Read Online The Beast of Barcroft by Bill Schweigart - Free Book Online
Authors: Bill Schweigart
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don’t know
.
His quick glance around the basement revealed that it was identical to his own, structurally at least. There were a couple of windows, but they were small and their lowest edges were four feet off the ground. He would never get through them quickly enough to avoid a knife in his back. The only way out was up. Past her. Or through her. He tightened his grip on the railing.
He had never been more terrified, not even face-to-face with the cougar. At least then he was out in the open. Then he could have screamed and someone might hear. But this, he thought. This was a dungeon. Though it was just after dawn, it was still entirely dark in the basement save for some faint light coming through a transom window across the room. And it occurred to him that he had flushed the meds that might have kept him calm. There was no more of an outside-looking-in feeling, the clinical distance they afforded. He was in this situation, fully present, unbearably so, for the first time in months. His panic threatened to overwhelm him until he felt a familiar rush. His old friend tapping him on the shoulder. Anger.
He wedged the end of the railing against a stair a few steps below her feet, then swung the full weight of his body to the left. The railing bent around a support column a third of the way up its length. It did not give.
He heard the woman back a step.
“What are you doing?”
He swung the full weight of his body around the fulcrum of the support, grunting. The basement came alive with sounds. The squealing and skittering of rats fleeing. When it did not give, he tried again, yelling. He heard it splinter, then cranked on it madly until the long spear of a railing gave way to panic, adrenaline, and rage. Now it was halved, a more manageable length. He brandished it like a club, and with his other hand, pointed the flashlight at her.
“Lady, I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here. I’m leaving and if you try to stop me I will break this over your head and leave you to the rats.”
“You’re trespassing.”
“Trespassing? Who the fuck are
you
?”
“I’m her mother.”
“Bullshit,” he said, but he dropped his club an inch. “I heard her mother died in a crash or something.”
“Her father too, but I raised her. I’m her mother. We’re blood now.”
“So why are you dressed like you’re in a cult?”
“You’re in my daughter’s house. I don’t answer to you.”
“Look…I saw the cat in the window. I thought it was trapped and I just came in to set it free. That’s all.”
“The cat.”
“Why else would I be here?”
“I don’t understand why any of you did what you did to Madeleine.”
“I didn’t do shit to her. Turn on the lights.”
“No electricity.” Again, the smile. It gave him the shivers.
He shone the flashlight quickly around the basement again. Most of the rats didn’t even bother to flee it now. He was the intruder. The makeshift fire pit in the center of the basement drew his beam for a second, but he could not afford to let it linger. He pointed it back up the stairs.
As soon as she backed away from the rectangle at the top of the steps, she would be out of sight. She could be around any corner then. He hated it, but the best way to keep a knife out of his neck was to get her into the basement with him, where he could see her.
“All right. Come down.”
“You come up.”
“I don’t trust you, you don’t trust me. One thing you
can
trust is that I want out of this dungeon.”
“I’m not taking a step with that light in my eyes.”
It seemed a fair concession. He trained the beam at her center mass instead of her face.
She walked down the stairs, knife at her side. He kept the beam trained on it as he moved deeper into the dark interior of the basement. He backed to the rim of the fire pit, making room for her. When she reached the bottom, where he had landed in a heap, he backed in a semicircle around the pit, putting it between the
.
His quick glance around the basement revealed that it was identical to his own, structurally at least. There were a couple of windows, but they were small and their lowest edges were four feet off the ground. He would never get through them quickly enough to avoid a knife in his back. The only way out was up. Past her. Or through her. He tightened his grip on the railing.
He had never been more terrified, not even face-to-face with the cougar. At least then he was out in the open. Then he could have screamed and someone might hear. But this, he thought. This was a dungeon. Though it was just after dawn, it was still entirely dark in the basement save for some faint light coming through a transom window across the room. And it occurred to him that he had flushed the meds that might have kept him calm. There was no more of an outside-looking-in feeling, the clinical distance they afforded. He was in this situation, fully present, unbearably so, for the first time in months. His panic threatened to overwhelm him until he felt a familiar rush. His old friend tapping him on the shoulder. Anger.
He wedged the end of the railing against a stair a few steps below her feet, then swung the full weight of his body to the left. The railing bent around a support column a third of the way up its length. It did not give.
He heard the woman back a step.
“What are you doing?”
He swung the full weight of his body around the fulcrum of the support, grunting. The basement came alive with sounds. The squealing and skittering of rats fleeing. When it did not give, he tried again, yelling. He heard it splinter, then cranked on it madly until the long spear of a railing gave way to panic, adrenaline, and rage. Now it was halved, a more manageable length. He brandished it like a club, and with his other hand, pointed the flashlight at her.
“Lady, I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here. I’m leaving and if you try to stop me I will break this over your head and leave you to the rats.”
“You’re trespassing.”
“Trespassing? Who the fuck are
you
?”
“I’m her mother.”
“Bullshit,” he said, but he dropped his club an inch. “I heard her mother died in a crash or something.”
“Her father too, but I raised her. I’m her mother. We’re blood now.”
“So why are you dressed like you’re in a cult?”
“You’re in my daughter’s house. I don’t answer to you.”
“Look…I saw the cat in the window. I thought it was trapped and I just came in to set it free. That’s all.”
“The cat.”
“Why else would I be here?”
“I don’t understand why any of you did what you did to Madeleine.”
“I didn’t do shit to her. Turn on the lights.”
“No electricity.” Again, the smile. It gave him the shivers.
He shone the flashlight quickly around the basement again. Most of the rats didn’t even bother to flee it now. He was the intruder. The makeshift fire pit in the center of the basement drew his beam for a second, but he could not afford to let it linger. He pointed it back up the stairs.
As soon as she backed away from the rectangle at the top of the steps, she would be out of sight. She could be around any corner then. He hated it, but the best way to keep a knife out of his neck was to get her into the basement with him, where he could see her.
“All right. Come down.”
“You come up.”
“I don’t trust you, you don’t trust me. One thing you
can
trust is that I want out of this dungeon.”
“I’m not taking a step with that light in my eyes.”
It seemed a fair concession. He trained the beam at her center mass instead of her face.
She walked down the stairs, knife at her side. He kept the beam trained on it as he moved deeper into the dark interior of the basement. He backed to the rim of the fire pit, making room for her. When she reached the bottom, where he had landed in a heap, he backed in a semicircle around the pit, putting it between the
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