It seemed to come from below, but Sherman didn’t remember a basement.

Basements were challenging to build around here. The ground liked to flow down towards the river. It was slower than molasses, but over the years it would shear the basement from the rest of the house. Houses were built to float—houseboats on land.

The bump came from under his feet.

If there was a basement, then there must be a way in. If he wanted to know what might be down there. It might be why the family left, or it could be why they might come back.

He looked around for a flashlight. He didn’t want to carry the kerosene lamp if he could help it. He didn’t like fire. His parents lit the lamps when a bad storm came through in case the power went out. He was always afraid someone would drop them or knock them over. He stayed away from them.

He pulled a chair over the fridge and looked on top. There weren’t any flashlights, but there was a big square spot in the dust where one might have been. A circle was also there for the lamp.

The bump came again.

The chair seemed to shake with it.

He climbed down and moved the chair back to the dining table. There had to be a pantry somewhere nearby. It would have some food and might even have a flashlight. If he were lucky, there’d be some batteries around as well.

In the hallway was a door he had assumed was for the furnace. It had the slats for an air intake and was near the center of the house, but it also had a regular door knob.

Inside were shelves lined with jars of preserves. Jams and jellies. Peaches and pears. Some of the pears were green and labeled “mint.” Others had cinnamon and other spices with them.

On the floor was a large bag of dry dog food. Sherman didn’t remember seeing a dog in the yard, so the family must have taken it with them. He filled a few plastic bags he found on one of the shelves. Smitty might not enjoy it, but he’d eaten it before. It would keep longer than anything from the freezer.

The bump came again, louder here than in the kitchen.

The floor felt like it had kicked up a bit, too.

There wasn’t anything that looked like a trap door. The carpet was seamless to the wall. There was stuff on the floor under the shelves.

He didn’t want to wait to see what might be bumping the floor. It would be night soon, and he needed to get back to Smitty with the food.

On the top shelf was a single flashlight. The kind that took the big twelve-volt batteries. It gave off a feeble light, but it would have to do. A fresh cell was beside it. Sherman took both and returned to the kitchen.

He placed the bags of dog food and the battery in his backpack. After shouldering it and putting his rain gear back on, he unlocked the back door. No use climbing back out the window if he could go out the door.

The bump came again.

This time, it followed him as if it were aware that he was there.

He ran from the back door to the open gate. Whatever was causing the bumping shouldn’t be able to follow this far if it was in the basement. If it could dig through the ground, running wouldn’t do much other than tire them out.

He paused at the gate and listened.

Nothing but the drizzle falling on his rain gear.

#

Back at the shack, Sherman took off his raincoat and set his backpack down in the corner, away from Smitty and Bop. He’d take up the watch from Bop after he fed Smitty and ate some of the fruit. Tomorrow was another day, but he had enough for now.

Smitty watched him without getting up.

Sherman dug the venison from the bottom of the backpack and unwrapped it. It wasn’t a lot, but it was red meat. It would give Smitty the protein he needed to heal and gain strength.

Smitty ate it in a few gulps.

“Something’s out there,” Sherman said.

Smitty looked up at him.

“Not sure what it is, but I’m not going back to that house.”

At least only when Smitty was stronger.

They’d have to keep moving, even if Smitty weren’t ready yet. If whatever was under the house got out and followed him here, they’d be in trouble anyway, so they might as well put some distance between them. That would give the rain more time to get rid of his scent.

The light was fading. It is best to save the flashlight for an emergency. He sat it on the floor beside him and leaned into the corner for support. He didn’t feel tired, but he knew he would once he relaxed.