Eight

I sat on the floor, shaking. As soon as I closed my eyelids, I could see the beady eyes of those stuffed animals staring at me—and that furry paw. It had moved, I was sure of it. I kept telling myself that was impossible, that I must have been hallucinating. But I couldn’t convince myself.

When I opened my eyes and saw the shelves filled with books, that wasn’t exactly reassuring either. I started to think the taxidermy manuals were somehow moving on the shelves and were about to jump out at me.

I examined the walls once more, looking for a pipe. I was desperate for water. Even a few drops of condensation would have tasted delicious. But there was nothing more than old stones and mortar.

I reached for the screwdriver, which I had tucked in my back pocket, and that helped me start thinking clearly again. If I had used this to force the door open, maybe I could use it to force the doors of the elevator too.

But the elevator doors weren’t made of wood. They were metal. And so was the frame. There was nothing to jam the screwdriver into. I couldn’t even scratch the surface.

That was when the fluorescent lights went out, one by one.

No one could have switched them off. I was standing right by the switch, beside the elevator.

What’s more, the lights didn’t go out in the normal way. They seemed to explode, or rather implode, making a weird kind of popping sound. Pop, pop, pop…

Seconds later darkness swallowed me. My phone battery was nearly dead, and I was shaking like a leaf.