Associate Bradbury looks at Casey and I; she places a finger against her mouth, I read this as a gesture that indicates ‘remain quiet.’

We listen hard in the dim light.

Then another noise comes from behind the door; one that I struggle to recognise. I don’t think it is a sound I have been taught. I can’t even decide whether it is a human noise.

 Associate Bradbury takes her ear from the door and scans the basement space, searching. Her eyes, sharp and alert, rest on a pile of beat up old baseball bats.

 As she walks toward them, I note the sleek athleticism of her physique. Her sport-honed limbs remind me of my own living body; so different to this skinny carcass I now walk in.

She hands Casey and I a bat each, “You guys use these if you have too.” She looks me in the eye, “You understand Kirk?” she asks.

“No,” I answer.

Casey touches my arm; I read a mix of fear and apprehension in her eyes. She takes a gulp and says, “You need to use the bat to hit whatever’s behind that door – IF – they or it is hostile toward us. You understand Kirk?”

“Yes,” I answer.

I read a pondering look on Casey’s face as she looks at the bat, “Associate Bradbury, that voice sounded a lot like Jenna to my ears, I’m not sure we’ll need these, Jenna’s not dangerous.”

“Casey, never underestimate The Dark Side’s ability to trick and deter us from their evil intentions,” replies Associate Bradbury, with a look on her face I read as a mix of impatience and irritation.

 “Please help.” The voice slips into our space again. This time I also hear a hint of Jenna in its weak plea. Casey and Associate Bradbury scan the basement. Their eyes move from the door, toward the pile of broken furniture, then swiftly back to the door where another noise seeps from behind it.

The noise from behind the door isn’t human – it’s a scraping, scratching, accompanied by low-level breathy grunt.

 “Get me outta here.” Casey walks toward the source of the voice with a determined stride. Associate Bradbury grabs her as she starts to walk into the dark crevices created by the tumble of furniture; she pulls her away and mouths – ‘No.’

 The noise from behind the door grows louder. An urgent scraping screeches through the space.

 I read fear on Casey’s face, so I hug her. But, I can’t reassure her; I don’t know what is happening in this human situation.

 “I’m OK Kirk,” says Casey, pulling herself gently away from me.

 So, I grab a rat and have a sneaky munch and purge while Associate Bradbury and Casey discuss human things.

……

 Once purged, I become aware of Associate Bradbury and Casey’s dialogue; it sounds animated with anger. Casey’s familiar temper flares, “She’s trapped somewhere in this room, and clearly distressed. I’m not comfortable with your attitude Julia; of course we’ve got to help her,” asserts Casey.

Associate Bradbury replies with a blunt tone in her voice, “I don’t care if you’re not comfortable with my attitude Casey. You must respect and bow to my greater experience of the workings of The Dark Side. I’m exercising extreme caution, being careful. The situation here is critical. Jenna’s voice could be a Dark Side ploy; a distraction from whatever’s behind that door,” she says, throwing an impatient finger toward the door.

The noise suddenly invades the space again, causing Casey to yelp! Then the voice, “Over here,” weak and distant this time.

The conflicting sounds cause Casey’s head to rotate rapidly toward the source of each sound; a look of intense concentration haunts her face.

Associate Bradbury reacts with a knowing authority, “There’s something behind that door the Dark Side don’t want us discovering – that voice is definitely a diversion tactic.”

Casey snaps, “That voice is real, I’m not imagining it!” Associate Bradbury hits back, “Of course it’s real, and the Dark Side’s real Casey.” She grabs a tin cup from a dusty table, “See those glowing yellow eyes up there? Well, guess what, they’re real to, watch this.” She hurls the cup toward the eyes with the aim of an experienced pitcher.

An angry, screeching cry fuels the eyes as they launch themselves toward Associate Bradbury. The swoosh of a vicious swipe causes her head to swivel violently as she tries, but fails to avoid a lethal claw. She drops to the floor, and covers her head in defense.

The eyes glow from the opposite side of the basement, hissing with malevolent intent. Associate Bradbury stands, wipes the side of her cheek and holds her hand up to Casey, "And see this blood Casey, my blood, that's real too.”

“That was a pretty stupid thing to do,” says Casey. Associate Bradbury explodes, “NO IT WAS NOT! I had to do it to prove to you that the Dark side is real, a tangible life force that lives along side us. Those black cats aren’t a benign symptom, not the stuff of creepy fairytales and ghostly crap; they’re a vicious living indicator of the dark side’s presence. Jeez – you mid grade responsives are so difficult to deal with!” she says, wiping away the rivulets of blood that seep down her cheek.

Mmmm, had I known they were flesh and blood, I could have had a munch. The Dark side hides their smell well.

...... 

After many hotly exchanged words, Casey and Associate Bradbury call a truce. “Look, we need to get behind that door first, it’s probably nothing, hopefully rats. Then we can check on the other voice –, OK?” she says, addressing Casey.

“OK,” answers Casey.

......

I stand in front of the door, my baseball bat primed for combat. Casey stands behind me, her bat primed for her own defense, should whatever it is get past me.

But, I won’t let anything hurt Casey.

Associate Bradbury stands in front of the door, “OK guys, after a count of three I’m gonna kick this door in, you ready?”

“Ready,” answers Casey.

“1. 2. 3. The flat of her boot slams into the door, sending it flying inwards, crashing against the inner wall, and back against the doorframe – broken – the space behind now accessible.

We wait a moment. The sound of Casey's breathing hovers heavy in the silence.

Nothing.

Associate Bradbury pulls the door outward.

It's a small store cupboard, packed with brooms and other cleaning apparatus. A shelving unit carries a vast array of cleaning products.

There's no sign of the scratching sound, no rats – nothing.

Casey steps from behind me, and stares into the cupboard. I read a 'thinking hard' look cross her face; her head makes a swift left/right swivel, like she's saying 'no' to the thoughts entering her head.

She walks forward, the bat held tight by her right side. "What is it Casey?" asks Associate Bradbury.

Casey raises her left hand, a gesture that makes Associate Bradbury shout again, "Have respect Casey, don't raise your hand to me!"

She continues into the cupboard, throwing brooms and other paraphernalia aside. Associate Bradbury right behind her now.

I've never see Casey act like this; I can't read any intention in her actions.

Casey stands and stares ahead, "That noise, the scratching sound, it's coming from down there," says Casey. "Down where?" asks Associate Bradbury. Casey turns and looks at me, I read knowing in her face, "Kirk, help me open this shelving unit – this secret door."

A small part of my soul connects with Casey – I know what she has discovered.

......

The Association

We interrupt Kirk's narrative to give you a swift update. 

The status of the reanimated doctor at Arlington High is stable. However he still remains a significant threat. It is therefore imperative we locate Grade 1 Responsive Jess in order to ensure his triple discovery, and bring this incident to a safe and satisfactory conclusion. To this end, two senior members of The Association are on their way to Dale's address to carry out operation 'Locate Jess.'

As a pre-emptive safety measure, The Association has enlisted DR Shaheed to carry out the autopsy on the reanimate. She will endorse and confirm the 'Drug ingestion' theory, in order to protect reanimate existence from the Authorities and the world.

We hand you back to Kirk

……

The secret shelving unit opens with ease.

We detect a distant cry – the noise. It builds to a screeching crescendo.

Suddenly, a blurring, screaming shape shoots from behind the shelving unit. It slams into Associate Bradbury, sending her flying as it makes its desperate bid for escape.

It's a Wild Boar. Reanimate feed.

……

Casey and I help Associate Bradbury off the floor; she’s shocked rather than hurt. She doesn’t ask what it was – she knows.

……

The staircase is steep and very narrow. Casey is reluctant to descend, but she knows we have to – to be sure.

I’m handed the flashlight, “You go first Kirk, you know the score. We’ll be right behind you,” says Associate Bradbury.

At the bottom, I rotate the flashlight around 360 degrees. I have no doubt now.

We have discovered a reanimate basement deep in the bowels of Arlington High.

……

Associate Bradbury scans the space, “This is huge…a very large… worry.” She walks to the ‘hosing’ area, a space that could easily accommodate ten, maybe more purging reanimates. “The Association doesn’t have the resources to handle anything other than domestic reanimation – we need to up our gear, this is off the scale – do you guys have any ideas who could be behind this?” she asks, with deep concern in her voice.

“Dale,” says Casey.

“I don’t think he’s intelligent enough to organize something like this,” says Associate Bradbury, with a dismissive tone.

Casey shakes her head, and lets out a nasally breath, “He’s clever enough to kill, believe me. And, I know someone intelligent and insightful enough to reanimate.”

Casey takes my hand. For the second time, I feel a slice of my soul connect with hers – my reanimate fact collides with her life, giving me a glimmer of insight.

“Kirk, do you know who I’m talking about?” she asks.

“Yes, I do.”

Casey squeezes my hand, “We need to go get Toby – it’s us three against them…”