The Open Door (9 page)

Another camera signal down, and this time
there wasn’t even a glimpse of what had caused the damage.

Petrified, Scott and Cody stared at the dead
screen, uncertain of what their next move should be.

Only one camera remained that could possibly
capture the image they so desperately sought out: camera-two, which
aimed directly at the entrance to their room.

At that point, they had no idea if this thing
was still in the basement, or if it had already made its way
upstairs to continue stalking them.

Leaving the room was no longer an option.
They were stuck—waiting.

Pouring with sweat, hair matted to his head,
and eyes about to pop out of his squinty eyelids; Cody nearly lost
his mind with anticipation until remembering that they had an
escape route. “The window!” Cody said, as he rushed to pull the
window open.

Scott was too focused to respond to Cody’s
sudden glimpse of hope. He needed to keep watch on the visual aid
that guarded the gateway to their stowage.

Camera-two still focused at the door they
barricaded. Scott watched its perspective, while from his
peripheral vision, he could see Cody shaking frantically with his
entire body, trying to pry the window open.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask Cody what
was the matter, or if he needed any help. Scott’s senses were
distracted by what he feared was a dangerous if not deadly enemy
within the very dwelling he then occupied.

“Scott! Help! The window is stuck!” Was all
Cody could muster in his panicked condition.

Still focused on the monitor, Scott gave no
reply to Cody’s cries for help. He would have to find something to
smash the window with if it wouldn’t open, but Scott could not take
his eyes off of the monitor. He needed desperately to see what it
was he was dealing with. More than a morbid fascination, it was an
obsession.

Exhausted, Cody took a moment to catch his
breath. Still waiting, motionless and silent, Scott watched for the
much anticipated arrival of what might explain the many unanswered
questions that festered in his brain.
Reveal yourself to me;
he thought over and over, as if by doing so he would summon the
entity for a face-to-face encounter.

Pulling and pounding on the filthy web
covered window, Cody looked back at the monitor.

“See anything? Let me know if you see
something! I’ll smash the window with the flashlight! I’m
serious!”

“Nothing yet. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely
let you know.” Scott replied.

Except for a breeze outside, the house was
quiet. The roof creaked, and the tree limb tapped an uneven beat on
the window, but there was nothing stirring outside the bedroom
door.

Cody gave up on pulling the window open. It
had remained closed for too long, and was stuck.

With flashlight in hand, Cody waited by the
window, catching his breath, and gathering his strength for when he
might need to smash his way outside.

Over two hours had passed by, and still
nothing. They knew it was still in the house with them, but they
didn’t know where, and they weren’t about to investigate.

They had two choices: stay in the room until
sunrise, or go through the window and into the backyard.

“Cody?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry man, I didn’t mean to ignore you
earlier. I was just focused.”

“No sweat. Don’t worry about it. I—“

Cody stopped mid sentence while looking at
the monitor. Looking to see what had stopped him cold, Scott too
was speechless. It had been rendered completely black. The camera
looked to be still functioning, but they could no longer make out
the hall or the door—everything was pitch-black.

“It’s there, blocking the camera! We’ve gotta
go!” Said Cody.

“Don’t smash the window! Not unless the door
moves! Just wait!”

Not wanting to persuade the unknown entity
into entering our room, Scott thought it best to remain still and
not panic. Breaking the window prematurely may have caused it to
rush the bedroom door.

With any luck, maybe it would leave them
alone. Then again, what if it could sense them? Smell them like a
half-starved wolf? What if its hearing was so intensely keen, that
it could hear their whispers, their breathing— sense their
fear?

They still wanted to see the thing, but had
no desire to find out its true intensions.

The monitor was still black, and they
couldn’t detect any movement outside the door.

Suddenly, there was a methodical but subtle
scratching at the door. The noise was long and painfully slow, as
if it meant to torment them with the sound of the scraping.

They sat silent and motionless, praying it
would go away. Drawn out clawing noises went on for minutes, and
then stopped. They looked at each other—both anticipating something
horrible—looking for the other to show strength or hope, but
finding nothing but fear in each other’s eyes.

They both shook frantically, still staring at
each other, waiting for the door-handle to turn, but there was
nothing.

The screen on the monitor was still black,
but the scratching had been over for a few minutes. They began to
breathe normal again—heart rates dropping—eyes still unable to
blink—mouths so dry the white mucousy stuff formed into a thin
crust.

What was seemingly an endless night, and most
certainly sleepless, came to an end. Sunrise was upon them at last,
and a new day brought hope. Hope that whatever was outside their
door would be gone, never to bother them again.

Hope that they could leave the nightmarish
world they found themselves in—behind.

After only receiving a few hours of sleep
during their highly stressful two-day stay, Scott and Cody were
exhausted.

“It’s 7:30 in the A.M. Rise and shine!” Cody
said sarcastically.

“Funny, but seriously, we need to get some
sleep this afternoon, even if it means driving somewhere.” Driving
somewhere sounded like a good option—actually. Driving . . . never
looking back . . . never returning.

They again checked the monitor, which was
still black as the night. “There’s no way that thing stood in front
of the camera all night.” Cody said.

“I’m not sure we should open the door; is
that what you’re implying?”

“I’ll open it quickly, and you cover me with
your gun. We need to get out of here, and I’m curious about the
camera. Besides, we need to try and recoup as much equipment as
possible, or you’re going to have to pay for it.”

Cody made a good point, Scott couldn’t
replace all of the equipment, and he too was curious as to why the
camera went blank, and why the thing scratched the door.

Are there claw marks? How wide . . . how
deep are they? Maybe there’s a new message etched in the wood, done
by a grotesque, discolored fingernail—much the way the psycho,
possessed lady had done.
Scott desperately needed answers to
the questions flooding his mind.

He moved the freezer away from the door while
Cody mentally prepared himself for the unexpected. Scott stood by
ready to raise the .45 and fire, while Cody gripped the cold steel
of the door handle—pausing to look back at Scott. Scott gave him
the nod to go ahead—Cody turned the handle and jerked the door
open—jumping out of the way as fast as he could. Raising the gun
after Cody cleared; he first focused down the hall where the camera
was positioned. Cody peaked his head around the corner and out the
door to see what Scott was looking at.

“Oh Lord!” Cody stuttered, nearly coughing up
what little food remained in his stomach.

A blood-soaked, matted head of a black cat
had been forced onto the camera lens. In no way was the job clean;
someone or something had ripped the head off. Blood and bits of
brain that had ran down the body of the camera were now a dried
sticky ooze with flies all over it—laying eggs that, by midday
would be maggots.

The left side of the cat’s head was distorted
as if something had gripped it too hard and caused it to cave in.
Its right eye was bulged out of its socket, and its jaw was barely
attached, causing it to hang abnormally low and crooked.

Looking at the ground for bloody footprints
or other signs, they noticed wood shavings at the base of the door.
Slowly moving their eyes up the length of the door, they realized
what all of the scratching had been. At about eye level was some
type of intricate writing, but they were unable to make out what it
said. The script was clearly in another language, and unlike
anything they had ever seen before. Scott took pictures of the
writing in hopes of showing them to experts that could shed light
on the meaning and origin.

“We’re dealing with something that’s
intelligent enough to write in some foreign language, and yet is
barbaric and strong enough to rip a cats head off while crushing
its skull. Great!”

“Let’s gather what we can, and pack it in my
car. I’ve got enough to do some research, and if we ever come back
here again, I now know to better prepare.”

“Next time? There’s no next time for me,
brother!”

They safely and quickly gathered all of the
equipment they could, and loaded the vehicle. They made sure to
stay together and watch each other’s backs, and by 3:00 P.M. they
were ready to leave.

As Scott started to drive away, a Sheriff’s
car came around the corner and stopped in front of them. A deputy
stepped out of his vehicle and approached them while his right hand
rested on his holster—ready to draw. He was tall and lanky with a
well trimmed mustache, mirrored aviator sunglasses, a neatly
pressed uniform, polished boots, a badge that was rubbed to a
mirror shine—blinding actually, and a face so serious it looked as
though it would crack at any attempt to smile.

Rolling down his window as the deputy
approached, Scott decided to be proactive and speak first.
“Afternoon sir!”

Not in a mood for conversation, the deputy
got right to the point, “Why are you parked in front of this home?
His mannerism was stern, his voice cold, almost robotic—void of
emotion.

“I used to live here, so we dropped by to
check it out. Obviously we’re a little disappointed at the
condition of the neighborhood. Do you have any idea what
happened?”

“About ten years ago something polluted the
water in this area rendering the drinking water and soil highly
toxic. A few people got sick, one died, and everyone moved out.

The area was fenced in with signs posted, but
that was all torn down about a year ago after the soil tested
negative for toxins, and an investor bought the entire neighborhood
for redevelopment.”

“What exactly polluted the water?”

“I was never told, so I can’t tell you that.
You guys need to clear out of here; these structures are all
condemned and deemed unsafe to enter.”

“Yes sir, and thank you for the information.
Have a good day.”

The deputy gave no reply; he just stared,
waiting for them to obey his orders as if they were family
pets.

As they drove away, Scott and Cody watched
the deputy and the house in the side mirrors until they faded away.
The deputy stood still, like a cold lifeless mannequin, and watched
them until they were out of site.

“We’re lucky he didn’t search us.” Cody said
with a sigh of relief.

“At least we know why the neighborhood was
abandoned, although I doubt he told us everything he knows.”

“Yep! He was definitely holding back
something. But I do agree with him, we should never set foot in
that house again.”

Cody was right, and Scott knew it, but he
also knew the day may come when he would have to return in order to
complete the puzzle.

Exhausted, Cody barely made it to his front
door after Scott had dropped him off at his house. Dragging his
feet, head down, walking like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, Cody
looked pitiful—Scott couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible.
At least he would sleep well tonight.

There was still time to return the equipment
he had rented, some of which he needed to pay for due to the damage
it received by the wicked hands of the unknown.

After returning the equipment, which took
some time due to the damage assessment, Scott headed home. Opening
the front door, he sat his bags down and looked at the two stained
indentations still present on the wood floor. Nearly two years had
gone by since the possessed woman entered his home and nearly
ruined his life. Neighbors had called the police when they heard
the screaming and gunfire. When the police finally arrived, they
immediately took Scott’s firearm and placed him in cuffs. He
thought for sure he would spend life in prison for murder.

There was zero evidence that he did the
damage to her knees, jaw, and neck, and the woman that the demon
decided to possess had a long history of violent crimes, resulting
in a few felonies and a warrant for her arrest, along with a
history of mental illness.
Demons sure know how to pick
’em!