The Attic (Completed)

Chapter 18

Mike stood in front of the portrait of Auguste and gripped a pair of keys in the palm of his hand.

One was the key he'd just now foraged from Lily's dresser, and the other was a key he'd discovered weeks ago under a floorboard in the hallway where Auguste's body had been found. After the body was taken away, Mike noticed a loose one-foot section of board, and not wanting it to worsen and become a tripping hazard, he set about repairing it straight away. He retrieved his tools, removed the piece, and startled to find a golden key lying in the gap.

The first thing he'd done was tried it in the warden lock of the trunk in the attic.

But it didn't fit and he was terribly frustrated; for the entire time he'd been working for Auguste as a handy man, he'd been searching for the key to that trunk. Many nights over the years, Auguste went up to the attic and stayed there for hours at a time; or stranger still, even several days at a time. Mike had investigated only to find nothing of interest but the locked trunk. His curiosity was not to be appeased until he'd finally taken a look in the trunk himself.

He had a hunch that the key in Lily's room that morning—which she'd claimed to be for her diary—might just be the key he'd been searching for. It was physically identical to the other, but the cut was different.

When Lily had tripped over the flat stone that ended up being the lid to a manhole leading down into a vat room, Mike was certain he'd found the mother lode: Auguste's hidden treasure troves. He returned to the room this very morning, on his own, and spent two full hours trying to open them. He was experienced with reprogramming codes in gated communities and hoped he'd have the same success here. The keypads were a product by a manufacturer he'd dealt with several times before and he knew how to access and change the master codes; that is, if they hadn't been changed by Auguste. He began experimenting and found that five of the vats had indeed been changed; but the sixth vat, in the middle of a row of three, had beeped—letting him know the master code hadn't been altered. He reprogrammed the code and punched it in.

There was a moment of great anticipation as the light on the digital keypad switched from red to green. But as the lid slid open like elevator doors, he found the vat to be empty.

Aggravated to tears and running out of time, he left the vat room, determined to return later when he had more time to crack the codes of the other five vats. He then went to town to run some errands and picked up the bouquet of flowers for Lily.

He could not believe his luck when he'd found that key on her bedroom floor, and feigned indifference when she picked it up and said it was hers.

There were many delays with the rain and the power outage and having to clean up the mess in the workroom, but now that he was alone, his priority was to open the trunk.

Mike stuffed the keys into his back pocket and reached out for the painting, intending to press down on the bottom right hand corner: but something jolted within him and pecked at his insides.

He paused and waited for the indigestion to pass—but the pain intensified and radiated outward from his stomach—his face flushing with fever.

Suddenly parched and desperate for water, Mike reached for and gripped the railing and descended the staircase, rushing down the corridor toward the dining room and kitchen. The little sparks of pain had turned to red-hot flames—consuming him from within.

With a cry, he fell to his knees and rolled across the floor, clawing at his belly.

The fiery fingers in his midsection found their way to his spinal cord and climbed up to his brain. Convulsions seized him and he foamed at the mouth, eyes rolling back in his head. A numbing coldness started in his fingertips and toes and spread up his arms and legs into his back—extinguishing the fire and leaving his body devoid of any sensation at all. The cold crept into his brain and choked out the last bit of fire.