The Quiet

I couldn’t keep the fear from my voice as I looked at Cari. She was staring down at the candle in her hands, almost like she was trying to see through the flame.

“Where do we go?”

Cari looked up at me and frowned. “I don’t know. Since he was in the house, he might still be here. I can’t even call anyone. I left my phone downstairs.”

“I did too. I can get them,” I told her.

Before she could tell me no, I crept down the stairs. I hoped there was a candle down here somewhere so I could see where the hell I was going. Luckily, someone’s candle was glowing on the table near the front door. That was enough.

I walked slowly toward the living room, grabbed our phones, and straightened up. I turned around to go back up to Cari, but something stopped me. I stood still and listened. All I could hear was the rain, thunder, and wind.

Somewhere behind me, a floorboard creaked. I spun around and slammed right into something. No, my brain corrected, not something – someone. You should have run when you had the chance.

As if reading my thoughts, the shadow said cruelly, “Should have run when you had the chance, Clayton.”

Then a fist collided with my face, sending me to the ground. I groaned, tasted blood, and spat some onto the floor. From where I was laying, I could see the stairs. If I could just get to them because he hit me again, I could lock both Cari and myself in a room.

“Not so fast.” The stranger grabbed my hair and yanked me up. Then he asked me something I wouldn’t answer. “Where is Cari Delgard?”

“Fuck you,” I hissed.

That was a dangerous reply to a madman.