They sounded like ravenous animals determined to find meat before they died. Fear had replaced my grief, and I sat staring at the door, my hands shaking so badly that I had to set the gun down in front of me for fear of letting off a round by accident. Hattie took no notice of me as her remained fixed on the door above us. It took a minute or two, but the pounding became less severe and it seemed they had finally lost interest in us.

Then, I heard a noise that sent icicles through my chest. I could hear my mom’s voice from the front of the house.

“Waverly? Hattie? Are you home?” she yelled out. Her voice was frantic with worry.

I wanted to yell for her, to tell her to get out of the house, but Hattie reached out and covered my mouth, shaking her head vigorously.

“We’ve got to get out of the city,” she said, coming nearer to the basement door.

Hattie let go of my mouth, and it was everything I could do not to yell out, but if I did, I knew that the scratchers would be down here in a second. Mom would see them and run, surely.

Her steps came closer to the basement. “Waverly? Are you down…” Her words stopped short and were replaced by a scream that sent chills up and down my spine.

“No!” I scream out.

Something slammed against the door and the horrific grunts mingled with her screams flooded into my ears. I started running up the stairs, but Hattie grabbed me by my pants and pulled me down. “Waverly, no!” she said harshly. She dragged me to her and pulled me close. I tried to fight her for only a second before the screaming stopped and blood started oozing between the crack from under the door and onto the steps ahead of us.

My sobs were silent, but not because I tried to quiet them. I cried so hard I thought my ribs might crack. I had no way to gasp for air. It was as though my windpipe had closed off and would allow no breath to come in or out, yet the tears flowed freely from my eyes. I could hear the sounds of chomping jaws closing around soft tissue, lubricated by my mother’s blood that I could see dripping just above. Hattie pulled me away from the stairs and let me lie on the floor.

She lay next to me, holding me tightly. “Just breathe,” she whispered into my ear. “There’s no time for crying yet, just breathe.”

Just breathe, I thought. Just breathe. Finally, air entered my lungs and the result was a loud gasp. The chomping from upstairs stopped and the scratchers suddenly seemed interested in the door again. The moaning grew louder as the house became populated with more and more of these creatures.

“Why are they coming in here?” I asked. “Why?”