Round 4 Transcript

The metallic glint in the darkness of the hallway flickers out as The Force swings her poker around the corner, striking out blind into the hallway where the sound came from, connecting with something hard—bone, maybe. A grunt, low and male, echoes through the kitchen hallway, followed by the sound of crashing against the counter. Jeane's flashlight beam now casts an even more ominous shadow on the wall, as if the darkness itself is pressing in to conceal whatever is making the noise. The air seems to vibrate with tension, every creak of the old house making Jeane jump.

The grunt and the crash sound like I hit something in the hall—someone. My heart hammers against my ribs. The flashlight shakes in my hand, throwing wild shadows across the walls. I don't hear movement now. Just... silence. Heavy, waiting silence. 'Who's there?' I call out, my voice cracking despite myself. 'I'm armed and I'm calling the police.' It's a lie about the phone—too far away, the cord too short—but maybe they don't know that. I grip the poker tighter, ready to swing again at any sound.

The lamp stays dark. Footsteps in the kitchen now, heavy and deliberate. The sound moves toward the hallway—toward me. No hesitation in those steps. Professional maybe. The poker feels wrong in my hand, unbalanced. I need a gun. My finger finds the trigger of the holstered weapon under my jacket. The footsteps stop at the edge of the hallway. Waiting. Listening. I can hear him breathing now, steady and controlled. Not panicking. Not me either. I step to the side of the doorway, press myself against the wall, point the gun toward where the sound came from. Wait.