Baron stayed out a long time, then he went down to Pop's again. Night fell and Norma had only Lollie to keep her company. Every shadow outside looked frightening. Was it a branch or a zombie arm? It flashed from rough brown sticks into decaying, grey arms. Once, she was sure she heard a noise. A shrill screech, as though long dead nails were scratching on the glass--a zombie itching to come in. When she went to check, her own reflection in the window gave her one heck of a shock. Her mind was too ready to turn everything into a lurking zombie.

"Come on, Lollie," Norma said shivering like jello. She grabbed a flashlight.

The basset hound followed loyally at her master's heels. They walked down the hallway together, master in old blue slippers and dog with bare nails clicking against the hard wood floor. When they got to the attic hatch, Norma retrieved the pole out of the hall closet and pulled the lever down. The hatch popped open and the narrow stairway was revealed.

All of this was a rare event and it frightened Lollie. Unsure, she backed away.

"Come on," Norma said. "You gonna make me go up there alone?"

Lollie gazed, thought better of it, then turned tail and ran. Norma turned back to the dark hole in the ceiling. It didn't look like any picnic to her up there either. Spiders, rats, maybe even bats could be hiding up there. She hated the attic. Up until this zombie problem, her biggest fear had been heights. Looking down from anywhere had always made her a might queasy. Even thinking about being that high up was making her stomach turn somersaults.

The best thing Baron ever did was save her from that terror by always being the one to put away boxes and drag out the Christmas decorations or what-have-yous when needed from the storage space above. But he was out and she needed those thick, ugly curtains her aunt had given her years back--the ones she didn't have the heart to turn down. She needed them in the worst way, because she was certain she'd go insane before Baron returned if she didn't get them on the windows. It was scary to go up there, and even more frightening to look down from the top of the narrow, feeble staircase, but it beat the the alternative.

She took a deep breath. "Come on, Norma, just go. You can't keep looking over your shoulder for zombies in every window. A little trip to the attic is better than feeling those dead eyes on you from the darkness at every turn." She switched on the flashlight, tried to calm her nerves, and climbed.

The old wood creaked when she stepped on it. One foot kept going above the other, rising with the tempo of her heartbeat. By the time she reached the top, sweat had already broke out on her forehead. The beam of light bobbed about as her hand shook, making the attic's ambience even spookier.

The ceiling was low and slanted. In the center, she could almost stand up straight. Boxes lined the left and right of the room. Even with the boxes, the room felt eerily hollow. Unoccupied and foreign to Norma. She could have sworn something brushed her arm. She swung around with her light beam, but saw nothing. It almost made her want to turn right back around and hightail it right back where she came from. She didn't only because she'd already gotten this far and was determined to not go all the way up there to turn back empty handed. She needed something to show for it.

The flashlight traveled across the uncharted boxes. If Baron were here, he'd know exactly which box to go for. Norma was clueless and clearly on her own.

Curtains, curtains, who has the curtains? she wondered, inspecting the boxes.

On the right, she saw the Christmas tree box. It was big, but it was cheap as hell. Bought on discount because it had some missing branches. It was no bother, really. Norma always hid the bald spots in the back. On top of that box was a bunch of boxes about the same sizes and one of them had an old wreath with a few broken pine cones and a wrinkly, dingy bow sticking out the top.

"If Christmas stuff is all over here," she reasoned aloud, "the curtains should be..."

The beam of light traveled left past the little round attic window. It roved over the boxes on the other side of the room. She followed the circle of light on the nearest box. They were closed very simple, with one flap tucked under the flap to its left and over the flap to it's right. Pulling one flap would pop the whole top open and that's just what she did. An old set of dishes were inside that one, so she closed it back and moved on. She pulled the flap and inside this one was old sink parts and other nonsense she would never use. She closed it. Inside the next box, neatly folded, were the thick violet curtains she'd been searching for. She grinned and tucked the flashlight under her arm while she grabbed at the curtains with both hands.

Unbeknownst to Norma, the attic was home to a small bat, who'd wandered in somewhere along the area where the old roof met the old walls. It had stirred when she entered and flown to a safer place, or so it thought. She had felt it pass then, but had not known. The light beam flashed around the attic and found it for the briefest moment, which was long enough to give it a scare. When the little bat flew by Norma this time, she saw it.

Norma shouted. Curtains and flashlight fell as Norma threw her ands up. Her body lurched out of the path of the flying mammal. She plowed into a pile of boxes, which tumbled and scattered. Some simply crashed, some popped open. The flashlight swung around on the floor the way a spinning bottle does during a game. It came to a stop pointed at a spilled box.

Bat forgotten, Norma stared at the box. Her body had gone cold. Her voice had been lost. On the floor, there was rope and tape. There was even some photos that looked slightly pornographic to Norma, photos of some girls bound in rope. At first, Norma couldn't believe her eyes. Then the strongest urge to get out of there hit her like a ton of bats. In a rush of adrenal instinct, she shoved the contents back in the box and sealed it. She shoved the other contents in the other boxes and righted them. She moved with speed, putting everything back, even the curtains. She snatched the light and went back to the hatch.

Her breath had been stolen. The floor, only ten feet from the attic hatch, suddenly became twenty feet away. Norma blinked and it was twenty-five. She gasped. Her stomach felt too full and her head felt light without enough oxygen. How was she going to get all the way down there without breaking something?

Out of sight, Lollie burst into barks. All her years with the basset hound let Norma know that bark meant either Baron was coming home, or something else was out there. Norma saw the floor again, ten feet away. She sucked in a deep lungful of air and started down with her limbs wobbling. She swallowed hard to fight the nausea. Her foot hit the floor quickly, while she had still been dreading a twenty foot fall. With a sigh of relief she sent up the stairs and shoved the hatch door closed.

Lollie was still barking in the living room. Norma heard what Lollie was able to hear before her, Baron's loud old truck growing louder as he came up the drive. She heard the shift as he hit the deep mud hole in the long driveway. Making a fuss of acting normal, she put the flashlight back and wiped the sweat off her face. She swore to herself not to say a word about the attic or what she saw.