Chapter Fourteen

"I'm serious—do you have to make it this bright?"

As they made their way upstairs, the dazzling sphere of light hovered constantly between Lanny and Steven, shining so intensely that Lanny could hardly keep her eyes open.

"Sorry to interrupt," Dylan's voice came through, "but something is following you."

Lanny and Ziang both turned to look behind them. The staircase behind was empty, and the foyer below, mostly lit by the glowing orb, showed no sign of movement.

"I don't see anything," Ziang said.

"Are you heading to the second floor?" Dylan asked.

"Well, to be precise, we're already here," Ziang replied, stepping onto the last stair and stopping behind Lanny and Steven.

"So is that thing," Dylan responded.

Steven's light orb flooded the second floor of the old house with brightness. To their left was a short corridor. On one side of the corridor were two doors set not far apart, while the opposite wall was lined with a row of windows. Outside, they could see a charming balcony, with a closed sun umbrella, two rain-soaked chairs, and a rusted little metal table.

To their right lay a large room, its door half-open; through the gap, a double bed was visible.

Creak—

The floorboards upstairs were loose and groaned under their steps.

Creak—

But even after they all stood still, the sound did not immediately cease.

Creak—creak—

The noise moved along the floor from in front of them toward the far end of the corridor, finally stopping before the more distant of the two doors.

A calendar plaque hung on this door. The plaque bore the image of a baby, who held in its small hands a large character for "Day." Beside the character, a movable frame displayed three cards, each marked with the number "0."

"Does a child live here?" Ziang asked.

Before anyone could answer, the door with the plaque was pushed open from inside by a slender hand. Ziang's eyes followed the movement, but the hand quickly withdrew.

"Kelly?" Ziang stepped around the others, approaching the door.

"Lanny! Get down!"

For reasons unknown, Steven suddenly shouted behind Ziang.

Startled, Ziang turned just in time to see Steven leap toward Lanny, shoving her into the room with the double bed.

The brilliant sphere of light rushed in after them, and the door slammed shut.

Plunged into darkness, Ziang barely had time to react.

"What the—whoa!" Something yanked him by the neck, flipping him backward into the hallway. He twisted on the floor, flinging a talisman down the corridor.

The talisman burst aflame, flying the length of the empty corridor and striking the far wall.

Some invisible force lifted Ziang off the ground and hurled him toward the door with the calendar plaque. The door snapped shut at exactly the right moment, sending Ziang crashing inside.

Groaning, he scrambled to his feet and rubbed his shoulder. "Why is everyone flying all over the place?" he muttered in Mandarin.

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, revealing a wardrobe and a wooden crib.

Darkness returned.

In the farthest corner, a faint glow appeared, outlining the huddled form of a slender woman. She crouched, knees drawn to her chest, her head buried in her legs. Wet bangs hung over her face, concealing her features.

Ziang reached into his pocket, drawing out another talisman and holding it between his index and middle fingers. "If I can see the light, that means it's not a real person..." he whispered, "Isn't that right, Dylan?" He tapped the communicator clipped to his ear. "Hey? Are you listening?"

"Your... signal... breaking..." The communicator crackled with static.

"What? Say that again?" Ziang kept his eyes on the woman, moving a few steps closer to the window.

Lightning flashed again.

When the room dimmed, the woman in the corner had shifted—now she faced away from him, her head pressed into the junction of two walls, arms hanging straight at her sides.

A loud clap of thunder echoed through the room.

Perhaps unsettled by the atmosphere, Ziang instinctively glanced out the window. When he looked back, the woman had vanished.

He groped his way to the door and pressed the light switch on the wall.

As in the foyer, none of the lights responded.

"Great, I can't make glowing orbs," he muttered, flicking the switch up and down anyway.

"Ziang... center... the room..." The communicator sputtered with more static. With so much noise, Ziang couldn't even be sure it was Dylan's voice.

"Center of what?" Ziang stepped forward, holding up the talisman.

The tip of the talisman ignited, casting a small circle of light around him.

He stopped in the center of the room, glancing about. The woman was gone.

The room was small, simply furnished, as if only half-renovated. Against one wall stood a single-door wardrobe, its wood sanded smooth. Oddly, both upper and lower corners of the door opening were rounded. To fit this unusual shape, two curved wooden boards had been nailed to the frame.

A talisman flew toward the wardrobe, wrapping around the handle and pulling open the strange door.

Inside hung only a few wooden hangers, made from the same material and polished to a flawless finish, without any sharp edges.

Beside the wardrobe stood a crib, colorful blankets inside, a handmade fabric doll perched on top.

"... room center... mind changes..." The communicator spat out more broken words.

"Oh—" Ziang nodded, understanding. "Right. It's that kind of thing—you know you'll see something, and you know it won't scare you, but you still don't really want to look."

Slowly, he tilted his head back, eyes searching the ceiling.

The woman was there, sprawled across the ceiling with limbs splayed wide, forehead pressed against the plaster. Her hair did not hang down but fanned outward around her head.

"I thought she'd be staring down at me," Ziang muttered.

Her body gradually merged into the ceiling. White light radiated from the spot where she vanished, spreading across the ceiling and soon flooding every wall.

The once-dark room was now blinding. Everything inside was swallowed by brilliance.

Ziang squinted, shielding his eyes with the burning talisman.

"Ouch!"

The flame licked his fingertips and he yelped, tossing aside the last burning fragment.

The white light faded slowly. The nursery vanished with it.

When Ziang opened his eyes again, he stood on the sidewalk of a peaceful small-town street, sunlight spilling across the neighborhood.

Next to him stood a plane tree, its leaves utterly still, almost unreal.

A short distance away, a school bus was parked at the curb, filled with teenagers. Laughter rang from inside, but peering through the windows, he saw the children frozen in place.

A little girl emerged from a nearby house, shoulders squared beneath her backpack, stepping onto the sidewalk where Ziang stood.

As he tried to make sense of it all, the girl walked straight through him.

She paused briefly beside the bus, then continued on.

"Uh, can anyone hear me?" Ziang said aloud. "I need... a lot of explanations."

This time, not even static answered him.

A boy jumped off the bus, hurrying to catch up to the girl. Seeing her gloomy face, he paused, keeping a respectful distance before following her.

Ziang started after the two, but after only a few steps, he hit something invisible and unyielding. He probed the air, tracing the outline of what felt like a wardrobe.

"What are you doing?!" the girl snapped, turning around.

The boy stopped as well. "Last night, I heard things crashing again."

"So?" The girl raised her voice.

"Did he hurt you?"

"And if I said he did, what would you do? Kill him for me?"

The boy glanced at the girl's house and scratched his head. "No, I wouldn't dare."

"Stop following me." She walked on.

The boy hurried to catch her, grabbing her arm. She shook him off at once.

"What are you doing?!" she shouted.

"I just don't want you to have those... bubbles," he said loudly.

"What?" The girl frowned.

"Like this." The boy reached out his hand, and the girl dodged away again.

"See, bubbles," he continued. "My mom has them too. She was tricked out of some money by a homeless guy. No, not really homeless—someone pretending... I'm not sure. Since then, she's hated anyone who dresses shabbily, won't even go near them. But that's not right. Mrs. Page is a wonderful person. You know, she lives under the bridge. She's always telling me to tie my shoes so I don't trip."

The girl looked impatient.

"Your bubbles are about to appear too," he went on. "Not taking the bus, keeping your distance from everyone. I can't help you much now, but I'll do everything I can to stop this, so that someday you don't stop trusting everyone."

A blinding white light erupted from the boy's face, engulfing the entire scene.

"So many, so many explanations," Ziang muttered, squinting.

The light faded, and his surroundings changed again.

The peaceful small-town street was replaced by a well-lit room, its walls and floor tiled in neat ceramic, a single working incandescent bulb in the aging ceiling.

Stalls lined every wall, forming a circle that trapped Ziang in the center.