â€śJe-SUS!â€ť Detective Cameron exclaimed once he saw the bloody skeleton in the basement of the Campbell residence. â€śWhat the hell is this? Some god-awful 80â€™s horror flick?â€ť
Cameron rubbed his graying mustache, thinking of what could have happened to the poor guy. The detective was wearing his usual tan overcoat, and had a cigarette firmly placed between his lips. he was tough, and had seen his fair share of fucked up crap. He had gotten used to it, and was always ready to expect the unexpected. But this...this was new. A job in a quiet town was just right for him, after nearly dying at his last job. For exactly twenty-five years since he moved, nothing especially insane happened. Until now.
â€śIt appears all the meat and skin was wiped clean off the body,â€ť the coroner concluded.
â€śNo signs of scratches that would have come from a knife. The only marks on the bones are puncture wounds, like from unusually large teeth.â€ť
â€śThose could have come from a knife,â€ť Cameron growled.
â€śThereâ€™s no sign of a whittling motion when the killer flailed him, so honestly, I donâ€™t know how in the hell this could have happened.â€ť
â€śWell, Iâ€™m glad itâ€™s not my problem,â€ť he finished, and walked toward the rear of the basement.
In the middle of the wall was a large hole, big enough for him to walk through. He took a step closer, and for no reason that he could find, he could feel a growing sense of dread squeeze his innards until they were about to explode. Finally, he arrived at the entrance to the large tunnel. The feeling of dread he had felt before was replaced by fear, and the cigarette slipped from in between his lips and landed on the ground, giving at least some kind of light in the swirling blackness before him.
â€śSeal it,â€ť Cameron said, and the team of investigators around the body all looked up. The detective had always been fearless, and if he did have any fear, he always masked incredibly well. But now, fear was all over his voice. He turned around, and everyone could see his lip trembling.
â€śI TOLD YOU TO SEAL IT!â€ť Cameron screamed out of the blue.
The police chief strutted over to where he stood, and he was as angrier than the devil when Hell freezes over.
â€śGood God, detective! What the hell are youâ€¦â€ť he trailed off and began staring into the hole. Cameron could see he was overcome with the same fear he had felt. He turned around and walked away, ignoring the outburst.
Immediately after the skeleton had been taken off, the detective himself went to Home Depot and bought some boards and cement. Cameron went back to the Campbell house and snuck under the yellow tape to gain entrance. He went down to the basement and approached the wall. There was still a large pool of blood on the cement floor, and Cameron made sure to step over it. He didnâ€™t want to leave any evidence that he was here.
Like theyâ€™re not going to notice a wooden wall over the hole, he thought as a smirk grew over his face. With a bucket of cement in hand and boards slung over his shoulders, he got to work. He placed one of the boards over the far left edge of the gaping tunnel. He smeared cement over a top and bottom section of the wall, and placed the board so both ends had cement on them, and stuck them there. He began the process again, until the entire hole was covered with wooden boards. The chill Cameron had felt before was gone, and he relaxed at last. He picked up the almost empty bucket and turned around to leave. Everything was right in his life again.
Until he heard the loud sound of wood breaking.
A claw had smashed through a lower section of the boards and grabbed Cameron by the right ankle. He called out in surprise and flipped onto his belly and started sliding across the cement floor. He started screaming for someone to help him, as he could not break free of its grip. He could feel the icy chill of the claw through his pants, and was somewhat relieved when he wet himself because of the warmth his urine provided. It was pulling him closerâ€¦closerâ€¦closer to the boards until his leg went through the small hole in the boards, and the rest of his body refused to fit.
But that didnâ€™t stop whatever ungodly terror that wanted Cameron for a snack. It continued to pull, not easing up at all. Cameron felt pain shoot through his body and directly to his brain. He flexed every muscle in his body in a lame attempt to ease the growing pain in his right leg. The bone was already disjointed, but it wouldnâ€™t stop there. It continued to pull, and the pain started to explode in his brain. He heard a wet, tearing noise, and he heard a small girl from outside the house screaming. Just before he went unconscious, he realized the screaming was coming from him.
Police Chief Russell gagged as he saw Detective Cameron being carried out of the house on a stretcher. They had bandaged up his bloody stump of a leg and were rushing him to the emergency room before he died of massive blood loss. The neighbors had called the police once they saw a â€śstrange manâ€ť enter the Campbell house with a bucket and lots of wood. It turned out Cameron had gone to a lot of trouble to board up that strange hole, and had bitten off more than he could chew.
More like something bit off more than it could chew from Cameron, Russell thought grimly. Right as the police had arrived, they heard a loud, shrill shriek emanate from the basement, but Russell didnâ€™t believe it. Back in â€™86, Cameron had survived an explosion that should have been fatal, and he took it like a man even when he was about to die. What the hell could have made him scream like a girl? The police didnâ€™t see anyone leave the premises, so what was it?
Not only that, but now he was having the cops who found him take a drug test! When they had bolted down the wooden steps to the basement and found the detective with his leg ripped off, they stated that they saw the blood squirting out of the stump and was flowing directly into the small hole made in the wooden boards. While the idea sounded ludicrous at first, Russell had a nagging suspicion that it was true. They found no blood splatter on the boards that he had used to seal up the hole when there should have been a rather large splotch of crimson on it.
Frankly, he was baffled. He remembered the chill he got when he stood by that hole in the wall. He told his men to just leave the boarded up hole alone; it was of no importance. They were going to have to wait to see if Cameron survived; he was their only hope in finding out what was going on in the Campbell residence.
J.W. Hooper chuckled as he set down the phone. He had just concluded his conversation with the Band family, and couldnâ€™t help but laugh at the bullshit he had spewed. Hooper had told the family about how nice the house was on the quiet suburban street. He had told them that the death that occurred there was probably accidental, but the police were investigating just to make sure it was. It didnâ€™t matter; he could tell they were desperate. They had decided on being the first to view the house once everything settled down, and Hooper knew they were going to buy it. Cheap price due to the murder, nice neighborhood, and it was a lovely house. Come a few weeks, a brand new family could move into the house where Samuel Campbell was savagely slaughtered.