As he started to nod off, he thought he heard Smitty upstairs. His head jerked up.
Be quiet, he thought. Don’t make any noise.
Of course, Smitty couldn’t hear his thoughts. Sherman didn’t want the thing to head upstairs and bother Smitty.
He should have brought Smitty down with him, but there wasn’t room in the cage for both of them.
The thing didn’t move. He felt it still watching him. Probably waiting for him to fall asleep and keel over so it could drag him to the bars.
He leaned the pipe in front of him for support.
There Smitty was again. It sounded like he was scratching on the back door.
Surely, the monster could hear it. If its sight was better than his, he expected its hearing to be better as well.
It didn’t seem to notice. It didn’t move its head to see where the sound might be coming from.
Lights from a car flooded the basement.
Sherman thought he heard a door slam shut. He was floating on the floor in the corner of the cage. His fingers were curled loosely around the PVC pipe.
He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see the shadow of the monster sitting on the other side of the bars, waiting for him to move out of the corner.
But he did.
It was still there.
The monster was looking around the room to see where the new light was coming from.
Sherman could hear the crunch of gravel. Two people. They didn’t sound like they suspected anything. With no wind and no light near that end of the house, they probably couldn’t see that the bedroom window was open, and the curtains wouldn’t be fluttering.
The crunch ended.
The lights turned off.
The front door opened.
The monster still didn’t seem to be responding to sound.
Sherman was sure that he’d be noticed if he shouted. No use getting attention just yet. Whoever was upstairs would soon realize that someone else was there. If he yelled, they’d think it was a foolish kid stuck in the basement. Might as well let them figure it out. Let the people upstairs be prepared for what they believed to be the worst. The monster would surprise them.
The door closed. Muffled voices came through the floor.
Probably discussing the rain gear he had left there.
Lights would be turned on.
They’d see the pad on the kitchen table.
Turn it on.
One of them would hear Smitty at the back door.
There was the back door opening.
Sherman could hear Smitty’s growl fade as if he were backing away from the house.
More voices. The talking seemed faster.
More lights would be coming on.
The monster tilted its head up and sniffed.
Sherman could hear its breath—deep intakes and slow exhales—capturing the scent, turning it over in its mind, and picking it apart, separating Sherman from the smells of the house to find the new smells.
Whoever was upstairs had been near the basement entrance. Their smell must have drifted down.
The shadow that was the monster elongated. Lengthened until it stood beside the cage.
It raised its arm and banged its hand against the ceiling.
It did a circuit of the basement, banging against the ceiling, mapping out the structure above, and perhaps hoping to feel where the smell might be coming from.
Whoever was upstairs would have heard or felt the bumps. Sherman hoped they didn’t run away as he had, though if that drew the monster away, he’d not be unhappy. He’d still have to figure out how to get out of the cage once the monster was gone.
Shouts were coming from upstairs now. Two different people running in two different directions. Sherman imagined he could feel the shaking, but his corner of the basement was solid concrete against solid ground.
The monster focused on the ceiling near the stairs.
Sherman wondered if they had a gun. Out here, away from the cities, people tended to have them hidden away as if they could take on a million government troops with a few dozen rifles. Even without weapons, the government would have overwhelming force.
A few minutes later, someone lifted up the basement door. There were a few footsteps on the stairs, and then light flooded the basement.
He heard snarls and shouts all mixed up. He covered his ears and tried opening his eyes to see what was going on. The light hurt. His eyes watered and squeezed shut.
Sherman felt the sound go through his chest before he realized it was a gunshot. His hands weren’t enough to protect his ears. He couldn’t hear anything now.
Blind and deaf.
Good thing he was locked in a cage where nothing could get to him.
He felt the cage door bang against the wall.
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