Attic Leak

Arnold tried to refresh the screen of his work tablet, but he knew why it wasn’t taking him back to the dashboard. Another call was being added on him, with no apprentice, at 5:48 in the evening. He grabbed the phone from the cup holder and quickly navigated to the ‘shop’ contact, trying to catch them before the job was submitted. The phone rang in his hand, beaten to the punch. He squeezed it until the plastic shell began creaking from the pressure, stopping just shy of breaking it. Exhaling slowly, he slipped into his best impression of a loyal company man.

“Hey, I was just about to call. Boards clear, I’m headed back to the...” He started to say, before being cut off. 

“Oh, actually, that’s what I was trying to stop,” Ray said on the other end of the line, “We’ve got one more quick one for you, on your way in.”   

“What is it?” Arnold asked. You weaselly little sack of shit! He thought. 

“Some kind of leak in the attic. Customer was pretty vague but desperate for us to get over tonight, even with the overtime charge.”  

The job came through on the tablet as Ray spoke, the address was in the next town, forty minutes out of his way. Arnold clenched his fist. Ray said something else, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his teeth grinding in his ear.

“That’s not on my way in.” He paused for a second, no acknowledgment. “But I can take a look at it. Isn’t Steven down that way?” Arnold asked, already knowing the answer.  

“Yeah, he was, but he came in before we knew he was done, and we both know it wouldn’t be a quick job for him,” he chortled, as if they were in on the joke together. 

“OK, I guess I’ll head that way, but I’m probably gonna be out until after nine,” Arnold responded flatly. He wasn’t going to be sharing a laugh with this asshole, but he also couldn’t blow up on him like he wanted or there’d be another talk about his ‘attitude at work’ in the morning.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m working late too, and I know how it is out there, but...” Ray started. 

Arnold hung up the phone, once again resisting the urge to crush it. He slammed it back into the cup-holder. He could pretend tomorrow that he hadn’t heard him or lost the call, but tonight, he was done listening to Ray’s bullshit. The time change wouldn’t be for another couple of weeks, and the sun had already started to set. He shook his head, even more irritated as he pulled away from the curb.

One of the good things about having no apprentice was that he had full control of the radio. He cranked the radio, classic rock blared out of the one working speaker. Rolling down the window, he lit a cigarette and pulled off onto a small county road. It would take him a little longer this way, but if they were going to make him work overtime, he was going to make sure he got paid. Sunset still started early, but the days were starting to warm up, and the plant life was blooming again. Trees and plants, now green and filling out, made the road feel like a tunnel. The days were warmer, but the nights would still get into the low fifties. The evening air was cool as it blew through the cab. He smoked the first cigarette down to the butt in just a couple of minutes, another in his lips and lit as he blew out the smoke of the first. He was way too agitated to talk to the customer with even a minuscule amount of civility and needed to take the edge off.

A little over fifty minutes later, he pulled onto his destination street. It wasn’t much extra time, but his overtime would be a little hit to the profit on this call. The street was in the only affluent neighborhood in town, well-manicured lawns on either side led to a large cul-de-sac with the more opulent houses at the end. The house he pulled up to was somewhat smaller than the rest, and one of two single-story houses on the street. The lawn was unmown and a great deal taller than the rest, the bushes were overgrown, and some of the other general upkeep had been neglected. It wouldn’t have been noticeable in most neighborhoods, but here, it was a ruin in the middle of a jungle. He parked out front. There were no lights on inside or out, and no car in the driveway. He looked at his tablet and double-checked the address, he was at the right place. He hadn’t noticed before, but there was no customer phone number or contact information listed. Arnold got excited. It was likely a vacant house needing some work before being listed. If nobody was home and he couldn’t contact the owner, that would be the end of this call. Ray had probably gone home right after they got off the phone, so there would be no more ‘on your way in’ shit. Arnold got out of the truck, the air had gone from cool to cold, and the wind cut through his work shirt. Turning to grab his work jacket, he noticed warm light spilling out of a big bay window from the house across the street. A nice-looking family sat inside at their dinner table. Arnold was envious. He made decent money as a plumber, but nowhere near enough to afford a house like that, and he was rarely home early enough to be sitting down for dinner at this time. Arnold looked at the man sitting at the head of the table, who was staring at him. Arnold, being a good company man, smiled and waved. It was hard to make out, but Arnold thought the man had an odd look on his face. From here, it seemed like confusion. Theatrically, Arnold rubbed his arms to signify that it was cold out and threw his jacket on. The man gave a halfhearted little wave while continuing to stare at Arnold.

“Alright, freak,” Arnold mumbled to himself and turned back around.

 After looking at the neighbor's house, he realized how unkempt this yard really was. Wouldn’t look this way if I could afford it, he thought. There was no time to sit here and fantasize, though. He zipped his jacket up and walked to the door. 

Arnold rang the doorbell, waited a few seconds, then knocked on the door. A couple of minutes went by with no answer. Excited, he turned to walk away, but saw what looked like movement way back in the darkness of the house as he did. Dammit, please no, he thought. He had waited long enough. He continued walking back to the truck, doing his best not to run. He only made it a few steps before he heard the dreaded noise of a deadbolt snapping back and the seal of a door being broken. He came to a stop, trying not to let his head drop in disappointment. Wiping the disappointment from his face, he turned back around. 

“Hi, I’m Arnold with Royal Plumbing, you…”, He trailed off. There wasn’t anybody on the porch or in the doorway, but the door was open, the house still dark. 

“A leak, I have a leak,” replied a voice from inside. It sounded like a middle-aged woman, but Arnold still couldn’t see anyone.  

“Yes ma’am, I was going to take a look at it and see if I can get that taken care of for you.” 

He took a couple of steps closer, and for some reason, he felt a little nervous. Caught off guard by the sudden nervousness, he stumbled over his feet, catching his balance before falling. Any nervousness was replaced by a twinge of embarrassment. Stepping closer, he was able to see her, and at first, thought he had misjudged her age. Her hair was thin and wispy, and she appeared to be having trouble holding herself up. The closer he got, the more ambiguous her age became. That tiny pang of nervousness manifested again as the hair on his neck started to stand up. Something still didn’t look quite right to him, but it was hard to tell in the dark. He began mentally preparing himself for a filthy house or a hoarder’s den. He had been in enough customer houses to know that when they were strange like this, nine times out of ten, it was going to be a rough job.  

“Yes please, sorry about the dark, I have a headache,” She answered.  

“No worries”, he said, flashing that customer service smile again. 

“Come on in,” she said, opening the door wider. Holy shit was he right, the stench coming out of the house was horrid, leaking out of the door like a pestilent miasma. He shook his head from side to side as she turned her back, trying to focus past the smell. He had dealt with a lot of smells over his career, but this was the worst he had ever experienced. The inside of the house was almost pitch black. The only light coming in was from the small frosted glass window of the front door.  

The house was sixties modern with the kitchen on the left as soon as you entered the front door. The living room was to the right, complete with a stone fireplace and conversation pit. Straight ahead was a long hallway with what looked like three rooms on either side and a bathroom at the end of the hall. The inside of the house was in better shape than he expected. It was mostly empty with only one recliner and one sofa in the living room, and the only fixtures in the kitchen were the built-ins. Just as he had suspected, this house looked like it was getting ready for sale. Why did it smell so damn bad then? Was the previous owner a hoarder? Was the carpet holding onto the smell? All he knew was it was disgusting, and he needed to blast through this job and get the hell out of there before it clung to him. Turning on his light only led to more confusion. The carpet, the floor, the countertops, All looked clean, aside from the expected dust and dead bugs. He couldn’t see anything that would cause this smell. The beam of his flashlight was so bright in the darkness that it illuminated everything around, including the woman’s face. She jerked away from it, but wasn’t quick enough. He didn’t get a great look but saw enough. There was discoloration and bruising on what seemed like her whole face. Her cheeks were puffy, and her hands looked swollen. Either she had an allergic reaction or had fallen from a second-story window. 

“Oh, that’s bright. I can turn on a couple lights for you if I need to.” She said, stepping backwards into the darkness.  

“That’s alright, I can use my flashlight,” Arnold replied. 

“Alright, come with me.”  

Arnold nodded and motioned for her to lead the way. He put his hand over the light to cover some of the beam to accommodate her the best he could. The woman led him to the back bedroom on the right. The room was just as dark as the hallway, with walls made of old wood paneling. The room was empty save for a painter’s ladder and a few other household maintenance items. The woman pointed up to a spot on the ceiling at the edge of the room. Arnold pointed his light upwards directly at a little brown semicircle, water damage spreading out from the molding. Arnold looked back down, getting his bearings in the room. The smell had eased up just the tiniest bit, and he was able to focus a little better. This should be an outside wall the only plumbing that’d be over here is a hose bib, he thought. He was going to look out the window to see if there was one, but it was covered in tape and aluminum foil.

“Is there a hose bib out there, an outside faucet?” Arnold asked, motioning towards the wall under the leak. 

“I’m not sure,” the woman replied. It wasn’t until Arnold heard her voice that he realized she was standing just outside  the doorway in the darkness of the hall.  He covered the flashlight again and turned towards her. 

“Have you had a re-pipe before?” Arnold asked the woman.  

“A what?” She replied. 

“Are your pipes overhead now, in the attic, or still under the slab?”  

“I’m sure there are some pipes up there, but I don’t know, I don’t go up there much.”  

“OK, no worries, I’ll have to go up there and take a look.”  

“Yes of course! I don’t want you to leave without taking a look at it,” She answered. The last couple of words sounded like someone trying to speak while gargling syrup. Not thinking too much of it, Arnold stepped past her into the hallway, looking for the attic door. As he passed her, the stench became overwhelming. It was hard to breathe next to her. She was the source of the smell, and now that he knew it was coming from her person, he felt nauseous. Arnold fought to keep disgust from showing on his face, but this woman was making him sick. He started to become hyper-aware of her germs and wondered if she had some disease. His eyes stung and began to water, caused by the stench or the panic setting in, he couldn’t tell. He was desperate to take a shower, to scrub the top layer of skin off. He had to get this done and get out of here. He rushed over to the attic access and pulled the door down, unfolding the ladder. He tried to look in the attic, but the woman moved close to him. Too close, the stench was overpowering. He could almost visualize the gas coming off of her, so thick that it was sticking to him like a film. He could feel it making its way up his nose and into his body. 

“Actually, I’m gonna head out to my truck and grab a respirator. Some of these older houses have some rough insulation I don’t wanna breathe in,” he said, and started to make his way out. She stumbled over herself as she rushed to step between him and the door. 

“Of course, but you’ll get up there and check the leak still, right?” Arnold was caught off guard and felt that same nervousness from earlier, but more primal, more like fear. It felt like he was about to step on a snake.

“Yes ma’am, I don’t typically leave in the middle of a job,” he said. There was no hiding the confusion on his face. He had never dealt with a customer this abnormal.  

“Of course, sorry, I’m a nervous person. I have had a couple of people leave before fixing anything, and I really want this leak taken care of,” she replied. He heard it again, several of the words sounded like they were spoken through a gas bubble or while holding back vomit. 

“I’ll come right back ma’am, that’s why I’m here, to take care of your plumbin problems,” he said, with what he hoped looked like a smile. It looked like she smiled back, but he couldn’t tell for sure. She nodded and moved out of his way.  

Stepping out felt like escaping a burning house, his whole body shivered with relief. It was dark out now, and the dark brought more cold with it. With the porch and street lights on, it felt like daylight to him. A gust of cold fresh air hit his face, and he desperately tried to suck as much into his lungs as he could. He needed to purge the smell from his nostrils and clothes. The wind felt ten degrees colder than the ambient temperature and blew his hair wildly. He gladly welcomed it. It felt like nature was scrubbing him clean of some otherworldly contamination. He opened the service box on the side of his truck, pulled out his respirator, and held it. He stood there taking deep breaths, looking across the street into the still-open bay window. The family had all gone from the table except the man, who was standing now, looking directly at Arnold. Normally, nosy neighbors irritated Arnold, but not tonight. Even though he didn’t know the man, just seeing a normal guy in a normal home made him feel a little better. Arnold stepped back from his truck and gave another smile and wave. He stood there for a moment enjoying his brief respite, but he couldn’t cling to that. He needed to get back in and out as soon as possible. Pulling the respirator down over his face, he wished it were a full hazmat suit. The closer he got to the door, the more the urge to turn back grew. He wasn’t lying to her earlier, he'd never just left a job, but right now he was considering it. He didn’t want to go back in. His body and mind were fighting. On one hand, he was feeling actual fear, something in his gut telling him not to go back in. 

On the other hand, was he really scared of a weird customer? He had been in plenty of disgusting houses before. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t just leave a job site with a possible leak because he was ‘scared’, and there’s no way he’d be able to tell the shop that was why he left. He realized he was standing at the door, not moving, and felt ridiculous knowing the man across the street and possibly the customer were watching him. Despite the warnings from his body, he had to finish the job. He was a grown man about to abandon his job because he was feeling scared of a smelly customer. Get in there and get the job done, you bitch, he thought. With that, he pushed the door open, considering actually leaving was crazy, there was no way he could do that. The respirator helped, but only a little. The smell was inescapable, prying its fingers around the seal of the mask and forcing their way into his nose. He started to feel queasy again and realized the customer was not near the ladder. He couldn’t bear the thought of her bringing the smell closer to him and rushed over to the access. 

“Ma’am, I’m going up. I’ll let you know what I find,” his voice muffled by the respirator. 

“Go on up,” she sputtered from one of the bedrooms. 

He quickly turned both the attic and hall lights on, lighting them both with pale yellow light. It did little to set him at ease. Still, he hoped this would keep her and the smell away. He stood at the bottom of the ladder, hesitating. Something in him was still fighting to leave. Once again, he went back to the thought of telling people why he wanted to leave and felt ridiculous. He took the first step on the attic ladder, and it shifted and creaked under the weight of his boot. He focused on the job at hand and climbed the ladder quickly as he had done thousands of times before. That was the key. Forget the weirdo customer, forget being afraid of something he couldn’t pin down, ignore the smell. Do the job and get out of here. As he entered the attic, he used his flashlight to look around. It was decently sized, he wouldn’t have to crawl, but he wouldn’t be able to stand up. After looking around for a minute, he started to make his way back towards the leak. Even without the smell, he was glad to have the respirator on. The attic had a mixture of insulation, but most of it was the old gray wool, and there was a ton of dust and particulates in the air. Without a mask, he would’ve been coughing for weeks. There was a small amount of comfort in crawling through the attic. Unlike the house below, it was as it should be, completely ordinary. Luckily, there was a plywood walkway that let him speed walk through the attic. There was no sign of any waterlines. Arnold smiled under his respirator. He’d get back to the water spot, identify it as a roof leak, tell her to call a roofer, and get the hell out of there. With this new information, he tore through the attic even faster. Anxious to get all of this done, write her a bill, and go home.  

Within a couple of minutes, he was above the bedroom shinning his light down on the water spot. The insulation was soaked through, with a small amount of standing water underneath it. Being that wet, it would have had to be in the last day or so. There was no obvious source of the water, no AC condensate line, no water lines, and the roof directly above it was bone dry with no sign of any holes. Now that he was thinking about it, there hadn’t been any rain for about a week and a half. The deck had been crudely broken away in this spot as well. It didn’t make any sense. He sat looking at it for a couple of minutes searching for any possible explanation, but there wasn’t one. Everything was dry except for this one spot. The only theory he had was somebody crawling up here and deliberately dumping water onto this spot. The thought made him feel queasy, dragging his fear back to the surface. He tried to push it back down and refuse to acknowledge it. He turned around, halfway trying to be quiet, the other half trying to act normal.

Despite his effort to stifle his growing fear, the loud grinding sound of his boot as he swiveled on his toe raked across his nerves like the strings of an untuned guitar. He sat there on his heel, deciding whether he should bolt for it and deal with the possibility of looking like a fool or if he should casually walk out to the truck, and act like everything was normal. He could see the attic access, the attic and hallway light were illuminating it, making it an easy dash if he wanted to. Before he could decide, the hall light turned off, followed by the attic light. He was left in total darkness except for his flashlight, which he whipped onto the attic access as soon as the lights went out. The fear he had been trying hard to repress surged to the surface and flooded into his mind. He kept his flashlight trained on the attic entrance, frustrated by how much it shook in his trembling hand. There was no way to hide his fear now, but he was growing less concerned with that by the second. 

“Ma’am, I’m still up here! Can you please turn those back on?” Arnold called out. No answer. He strained his ears listening for any noise, but it was hard to hear over his own breathing. He took a couple of steps closer to the door. He was getting ready to call out again, but was stopped by a loud noise he couldn't identify. It sounded like a rope snapping followed by something wet hitting the floor. Loud squelching cracks echoed up into the attic making him flinch with each one. An avid hunter, he recognized the sound of breaking bones. His heart began to pound so hard he could feel the pressure in his temples with each beat. His knees were buckling, and he felt like he was about to fall over. He reached up and took the respirator off with his free hand. The smell hit him like a hammer to the nose. It was so thick it made the air feel humid. He gagged and quickly put the respirator back on. But it was getting harder to breathe, and he started to worry that he might pass out.  

“Ma’am? This is your last chance. I’m about to call the police!” He called out again. His mind was racing. What if his fear was overwhelming his common sense? He had heard some concerning noises. What if she were having a medical emergency and he was up here scaring himself over nothing while she needed help? He took a step closer toward the attic door, and the flashlight wavered in the process. In that instant, he heard the attic ladder creak and shift under someone’s weight. He jerked the flashlight beam back to the access and half expected to see her poking her head up through the hole, but there was nothing. He didn’t think his body could kick into a higher gear, but it did. His heart was pounding so hard now that he thought he could feel it in his ribs. He quickly reached for his phone and found nothing. His pocket was empty. He frantically checked the others, but there was no phone. Shit! It’s still in the fucking cupholder, he thought. His head started to spin, and he grabbed onto a beam to hold himself steady. While there was no phone, he did find his pocketknife. It wasn’t much, but fortunately, he had spent the extra money on one he could use for work and self-defense. He flicked it open and squeezed it tightly in his free hand.

“I’m callin’ the police now, and I have my knife! Do not come up here! Go outside and let me come out and I won’t tell the police anything!” He yelled towards the attic door again. Still no reply, but the attic ladder strained and creaked again as she climbed up one more step. 

“Back up, I’ll cut your fuckin head off if you come up here!” He yelled. His voice came out stronger than he expected, with his whole body shaking uncontrollably. The cold air licking his sweat-soaked skin wasn’t helping. He thought about charging the door, jumping down, and attacking her, but he didn’t know what she had or what was wrong with her. His mental barrier keeping out the more terrifying images was starting to crumble as well. What the hell had those noises been? The ladder groaned again. This time, he just let out a primal yell towards the door like a caveman about to clobber something to death, hoping it would stop her. The light in his hand shook so much he could barely keep it focused on the entrance. 

Arnold reached up and wiped the sweat away from his eyes with the back of his knife hand. Something made a loud thump behind him. He jumped in terror, sticking himself on some roofing nails, and flung his light in the direction of the noise. There were only a few feet between him and the wall, and there was nothing there. In that moment, the ladder creaked and groaned wildly, the attic door slamming shut just as he jerked the beam back to the access. Frantically, he swung the flashlight around the attic. It was hard to tell what was what anymore. Sweat stung his eyes, and blood trickled down his back from the nail wounds. Adrenaline pumped through his body like jet fuel. He could hear her up here with him, but couldn’t see her. Arnold bolted for the hatch. Three steps from the door, he saw her, but it wasn’t her anymore. Her face was split open vertically from the bridge of her nose down to her chin, displaying a festering mouth filled with rotten meat and hundreds of small, sharp teeth. The woman’s eyes were pushed to the sides of her head and bulging now as her face split. They rolled loosely in their sockets, landing back on him along with two more pairs of yellowed eyes underneath the edges of the torn flesh. Her torso was widened, and the skin stretched taut. Multiple small arms had burst from her sides. Her once human hands were ripped open by clawed hands beneath. Each finger came to a sharp point and was covered in an exoskeleton, reminiscent of a crustacean’s shell. The thing lunged at Arnold, and he dove backwards, landing hard on the decking. The thing let out a gurgling, guttural screech and lunged forward as Arnold scrambled away. The creature was close behind, grabbing at him, but unable to get a good grip. Arnold took the only escape route his mind could conjure and shot through the attic to the back bedroom. The creature was down on all of its hands now and quickly on him, pulling at his legs, tripping him. Arnold fell hard on his face, slamming his chin onto the broken section of the wooden deck. Without a millisecond of hesitation, Arnold rammed his fist through the wet drywall and plunged headfirst through the hole into the bedroom below. He felt a sharp, excruciating pain in his left calf and ankle as he fell onto his shoulder and face. Arnold rolled onto his back, stunned and in extreme pain. Looking up, he saw the creature’s face slip back into the attic. Arnold got up, ready to run, but was unable to put weight on his leg. His knife was on the ground beside him. Reaching down to pick it up, he slammed his hand into the floor. Blood from a cut on his head covered one eye, throwing his depth perception off. Grabbing a nearby broom and using it as a makeshift crutch, he hobbled as fast as he could towards the door. Quietly, he peeked into the hallway. The attic was still closed. He threw the door open and tried to bolt for the exit, but it was like running in a dream. Every step felt like he was walking through deeper and deeper mud. It went from his feet to his waist, then his stomach. His arms started to feel heavy, and within a few seconds, he was crawling. He made it to the kitchen, but it was getting too hard to hold himself up. His heart was slowing down, and he was losing control of all his muscles. How much blood was he losing? His leg had to be much worse than he realized. He used the last of his strength to look down at it. The wound looked terrible. Jagged, slime-covered teeth marks were cut deep into his flesh. Panicking, he tried to crawl again. He couldn’t feel the wound, but he couldn’t feel his leg either. His whole body was getting heavy now, and he face-planted onto the floor, hard. His muscles were relaxing more and more as he fought desperately against it. He pictured a hundred different gruesome deaths. Tears welled up in his eyes as waves of terror and sorrow washed over him.

The attic door opened, and the ladder crashed to the floor. With the last of his strength, Arnold screamed as loud as he could.

Marcus was turning the dishwasher on when he thought he heard someone yell. He walked over to the bay window in the dining room and looked outside. The street was empty, but something did catch his eye.The plumbing truck was still there. 

Royal Plumbing 

“Where YOU are Treated Like Royalty” 

He still thought it was odd since the house had been vacant since Mrs. Merclane's passing a year ago. Her daughter owned it now and had an estate sale a couple of months after her mother passed. She told Simone that she would sell it as soon as she had the time. There was also the Realtor about a week ago.  She was let in, but he never saw by whom. A few hours later, he saw her come back out, wearing a different shirt and sunglasses. She got in her car, drove away, and didn’t come back. He thought it was odd then, but nothing to write home about. Until he started to notice other things, like the windows being foiled and painted, or thinking he saw someone moving around inside. At first, he assumed it was a squatter, but nobody ever came out, no food deliveries, nothing. When he saw the plumber show up for a late-night call to a supposedly vacant house, it increased his suspicion. Since when did squatters call actual plumbers? Especially one of the most expensive ones in town. 

Marcus wasn’t nosy but genuinely liked this neighborhood and his neighbors. He often kept an eye on things for everyone. Marcus was a perceptive man, always had been. He was very good at reading people and their body language. It had taken him a long way in his psychology career. Roughly thirty minutes after arriving, the plumber came out, but there was something different, something wrong. Marcus thought he almost looked afraid, but that didn’t make much sense. He and the plumber had exchanged courtesy waves earlier. The plumber waved again, but this time it felt different. For a brief moment, they were connected. It seemed as though he was relieved to see Marcus. That also didn’t seem right to him. Maybe he was escalating this house business in his mind. The plumber was just dreading the late-night job. He was just being paranoid. With that Marcus left the window.

But now Marcus was standing here again. Had that been a scream? Maybe it was an animal or one of his neighbors? There was a fight on tonight, and Tim often got loud watching sports. He grabbed his binoculars from the table beside the window. 

“Marcus, stop that, you keep looking out the window with those binoculars and the neighbors are going to think you’re some kind of pervert,” Simone said from behind him. Marcus jumped. 

“Jesus Simone, you’re going to kill me,” Marcus replied. “That plumber is still over there, it’s a little odd, don’t you think?” 

“No, Cindy said she was going to sell, remember?”

“Yeah, but paying overtime for a plumber to work on a house that nobody’s living in?”  

“She’s come into a lot of money, she probably doesn’t care. Just don’t use the binoculars at the window anymore.”  

Marcus turned to say something, but Simone was already leaving the room, signifying the end of the conversation. He closed the curtains, went to the living room, and plopped down on the couch next to his daughters. 

“What’re we watching?” he asked. Talking over each other, both of them tried to explain the trashy reality dating show. Within five minutes, he stopped thinking about the plumber across the street. 

Before he knew it, about two hours had passed. It was almost ten according to the wall clock.  

“Ah crap, girls turn this off, it’s time for bed,” he said as he stood up off the couch. The girls groaned but got up as well. “Oh, wait, Ava, turn it over to the news for tomorrow’s forecast,” he continued. 

“If I had a phone, I could look it up you know?” she replied and batted her eyes. 

“Nope, not going to work.” He answered. 

“Ugh, remember you said we would go to the mall tomorrow.” She replied. 

“That’s why you are checking the weather, I thought we’d check out the new outlet mall.” He answered. She let out a little victory yell and changed the channel over to the weather. 

Marcus went to the kitchen for one last glass of water. He stopped in the dining room, looking at the closed curtains. He fought the urge for just a moment, but couldn’t resist. He opened the dark red curtains, and there it was, the Royal Plumbing truck. Still parked on the curb. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It’s odd, not scary, he thought. His gut disagreed. He shook his head, he was getting carried away again. As he started to close the curtain, the plumber came out, and he felt a small tinge of relief. The feeling didn’t last. The plumber was wearing different clothes. There was something about the way he was walking, too, almost like he was in pain. It was almost identical to how the Realtor walked when she left. Like she had ridden a horse for several days. Marcus sat watching, more confused now than ever. The plumber started to get in the truck, but stopped. Did he notice Marcus looking? Marcus didn’t have to question it long. The plumber stepped out of the truck, waved, and motioned for Marcus to come over. Not even closing the truck door, he walked back inside the house, leaving the front door open behind him as well. Marcus, already feeling extremely uneasy, felt a primal fear shake its way down through his body. He sat debating what to do for a couple of minutes. He needed to know what was going on in his neighborhood, around his family. With his mind made up, he slipped on his shoes and unlocked the door. 

“Dad, are you leaving?” Ava called from the living room.  

“Just going to check on something really quick, I’ll be right back,” he answered. 

“Well, the weather is about to come on, and they found some car in the lake today. It’s just like that one you were talking about the other day,” she called back. Marcus locked the door and ran to the living room, his red and black checkered robe flowing behind him. He came in just in time for them to see a picture of the woman he saw the other day before cutting over to a video of her car being fished from the lake. Her smiling picture on the side of it, dirty from the lake water, made Marcus shiver. His heart started to race, and his muscles tightened. He kept it hidden from his girls and stood there watching the weather. 

After the weather concluded, he hugged and kissed his girls goodnight and got fully dressed this time before going back to the door. He held the deadbolt but didn’t unlock it. He debated what to do, standing there bathed in fear for the next five minutes. What else could he do though? He couldn’t go to sleep tonight without knowing. He took a deep breath and felt the weight of the .357 in his hand. Stashing the revolver in his coat pocket, he unlocked the deadbolt and stepped out into the crisp night air. He looked across the street. The Royal Plumbing truck still sat in front of the house, the front door wide open. 

End.