The Return

21

Sam and I shared a glance as we listened to the heavy footsteps thundering towards us from a distance. They were much too loud to be coming from someone Jake's size.

"That's not Jake, is it?" I asked.

"No," Sam said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We need to move and we need to move now."

I pulled myself up off the ground and turned to Sam. Which direction were we supposed to run in? I couldn't remember where we'd come from, and I couldn't tell which direction the footsteps were echoing from.

"Come on," Sam whispered, slinking off to the right. I followed him at a brisk walking pace, but we had broken into a soft jog before long.

"What are we doing?" I asked. "What about Jake? What about the others? They have to be almost awake by now."

I imagined Corey and Colby, waking up only to find that we weren't there. Except, wait a minute...

"Never mind. I've never seen an alarm get either of them out of bed," I realized.

"I'm just hoping that's not a cop down here," Sam replied. Oh, shit. I hadn't even considered that.

We continued to jog, the footsteps always sounding the exact same distance away. Close enough to hear a sneeze, too far away to be seen, yet strangely heavy. Maybe it was a cop, wearing some heavy duty boots or something? I did not need to get arrested. I wondered if that was a breach of contract for Chanel. My heart rate was already fast from the jogging, but I felt it begin to rise more. I could not get arrested.

"Vanessa," Sam said, holding out his arm to stop me.

"What?" I asked.

"Look. Footprints. In the dirt," he replied with a point down at the ground. "Except they're...," he trailed off.

"Small," I said, shortly. I stared down at the dimly lit footprints in the loose dirt. They couldn't have been from anyone older than 10.

I suddenly remembered the last time we'd seen something like this. Back at the asylum, when we'd first walked in, I had spotted a child's handprint on one of the windows. Now we were seeing a child's footprint on our way to resolve our unfinished business at the asylum? The timing couldn't possibly just be a coincidence. No way.

"Sam," I began uneasily. But, before I could get my words out, I heard a faint call.

"Sam!" it yelled out, barely reaching our ears. My head jerked around. That had come from behind us.

"Jake!" Sam screamed. "Jake, we're here! Keep talking!"

"Sam!" it called again. It was so distorted and echoey that it was hard to tell if it really was Jake, but if Sam thought it was him, I had to believe it too. We turned around and began jogging toward the voice, only for Sam to jut his arm out again shortly after. I looked around at where he'd stopped me—we'd taken a break right under the only burnt out lightbulb I'd seen down there.

"Can we not do this in the dark?" I asked.

"No, Vanessa, look!" Sam said. He pointed at the dirt wall, but it was so dimly lit that I struggled to see anything else.

"The wall?" I asked.

"No, no, the panel," he said. He reached out his hands and began scraping dirt away with his nails, clawing forward.

"Sam!" the voice called again. It was coming from right behind the wall. I lunged forward and began helping Sam pry the dirt away from whatever panel he'd managed to notice in the dark. As we dug and dug, it was revealed to not be a panel, so much as a short door.

"Jake, we're right here!" Sam said.

"Thank god," said a different voice. From behind us.

Sam and I whipped around, only to find ourselves face to face with Jake.

"Oh!" I said, startled.

"Jake! Are you okay? I heard you calling for me," Sam explained.

"I didn't call for you. I didn't even know you came down here. I figured you would be waiting at the top," Jake explained. "But boy, am I glad I found you guys. I've been hearing these loud ass footsteps for like, twenty minutes. Thought it might be a cop."

"Wait, wait," I said.

"If you're here," Sam said, pointing at Jake.

"And you weren't calling Sam's name," I continued.

"Oh! Guys! I've got this," Jake declared, clearing his throat. He held up his large hands in a dramatic fashion. "Then who did?" he added, finishing our thought.

"More like who—or what—is behind this door?" asked Sam. We all stood quietly for a moment.

"Is that something we need to unpack right now?" Jake asked. "Cause we could just say fuck it and go to bed. Sometimes it's okay to just leave it be."

"Uh, yeah, about getting to bed," I started.

"We're, uh....a bit lost," said Sam.

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It took us about an hour and a half of wandering through the dim, dusty tunnels before we saw a crack of light coming through the panel we'd removed in the freezer. Thank god.

"Where's this lead?" Jake asked.

"To the deep freezer in the kitchen," Sam explained.

"Oh, shit," said Jake. "That sucks."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because we're not supposed to be down here. And the kitchen is probably open now," he said. Damn it. It probably was.

Jake took a few steps toward the patch of light, but froze when we heard the freezer door open. We watched a pair of black clogs stop directly in front of the hole, go up onto their tippytoes to grab something, and leave the freezer. I held my breath until the shoes were gone.

"Shit," I said. "They're open."

"Don't you worry," Jake said. "I have a plan."