What Remains

Chapter 9

In The Shadows
And he forgives you.
Dogs are like that.

"Quinn, get up." An urgent voice protrudes into my mind. I blink away the sleep to see Kenny looming over me; the look in his eye is alarming, to say the least.
I furrow my brows as I sit up. "What— ungh..." I groan, "What's going on?" I ask.
Kenny pauses, glances at the door, then back to me. "Come on." He whispers, snatching my arm and speed walking to the closet.
"Kenny—" I am cut off by a swift 'shhh.'
He pushes me into the closet firmly, follows, then quietly shuts the door behind us. It's dark, and I can't see. But Kenny seems to be able to, so he grabs my hand clumsily. There's a muted shuffle, then a hidden panel is moved. My mouth falls slightly open in confusion.
Jesus, what's happening?
Kenny ushers me inside, then closes us in once more. A pause of silence, then he hunches to my height. He makes sure my eyes are on him, then he takes a low breath, "The police are here," He says as if it's something that happens every week, "We're waiting until they leave." He adds. I nod, then rub my forehead with my fingers. Before I can muster up a groggy response, Kenny grasps my hand again, and leads us further into the narrow path.
We halt as sounds pour in from the room next to us.
"—Many times have we been here now?" The voice is annoyed. I assume based on the firm tone that it's that of a cop; the ones out here always have this sort of aggressive air.
There's a pause before the other one speaks, "Too damn many," He takes a breath, "Always these fuckin' kids getting bored and having nothing else to do other than bring us to these places with their calls."
The other chuckles, "Amen," She muses.
Kenny nears the wall and presses his porcelain face to it, peering through the thin crack. The grip on my arm relents.
The man sighs, "I don't know what they expect us to find. We've searched this place enough to know there's nothing here." He grumbles, "Why don't they just put this place up for sale?"
"Haven't you heard the whole spiel?" The woman replies, amused, "Entire family was murdered here— and by the youngest son, too. I just can't believe—.." Her voice goes too quiet for us to hear.
Silence. You could cut the tense air with a butter knife.
"—Sent out with us here..." The man says.
The woman takes this as a prompt to go on, "Yeah. Anyway, kids treat this place like some ancient relic, always daring each other to go in." She sounds like she's telling a campfire story, "Someone still lives here. Things move around— this place still works. Running water, electricity. Someone is paying everything off. The people are talking— they don't think it's just a self-sustaining situation that comes from an automatic payment, but like a relative."
I never thought about that. Why, and how do we have working electricity and water?
The man snickers, "Probably just squatters invading the place. We should just kick 'em out. They keep evading the cops."
A pause. "But nothing is ever found. We can't do anything, because nothing is ever found. Hell, we don't even have a warrant. The front door is always just unlocked." The girl's tone hardens. "And I don't think squatters just stroll in and give everything a nice fix—"
A door pushes open with a creak.
"Sir." The man greets the third speaker.
"I want everyone out of here in 10." The voice is loud, and firm. Someone of authority.
Someone that triggers Kenny.
He moves almost immediately so I grab his arm.
He's not getting himself fucking caught with me.
He pauses, watches me watching him. I slowly shake my head. He starts to move again, to which I seethe.
"Charlie— you used to live here, didn't you?" The man remarks.
What?
A long pause. Kenny halts.
"That's not my name." Charlie? The guy, or whoever, says. I can hear the bitterness in his tone.
"Sorry, Officer Mitchell." The woman sounds smug, amused at her partner's idiocrasy. With that, Charlie leaves the room.
Kenny starts going faster now, so I dart past him under his arm and block his way. He looks down at me, and I can feel the spite radiating off of him.
"What was that?" The male officer says, and both of us stop moving.
Silence, then the woman sighs, "Rats in the walls. This place is old." I hear a thump, "You're an idiot. What do you think you're doing, calling Mitchell the c-word?" Their voices start getting further, and that's when I loosen up. This is not how I wanted to start my morning.
"Move." Kenny commands. There's that sinister-something just underlying the surface again.
I shake my head once again, "No." I say simply, "You're not getting us caught— did you fall and hit your head or something?" I give a light shove to his chest, but he moves like I just pushed him with the strength of the gods.
Kenny takes a breath, and it puffs his chest out. He's breathing hard. Either he can't get enough air into his mask, or he's actually about to rip my head off. I hope it's the former.
"I am not about to act like I'm your mother." I raise an accusatory finger, "Get a grip on yourself, or else we're both fucked." I'm speaking low, like I have more power than I actually do over him. One of these days I'm gonna get myself hit.
Kenny takes a step back out of my reach. I don't protest, and let my hand fall to my side. A door slams shut on the floor below ours. They're gone.
"Don't get in my way again." Kenny grumbles. I take a step back.
I'm not doing this.
I avert my gaze from him. "I'm not fucking doing this today." I probably sound pouty, just like him.
The panel shuts behind me, and I walk back to my bed as the crippling realization sets in;
Why didn't I scream when I had the chance?