Chapter 2 - THE VOICE UNDER THE FLOOR

Mara had not heard Lena’s voice in nine years, not since the river took her. Yet the sound beneath the floor was perfect.

“Mara… please.”

Caleb grabbed her wrist.

“That’s your sister?”

Mara stared at the trapdoor near the stove.

“No.”

“But you said—”

“My sister is dead.”

The voice came again.

Closer.

“Please. It’s dark.”

Mara forced herself to breathe.

Caleb stood too quickly and swayed.

Mara caught him.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I don’t care.”

A thin line ran from his ear.

Outside, the storm had truly stopped.

The silence was unnatural.

Caleb looked toward the window.

“We had ninety-mile-an-hour wind thirty seconds ago.”

“I noticed.”

The voice beneath the floor changed.

Now it sounded like Caleb.

“Mara, open it.”

Caleb went pale.

The real Caleb whispered, “That’s me.”

The cellar latch lifted twice by itself.

Mara backed away.

“What is under this cabin?”

Caleb looked at her.

“You know I bought the place last spring.”

“From who?”

“Old man Halverson’s estate.”

Mara remembered the name.

Everyone in town knew Ezra Halverson had disappeared fifteen years earlier. His cabin had remained empty until Caleb, recently divorced and eager to disappear from the world, bought it cheap.

A heavy knock came from below.

Then another.

The trapdoor jumped in its frame.

Caleb reached for the hunting rifle by the wall.

Mara stopped him.

“You can’t shoot a voice.”

“No, but I can shoot whatever makes one.”

The knocking stopped.

Silence.

Then something spoke from inside Caleb’s ear.

Not the wounded ear.

The other one.

A tiny whisper.

“She’s lying to you.”

Caleb froze.

Mara saw his eyes change.

“What?”

He slowly turned toward her.

“You heard that?”

“No.”

His face tightened.

“It said you’re lying.”

Mara stepped back.

“About what?”

Caleb’s voice lowered.

“About Lena.”

The cellar door slammed open.

A smell like wet soil and pennies flooded the room.

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And from the darkness below, dozens of whispers rose together.

“Come down.”