Chapter Two

Rachel wasn't sure what to expect when she turned her key in the lock and opened the front door. Strangely enough, the smell had barely been at the forefront of her mind even while she taught her tenth graders on the topic of diffusion and osmosis. Instead, the thought crept up on her during quiet moments: whenever she went to the bathroom and especially during her lunch break. She found herself in a semi-observant state, trying to find the connection between the smell and her uncle. Uncle Markus was a devout Christian who never failed to make an appearance at the church's Sunday Service. He was always honest, sometimes to his own detriment, and almost always to the detriment of others, which resulted in him having very few friends. She remembered him fondly, mostly at twelve years old, seeing him sleeping upright on the bed in the guest room, the Bible usually open to some chapter on the bed beside him, and his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose while a half empty bottle of rum was sitting on the nightstand.

He's never smoked a pack a day in his life, so why him? She shook the thought from her head while standing in the living room doorway with the sun behind her. Her heart was on the verge of leaping from her chest before she realized it was only her shadow on the floor.

Silly Gilly, quit being so goddamned silly.

She briefly shook her head as if to rid herself of her mother's superstitions and stepped inside to examine the area. The smell was gone. Not faint like when she examined the area in the morning before work, but gone. She had the faintest sensation the whole episode from the night before had been a dream and maybe what she had smelled in the morning was nothing more than a consequence of that dream, no different from a lingering smell associated with a specific childhood memory. She decided it was best not to explore any further, picked up the bowl of peanuts still sitting on the coffee table and tossed them in the kitchen waste bin. The pink iridescent clouds slowly sailing eastwardly across the evening sky caught her eyes through the kitchen window, and this time she decided to take that stroll.

Rachel switched on the lamp and thought of the mantra she had made when she first moved in. Bolt the front door, check the kitchen and the bathroom windows, and check that fucking lock on the backdoor before bed.

There was no mistaking it this time, despite her efforts, someone was definitely inside, and having a laugh. As if the bed springs were tuned to an electric guitar, she snaked her way from under the covers and opened the bedside drawer, taking out the pink comb, meanwhile the sound was still out there, not a cough or a knock this time, but something too big to ignore, and it sent nervous jitters all across her body.

Are those fucking footsteps?

Decked out in her gray running shorts and sports bra, she resembled more of a fitness instruction than a woman on the verge of the unknown. She was trying and failing to make sense of it all, as the sounds seemed to be rising and then falling, getting closer and then father and farther away.

Fucking footsteps, fucking footsteps.

It was if the intruder was on an exercise program, running from the kitchen to the passage and back again. As she neared the door the thought crossed her mind to phone the police.

And tell them what Silly Gilly? By the time they get here he will be long gone, you're not that helpless little girl anymore. You can take him, fuck him in the eyes.

Her breathing was labored by the time her hand made its way around the doorknob. The footsteps were heavier now. Much heavier. As clear as a tap dance in steel toe boots in small room. She squeezed the knob and turned it, feeling her whole body tense like a balled up fist ready to fly. She yanked the door open, and slashed and screamed at… nothing. There was absolutely… nothing. Nothing but the looming darkness of the passage that led to the bathroom and the living room. The sounds had stopped, instead, the howling from outside took center stage with a new terrifying meaning and a wave of panic struck her in the midsection as she staggered back with strange unbelieving eyes locked on the passageway. At some point she lost the comb to the carpet and staggered back until she was touching the wall beside the bed. Besides the howling from outside and her own labored breathing, there was only silence and the faintest smell of smoke.