What Looms In The Dark

Delilah, Emilio, and Zosia sit around a small fire, contained by the rims of a small, portable metal stove, listening to the constant pitter-patter of raindrops clattering against the roof of the warehouse. The noise echoes around the open space.

Their hour time limit for exploration has turned into four hours of cold, dark and dreary hallways as the storm thunders overhead. At one point, after Emilio freaked out staring into the expansive darkness of one of the side rooms, they all agreed to find a spot near the entrance and wait out the storm.

Not that the storm seems intent on ending any time soon. Delilah sighs, a little frustrated that the trip had been a bust. The sudden noise makes Emilio jump.

“Calm down, will ya?” Zosia says, hugging her arms to her chest as she hunches as close to the fire as she can get.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Emilio responds, “we’re stuck in this stupid haunted warehouse ––”

“It’s not haunted, Em.”

“–– It is! I saw something okay and it’s been following us the whole time! Bet it’s in here too.”

Zosia rolls her eyes. “You probably just saw your own shadow.”

Their bickering continues, frantic and heated, and Delilah tunes it out. She tries to refocus on the sound of the rain because she hates it when those two fight, hates that she’s the indirect cause of it - this whole trip was her idea - but she thinks Emilio’s paranoia must be contagious because her attention turns to the nearby doorway instead.

It’s dark - obviously, what with the warehouse being abandoned and there’s no electricity to power the lights - but she swears there’s a shadow there. Something carving out a void in the shadows, standing just as tall as any Terran would.

Delilah blinks, biting her lips. By the time her eyes open again, the doorway appears to be just that, an empty fucking doorway. She sighs, releasing a breath she didn’t even realise she was holding, and turns to face her friends once more.

Just in time to watch the fire go out.

“Uh…”

“What the ––”

“Probably just the wind, right…?” Delilah says, hesitant.

Except this part of the warehouse is sheltered enough that there’s barely even a breeze coming through the open door. And now the room is just as cold as it was an hour ago. Colder, actually. Delilah can see her own breath condensing in the air.

“That’s okay though,” she starts, messing around with the stove in an attempt to relight it, “we’ll just get it going again, no problem. I mean it wasn’t that hard the first time.”

Agreements are muttered. Delilah glances up at them, wills herself to smile as wide and as genuine as she possibly can, but it falters halfway from forming.

A shiver runs down her spine as something cold caresses the back of her neck. It feels like claws. Scratching against skin. The touch is painless but freezing and Delilah, shocked into paralysis, struggles desperately to down hard on her bottom lip.

“Dee?” Zosia asks.

Delilah sees the confusion in both Zosia and Emilio’s faces and manages to find her voice, even as the chill clings to her back. “Run.”

“What?”

“We gotta go, we gotta fucking get out of here, run!”

There must be enough panic in her voice to warrant a retreat without question, because the three of them rise in near perfect unison and don’t say a word until they’re a hundred yards clear of the warehouse door.