Andy pulled a small plastic bottle out of a pocket and scraped some of the spongy soil into it. He capped it and had begun to turn away when he stopped, and then spun back, frowning. He lifted his flashlight, holding it up and centered while reaching into yet another of his numerous pockets. He carefully drew forth a flat folding knife that he expertly opened out one handed while keeping his eyes on the wall.

Andy used the blade to dig in gently, carefully, edging out the spongy soil, and letting it plop wetly at his feet. He used the tip of his blade to snag the object and drew it out: it was a sleeve – blue checked wool, thick, like you get in those hunting or lumber shirts. He tugged it free and held it up on the blade tip. Despite the dirt covering the material, it was clearly fairly new.

“How the hell did you get in there?” he whispered, and then looked briefly to the surface – not a chance that this thing had been buried by sedimentary processes. Anything down here would be tens of thousands of years old, at least. He flapped the dirt free and looked at it again; even from a foot from his face, he could smell the stink – the same fishy, sulfurous odor that was in the slime.

It was a sleeve with a shiny button still on the cuff end, shredded at the other. He moved his light a little closer – the ragged end was damp. It was hard to tell what it was in the whitening glare of the flashlight, but the fluid glistened, and he knew what he hoped it wasn’t – blood.

“Jesus, Bill, what happened down here?”

He quickly checked his pockets. Damn, no sample bags. He cursed his poor preparation and ended up wadding the material up and tucking it in a spare pocket. He dug a little more into the soil without finding anything, and then turned away looking again towards the sunken house. It was tomb quiet, and a prickle lifted the hair on his neck.

“Ah, Frank…” Andy cleared his throat. “Frank, there’s nothing here.” He lifted his light again. The slime glistened back at him from the door. “If the Andersons were ever here, they’re gone now.”

“Probably never down there. They’ll sure get a shock when they get home this evening.” Frank didn’t sound convincing.

Andy felt the sleeve wadded up in his pocket. “Sure…sure they will.” He took one last look around, moving his light slowly over the property. Smears of the glistening slime reflected the beam back at him. The dark or confined spaces never worried him. Being a geologist meant caving, tight tunnels, basically a lot of underground work, but this down here…He felt the hairs on his neck rise, and stay risen like the hackles of a dog. This is a hundred percent pure weird, he thought.

Andy snorted softly. “Only in America.”