He started for the kitchen. Xander stopped him. “Dad, in here.”
Mom stood in the dining room near one of the windows. Dad pushed past the kids to reach her. “Are you all right? What's wrong?”
She pointed. Dust covered the floors. Most of it had been disturbed by their own shuffling around. Near the walls, in corners, under furniture, it had remained thick and as unbroken as an arctic landscape. Here, in such a spot, were two footprints. They were from bare feet twice the size of Dad's. The toes were pointed toward the window, as though someone had stood there, watching.
WEDNESDAY, 5:30 P.M.
They were sitting at a big, round table in the café. Each of them leaned in toward the center.
“The door was unlocked,” Dad whispered. “That's how
we
got in. Who knows how long the house had been open to anyone who tried the front door?”
“Or how long ago those footprints were made,” Mom added.
“Mom,” Xander said, “they were
fresh
. There was no dust in them, just bare wood.”
“They were so big,” David said.
“It was Bigfoot,” Toria said, with a hint of danger.
“Toria,” Xander said.
“Well, it was somebody with really big feet,” Mom said, “but I don't think it was Bigfoot, honey. Not
the
Bigfoot.”
“But he lives here,” Toria said. “I read about it.”
“Bigfoot's not real,” David said.
“Is too.”
“Okay, okay. Whether it was a guy with big feet or it was Bigfoot, doesn't really matter, I don't want him in my house.
So, listen . . .”
The waitress stepped up behind Toria. She smiled inquisitively, taking in their conspiratorial postures. “Ya ready?”
Dad smiled apologetically. “Not yet. But how about waters all around?”
“Gotcha,” she said and wandered away.
All faces turned back to Dad.
He said, “Tomorrow we all go over there and start cleaning.
Xander and I will go through the whole house. Basement to attic. We'll see if anybody's there.”
Toria inhaled sharply and covered her mouth.
A bit melodramatic
, Xander thought, but that was Toria.
“Or if there are ways to get in we don't know about,”
Dad said.
David said, “I want to search too.”
Dad shook his head. “I don't thinkâ”
Xander touched Dad's arm and said, “He can do it.”
Dad studied Xander's face. Maybe he was trying to gauge whether Xander was sticking up for his brother because he thought David could handle it, or because he was going to use the opportunity to somehow scare Dae. Whatever he saw in Xander's eyes, he seemed to appreciate it. He nodded, said, “Okay. It'll be the King boys then.”
David smiled. “And may God have mercy on anyone we find . . .”
“Because
we
won't!” Xander finished.
THURSDAY, 10:49 P.M.
The flashlight beams pushed away the inky blackness of the basement. The walls and floor were stone. Cobwebs and spider-webs everywhere. David pointed out that he heard the squeaking of rodents and the click of their claws on the stone. “I don't like this,” he said.
“No kidding,” Xander said.
Dad said, “We'll just take a walk around. See if there's anything obvious. We don't have to move things around, or anything.”
What they had seen so far was a basement full of wooden crates, loose lumber, and cardboard boxes that had mostly rotted away, spilling their contents of old clothes, dishes, and record albums onto the floor. The electricity was supposed to have been turned on, but it hadn't been when Dad last checked. It was impossible to tell how large the basement was. Their lights did not go far, and the area was divided by stone walls that seemed to Xander to be haphazardly placed. If it occupied the same square footage as the first floor, it would be big enough to install an Olympic-sized pool or maybe a couple bowling alleys.
“So what are we looking for?” David asked.
Dad said, “Evidence that someone is squatting down here.”
“Squatting? Gross,” David said.
Xander laughed.
“It means living somewhere you're not supposed to,” Dad explained.
“Or
doing
something you're not supposed to,” David said.
This time they all laughed. Their voices seemed to cut away some of the gloom. It made the search less creepy.
Their flashlights came upon a wood-plank door. Xander and David looked to Dad.
“Let's check all the rooms. Keep your eyes open for doors or recesses that might lead to a sub-basement or root cellar or to the outside.”
“This is like a video game,” David said.
“It's like
And Then There Were None
,” Xander corrected. “That's where all these people are stuck in a house and they're-”
“That's enough, Xander,” Dad said.
They stood with their flashlights on the door. No one moved. If Xander were directing this, he would have a camera approaching them from behind while they weren't looking. He spun around, panning the light back and forth.
“What?” David said, a little too shrill.
“Nothing. Thought I heard something.”
No one moved toward the door. Xander said, “Dad?”
“All right.” He moved to the door. Xander's heart leaped as a black figure sprung up in front of Dad. Then he realized it was Dad's shadow. Xander's and David's flashlights had created it. Dad pulled open the door. Its hinges squealed like a rat caught in a trap.
“And don't scare us,” David said in a loud whisper.
Dad's light moved around the room, then he stepped back. He shut the door. “Nothing,” he said. “And how about this . . .” He used his finger to draw a big cartoon face in the dust on the door. the figure's name was “Bob,” and Dad had been drawing him since he'd been a kid. Bob was the family's unofficial mascot.
When he finished, Dad smiled and nodded. “There. Now we've marked this area as ours.”
“I can think of another way to mark our territory,” Xander said.
“Hey,” Dad said. “None of that.”
Together they moved through the basement, checking rooms and corners. They saw lots of spiders and rat poop, dust and dirt, but no people or indications that someone had ever lived down there. When the stairs came back around, Xander sighed with relief.
“What do the cops say?” Dad asked.
“Clear!” Xander called.
“All right, then,” Dad said. “Onward and upward.” He climbed the stairs, clicking his flashlight off as he neared the open door at the top.
“No
squatters
,” Xander said, making the word sound as gross as he could.
David smiled and started up the stairs. “So what about
And Then There Were None
?” he said.
Xander thought again of the camera moving in the darkness toward him, and he bolted up the stairs right into David's back. “I'll tell you later. Just hurry it up.”
THURSDAY, 12:01 P.M.
They'd gotten through half of the first floor when Mom called them to lunch. PB&J and potato chips in the dining room. She had cleaned the room well, and Xander was starting to see the house's potential as a nice home. Even the table and chairs, left there by the previous owner, had been polished to a nice shine. They didn't look nearly as battered and ruined as when Xander had first seen them. Dad said the hardwood floor needed resurfacing, but it looked fine to Xander, kind of rustic and retro.
“Have you been helping your mom, young lady?” Dad asked Toria.
“I cleaned the windowsills,” she said proudly.
“That's it?” David asked.
“And my room!”
Mom nodded. “Mostly, she's been in her room.” She handed Dad a paper plate with a sandwich cut diagonally. “I take it you haven't found anyone lurking in our house.”
“No squatters,” David said and broke up laughing.
Mom gave him a puzzled look.
Smiling, Xander shook his head to show that, at least in front of his mother, he was above such childish humor. He said, “We searched the whole basement.”
“Talk about creepy,” David said.
“Yeah,” Xander agreed, “but we didn't find anybody.”
“And no place where anybody's been staying,” Dad added.
“Or any way to get into the house.”
Nonetheless, Mom looked worried. She said, “Could we put a lock on the basement door? Just in case?”
“Sure,” Dad said. “We can bolt this place up like Fort Knox.” He popped a chip into his mouth.
“We're about half-finished with this floor,” Xander said.
Around a mouthful of sandwich, David said, “We're even looking in the closets and cupboards.”
“Like anybody would hide in a
cupboard
,” Xander said, glaring at Dad.
Dad shrugged. “Never know.”
“Lots of gross stuff,” David said.
Mom made a face. “Gross stuff ?”
Dad said, “Just grime and trash. Stuff like that.”
“Rat poop!” David said.
“Eeewww!” Toria said. “I'm not hungry anymore.” Xander got an image of her as a mom.
“Rats?” Mom said.
“More like mice,” Dad said. “I'll set some traps this afternoon.” “And spiders,” David said.
“David, stop. You're scaring Toria,” Dad said. To the King ladies he said, “There are not as many spiders as you'd think for a house abandoned so long and in the woods. We'll bug-bomb tonight when we leave.”
“Cool!” David said.
“They're not
real
bombs,” Xander told him.
David frowned. “Oh.”
“They're still cool.” Dad raised his eyebrows at David. “Lots of smoke. You can help me.”
David nodded. He was pushing an entire half sandwich into his mouth.
Mom surveyed her family, sitting around the table in their new home. “Well, guys,” she said, smiling, “think we found our dream house?”
“Yeah!” Toria chimed.
Mouth full of sandwich, David said something indiscernible.
Xander scowled at him. “What?”
He held up a finger, swallowing painfully. “I said . . . we're the Dreamhouse Kings!”
Mom laughed. “I like it. The Dreamhouse Kings.” Her eyebrows shot up as she remembered something. Pointing to Dad, she said, “Honey, don't forget your appointment.”
Dad stopped chewing; his eyes went wide. He looked at his watch. He swallowed, said, “You boys continue without me.
I'm meeting the district superintendent at the school. School starts next Monday, and I haven't even toured the place.”
Mom laughed. “Not to mention that you haven't met the teachers, set up your office, reviewed the school calendarâ”
“I know, I know,” Dad said. He shrugged. “When they hired me I told them I didn't have time to do everything. They said not to worry about it.” He smiled. “Getting someone of my caliber is worth a little disorganization. That's what they said.”
Mom
aaahhh
'ed. “How sweet.”
“So what, you want us to look for intruders
alone
?” Xander asked.
“You'll be fine,” he said, glancing at his watch again. He stood. “I have to run by the motel, take a shower, and change.”
He grabbed the rest of his sandwich and hurried out.
9 The sun had crested in the sky and started its descent toward the horizon by the time Xander and David brought their inspection to the second floor.
“This is great,” David said. “We wanted to search the house anyway. Now we got Dad's help, and we don't have to sneak around. I hope he's back before we get to the attic. I don't want to go up there alone.”
“Hey! You're not alone.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Let's start with the far bedrooms and work our way back,” Xander suggested.
As they walked the corridor, their heads swiveled back and forth to look into each room they passed. Toria's bedroom had been swept and the windows washed. It was amazing how much light came in now that the filth was off the glass. It would be even better when they finally got to cleaning the outside.
“Shaping up,” David said.
They passed the pink room and the bedroom that was going to be theirsâthe corner room with the tower.
Duh.
They hadn't had a chance to do anything with it yet. It was as gloomy as ever.
“Lot left to do,” Xander said.
“Yeah, but we haven't found any graves or coffins with vampires or anything like that. I was thinking the basement would be the place for those things.”
They stopped outside the open door of the last room on the other side of the hall. Looking back, Xander was struck by how long the corridor really was. It continued beyond the foyer and grand staircase. All told, it was fifty feet, maybe longer. Even then, the far end of the hall bent into another corridor that led only to what Mom and Dad called “the servants' quarters.”
Xander would have called it a second master bedroom, because it had a walk-in closet and a private bathroom. He thought servants should also have their own kitchenette so they had privacy on their days off; that room didn't have a kitchenette. Still, he hoped it was inhabitable by the time Dae was ready for his own room-Xander would love to claim the “servants' quarters”
for himself.
He said, “I don't know. I get the feeling there's more to this house than it's showing us.”
They went into the bedroom and flipped on their flashlights.
More of the same: dust, old furniture, peeling wallpaper.
“Hey, look at this,” Xander said. His light had captured a framed picture on a nightstand. The photograph was faded, almost white, the faces indistinct. But Xander could tell it had once been a color portrait of a family: a man and woman, a little girl whose size would have made her three or four years old, and a blond-haired boy, a few years older.