Chapter Two : The Owner

The boy found himself standing in a passageway that ran the length of the house. At the end morning light streamed in from the front door and threw long shadows along the walls. To the left was a washroom, and to right a sitting room. He could see from here that the front door was open and the thought of a dog or something worse in the house with him made his knuckles white around the handle of the garden fork. Although he had spent almost the entire twelve years of his life less than a hundred meters from here, he had never been inside the house. The lady that lived here wasn't quite old enough to be called elderly, but almost and her condition, which his parents had spoken of in hushed tones, on the rare occasion, made her old beyond her years. He had always just thought of her as fat. She wheezed when she walked and that was only ever to collect the mail or out the back to feed the dog. On the rare occasion she had to leave the house and travel any further than the front gate, a car would be waiting on the roadside.

Further down the hallway were more doors, the two on the right were closed and one to the left slightly ajar. Beyond that were two more closed doors and the partially open front door. He held the fork up defensively, glancing quickly around the laundry room for anything threatening or immediately useful. A washing basket of clothes ready to be hung sat in the middle of the small room. Apart from that and a broom and mop in the corner it was empty. Stepping inside he checked more closely and looked behind the door, not that the woman would fit, but it seemed like the right thing to do. When he was sure it was relatively safe he closed the door. being a laundry door it had never had a lock but it was still better shut than open.

Leaning the fork against the wall his thirst suddenly seemed overwhelming, the room spun, he felt weak and stumbled on the way to the trough. The cold tap produced a shudder when he turned it and the pipes whined and knocked. After a second of spluttering it ran clear but he resisted the urge to drink strait away, partly out of contemplation and partly fear. The flow remained unchanged, he stood thinking it over in his head should he drink now and risk infection or try for some bottled water.

The water was cool and so refreshing, cupping it into his hands and letting it pool and drinking before splashing it over his face. There was no way for him to tell if it was infected and even if it was, he would have to drink something sooner or later. Turning the tap off, he started looking around to reassess his situation. The room he was in was plain without much furniture there was a broom closet, linen press next to that and the laundry trough. A washing machine and dryer sat side by side after that.

The washing basket was full of clothes from the dryer and the dryer had a load in it as well. At a glance the clothes were all dresses and not of any use to him. He turned his attention to the broom and mop. The rake handle had already proved useful and having a couple of handles ready wasn't a bad idea. These ones however were in good repair and if he was going to sharpen them a knife would be needed. The linen cupboard had the usual towels and sheets, at eye level was the washing powders, bleach and other assorted cleaning products. All totaled there wasn't really anything immediately usable. With the exception of having running water, the room was pretty much a bad place to be, only one entrance and no lock.

Grabbing the fork again he opened the door and peered down the passageway. His eyes went strait to the front door, forcing a squint. It was unmoved. Crossing to the door opposite the hall he peered inside. It was an empty sitting room with a sofa and an old television set, at the back of the room was an archway through to what looked like a dining area. Backing out he closed the door behind him, and moved down to the next door on the right. It was closed, when he reached for the handle it turned freely in his grip. Quietly he swung it inwards and glanced inside. It was a typical bedroom with a dresser and wardrobe with a large double bed. The bed spread was unruffled and the whole room seemed unused, there was nothing on the dresser and there was a layer of dust on everything. Closing the door again. The next door contained the bathroom with nothing of interest, being twelve the appeal of a bath or a hot shower hadn't manifested in him yet. The other slightly open door led to a kitchen and as he maneuvered around he could see it was connected to the dining room via the archway. Stepping into the kitchen area he could see it was clear, walking quietly past the dining table he moved to the archway and checked that the sitting room was still vacant and the door closed. It was, quickly he returned to the kitchen and closed the door.

The fridge had a funny smell, it crept out of the seal and infected the air around it. After three days a little bit of a funky smell wasn't going to put him off and he opened it. Leftovers covered the whole second shelf, condiments of every description filled the top shelf and below that was bottles of soft drinks, eggs and a tray of steak. Looking at the bottles of fizz he regretted riskily drinking the tap water. Still it would be a short lived risk as sooner or later he would have to drink the water. Checking the date on the meat he was disappointed to find it out of date and probably the main culprit contributing to the smell. He closed the fridge and checked the cupboards. It was a lot more bountiful than the fridge with stacks of noodles, packets of biscuits, chips and various canned food. It seemed the lady hadn't done a great deal of cooking and a lot of the canned food was ready to eat stuff rather than ingredients. His stomach had been protesting since he had let his thoughts into the kitchen and he ring pulled a can of tuna open. After finding a fork in the top draw he dug in, it was the finest thing he had ever eaten.

Once his stomach was quietened he returned to the door with his fork at his side. Opening it a little he looked at the front door still open and wished he had had the forethought to close it before eating. He moved down the to the next pair of doors. He was feet from the front door now but he dare not close it yet. The thought of being shut in a house with something out of a nightmare bought goosebumps to his flesh and chilled his spine. The next door to the left was another guest room with no sign that any guest had stayed recently. He closed the door and turned to face the last remaining door. Standing in front of the door now it chilled him to think about what could be on the other side, where was the owner of the house? Had her family came for her and taken her away? Had she got a car to pick her up? All these questions ran through his head. And worse, why was the front door open? Had she left in a hurry and left it that way? Or had something came in and they were both in the room now? For a long while he considered leaving the house in search of another. The stark realization was that any house he went to from here would always hold the same risks and uncertainties. Nowhere was safe now and no matter how much he wanted to leave the door shut and forget about it, he couldn't. It was better to know what he was facing and with that thought he gripped the handle and swung the door inwards.

The stench of death choked his lungs before the door was more than a crack open. The curtains were closed and the room was thick with gloom, still he could make out the mammoth figure sunk into the bed. Every sense told him this was bad and that he should run but his mind wouldn't let him, he had to see, he needed to know. Her body was naked and motionless, maggots crawled out from under the corpse and fell off the bed wriggling across the carpet. The walls were lined with them, working their way around trying to find soft earth to bury into. Her eyes were closed and as he took tentative steps towards her, the more an urge to flee filled him. For what seemed a long time he couldn't breath, all he could do was stare at her eyes waiting for them to open. They remained shut and eventually he had to move, the smell felt like it was permeating him and he vomited onto the carpet.