I Live in Your Basement (7 page)

“But—but—” I sputtered. “You are not real. You were only in my dreams!”

Still smiling, Keith shook his head. “I’m real. Touch me.” He held out his
arm.

I hesitated. Then I reached out slowly… slowly… and squeezed his hand.

“Hey—!” I jumped back. He
was
real!

He laughed. “I told you.”

“But in my dreams…” I started.

“I used your dreams,” Keith explained. “I communicated with you in your
dreams. I put myself in your dreams.”

“Wh-why?” I stammered.

His smile faded. “I wanted you to know that I was here. Waiting for you.”

I didn’t like the cruel expression on his face. I didn’t like the way he was
talking.

He frightened me.

He was
trying
to frighten me, I suddenly realized.

My heart thudded in my chest. The side of my head began to throb.

I took a step back. My legs hit the edge of my mattress. And I tumbled onto
my back on the bed.

Keith quickly stepped up in front of me, blocking my way, keeping me from
climbing to my feet.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Marco,” he repeated, his eyes hard and cold.
“Because you’re going to take care of me. For the rest of your life.”

“No—!” I shouted.

I squirmed to the side and tried to jump up.

But he was too fast for me. He moved quickly to block me.

I stared up at him in fright. “No. No way!” I repeated shrilly.

“You’re going to do whatever I say, Marco,” Keith insisted. He leaned over
me, threatening me.

“Go away! You don’t belong here! You’re frightening me!” I blurted out.

“Get
used
to it!” he hissed. He leaned closer, so close his face was
nearly touching mine.

“Get used to it, Marco,” he said through clenched teeth. “You have no choice.
I’m here. I’m real. I live in your basement. You have to take care of me now.
You have to take care of everything I need.”

“Nooooo!” I let out a horrified howl.

And spun out from under him.

I dropped to the floor on my knees. Then I scrambled past him and jumped to
my feet.

He whirled around, and I saw the anger in his dark eyes. He uttered a fierce
growl.

“Where are you going, Marco?” he demanded.

He didn’t wait for an answer.

He pounced. Like an attacking animal.

I dodged away from him. Then I staggered backwards to my desk.

If only I could get to the bedroom door.

But he hunkered in the middle of the room now, panting like a wild creature,
his eyes blazing.

Blocking my path.

With another low growl, he started toward me again.

I searched the room. Searched for a way to escape.

Searched for a weapon. Something to keep him away.

“You can’t get away from me, Marco,” he cried. “You’re going to take care of
me—forever!”

He dove for me again.

I leaned back against the desk. My hand tightened around a paperweight. A
big, heavy stone owl that Gwynnie had given me for my last birthday.

As Keith leaped, I swung my fist with the owl paperweight.

And slammed Keith in the head with it.

His dark eyes bulged in shock.

His mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

He slumped to the floor. Collapsed in a heap. And didn’t move.

“Keith—?” I called down in a tiny, quivery voice. “Keith?”

He didn’t move. His eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling.

“Keith—?”

I let the heavy stone owl drop to the floor. And then I crouched down beside
the still body.

“Keith? Keith—?”

“Oh, noooo,” I moaned. “What have I done?”

“Keith—?”

I shook his shoulders. His head bounced on the carpet. His eyes stared up at
me glassily. They didn’t blink.

“Nooooo!” I let out another terrified moan. And jumped to my feet.

The room spun around me. The floor tilted and bobbed. My head throbbed.

I stumbled to the door. I planned to call Mom for help.

But I turned back before I reached the doorway.

And saw Keith start to change.

“Huh?” I uttered a gasp. And stared down at him in shock and horror.

His features—his eyes, his nose, his mouth—melted into the flesh of his
face. Then his head slid into his neck.

Like a turtle pulling into its shell, Keith’s head disappeared into his
shoulders. His arms and legs slid into the trunk of his body.

His clothes fell away.

The skin on his body glimmered and turned milky, like the skin of a snail or
a slug.

As I gaped in shock, the body began to wriggle across the carpet. It flopped
wetly, heavily toward me.

I gasped as I saw the thick trail of yellow slime it left on the carpet
behind it.

And then, before I could force my trembling legs to move, the spongy, wet
creature rose up.

Stretched…

And wrapped itself around my waist.

“Unnnnnh.” I let out a sick groan of disgust. Its sour aroma shot up to my
nostrils, choking me. Its sticky wet flesh tightened around me.

I opened my mouth to scream for help.

But it choked off my air.

The odor… so foul and heavy. Wave after wave of it washed over me like some
kind of poison gas.

I tried to kick the creature.

But my sneakers sank into the soft, gooey slime.

I punched with both fists. And tried butting it with my head.

My punches made wet
SQUISH SQUISH
sounds as my hands disappeared into
the spongy body.

It was like battling a slimy, sticky sponge.

I tried wrestling it. Bending it back. Back…

But the foul-smelling goo stretched.

Stretched over me. Over my face.

So warm and sticky. Pulsing.

It wrapped around my head.

Covered my face. Covered my nose.

The warm, sticky slime slid up my nostrils.

I—I can’t breathe! I realized.

I’m going to suffocate inside this thing!

I knew I didn’t have much time to free myself. With a burst of strength, I
swung my head back.

But the warm goo moved with me. Pressed tighter against my face. I could feel
the sticky slime climbing up my nose, into my mouth.

I had to get help. But how?

I stumbled forward. Could I walk? Could I push the heaving, spongy creature
with me?

If I could get downstairs…

My heart pounding, I forced myself forward.

Butting against the heavy blob, pushing, digging my knees into its flesh as I
struggled to move.

Yes! I took a step. Then another.

Was I through the bedroom door?

I stared through the creature’s milky flesh. Stared right through its thick
body.

The house was a shadowy blur on the other side.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest began to burn. I couldn’t hold my breath much
longer.

I had to keep going!

Pushing, butting it, forcing my legs to take another step… another step… I made my way down the hall with the creature over me.

Yes. Yes. Every step taking me closer to help.

Yes…

And then suddenly my feet lifted off the floor. I tumbled forward.

Falling! I was falling down the stairs.

The sticky creature bounced beneath me, cushioning me like a foam rubber
pillow.

Down… all the way down the stairs.

We bounced hard together at the bottom.

My head jerked free from the sticky goo.

I gasped in a mouthful of air. So cool and sweet. My lungs about to explode.

I sucked in another long breath.

And then the slime covered my face again.

I tried to roll free. But it stuck to the front of my body, wrapping itself
tightly around me again.

I kicked off from the wall. Bounced forward.

Through the hall. Into the kitchen.

Mom—where are you?
My desperate question.

Mom—are you home? Don’t you hear me?

The creature clung to my face, to my chest. Its foul odor swept over me. A
wave of dizziness made me slump to my knees.

No!

I forced myself up, carrying the weight of the spongy wet creature.

Across the kitchen. Peering through its glassy body.

Up to the kitchen counter.

And slammed it into the sharp counter edge.

I backed up—and pushed forward again. As hard as I could.

SLAM!

I drove the slimy creature into the edge of the counter.

Again. Again.

Pushing with all my strength. Then backing up and shooting forward again.

SLAM! SLAM!

Its body made a sharp squishy sound with each blow.

But it clung to me tightly, clung to my face, shutting off my air. Clung to
me until I could feel my strength fade away.

One more try. One more slam into the counter.

I shot forward as hard as I could.

I heard a loud
SPLAAAT.

And to my shock, the spongy warm goo fell off my face.

Dropped from my chest. Dropped to the floor with a heavy
PLOP.

Gasping, sucking in air, panting so hard, my chest ached, I stared down.

And saw
two
of the milky slime creatures.

I had cut it in two.

The two halves throbbed wetly on the kitchen linoleum. They bobbed helplessly
like fat insects on their backs.

“Mom—”
I choked out. In only a whisper.

“Mom…”
No sound. I couldn’t force out a sound.

I reached my fingers into my throat—and pulled out a thick chunk of slimy
goo. Gagging, I heaved it into the sink.

“Mom—!”

Where was she?

I heard a voice from somewhere in the house. From the den?

“Mom?”

Was she talking on the phone?

Couldn’t she hear me battering the slime creature against the counter?
Couldn’t she hear me calling to her?

“Mom—?”

I staggered toward the door.

But I took only a step.

Before I could move farther, I felt something tighten around the legs of my
jeans.

“Ohhhh!” I lowered my gaze—and saw
both
halves of the spongy slime
creature wrapping around me.

I kicked out one leg. Then the other. But they clung tightly. And stretched.

Two of them now. Spreading their sticky, warm bodies up my jeans, up the
front of my shirt.

I grabbed at them with both hands. And pulled.

But my hands slid off their shimmering wet flesh.

“Mom—! Gwynnie—! Somebody—help!”

They swept over my face. Two of them. Two of them now.

So heavy.

I fell to my knees. Then sank onto my back.

So heavy… the two of them were weighing me down.

As I thrashed and slashed at them, squirming and kicking, they melted. Melted
back into one.

And spread around me. Pressing me inside.

Until I was trapped inside.

No air left… no air.

And then, staring helplessly through the thick slime, I saw something move
across the kitchen.

Someone moving quickly. A blur of color.

Mom?

Was she in time?

Could she pull me out of this disgusting creature?

I gazed up at her from inside the thick, milky body.

Hurry, Mom.

I can’t breathe.

Don’t you see me here, trapped inside this goo?

Hurry.

Staring hard at the blur of color, I saw her run up to the creature. Saw her
stare down, hands raised to the sides of her face.

Pull me out, Mom!
I urged silently.

Pull me out—now!
I pleaded.

But, no.

She just stood there.

Stood there and watched as my last bit of breath escaped my lungs.

“Get up, Marco,” Mom ordered. She lowered her hands and pressed them against
her waist.

“Get up, Marco,” she repeated sternly. “What are you doing on the floor?”

“Huh?” I gasped. “Mom—help! I’m trapped inside this thing! I can’t
breathe!”

She stared down at me, frowning and shaking her head. “Marco, this really
isn’t the time for dumb games. Will you please get up off the floor?”

Games?

“Don’t you see?” I cried. “Keith’s head disappeared, and he turned into a big
hunk of slime. I tried to get away, but he swallowed me and—”

She turned away from me and walked to the sink. I heard the water start to
run.

“Mom—?”

“I’m starting to worry about you, Marco,” Mom said in a low, steady voice.
“You’re not making any sense. Now,
get up.
I don’t want you rolling on
the floor like a baby!”

I sat up and gazed around.

“Hey—!” I let out a startled cry.

No slime creature.

I rubbed the floor with both hands. The floor was perfectly dry.

I’m having another dream, I told myself.

The glob of slime wasn’t real. Our wrestling match down the stairs didn’t
happen. The whole thing was another disgusting dream.

I’m not sitting on the floor in the kitchen. I’m asleep in my bed, dreaming
this.

And now I’m going to wake up and end it.

Wake up!

Wake up, Marco! I ordered myself.

I climbed to my feet. Mom was at the sink, drinking a tall glass of water.

Wake up, Marco!

If this was a dream, why couldn’t I escape from it?

I turned—and slammed my forehead into a cabinet.

“Owww!” The pain exploded in my head, shot down my neck, my back.

“I’m
not
dreaming,” I murmured out loud.

Mom turned from the sink. “What did you say?”

“I’m not dreaming,” I repeated, feeling dazed.

“At least you are standing up,” Mom replied. She studied me. “Does your head
hurt, Marco?”

Yes. It hurt because I slammed it into a cabinet.

But I said, “No. I’m fine, Mom.”

And then I ran out of the kitchen. I had to get out of there. I had to think.
I had to be alone and figure this out.