths of the swamp.
Jack was scared enough to keep his distance but curious enough that he had to find out what was down there. If Jack had known what was lurking below the surface, he would have run the other way as fast as his feet would take him. That wouldn’t have mattered, though. It had followed him this far already. It had followed him across the swamp, up through the lower levels of St. Barnaby’s, and right up to the basement stairwell, where it could feel Jack’s presence. It was so close. Just on the other side of the water.
The time had come.
Jack was staring into his own blurry reflection in themurky water when the image was dispelled by a grabbing hand reaching to clutch at his wrist.
“AGGHH!” Jack yelped, backing
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