Del clamped a hand over his own mouth but couldn’t contain the childlike whimper that sounded deep in his throat. “Someone’s down there!”

“Looks like it,” Bart replied. Holding the flashlight but leaving it off, he put his foot down on the first step and waited for it to creak, and when it didn’t, he tested another. Del grabbed his arm.

“Are you crazy?” he squeaked nervously. “Let’s go!”

“I want to see who it is,” the older boy said calmly.

“What?!”

“Look, by now he knows we’re here. It’s only fair we know who he is. I won’t be long, I just want a look. You stay up here—”

“Bullshit,” Del snapped, starting down the steps after him. “I’m sticking to you like glue. And keep those damned chucks ready.”

They eased quietly down the steps, Bart in the lead with the unlit torch, testing each step with a tennis shoe before committing his weight. Halfway down, one slat of wood changed its mind and let out an arthritic groan that made both of them wince. But no one came running. After a very long half-minute they continued their descent.

It had been cold upstairs, with the midnight breeze drifting unhampered through the shattered windows, but in the cellar it was damn near freezing. It was dank and musty and had that clammy feel of an underground room. The drip-drip of seeping ground­water could be heard, and water sloshed underfoot when they stepped off the staircase, soaking their tennis shoes clear through.

“Look back there,” Del whispered.

The soft glow was coming from the far end of the cellar, almost the length of the house. Its source was obscured by boxes and refuse heaped there decades ago.

“Did you see anyone?”

Del shook his head. “Just the light. Now let’s get out of here, okay?”

“Sshh. C’mon.”

Straddling the puddle, they found to their surprise a floor not of packed earth, but hewn stone. Still, this was no contemporary basement, not like any Del had ever seen. There were no windows. There was no paneling, no washing machine or ping pong table or cardboard boxes marked Toys or Junk or X-Mas Tree Decorations. In fact, in the pale glow of whatever lay ahead, it didn’t look so much like a cellar as a cavern.

Something small brushed past Del’s leg and skittered away. He wished he were carrying the flashlight. Don’t panic, he tried to rationalize. It was just a stray cat. Yeah. Sure it was.

As they grew closer to the light they could pick out small details of the cellar around them. The walls segued from uneven stone to large, squared brick where additions had been built onto the original house. There were racks along one wall with a few small kegs still in place and a row of shelves along the other that might have held canned goods or homemade preserves long ago. They could also see that the cobwebs were thick and hung all around them like mosquito netting, undisturbed except along the path they were following.