A single metallic groan shuddered through the room, long and low, like the settling of old hinges or something heavy scraping slowly against the other side. That was enough. Megan grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in. “We’re not opening that. We’re not. This is not some treasure vault. This isn’t a forgotten cellar. Something’s not right down here. We need to call someone. Now.”
Daniel exhaled hard, adrenaline warring with rational thought. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” They scrambled up the ladder, emerging into the living room as if escaping a sinking ship. Daniel pushed the ladder away from the opening and set down a plywood board over the hole, just to feel safer. Megan’s hands
Her hand shook as she dialed 911.
“This is going to sound strange,” she told the dispatcher, her voice trembling. “But we found a… sealed room under our house. And a metal door. And something is… leaking? Growing? I don’t know. But it’s not safe. Please. We need someone to come.” Within minutes, a patrol car rolled up their driveway.
Officer Riley, a steady-looking man in his thirties, followed them inside. He listened to their rushed story without interrupting, his expression giving away nothing except for a subtle tightening of his jaw when they mentioned the black growths and the vibrating metal. “Show me,” he said, his tone neutral. They led him to the torn-out wall, the ladder, and the dark opening in the floor. Riley crouched down, shined his powerful department-issue flashlight into the shaft… and went completely silent. He didn’t move for a long moment, the beam fixed on something below. Finally, he stood up, his face carefully composed but pale under the living room light.
“Okay,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “I need you both to wait outside by my car. Do not go back down there. I’m going to call this in.” He unclipped his radio from his belt, his eyes never leaving the black square in the floorboards as he stepped away. “Dispatch, this is Unit Seven. I’m at the address on Elmcrest. I’ve got a confirmed… structural anomaly in the basement. Requesting a second unit and a supervisor. And notify the fire department for a possible hazardous materials situation. Tell them it’s a Category Three unknown containment breach.” The terms were clinical, official, and they chilled Megan to the bone. This was a procedure. He had seen this before, or something like it. Daniel met her gaze, the same terrifying realization dawning in his eyes as they were ushered out into the cool evening air.
They waited for what felt like an eternity before Riley emerged from the house. “A response team is on the way,” he stated, his posture stiff and alert.