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“Here is the key to the house.” The elderly man holds up a single key on a small, silver ring. The lines at the corners of his mouth shift like molded clay as he speaks, “And the keys to the shop. There is one for the back door, which you can use to enter the shop through the house, and one for the outer front door.” He hands over the ring with the single key and then a similar ring containing two keys. “Now, you will oversee the shop from opening until close, Monday through Fridays. Shop opens at 8:00 am and closes at 5:00 pm. Remember that. Feel free to take a break when needed. I'm not going to hound you on your time as long as the shop is well looked after.”

“I understand, Mr. Binx. That won't be a problem at all.” The young man takes the keys offered him. The ring that held them looks recent, but the keys themselves feel heavy, grimy and old.

“I knew I could count on you, Liam. Oh, there is one more thing. The basement. It's off limits. There is no need for you to go down there. It should always remain locked.” The elderly man lifts his left hand, adjusting the half-moon spectacles perched lightly upon the bridge of his round nose, a nervous tick.

“Right. You don't have to worry about a thing, Mr. Binx.”

“Good, good. I'll leave you to get settled, then. Store opens tomorrow. Don't forget.” Mr. Binx calls over his shoulder as he makes his way to the front door. Liam gives the elderly man a gentle wave in parting. The door closes with a soft click behind him, leaving Liam to stand in the small entry hallway alone. Absently, a hand rises to brush the dark strands of his bangs back from his eyes, gaze shifting to rest upon the door that leads to the off-limits basement. It sits in the wall to his right. It looks ordinary enough. A simple wooden door with a brass colored handle, like every other door in the house. The only thing different about this door is the padlock, clearly added on well after the house was built, and high enough that only an adult can reach it.

With a shrug, Liam turns his attention to the small cluster of cardboard boxes in which he has brought all his belongings. Not having access to the basement isn't a problem. He hardly has any reason to go down there. His things are sparse, and he has no need to store any of them. Opening the first box, the one labeled kitchen, Liam sets to work putting everything in its place. Despite his rather small collection of items, it takes the rest of the afternoon to finish unpacking.

“I'm supposed to meet Callie for coffee at four,” he mutters to himself, turning to glance over his shoulder at the old grandfather clock standing in the hall. Its glass face has fine, spiderwebbed cracks climbing over its dusty surface. “Three fourty-five? I better get going.” Liam grabs a denim jacket hanging on a hook just inside the front door and the keys hanging next to it. Throwing on his jacket, he pauses once more to look back into the house, gaze settling on the basement door once again. Realizing he's staring at nothing Liam frowns. Turning, he pulls the front door closed behind him, jacket quickly pulled on over bare arms as he hurries off down the street.

* * *

“So, he's letting you live in the house for free, as long as you run the pawnshop for him, and you have full power to the house? That sounds almost too good to be true.” Callie wraps her slender digits around a warn, chipped mug, watching as steam curls up into the evening air. The pair sits on a curb outside a small coffee shop, their usual place. After the chemical leaks, the only places that were able to spring back up are those small Mom and Pop kinds of places. Very few big businesses remain. It became too hard for them, what with communication nearly destroyed and all the crazy lootings that happened.

“And I am not allowed to go down into the basement,” Liam adds. He lifts his own mug to softly puckered lips, taking an audible slurp from the too hot beverage. It smells pleasantly of ground beans and creamer, even if it scalds his tongue.

“The basement? Why not? What's down in the basement the old man doesn't want you to see?”

“I don't know. The door is always locked with this big ol’padlock. Besides, I told Mr. Binx I wouldn't go down there. I am not going to risk losing the house and a decent paycheck for something as ridiculous as going into the basement.”

“But what if he's some kind of crazy serial killer and he keeps his victims severed heads in the basement!” Callie exclaims, lifting her head so quickly to look up at Liam that the beads at the ends of her untidy dreadlocks click. “Or maybe he even keeps his victims down there themselves. You know, a lot of weirdos have come out of the apocalypse.”

Liam rolls his eyes, their strange yellow tint reflecting the setting sun. “Callie, you're being paranoid. I think I would smell decapitated heads or hear someone if they were down there.”

“Okay, okay. I'm just saying. You can't be too careful now-a-days,” She pauses to take a sip of her own coffee. “Aside from the whole creepy basement-thing, though, the deal sounds pretty good to me. How's the old man on letting you have a crasher?”

“He's all right with it. He even says I can keep my cats.”

“Great. So, can I crash at your place tonight?”

“I knew that was coming. All right, but I have to get up to open the shop tomorrow, so if you're staying, you're helping.”

“Deal.” Callie grins, happy for a place to crash that wasn’t an old bench or under a run-down bridge.

* * *

“Did you get up last night?” Liam asks, sticking the key into the lock of the door that leads from the house into the shop. It, at first, refuses to give, making him wiggle it a few times before the old lock finally clicks open.

“No. I slept like a baby. Why?”

“It's nothing, really. I just thought I heard someone moving around. Must have been just the house. It was only my first night here, after all.” Liam takes a step down into the shop, Callie close behind. He flicks on the light, filling the place with a dull yellow glow. The place appears to be one solid room. There are shelves mounted along the walls filled with knick-knacks and varies items. Boxes make walking through a bit hazardous, as they litter the floor. Tables take up most of the room, alined in rows. They are also overflowing with the same odd variety of items.

“I guess the best kind of shop to own right now would be a pawn shop.” Callie picks up an old tea kettle sitting on one of the tables. “So, what do we do?”

“We just open,” Liam replies, demonstrating as he flips the closed sign to open. “And

wait.”

* * *

“That was a pretty good day, I'd say. We bought and sold a ton!”

“I don't know if I'd call it a ton, but yeah we did a pretty good job, for our first day.” Liam sets down his spoon, in the middle of eating the lukewarm soup he had heated up for them on the small stove in the kitchen. Lifting his hand, he silences Callie as she goes to open her mouth as if to speak. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” She frowns, shovelling another spoonful of soup into her own mouth.

“It sounded like...footsteps. On wooden stairs.”

“But this place only has one floor. Except-”

“Except for the basement.” Liam interrupts her once more. The pair stare a cross the small, round table at each other, both intently listening to the silence of the house.

Callie finally breaks the silence, leaning back in her chair. “Well, I don't hear anything now.”

“Right. Forget I said anything. Help me with the dishes.”

* * *

“Hey, Callie. Have you seen the cat?”

“What are you worried about that mangy thing for? It's time to open the shop.”

“I know, but she hasn't touched the food I left out for her last night. It's unlike her, and she's not mangy. No more than you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Liam. Did you go down into the basement?”

“What? Why would you even ask me that?”

Callie extends a hand, pointing silently back down the hall. The basement door sits slightly ajar. Just a black sliver along the edge of the old wooden frame.

“Callie, how did you get that door open?” Liam scowls, marching down the hall to the door. “I told you, Mr. Binx said we are not to go down there.”

“Me? I didn't open it! How could I? It was locked!”

“Well, someone opened it.” Taking hold of the handle, worn smooth from years of use, Liam pulls the door back, peering down into the pitch black nothingness. Standing at the top of the stairs, the door opened before them, they knew they could no longer resist temptation. “Callie, go get the flashlight in the kitchen.”

Callie casts a quick glance down into the darkness herself before hurrying off, returning a few moments later with a large, yellow flashlight. She pushes the black switch up, the small nub sliding forwards. Light appears from the larger end, a dull yellowish glow. She hands the lit flashlight over to Liam, who swings the beam down into the darkness. Hesitantly, he steps onto the first of the old, wooden stairs. There is no handle, free hand groping blindly at the wall instead. The beam of their single flashlight barely breaks the inky darkness as they descend, stairs creaking noisily beneath their feet. Callie grips the back of Liam's shirt as they reach the bottom, standing then on cold, hard packed dirt. Still gripping the flashlight, now so tightly he thought he might break it, Liam sweeps its yellowish beam across the floor in front of them. The beam settles on a bundle laying crumpled on the floor. A bundle of matted fur.

“L-Liam, is that-?” Callie doesn't finish her sentence, knowing quite well what the matted fur on the floor was. The remains of Liam's missing cat. “But how did she get down here and where...where is her head, Liam?” Liam only replies with a brief shake of his own head,

moving the beam away from the remains. Stepping forwards, deeper into the darkness, the pair inch a cross the dirt floor.

“Oh, yuck.” Callie whines. She releases her white knuckled grasp on Liam's shirt, flailing her arms around in the darkness. “I just walked into a spider's web. God, this has to be the biggest spider's web I've ever seen. Ugh. I can't get it out of my hair.”

“If that bothers you, I wouldn't look up.”

“Why?” Tilting back her head, Callie follows the yellow beam of the flashlight, which Liam has pointed up towards the exposed beams over their heads. The beams are covered in spider's web. Thick, sticky strands caked to the wood. Here and there are bundles, well wrapped. Some large, some small. Callie lets out a sound like a groan and a muffled sob all at once. “God, how many spiders do you think it took to make all this, and how in the world did they wrap things so...big?”

“I think it only took one.”

“What? One? How could it have taken one-” Callie turns to Liam, once more following the beam from the plastic flashlight as it cuts through the inky darkness. The pair stands face to face with a spider, though it is far more than that. Its lower half is clearly that of a spider's, if a spider were ever the size of an average car. Its eight, spindly legs clinging to the rafters so that it could hang upside down. Where the spider ended, though, was at its waist. Its human waist. From the waist up it was clearly a young man, with hair like black silk, inky and pin straight. It falls around a human face, though its eyes are just as black. Its skin as white as the silken threads it used to create its web.

“Hi.” The spider slowly lifts a hand in a timid sort of greeting. Callie lets out a terrible

shriek. She turns, bolting back up the stairs. Her foot slips momentarily on one of the warn, wooden slabs, causing her to stumble. She is back up the stairs, Liam a few steps behind her. They slam the basement door shut, like it was meant to be all along, Liam slipping the padlock back in place with a hurried fumbling.

“I knew he was hiding something down there! I knew it. Still think the house and the job are worth it, Liam? 'Cause I sure don't. It could be eating people! Maybe Mr. Binx has been feeding all his tenants to that monster!” Callie turns sharply, hurrying down the hall. She wrenches open the front door, Liam close on her heels. Jacket in hand, he closes the front door behind him, locking it with a click.

“While I still think you're overreacting, I'll tell Mr. Binx that I have changed my mind. First thing tomorrow.”