It was a cold December night. I had just moved in with my friend Chris. His last roommate had gotten married and moved out of the house. It was a small house with a large unfinished basement. I had just laid down to take a nap before going in to work. I worked third shift, so sleeping was a daunting task. I would get home about nine in the morning. I’d take a shower, toss down a shot of NyQuil and be off to bed. No matter what I did though, I could only sleep about four hours at a time. It would be a deep Alice in Wonderland kind of sleep, but not long in duration. So, I usually took a nap around seven in the evening. I got into bed, rolled over and turned on the box fan. I just can’t sleep without the fan. There was a loud knock at the front door. Irritated, I got out of bed and opened the front door. No one was there. I walked outside to see if anyone was walking either way up the street, thinking that maybe I took too long to answer the door. I didn’t see anyone.
I went back to bed, eyes heavy, and ready to slip down deep into the looking glass. I was asleep when there was a banging on my bedroom door. I sat up in bed. It was quiet for a minute. I listened to ascertain whether whoever knocked was still outside my door. I knew it wasn’t Chris because he was over three hundred miles away in Knoxville to visit with his family. I listened for any shuffling. Looked for shadows beneath the door. Nothing. All silent and then the banging again. The knocking was so hard I could see the door shake.
I didn’t own a gun, but I did have a baseball bat. I got out of bed, quickly put on my clothes, and grabbed the bat. The bedroom door was unlocked. Whoever was out there could have come in without any trouble. I thought about climbing out the window, but then I would feel silly if it was just Chris trying the scare the shit out of me. He probably just came home early. I had convinced myself that it was just him and that I was being paranoid. I went to the door and opened it, never letting go of the bat.
“Alright, very funny.” No one was there. I raised the bat up in the ready position. Looked down the hall towards the kitchen and noticed that the basement door was open. I always left the light on over the sink, but I knew I hadn’t left that door open. It was a part of my routine to put the chain lock in place and undo it at least three times before leaving it in place. The same with the doorknob lock. That way I wouldn’t forget whether or not I had locked the door leading down to the basement. I wouldn’t have to ask myself over and over again while lying in bed trying to sleep.
I heard a faint knocking down in the basement. My heart raced. I ran through the front door and out in the yard. Chris’s car was not in the driveway. I walked down the driveway to see if anyone had come out the back door. The back door was open. I heard the knocking again from inside. There had to be an intruder. I decided to call the police, but I had left my cell phone in my room. I wasn’t about to go back in there. I propped the bat up against the front porch. I went across the street, knocked on the neighbor’s door and explained the situation. They called the police for me.
I stayed inside the neighbor’s house, and we kept a watch for the police. When I saw the first squad car approach, I went outside to talk to the officer.
“Officer, I’m the one who called.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“No sir. I just heard them.”
“Them?”
“No, I just mean I don’t know if it’s a man or a woman.”
“Alright, hang tight. I’m waiting on backup, and we’ll go check it out.”
When the other squad car arrived, both officers went into the house. They were in there about twenty minutes. They found nothing.
“I guess whoever was in the house is gone now. If you notice anything missing, you can file a report.” With that the officers left.
It was almost time for me to go to work anyway. I decided to skip the shower and go into work a little early. I grabbed the bat and went back into the house to put on my work clothes. Then I heard the knocking in the basement again. How could they have missed the intruder? This time I decided to see who it was. There was no place to hide. All that was in the basement was the washer and dryer, Chris’s exercise equipment, and a lawnmower. The basement was eventually going to be a downstairs den. The owner had put up some framing against the cinder block walls for paneling. Half the basement had beige paneling; the other half was unfinished. I wasn’t going to fight the intruder. I had planned to switch on the light, go down the stairs enough to see who it was, and then get the hell out of the house. If I could see the intruder, I may be able to identify him or her to the police.
The door was still open. The knocking was sporadic but still happening. I walked to the basement door, flipped the light switch, took a deep breath, and sprinted down the stairs. I looked all around but saw nothing. The knocking started again. I could easily determine where it was coming from. I looked to the very far wall opposite the stairs. I could see that the paneling in one spot was shaking with each knock. It was as if whoever was knocking was stuck behind the paneling. The knocking got louder, the paneling shook, and the kitchen door slammed shut. I raced back up the stairs and tried to shove the door open with no luck. The knocking now was nonstop. I was panicking. No matter how hard I tried the door would not open.
Out of desperation I ran downstairs, with the paneling in full sight, to the door that led to the backyard. It wouldn’t open either. I started to yell for help and bang on the door. The knocking was louder than ever. The panel was loosely hanging on the frame, warped from the pounding on the inside. The finishing nails on the top side of the paneling fell to the floor. The knocking stopped and the paneling leaned forward. I saw a hand emerge from behind the paneling. I turned and beat on the door, yelling as loud as I could. The basement door opened. The neighbor had heard my screaming.
“Are you ok?”
“Someone is in there.”
He looked inside. “I don’t see anything.”
“The paneling?”
“Looks fine to me.” I looked inside. The paneling was fastened tight against the wall.
I didn’t go into work that night. Whatever write-up they needed to give me was fine. It was Friday. Who doesn’t call out on Friday every now and then? Come Sunday night I was getting the jitters. I knew I had to go back and get ready for work soon, but Chris should be back by then. I just had to call Chris to make sure.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked impatiently ready to get to the real reason I called.
“Nothing much. How is everything?”
“Good. Ready to come back home? Will you be home around eleven?”
“I’m not coming back.”
“You’re not coming back. Who’s going to help me with rent and besides…” I hesitated.
“The knocking started again, right?”
I was shocked. I didn’t know how to respond.
“I was hoping once you moved in it would stop and it did for a while. Listen I got to go. Whatever I left, you can have. You know, I’m convinced the knocking never stops. I think I hear it all the time now. It’s not as loud, but it’s there.” He hung up without even saying goodbye.
There was nothing I wanted that I couldn’t buy for myself. I left everything. I didn’t want the deposit back. I didn’t want to have to go near that house. And Chris was right- I still hear the knocking. It’s not as loud, but it never goes away.