It Went Into the House

Mina Ramirez

I saw it go into the house. Of course I didn’t lock the door behind me. I was just taking out the trash. I would only be gone a few minutes. No harm to leave the door open. I was just a few feet away. I had just happened to glance behind me.

It was small, about twice the size of a cat. I couldn’t see much since it was so dark but it looked to be running on two legs. I can’t shake this from my mind, but it almost looked like it was running with its arms stretched out straight in front of it, like a cartoon. That probably makes me sound crazy when I say it like that.

I saw it go in. I heard the door open and close. The thing didn’t slam the door, no, it was too discreet for that. Just a quiet complaint from one of the hinges. I didn’t hear anything else.

My wife was inside. My dog was inside. The thing was inside.

I was frozen. Nausea crept into my throat, rising like bile from my guts. I didn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I was waiting. Maybe Claire would see it and scream, or maybe she would come outside with me and bring Charlie. Maybe.

No sound from the house. I realized I was crouched. My thighs were starting to burn. Somewhere down the street a car alarm shrieked four times and was silent.

It was in the house with them. It was walking around with its hands outstretched looking for them. They wouldn’t see it. I barely saw it. Its hands would touch them.

Charlie would smell it. Dogs can sniff these sorts of things out. That’s what they were there for. I thought about why I had first wanted a dog, because there was a break-in three houses down from mine. I had chosen Charlie to be the first to die if someone broke in. We had been at the dog park for three hours earlier today.

I stood still outside while the thing was inside. Still no sound. I hit myself in the leg to try to move. I started barely slogging across the stone walkway. Step by step towards the front door. The kitchen light was on. I could see through the blinds. Nothing unusual.

The front door stood in my way. I thought I should leave. I thought I should leave Claire and Charlie in there with it. I thought I should walk away, past my car, inert without the keys I had left inside, down the sidewalk, faster and faster, until I was running, crawling on all fours. I waited in silence thinking about this.

A noise from inside. Very faint. The toilet had flushed. I backed away from the door fast and tripped, falling into the lawn.

We had a spare bedroom. The window faced the street. Through the window I could see the hallway. I hurried over, minding the sound of my flip flops in the grass. A dim chorus of crickets hushed at my arrival.

Charlie had bent the bottom blinds as soon as we moved in. I crouched, then dropped to my stomach, straining to look in through the window. I squinted, my mouth hanging open. At my age you had to open your mouth like you were yawning to get a look at something.

Just through a bent blind, past the dark spare bedroom and the door to the hallway, my wife walked calmly from the bathroom to our bedroom. She turned the hall light off. Darkness.

I rolled over and sat in the grass. Her phone. I could call her. Tell her to get Charlie. Come outside. Run outside. Why couldn’t I go in and get her? I’m the man. I have to protect her.

The thing was walking inside with its hands outstretched looking for them.

I called Claire. Her phone rang four times, then:

“Hey. Why are you calling from inside?”

My voice caught in my throat.

“Nick? You’re inside, right?”

“That’s not me,” I choked out. “I’m outside.”

A pause.

“I heard you come in.”

“No. That was something else,” I said. I wanted to cry. I heard her moving over the phone. Getting out of bed.

“What do you mean? What’s something else? Is there someone else in here?”

“Get Charlie.” I was practically screaming. I looked around to see if any of my neighbors were out. I realized I had never learned any of their names.

The call dropped. Tears streamed down my face. No noises from inside. Then–

Footsteps approaching the front door. Soft shuffling deliberate footsteps. Claire was coming. The sound of untrimmed claws on hardwood. She was bringing Charlie. We could leave. We could run away. They were at the door now. They were right there.

The doorknob locked first, then the deadbolt. Two mechanical thuds, over so quickly, ringing endlessly in my ears.

“No,” I said. “No, no, no, Claire, Claire. Claire!”

I heard her soft voice from behind the door. Who was she talking to?

Minutes passed. I called Claire over and over, and when she didn’t pick up I called to her from outside. Lights in the neighbors’ houses came on. I pounded on the door and windows. I was hyperventilating, close to dry heaving. I had resigned myself to squatting down with my head in my hands when I saw the lights.

Two squad cars bathed our street in red and blue. Four officers, standing with their hands on their belts. One approached me.

“Good evening,” he said.

“My wife,” I shrieked. “My wife is in there. You have to get her out.”

“All good man. Why don’t you step away from the door so we can talk.”

“You don’t understand, there’s something in there with her!”

“Just come on back man. Step away from the door.”

I ignored him. I pulled on the doorknob. Locked fast.

“Claire! Claire, please! Open the door! You can’t be in there!”

Movement behind me. I could hear Charlie barking behind the door.

It was in there with them. It was inside with them. I impotently kicked at the door.

“Step away from the door!”

I screamed and pounded at the front door. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders and neck. I thrashed like an animal, throwing my elbow behind me. Something crunched under its force. I heard a grunt of pain, then–

“Taser taser taser.”

I was on the ground. I was pissing myself. I felt an incredible weight on my back, pressure like a boulder on my lumbar spine. I couldn’t move. My drool pooled on the ground. The shock pulsing through my body made me spasm. Whoever was on top of me punched me hard in the back of the head.

“Ma’am, you need to stay inside,” a voice said.

I craned my neck up. Claire was standing in the doorway, backlit, her expression in shadow. Behind her, around the corner to the living room, a small, dark shape slowly came into view. It stood on two legs. It raised a thin, spindly arm. Its hand contorted. I started laughing, pissing myself even harder, taking blow after blow from the officers detaining me, feeling blood pool around my head.

The last time I ever saw Claire, she was closing the front door to our house, the small thing standing behind her, still giving me the finger.