The Stairs

Edith was sprawled on the stairs, bleeding from numerous wounds. Brandon was slumped below her. He had picked free the axes and knives plunged into his torso, but the saw blade in his chest was stuck. Craig used the guardrail of the stairs as a crutch, his knee still bleeding from the railroad spike wound. They didn’t have much time to act before something else would come after them.

Edith gazed up at him with one good eye. “You did it, Craig.”

He pointed down the stairs. “Let’s move, if you can.”

Brandon’s father offered a hesitant thumb’s up, though three of his fingers had been severed clean. The rubber mat squeaked under their feet. Brandon only carried one Browning—one of Craig’s—due to his damaged hand. Edith abandoned the flame thrower pack. She was too damaged to carry the weight. Craig had kept hold of the remaining shotgun.

They walked the rest of the way to the solid steel double doors. “Well, this is it.” Craig sized up the door. Blue-white arcs of electricity shot up and down the entrance.

“Hurry it up,” Edith demanded. “Dr. Krone’s on his way.”

He aimed the gun at the door. Ba-bam! The connections issued sparks from the door, but it failed to unlock.

The electricity crackled along the walls and stairs in branching lines. Brandon fired at the door to the same dismal effect. Steps pounded from the head of the stairs, loud and incoming. The foundation rattled beneath them. Wooden beams splintered and cried in protest to an unknown, incredible weight. The stench of death arrived. Female laughter—laughter he recognized—reverberated down to them. Plaster rained in pockets from the ceiling from the pounding of incoming steps.

He gave up on the easy solution. “The guns aren’t going to open the doors.”

Edith wildly shook her head. “Then what?”

The threats were echoing down to them—

“You owe her an apology.”

“I see your father in you, Craig.”

“You abandoned me when I needed you the most.”

“You care to slam that barstool over my head again, asshole?”

“Come to Christ willingly…come to Him.”

“I’ll feed you to the monsters in hell—you won’t dine and dash in my restaurant, Mr. Horsy!”

“I’m just an easy fuck to you, Craig.”

Dr. Krone had enlisted everybody in the fight, Craig realized. Brandon turned from the stairs to Craig. The Browning was directly aimed at him.

“This was all a fucking trick,” Craig gasped. “You were never on my side.”

Edith’s eyes refocused on him. Her mouth was a pink slit, menacing and grim. “I told you, Mr. Horsy, you wouldn’t win. You can’t. I’m at the helm. The machine grants me everything. I keep feeding it souls, and it keeps feeding me strength. Soon, I will have control over you, and that’ll be another soul for the machine. Eventually, the boundaries will expand well beyond this house.”

Ba-boom!

He ducked in time. The shot meant for him pinged against the steel door, and the double doors separated. Shadows spread over the bottommost steps. The villains of his mind hadn’t arrived, though they were seconds from showing themselves. He charged through the doors, threw them shut, and had just enough time to blockade the entrance before he witnessed the secret in the room.