They Told Her It Was Just a Nightmare—Karma Had Other Plans - human-karma.org

Chapter 6 - The Hollow EarthThe storm hit with a sudden, violent fury. Inside the Miller home, the power flickered once, twice, and then died completely, plunging the house into a suffocating, gray darkness."Mommy!" Mia cried, clinging to Karen's leg in the middle of the dark living room.

"It's okay, baby. It's just the storm," Karen whispered, though her own heart was beating like a trapped bird. She held a heavy metal flashlight in one hand, its beam cutting through the dark, dusty air of the room.

Where was Greg? He should have been home by now. He had gone to the local hardware store to buy materials to seal the vents permanently, but he hadn't returned.

Suddenly, a loud, metallic bang echoed from the basement.

It wasn't a whisper. It was the sound of metal being forced, of wood splintering.

Karen froze. She squeezed Mia's hand so hard the little girl let out a small whimper.

"Mia," Karen whispered, her voice trembling. "I need you to be a very, very brave girl. We need to go to the front door. We need to go outside."

"But the shadow man is outside too," Mia whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I saw him in the window."

Karen's breath caught in her throat. She shined her flashlight toward the front window.

Through the rain-streaked glass, a silhouette was standing on the porch. Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a dark rain slicker.

Before Karen could scream, the figure raised a heavy gloved hand and knocked rhythmically on the glass.

"Karen! Mia! It's me, Tom! Open up!"

Relief, pure and dizzying, washed over Karen. She ran to the door, unlocked the deadbolt with a frantic twist, and pulled it open.

Tom and Officer Rayden slipped inside, wet, shivering, and pale. Rayden immediately closed the door behind them, locking it and drawing her weapon once more.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked, kneeling down to Mia's level. "Are you hurt?"

"He's in the basement," Karen whispered, her eyes wide with terror. "I heard something break. Just a minute ago."

Rayden gestured for them to stay back. "Tom, take them into the master bedroom. Lock the door. If you hear shots, you jump out the window and run to the nearest neighbor. Do you understand?"

Tom nodded, his face grim. He took Karen's hand and guided her and Mia down the dark hallway.

Rayden crept toward the basement door at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of pitch-black darkness showing through the crack.

The air rising from the basement was freezing, smelling of wet earth, rust, and something old and decaying.

She pressed her back against the wall next to the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. She took a deep breath, stepped into the frame, and shined her tactical light down the wooden stairs.

"Police!" she shouted, her voice echoing in the hollow space. "Show me your hands! Come up the stairs slowly!"

Silence.

Then, the sound of slow, heavy footsteps ascending the wooden stairs.

Creak. Creak. Creak.

Rayden tightened her grip on her gun, her finger resting lightly against the trigger. "Stop right there! Show me your hands!"

A figure emerged from the darkness of the stairwell. The flashlight beam illuminated a yellow rain jacket, muddy boots, and a face covered in dirt and sweat.

It was Greg.

He was holding a heavy iron crowbar, his eyes wide and vacant with shock.

"Greg?" Rayden gasped, lowering her weapon slightly. "What are you doing down there? Your wife said—"

"They're here, Kim," Greg said, his voice flat, hollowed out by fear. "They dug right through the basement wall. They're behind the furnace."

Before Rayden could react, a gloved hand reached out from the darkness behind Greg, grabbing his collar and pulling him violently backward down the stairs. Greg let out a sharp cry as he tumbled down into the dark, the heavy iron crowbar clattering down the wooden steps.

"Greg!" Rayden screamed.

She bolted down the stairs, her flashlight beam swinging wildly across the damp, concrete-walled basement.

At the bottom of the stairs, Greg lay groaning on the floor. In the far corner of the basement, behind the massive, rusted metal cylinder of the old furnace, a section of the concrete wall had been completely smashed through, revealing a gaping, black void of raw earth.

Standing in the void was a man.

He was dressed in high-end tactical gear, a headlamp strapped to his helmet, casting a blinding white beam directly into Rayden's eyes. In his hands, he held a heavy, professional-grade demolition hammer.

Victor Vance.

"Officer Rayden," Vance said, his voice calm, almost polite, despite the roaring storm outside. "You really shouldn't have come down here. This is a private excavation."

"Get on the ground, Vance!" Rayden shouted, squinting against the glare of his headlamp, her gun trained on his chest. "It’s over! The whole precinct is on their way!"

Vance let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "With this storm? Your radios are dead, Officer. And by the time anyone realizes you're missing, I'll be three states away with forty million dollars in bearer bonds."

He reached down to his belt, his hand moving with a terrifying, professional speed.