11
The house seems different. Unlived in. At least for some time, anyway. As if someone had died here many years ago and it’s now up for sale.
But how could it feel so different—so strange? This is my house. I was here just this morning. How could things change so quickly?
I’m about to reach for the light switch next to the door, when I stop suddenly just inches from it. Think! No lights. Can’t let them know I’m in here. Too risky. Luckily, the light from the street lamp faintly illuminates most of the hallway, just enough to see in front of me.
I hold off the desperate need to call out to Sammy. I have to be sure the house is Nec-free. For all I know, Sammy could be under one of the beds, hiding, and when he hears my voice he could coming running out—straight into a pack of hungry Nec
