Seeking Shelter

By Nelson Calvin Suchiang

The loud slow groaning cry invoked an uncomfortable feeling, as I forcefully pushed the large iron gate to the side, although the fence seemed new, the gate itself had been left to rust with the hinges receiving very minimal lubrication. I felt slightly embarrassed by the loud noise. But it faded, as my eyes were naturally drawn to the old beautiful Victorian-era house standing proudly before me. I took a few small steps forward before noticing Mark, the owner, my old college friend. He exiting through the front door prompting me to walk more confidently. Upon closing the distance, he greeted me with an inviting smile, and he shook my hand.

" Good morning, Mary. Sorry for the gate, I would have left it open if it weren't for the strays. Been meaning to replace that heavy thing.. pretty costly though ah... hoping you'd help out with that, um." He released a small nervously chuckle as the realization of his bad joke hit him forcing an awkward smile on his lips.

I responded in kind with, " Jeff and I will be sure to get on it."

Feeling relieved by my equally bad joke, he instinctively raised his hand to guide me inside the home to sign the documents. As we neared the open front porch, he commented; " I know, the old gal doesn't look much, but she's the jewel of the town, all kinds of people come see her, some even wanted to rent it for weddings."

He wasn't wrong, the house had seen some wear and tear but besides that, it still retained the glory of its heyday. It was somewhat isolated in the woods, surrounded by pine trees on all sides. It was also quite a distance from the more populated residential area, with only the road to connect the two areas, although it was more of a short trek.

It still takes my breath every time, ever since I first saw it years back with Mark and Jeff as students. Its tight compact design was what drew me the height and splendor of this old home, styled in the classic gothic design that dominated the style of the era, three stories, a pine tree on its left. Even Jim was excited and said childishly that it looked like an old medieval castle with the turret tower vertically protruding from the right side of the building, standing much higher than the gable roof next to it. So, I can't blame him for seeing the resemblance. The faded wood gave the building a district hue and the ornate handcrafted decorations embedded into the design would take me hours to study and I was excited for it. The whole structure seemed to be quite cosy to me, but it still demanded the respect of those around it.

After entering the living room, I signed the papers, after completing all the further transactions. We relaxed for a while and began chatting. I inquired more about the history of the property, and I swear that expression he made stayed with me. A day of listlessness. A face drained of the energy and positiveness that he had on him now faded. He told me that his grandfather had originally bought from someone, though when I asked who, he replied;

"Don't know, grandpa never said anything. He was a very strict man with harsh rules, to be honest, I never really liked him. He didn't even let us live here and took the whole damn house for himself and made me and my parents live in the residential area, where we still are. Occasionally, we would visit and he would always make us tend to the property, any missteps and we were harshly lectured and he never once let us spend the night here. Even after he passed away, ownership transferred to my mom. She was so traumatized by him that she kept his outrageous rules like living alone in the house, and demanding that the house be well kept."

" That's horrible, is she okay now?" I asked, feeling extremely sympathetic especially given my own experience with my mother.

" The toll of the past was too much for her and her poor heart never recovered, but at least she was somewhat more lenient than him and even allowed stuff like having holiday celebrations on the grounds so I guess I had that going for us, but still she never let me and my family stay overnight. And after it was eventually passed on it me, I finally broke this stupid tradition and moved in fully with the wife and kids. And everything was fine for the first few months... until."

" Until?" I repeated his words.

He took a second, I didn't know to force him but he seemed like he wanted to tell someone about this. " One day, my wife and I had to tend to some important out-of-state business so w-we left the boys home. They weren't, Eric was already set to graduate high school. We left, left him in charge but then something, a home invasion maybe or an accident but he didn't. He....."

Mark looked at me, damn near sobbing, I rushed to his side to console him. He couldn't continue. But he didn't need to, I could guess the conclusion. Needing to take a break, he left for the front porch for some fresh air leaving me alone with my thoughts. I was curious, of course, but chose not to press the poor man on the topic. I had already heard about the news from another friend, the passing of Mark's eldest son, a home invasion was the likely conclusion and the intruder armed with was police suspected was a heavy blunt object, though the murder weapon was never found.

I decided to take a solo tour, despite already having seen the interior. The blue wallpaper with darker coloured flowers distracted me, causing me to accidentally bump into something. A quick glance revealed that it was a small innocent child, perhaps 7 years old. The collision caused the items in his arms to scatter on the floor. Seeming very distressed by this, he quickly scooped them back up. I think that he must be the second and only living son. So, naturally I helped and picked up chips, packets, biscuits and a commercial soda drink that had fallen. I handed them to him, and he looked at me with large expressive eyes that kinda send me a chill.

"You're going to live here?" He asked me.

" Yup, me and my fiance are. Your dad just rented it out to us." I replied with an inviting smile. " Wanna be friends?"

" No!" He shouted.

Taken aback by this, I asked, why not?

" No, I mean. You shouldn't stay here!"

" They might come." He whispered

" Who's they?"

" Them, the bad people! They came and Jeremy, they hurt him." His said incoherently and afraid.

He seemed incapable of describing what he actually meant but while his words failed him, his face expressed exactly what he wanted to say. Remembering the very recent experience Mark told me about, I figured this poor boy must have been traumatized by the sudden passing of his older brother, frightened into believing that whoever committed the crime would return.

Wanting to assure him, I replied. " Don't worry, even if they come back. I know martial arts, a simple one-two combo and they'll be out like a light."

I lied obviously, but he didn't need to know that. Though this didn't have the desired effect as I hoped it would as he still remain in distress. Before I could speak any further, the wooden floor creaked behind me, indicating footsteps. I turned to see Mark, now seemingly recovered from his earlier episode, now making his way towards me. I turned once again to face the little boy but he had already scurried off past me and went through a door in the hallway just between me and Mark. Mark tried in vain to call out to his son, but the boy did not heed and went down the stairs to what I assume is the basement.

" Not again, he's like an easily frightened animal." He remarked. " Don't mind him, Sarah. He's off in his own world."

" That's fine, all kids his age are generally like that." Replying the best I could, hoping to cheer him up." He went off into the basement right?"

" Yes, he probably snuck back into the bunker down there."

" Bunker?" I replied. " I wasn't aware you had one."

" Right! Sorry. It completely slipped my mind, yes. Yes the house does come with one. I intentionally left it out of the ad because, well honestly it's not very well made and while the house is good condition for it's age, the same can't be said for the bunker. It's better if I just showed it to you. Come."

As we made our way through the door and down a flight of stairs, he gave me further details on the history of the house which include this bunker.

" Honestly, I don't know much about it. Grandpa would never let us down here. My mom as well was just as clueless as me, but warned me to never use it. When I became the owner, I called a building inspector to take a look to see if I could renovate it. He told me something interesting, he said that the bunker seems to have been built prior to the house. Of course that's normal but he further said that the time in between the building of the bunker and the construction of the house was significantly wide. Much wider than normal."

As we reached the basement, he directed me to the side of the room near the staircase. Immediately I saw it, embedded into the wall, a large iron slab crudely fashioned into a door complete with a simple latching mechanism and seemed no different than a regular wooden door. Time seemed to have spared the rest of the house but not this one place. Rust was everywhere. It appeared to barely have any maintenance done on it, ever since it was made. My disappointment further increased when Mark opened the door, and led me inside. Just a single room. That's all I could describe it. Just a single sad room, with iron walls on all sides. Resembling a box. The things inside were no special either, just basic furniture, a cupboard, a single bed, some random scapes lying in a corner of the room, and a functioning ventilation system feeding fresh air in and out of the room. Of course, I shouldn't forget to mention the little boy in the room hanging near the cupboard. Still having that wide eye expression, which somehow became more frightened as we had walked in. I thought I even heard a small yelp as Mark opened the door inwards. Though he seemed somewhat relieved to see that it was just us.

" Sam." Mark called out sternly, " I've told you to stop coming here. It's not your playroom anymore. What did you just put in the cupboard just now? Was it your toys? Whatever it is, please pack it up and put it in the car by the time we leave."

The boy gave a muffled, barely audible reply to his father before returning to what I assume was arranging something in the cupboard. Mark turned to me and told me not to pay him any attention. And gestured for us to leave the room. I obeyed and followed him back upstairs.

As we returned to the hall, the same dejected expression he had previously returned. " Sam, he's going through a lot right now. His brother meant the world to him. That room was their favorite, you know? It's not much, but to young boys; it's basically a super secret cave, a hideout for them. They were both so happy and excited, playing in there for hours, even spending the night. But now…well you know."

" Yeah, I understand. " I tried my best to empathize with him and be as gentle as I could. " Mark, I know what you're going through. My mom meant a lot to me too, her passing devastated me. But we have to be strong for their sake."

" You're right." He replied, taking a deep breath to calm himself. " Anyway that shelter might not look much but it does seem sturdy, during the night of the invasion. We found Sam there, safe but scared. He couldn't tell us much of what happened but only that Jason gave his life buying him some time to run into the shelter and lock it from inside. It kept him safe, if only I could say the same for his brother."

I lent my support to Mark and tried to direct the conversation somewhere else and successfully managed to do so. Time passed and the moment came for Mark and his son to leave while I stayed settling into the house. Mark told me he would be back in two days to check on me. He didn't need to but I appreciated it. Standing outside the front gate outside the boundary of the estate. I waved the two of them goodbye as they stepped into their car. Looking into the inside of the car through the window, I saw Sam staring at me. Eyes full of worry, almost as if he wanted to tell me something, the gaze that boy had really unsettled me. Just as the car engine started, the backseat door sprung open and the body of a young child jumped out of the vehicle. My eyes widen with shock as Sam ran straight for me, completely ignoring his father's loud screams of confusion.

Once the boy made his way to me, gasping for breath, I held him and immediately berated him with questions while asking if he's okay. He ignored all of my questions and only answered with, " The room is safe, the bunker, only that place is safe. If the bad people come, go there."

His words were a jumbled mess, the muttering of a boy less than ten years old. I know kids that age don't speak so eloquently but even then it's usually not this bad. His father eventually caught up and forced the boy back into the car, scolding him harshly along the way. Completely confused by the whole ordeal, and wondering just how badly traumatized he was by the whole event.

Eventually, Mark called me on the phone to apologize, when he returned to his own house but I told him there was no need as the soothing environment of the house was enough to make me forget about the event that happened. Jeff was still caught up in his work too and I wouldn't be expecting him till the day after tomorrow, meaning I had the whole house to myself. The time there was like a gentle dream, the fresh air of the forest and the isolated location made me feel as though I was on my own planet, separate from the plights of the modern world. Time flew by and before I knew it was already the night before Jeff would arrive.

There in the living room, I sat watching a show on my phone. Completely at peace and alone, at the dead of night much passed the time of staying up. While I was deeply engrossed in my show, I thought I heard the distinct grone of the front gate. Surprised, but not thinking too much of it, I assumed it was the old gate being pushed by the heavy wind. Still wanting to be sure, I paused my phone and made my way to the window overlooking the gate. Upon looking outside, my body froze as a sudden chill gripped my body. The unmistakable figure of a person holding something in his hand can be seen limping from the gate and making a slow approach to the house. I was utterly terrified. I couldn't move. Fear took complete control. I continued to stare at the figure for a few seconds as I tried to see what exactly was in his hand. That was before I realized that he wasn't alone.

Dozens of thin human figures emerged out of the gate, at least I thought they were humans, their figures didn't seem right, they didn't look human. They were malformed. As my anxiety grew, my eyes were drawn back to the first figure, this time he wasn't moving, instead he stood still, staring at the house. No, not the house. At me. Directly through the window. Almost immediately on making eye contact, he springed forward for the house with inhuman speed. Taking long strides with his unnaturally long legs. I was jolted out of my fear, and jumped back. I ran back and hit a wall which nearly knocked me into the floor. Quickly I jumped back on to my feet and thought of running into my room on the upper floor, but then almost immediately, I remembered the shelter. Throwing all caution to the wind, I ran to the hall as fast as I could, once I got there. I heard a loud shattering of glass followed by heavy thumping, coming for me.

I quickly made it to the door in the hallway leading to the basement, barely caring to close the door behind me. I wished I did, if only I had.

As I ran down the staircase and saw a bright glow coming from below. I turned towards the shelter and the iron door was already open even though I was sure it was closed before. I paused at the entrance, unsure of what was happening but I felt as if the shelter was calling for me to enter. I answered the call and moved. But it was too late, my legs did not move. There was no feeling in my lower body, as I looked down, I saw a long shape hand pierced through my stomach. The strong arm lifted me into the air and threw me into the wall far away from the shelter. What then stood before me, was not human, not was the others that crawled through the door above. The monster before me, I could not describe. All that I could recognise was it's long thin body, it's eyes were pure black, like a black hole and it's left hand was what stabbed me still covered in my blood, but it's right hand, was the object I saw it holding, but it wasn't an object, it was just a long rod as thick as iron. And I thought to myself, only one thing. 'that was the blunt object.'

The monster looked at me dead in the eyes and spoke in words I knew would be my last, it said. " How sad, no shelter for you."

By Nelson Calvin Suchiang