CHAPTER 2 — THE BASEMENT
CHAPTER 2 — THE BASEMENT
Michael threw the basement door open.
A rush of icy air hit his face.
The single light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered weakly, barely cutting through the darkness.
"Noah!"
No answer.
Then—
A faint cough.
He raced down the wooden steps two at a time.
In the far corner of the basement, curled tightly against an old storage shelf, lay his eight-year-old son.
Noah's lips were pale.
His sweatshirt was stained with vomit.
His small body trembled uncontrollably.
"Dad..."
The whisper barely reached him.
Michael dropped to his knees.
"I'm here, buddy."
Noah reached out with shaking fingers before collapsing against his father's chest.
"He kept saying he wanted to call you," Emily cried as she hurried downstairs.
"The phone..."
Noah struggled to speak.
"Aunt Sarah... took it."
Emily wrapped her coat around him.
His skin felt frighteningly cold.
Michael looked toward the thermostat mounted on the basement wall.
It read 48°F (9°C).
His heart sank.
"Call an ambulance," he said quietly.
Emily was already dialing.
Behind them, Sarah appeared at the top of the stairs.
"I didn't know he was actually sick."
Michael looked up.
There was no anger in his face anymore.
Only disbelief.
"You never checked on him?"
May you like
Sarah opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
