Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Basement Horror Stories

Episode Date: April 6, 2022

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Publied. Savoy. Admirate and profite. Via Rae, the voice that we love. Talk to nicely. It takes a special kind of person to become an exterminator. I was reminded of this again as I stared into the pitch-black basement tunnel. Dusty cobwebs hung down from the ceiling.

The darkness was so thick I could taste it. Or maybe that was the asbestos. Typically the asylum maintenance people took care of pest control for the old mental hospital on their own. It was unusual for them to call in outside help. The problem must have been beyond their abilities, I thought to myself. They've been coming from down that way. The big ones are almost the size of cats. I've never seen anything like it. The young, pimple-faced security guard was just exaggerating, I thought. I'm going to need you to come down there with me. I don't have a key for the doors. No-uh. I'm not going in there. Not with all those rats

running round. You don't have a choice. I need to get inside. You're the security guard. You want me to tell your boss that you're refusing to do your job? Guy, I get paid $8 an hour, he said, pulling a key off the big ring he had attached to his belt. Here's the Grandmaster key. Give it back to me when you're done. I'll be upstairs in the office. Thanks a lot. He walked off, ignoring my sarcasm, leaving me alone in the dark mildew stinking basement. I turned on my flashlight and began to venture down the ancient corridor. Pushing my way past the curtains of cobwebs, I walked deeper and deeper into the darkness, the smell getting worse with each step.

What was that stench? I wondered. Spiders were soon crawling on my skin and in my hair, up my sleeves and down my back. I tried to contain my terror and brushed them off of me as best as I could, but there were always more. Soon I felt them biting me beneath my clothes as I invaded deeper and deeper into their territory. The spiders were so distracting that I didn't even notice at first when the rats started swarming past. Just a couple at the start, than a half dozen at a time. Soon they were moving around me in a fleshy, airy herd. The warmth of them radiated from the floor, and I moved as quickly as I could through the swelling midst of them.

There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of rats. I'd never seen so many in one place. The door up ahead was locked with a thick steel chain and a padlock from a century ago. But that wasn't stopping the rats. In the glow of my flashlight, I saw them moving through a hole they had made in the baseboards, after chewing through it like acid. They streamed through this gap like flowing water. With shaking hands, I pulled out the key which I had tucked into my front pocket.

I inserted it into the lock and turned it with effort. The lock was rusted to the point of almost being seized. After a great deal of jiggling and desperate pounding against the door of my shoulder, it creaked open. Inside was another long corridor, stretching off into the darkness. Rats were squeaking and fighting amongst themselves, running around on the floor, and I saw that the security guard had been telling the truth. Some of them were the size of small cats. I just hoped they weren't hungry enough to take a bite of me.

This hallway stretched mind-bendingly off into the far distance. I couldn't believe how big this place was. The old mental hospital had been built nearly 200 years prior, and it was massive. It was also rumored to be haunted, but I had more tangible things to worry about than ghosts at that moment. The rats were a constant presence as I forced myself to go deeper into the darkness. A large part of me wanted to go back, to say this was too much for me. But another part said no. This was my job, and it was up to me to get this done.

I could only imagine the Yelp reviews and what they would say about an exterminator too scared of rats to exterminate them. But the smell. The smell was almost too much to bear as I trudged closer and closer to the unknown source of it. Something told me if I could find the source of that smell. I'd find what was causing the rat problem.

I anticipated a leak leading into the municipal sewer system, but I never expected what I ended up discovering. I noticed there was a small gap in the left side of the tunnel up ahead. Rats were pouring out of this space and into the larger corridor where I was standing. I tried to push against the side of the gap and found it slid open further. It was a secret doorway. The sliding door was covered in textured paint, which matched. the walls around it. I pushed it open and stepped inside. Rats were nearly up to my knees at this

point, many of them climbing on top of one another. I used my flashlight to bat them off of me, as some tried to crawl up my legs, one getting almost to my neck. I tried to stop myself from panicking, but I could feel my heart pounding, and I was beginning to wonder what the hell I'd been thinking, going down there alone. The tunnel led downwards, heading deeper and deeper below ground. It appeared to be crude and dug by hand without the use of sophisticated equipment. There was no lighting, and the ground was filled with potholes and ruts, which I repeatedly tripped over. I imagined falling face down in the midst of all those rats and squirmed at the thought. Eventually, after several long minutes of descending deeper and deeper downwards, the space opened up

before me, and I saw I was in a large hidden cave system beneath the hospital. I braced myself as I followed the trail of rats and saw a cluster of them in the darkness up ahead. I went forward to examine the source of the asylum's rat problem. I couldn't help but wonder if the management of the hospital knew about this underground cave system beneath the place, or if it was a secret even to them. But one thing was for sure, somebody had made this secret tunnel leading down to this cavern, and the person using the hidden passage these days was doing so with some terrible purposes in mind. As I drew closer to the horde of rats, the terrible smell I had noticed earlier began to grow stronger, to the point of being almost unbearable. I pulled up my shirt over my face and pointed

the flashlight beam towards the source of that horrible odor. There was a pit with at least a dozen dead bodies in it, each of them in varying states of decomposition. The rats were crawling over the faces of men and women, eating their skin, and pulling off scraps of flesh from their necks and ears, lips and eyelids. The eyeballs were already missing from each of the bodies, as if those were the tastiest, and the rats had decided to eat them first. With growing concern, I saw a few of them were wearing service units. uniforms. There were plumbers, electricians, carpenters, and more than one exterminator. I spun around just as the familiar security guard was sneaking up behind me with a hammer. He swung

it hard at my face, but he wasn't anticipating my quick response. Dodging out of the way, I saw his eyes were full of rage, focused intently on me. He looked savage and angry as he took a swing at me with his hammer. Then another and another, each time just barely missing as I ducked out of the He grazed me once on the shoulder, though, nearly crippling me despite the fleeting impact. The kid was young and he was quick, but he was filled with anger, and it was making him sloppy and careless. Each time he missed, I could see his rage growing, his face getting redder, his eyes more and more manic. And with that came a lack of focus as he fell further and further away with each strike. I realized I only had one chance to fight back, since I was without a weapon.

My mind formulated a plan as I circled back around towards the pit, filled with dead bodies. With my back to it, I slowed down, acting tired. Then, as he came at me, I pretended to be surprised at having backed myself into a corner. He attacked, and at the very last second I dodged away, kicking him in the back as he went off balance. His eyes went wide with surprise, having missed wildly with his attack. The security guard who had lured me down there went flying into the pit of rats and dead bodies. bodies, spinning and turning in the air as he landed so that he was looking up at me. A moment later, the vermin swarmed him.

It was like piranha smelling blood in the water. As soon as they saw the fresh meat they began to feast on his flesh as he screamed. I slowly backed away, watching carefully to make sure he didn't chase after me. But within a few moments, the screams began to turn into bubbling gurgles and a wheezing Death rattle. Soon after that, I heard nothing at all, and it was silent, except for the sounds of rats eating the man as I retreated back the way I'd entered. The rats were swarming back towards the caverns.

I saw with pleasant surprise as I made my way up towards the entrance of the caves. Finally back in the basement, I stood watching as the rats' numbers began to thin. Their masses returning to their home in the cave system after smelling the fresh meat. After the last ones had gone back through the secret door, I closed it shut and heard it lock securely in place. The hidden tunnel was once again disguised to blend in perfectly with the basement wall, tucked away in the derelict hallway that no one ever visits anymore. Not only that, but I had solved the rat problem. Like I said before, it takes a special kind of person to be an exterminator.

It's not for everyone. In some people just don't have what it takes. I was eating breakfast in the little kitchen of my college house when I heard the voices coming from the basement again. It was strange because that part of the house was unoccupied. And yet, I'd heard the voices coming from down there time and time again. Each time it was a man and a woman. They're bickering carrying through the vents to my ears.

My friend Ted was living with me at the time, going to school for music theory. He came downstairs just at that moment to eat a bowl of cereal. I put my finger to my lips and pointed down as he entered the room. I whispered. He raised his eyebrows and listened. The voices continued arguing bitterly. Who the hell is that?

It had happened a few days prior as well. We had only recently moved into the house, and the landlord was a bit eccentric. But he'd assured us that we were alone when we asked, asked him about it. I heard the front door open suddenly. Hello, guys! Our landlord shouted in his deeply accented voice as he entered, unannounced, just as I was thinking of him. The man consistently barged into the house without knocking, despite tenant rights laws which

prohibited such things. He also liked to hook up the adjacent houses, which he also owned, with Ethernet cables running out through the back door, thus providing cheap and painfully slow Internet access for us. us and the entire neighborhood. A couple days prior, Ted and I had begun to call the landlord Dragon, mostly due to his Machiavellian nature, and because he told us he lived on a street called Stone Ridge. Also, his last name was Dragovic or something similar. We didn't dare call him dragon to his face, though.

Although, in retrospect, he probably would have taken it as a compliment. Hey, I said as he entered the kitchen. Could you give us a call next time you want to come over? Even just knocking would be a big improvement. You guys are so funny, he said, sitting down and pouring himself a bowl of cereal. Wild college party guys. I love it. So, what are we doing today? Playing a prank on the dean like in the movies? Ted and I looked at each other awkwardly.

Unsure how to get him to leave and understand this was not okay. He couldn't just come in uninvited and eat our cinnamon toast crunch. But at the same time, there was the matter of the basement. Actually, we're mostly just doing homework today. Very busy with homework. But we were wondering about the basement. We heard voices from down there, just now. A man and a woman talking.

Dragon poured some milk in his ball and ate a large bite, speaking with his mouth full. There's nobody in the basement guy. Guys, we've been over this. You want me to show you? Come, I'll show you. We'll go see the basement together. He led us down the stairs into the basement with the bowl in his hand, sloshing milk everywhere, and showed us the small apartment down there.

To his credit, it was completely empty. See, no voices to make talk talk. You boys are hearing things. And there's no other rooms down here? I asked. None? Like I say, you are meant. Imagine this. These old houses, they make weird sounds sometimes.

He let us back upstairs and sat back down to finish his cereal. So you guys liking this place so far, right? Pretty nice. You have the whole house to yourselves. It's your bachelor bag. You party it up. Just make sure you invite me, okay? And don't wreck the place. Actually, on second thought, no parties. He stood up after finishing his cereal and puttered around the kitchen for a few seconds, then blurted out. Oh, by the way, you have my rent money? It's only the 15th of the month.

We don't have to pay you for another two weeks. Okay, okay. If you don't have it right now, no problem. All right, I better get going. You guys have a good one. Dragon went out the front door, and the two of us were left alone again, wondering what the hell we'd gotten ourselves into with this awful low-budget house we'd rented. Little did we know, it was about to get much, much worse.

That night, I was in my bed sleeping when I woke up shivering. It was freezing cold in my bedroom, and when I opened my eyes and exhaled, I realized I could see my breath. What the hell? I consider just wrapping myself up in another blanket, but then decided against it. The thermostat had to be malfunctioning, or it was just adjusted wrong. It was dangerously cold in the house, and if I didn't do something fast, it would only get colder. Sure enough, when I got downstairs, the digital thermostat showed the temperature was 50 degrees Fahrenheit.

I pressed the arrow buttons at the side and watched the temperature increase until it read 72. Then I bumped it up a couple degrees more, just for good measure. The heating vents kicked on, and I held my hand up to the one in the kitchen to warm my numb fingers. I went back up the stairs to my bedroom and laid down, closing my eyes and drifting back to sleep. But an hour later, I woke up shivering again, my breath of frosty plume each time I exhaled. This time I stomped down the stairs and over to the thermostat, where I saw it read 45 degrees. I couldn't understand why it would be doing this. So I looked at the settings on the thermostat and played with it, trying to figure out what was causing the issue.

Everything looked normal, and this hadn't happened on previous nights. It didn't make any sense. So I decided to go down to the basement to take a look at the furnace for myself. I opened the door leading down the stairs and began to walk slowly down the steps to the lower level of the house. It was dark and silent. I tried to turn on a light, but none of them see them. seemed to work. Once I got down to the basement, I realized it was much warmer down there. It was actually very hot. I was quickly sweating as I made my way over to the furnace. Something was

definitely wrong with the heating in the house, since it was freezing on the second floor, but it was an oven down in the basement. But that didn't explain why the thermostat kept changing on its own. The furnace offered no clues, mostly since I had no. no idea what I was looking for. Everything seemed to be in good working order, at least as far as I could tell in the dim light. The big steel beast rumbled and groaned to life suddenly, startling me as it kicked in to meet the demands of the thermostat upstairs. Hot air began to fill the room, and I started to sweat even more. Giving up on trying to fix it, I went for the exit instead. Just as I reached the door, it slammed shut in my face. I felt as if I was going to have

panic attack as I stumbled backwards. For a moment, I was too terrified to try and open it again, but the temperature was rising quickly in the furnace room, and I needed to get out fast. Hello? I called out softly, but no one answered. Pulling on the door handle, I found it wouldn't open. I threw my shoulder against it, but the thing wouldn't budge. Looking around the room, I saw a small window set high in the wall. I moved a nearby milk crate to stand on it and slid the window open. It would only open a few inches. The child's safety lock was stuck,

so I couldn't get it to go any wider. There was no chance of squeezing my bulk through that crack, I thought. But at least the open window was allowing a breeze to waft in, cooling my sweat, dampened face as I stood pacing, trying to figure out a plan. The room was small and devoid of any useful items. The more I looked, the hotter it started to feel in there, the small window making little difference.

I felt like some terrible dog trapped in a parked car on a hot summer day, sniffing at that small gap of freedom and fresh air, offered by a narrowly opened window, panting as my oxygen ran out. I was beginning to look at the furnace again, trying desperately to find a way to turn the temperature down, when I heard the voices again. This time, more distinctly. Okay, gentlemen.

This is a young one. You've seen her pictures. Need I say more? We'll start the bidding at 10,000. A soft whimpering sound came as well, and I realized there was a tiny crack of light in the wall to the left of the furnace. Looking through the gap, couldn't see much. I needed to get closer.

Pushing against the panel, it began to slide forward. It appeared there was a secret room beside this one. That was where the voices had been coming from all along. The secret door revealed a winding staircase leading down. I followed it, taking my steps slowly and carefully, being as quiet as I could. As I drew closer to the hidden area of the basement, the voice became louder and could be heard more clearly. I hear 20. Do we have 25? 25. I see here 25. Do we have 30? Ah, very good, sir. You won't regret that. The gentleman has made it 40,000. Do we have 45? Good, 45. Do we have 50?

The auctioneer's voice was practiced, and I could tell he had done this many times before. He was focused so intently on the screen that he didn't even see me sneaking up on him with a hammer in my hand. It was the first item I'd seen on a desk upon entering the room. 50,000, that's the highest bit of the night. Very good, sir. We'll have her sent over a meter. His voice cut out as a wet, bone-crunching sound echoed throughout the room. Panting, I dropped the bloody hammer to the floor where it landed with a loud clomp. The young woman was blindfolded and whimpering beside me.

A camera mounted on a tripod was pointed at her, surrounded by stage lights. Her wrists were bound with duct tape, and her skin was red and irritated around that area. I untied her and took the blindfold off. You're safe, I said. I'm going to get you out of here. Thank you, the girl said in broken English. The look of gratitude on her face, unmistakable. On the enormous computer screens, a dozen different window containing shadowed faces suddenly began closing one by one. The visages rapidly disappearing before I could register who they were.

But a few did look vaguely familiar, oligarchs and rich people I had seen on TV or in magazines, perhaps. It was impossible to be certain from such a brief glimpse. As I grabbed the girl's hand to take her out of the basement, another pair of voices came from ahead. This time, there was no way out. We were trapped. You have to do something about this heat. A woman's voice was saying, I'll show you what I mean. Raymond is getting older.

He can't be working in these conditions. Did you adjust the thermostat? I did. But one of your tenants kept changing it back. We're right beneath the furnace, Dragovic. If they turn the heat up by one degree, we get blasted with hot air. It's impossible to work down here since you monkeyed with the HVAC system the other day. I'll have a shot with the tenants, our landlord answered.

We'll lock up. the thermostat too. That way they can't play with it. Wait, what's this? Did you leave this open? The two voices paused, and then a rustling sound of movement came hurrying towards us. I backed away, holding the girl's hand tightly. She squeezed mine back as Dragon entered the room with a woman I didn't recognize. I did, however, recognize her voice. It was the same one I had heard coming through the vent from upstairs. Speaking of the devil, Dragon said. His tone darker and angrier than I'd ever heard it before. He produced a pistol from his waist at the back.

I see you've been walking around where you shouldn't have been looking. He turned to look at the woman he was with. Get on the phone with the clients. Tell them everything is secure. She nodded and went over to a nearby landline. The phone was red and old, like the one on the president's desk. And let them know we have another item up for sale on the auction block, Dragon said. A young man.

tall with broad shoulders. He'll be a great worker. We'll start the bidding at 20,000. Look, Air Canada, does a sold world. Super, an offer for the assort. Station Thermal, Volcan. Parlant of Volcano.

You've seen the price for the Japan? Mmm, epargue and sushi. Wow, the solds are good for Mayork, also. We could go to the plage and make a roundone. Or, it'd say a long march on the border of the sea-sile. Hmm, I adore the canolies.

Wait, there's a lot. Decide, evils, this sold is dinsury limited. Reserved to air canada.com or at your agent of voyage. The conditions can't apply. We've been walking for two days

and my legs felt numb like blocks of wood. My knees wobbled and shook. My feet were blistered and aching. And there was no end in sight to the miles of abandoned wasteland all around us. Collapsed barns and farmhouses

left in disrepair. Shutters hanging off their hinges. banging in the wind. But at least there weren't many zombies. That was a nice change of pace. Why'd the damn helicopter have to go down out here in the middle of nowhere? Ray was asking. After shaking the last few drops of water from the canteen,

couldn't have crashed on a nice beach somewhere, you know? We could just sit back, drink rum from coconuts and chill, waiting to be rescued. Man, ain't no coconuts around here, that's for sure. and definitely no rum. We need water though, and soon, it'll be dark out in an hour or two. Let's hit this next farm and see what we can find. We went up the next long gravel driveway, heading towards a two-story farmhouse surrounded by overgrown fields. The surrounding plant life had taken over parts of the house. It was being reclaimed by overgrown brush,

creeping vines, and a giant, sagging willow tree which stood out back, concealing its features like a funeral veil. Let's check inside. Maybe the taps still work. The houses around here were too far from the city to be on a municipal water supply. They all had indoor plumbing hooked straight into the wells which fed off the groundwater. These systems used pumps which relied on electricity to function, but most at a 10 to 50 gallon reservoir. As long as it hadn't been completely depleted, it would still be usable. Hopefully this house would give us what we needed, and maybe a few other supplies, too. Front or back, I asked. I picked last time.

Let's go in the back. I always was an ass, man. You're an ass, that's what you are. But okay, you got it, ass man. Backdoor it is. The gravel driveway crunched beneath our feet as we crept around to the rear of the old farmhouse. It was quiet inside, at least. That was a good sign. Goals tended to perk up at the sounds of nearby movement. And despite our best efforts, it was impossible to stay completely silent while moving, especially for me, a six-and-a-half-foot-tall man. I tripped over a garbage can as we rounded the corner at the back of the house, as if to emphasize this point.

The ruckus had stirred up was painfully loud in the dead silence of the rural landscape. I noticed that no birds were chirping. There were no squirrels or mice to be seen anywhere. This place had been abandoned by the world. the world. I think we're okay, I said, regaining my balance and looking around nervously. If there were any ghouls around here, we'd have seen them by now. Just watch your step, Ray said. If there were any of them within a mile, they're headed this way now. I looked at my feet and apologized. I'd always been clumsy. If it got me killed, I could live with that,

but I couldn't bear the thought of someone else dying because of my idiocy. We broke down the back door of the house, kicking it in, and destroying the lock in the process. The old wooden door was splintered down the side and wouldn't stay closed, so we pushed a piece of heavy furniture in front of it to provide some security. The wardrobe was large and strong and looked capable of preventing a handful of zombies from entering. Next, we set about clearing the farmhouse. The last thing you want is to get surprised by lurking household zombies when you pick a place to crash for the night. It's best to deal with these things right away.

A stitch in time saves nine, as they say. And stitches don't do shit for zombie bites anyways. Actually, by this point in the zombie apocalypse, the most terrifying prospect was no longer the idea of stumbling across a zombie in one of these closed rooms, but finding a living person. We knew what zombies would do. and to a certain extent they were predictable. They see you, they try to eat you. We cut off their heads and repeat over and over and over again.

People are far less predictable. Whereas zombie will make noise at your approach, clumsy and stupid, a person will wait quietly in the shadows. They may act as a friend, claiming to be hurt or innocent, just searching for a party to join. And we do look for those types of survivors, But they might also be pretending, waiting for you to turn your back before cutting your throat, right after shaking your hand and becoming your ally.

We'd seen it all before, so we weren't as trusting these days. The house was dark, all of the curtains were drawn. We pulled out our flashlights and began to move from the back door in the kitchen, towards the front of the house, to what appeared to be the living room. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath our boots as we stepped carefully, into the next room. There was no indication of recent life here, and I guessed that the owners had been gone for quite some time. The front foyer was similarly empty, as was the bathroom and a small sewing room and office on the main level. Despite the quiet ambiance and the appearance of abandonment,

the house had an eerie feeling I didn't like much. It was like we weren't entirely alone there, but the source of that sensation was one I couldn't place. Still, I knew better than to ignore that feeling. My spidey sense is tingling, I said to Ray. Stay frosty. Shit, he muttered. All right, thanks for the heads up. He knew I had a sixth sense for these things.

We crept up the stairs to the second floor, keeping our voices low and our weapons ready. I carried a razor-sharp machete, while Ray had a small hand axe and wore a katana, a Japanese antique he'd found in a pawn shop. He had it strapped to his back for as long as I could remember. Anything? He asked.

I don't hear a peep. Could be a sleeper, though. Okay, rat's side first. He kicked in the door to the right at the top of the stairs. Dark and empty. A boy's room. There were three others. A master bedroom, a bathroom,

and one more smaller bedroom, which looked like it had once belonged to a young girl. The walls were painted powder pink, and there were posters and drawings. of horses, rainbows, castles, and fairy princesses. All of these rooms were empty. An eerie sound came from outside, as the wind chime on the front porch was blown in the breeze. I shuddered thinking of what else might have caused its sudden movement. Basement? Got a check. Who knows? Maybe I'm losing it. Maybe we're in the clear and I'm just getting

paranoid. Ray's face told me he wished this were true, but previous experience suggested otherwise. The two of us went back down to the main level and stood in front of the door leading to the basement. I put my ear to the wood and waited, listening. It was quiet and still as far as I could tell, but something told me we weren't alone in this place. I felt as if I was being watched. I held up my left hand and counted down on my fingers. Three, two, one. Go, I whispered.

Pushing open the door, I cast the beam of my fingers. flashlight down into the darkness. Dust moats hovered and danced in the air before us. Taking a hesitant step, I began to descend. The stairs groaned and creaked loudly beneath my feet, and I winced with each step as the old wood bent with my weight. Once at the bottom, I cast the flashlight beam around to survey the cement-floored basement. It was cluttered with junk, electronics, toys, and stacked boxes. There were cases of empty beer bottles and and heaped piles of moldy clothing. A rat scurried past our feet, ducking beneath the stairs,

and disappearing into a gap that looked far too narrow for its girth. I hate rats, Ray muttered. Stanks down here. Let's check this dump out quickly and get back upstairs. Quick but careful, okay? I still got the feeling. Would you relax? It's empty.

Nobody pitches a perfect game every time, dude. It's all right if you're wrong every once in a while. Ray was meandering into the darker section of the basement, with his hands held outwards like a showman, when he stopped speaking abruptly. A dark shape suddenly appeared from nowhere. It pounced, appearing from the shadows like a jaguar that had been lying in wait for its meal. Ray's screams rose higher and higher as he thrashed and pushed at the scrawny girl attacking him. He stuck his hands out defensively, and two of his fingers were quickly bitten off.

Then, while he was distracted, the kid jumped up on his back. and began to choke him with her legs in a triangle hold while tearing at his face with her nails. Eventually, he toppled to the floor, his face turning blue from lack of air. Despite the size difference, the feral nature of the teenage girl was too much for him to handle. She was like a cornered rat, biting and scratching at him viciously. I shone my flashlight, moving towards him from the other end of the basement, but all I could see at first was a blur of movement and blood being sprayed and splashed in the air. As I got closer, I saw what looked to be a girl in her mid-teens, moving animalistically and dressed in tattered pink rags that might have once been pajamas.

Her hair was black and greasy, covering her features as she tore at my friend's throat with her teeth, swallowing down pieces of flesh and making wet, sloppy sounds as she chewed. Ray's cries for help turned to gurgling croaks and crackling wheezes as he began to choke on his own blood. A dark puddle spread across the floor, pulling around my feet. as I slowly approached and drew closer. As I held up my machete with a trembling hand, I prepared to swing it at the young girl's head. She may not have been a zombie, but she sure did act like one.

Hunger changes people. I'd seen it before, and more than once. It makes them desperate, turns them into animals of instinct and need. Dead rat carcasses littered the floor. Many of them half eaten with the remaining flesh mummified. Others were just the heads and tails, with skeletal remains attached in between, like a drumstick picked clean. What's your name, little girl? I asked, my voice trembling, lowering my weapon and hoping she had some morsel of humanity left inside of her. Her eyes clansed up from my friend's bloody, gasping body, then back down again a moment later.

She ripped another strip of flesh from his midsection with her sharp, blackened nails, and he convulsed in agony. Her fingernails were several inches long, resembling talons. My name's Henry. It looks like he's been down here by yourself for a long time. Where did your parents go? Again, she looked up at me for a split second, before staring down at the body beneath her. Her face twitched, and she paused what she was doing for a second,

but then went back to consuming the bloody pieces of skin. Ray gurgled once more, and his eyes rolled back. I couldn't tell if he was breathing. anymore, but it didn't look like he was. Listen, I know this isn't you. I can get you some help. What's your name? She swallowed the piece of skin that was in her mouth and spoke softly, saying,

Tabitha. Well, Tabitha, that's my friend Ray you're eating. Now I know you're hungry, but we don't eat people, okay? She growled like a dog whose bone is being taken away. Ah, none of that. Now if you can behave yourself, you can come back to the Ighor home base with me, and we can get you some real food. But you can't be doing this sort of thing, okay? No more eating people. We're not zombies. We're better than that. Ighor? Really? You're a part of

ighor? She thought about it another moment, before nodding reluctantly, and I stuck out my hand for her to take. After a moment's hesitation, she stood up on shaking legs and walked over to me. She took my hand, and I thought maybe she'd let me lead her away from that place, up the stairs, and away from that bloody basement. But instead, she immediately took a huge bite from my arm, as if it were a turkey leg, her jaw snapping down on my wrist with surprising force. I went to my knees as the pain racked through me. Frozen, I watched in terror as another figure in ragged scraps of clothing emerged from the shadows,

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