Sourmouth (13 page)

             
As far as his uninformed opinion went the first step at least seemed safe to
put his weight on. With another deep breath he took another step downwards, his
body causing the step to creak under him. Another breath and another step went
by as he slowly made his way downwards. It was only as he got further down
could he sense the differences between the basement and the rest of the house.
The air in the basement was cold and dry like a freezer which made it harder
for him to breathe, which he was trying to do in an increasingly faster rate.
If it wouldn’t have been incredibly out of place, Riley could have sworn that
it smelled somewhat like rust and chemical cleaners, like an abandoned hospital
might. And it was with a few moments of nervousness that he contemplated what
might be in the darkness below him.

             
“Where the hell are you?” Violet called from above as she strolled up to the
doorway with her lit candle.

             
“Down here,” he called out.

             
“Why the hell are you going down there without a light?”

             
“I figured you’d only be a minute and I wanted to make sure the steps were
safe”.

             
“You were going to test them by tossing yourself through them? You can’t even
see anything,” she said as she followed down the steps, lighting the way
slightly.

             
“Be careful when you step,” he said as he walked further, his path lit just
enough for him to see a step in front of him.

             
“If they can support your fat ass I’m sure that they can support mine,” she
replied with a chuckle as she followed her husband’s direction.

             
“You’re a funny girl, you are. I’m going to miss you when you get eaten,” he
said as another step groaned under him.

             
“I’m going to get eaten, am I? Can you stop flirting with me for a moment while
we’re nonchalantly tumbling into hell?”

             
Riley’s feet finally touched a solid surface as he made it to the basement
floor.

             
Violet bumped softly into the back of her husband who she hadn’t been paying
attention to as she walked behind him. Even in the soft light she could see the
annoyance on his face as he took the candle from her hands.

             
Riley pressed forward into the basement with his wife’s hand held gently on his
elbow for guidance. Even with the illumination they were struggling to make out
anything unless it was a foot or two in front of their faces. So like that they
went, foot by foot examining what was within reach. Riley found it easiest to
locate the nearest wall from the stairs and keep it within sight, walking along
it like a giant directional arrow with the intent of being able to circle back
eventually as he encountered the other walls.

             
It didn’t take long before he was able to make a discovery. The
Tylers
came along a tripod with an old 8 millimeter
camcorder perched on top. It was leaning against the wall rather perilously,
almost falling over when they walked into it.

             
“Think we could make ourselves a naughty blue home movie later?” he asked with
a laugh.

             
Even though she couldn’t see his face from behind, she could tell he was
grinning ear to ear. 

             
Violet reached out and flicked up the side of the camera, showing that it was
empty and unusable.

             
“I’d be up for it if we had a tape to record. But I think you’re out of luck”.

             
He placed the camera gently back into place like he was afraid of its owner
coming along and catching him playing where he shouldn’t. And when he felt it
was secure enough to leave alone he continued along the wall. It was a few feet
before he encountered more junk. This time it was a small plastic table about
four feet long with two lawn chairs setup beside it. If it hadn’t been for the
ashtray and the empty beer cans sitting on top of the table, it would have
looked perfectly normal sitting on someone’s front lawn for a garage sale. Or
pending where the person lived, perhaps the beer and the cigarettes would have
looked normal too.  

             
She didn’t mention it but Violet thought it was noticeable that there were
things on the table as if it had been used while in the basement. That meant
that somewhere there was a light that could be activated so that it was
possible to do more than stumble blindly.

             
Riley continued onward, his hand periodically touching the wall as he walked to
ensure that it was still there. Finally he hit one of the walls and had to make
a turn leftwards before continuing on. The further he went along the more junk
he found like an empty rack to hang clothing on and piles of old children’s
clothes sitting in moldy old cardboard boxes. There was nothing particularly
sinister to be found. At least until he stumbled into a metal cabinet.

             
“What do you think is in it?” Violet asked as she peeped out from behind her
husband’s torso to better see the object.

             
He reached out and fingered the latch on the door, “I’ve got no clue. But it
does seem to be unlocked”.

             
“Just open it. It’s just going to be somebody’s tools”.

             
With a pull Riley pulled open the door and held the candle up to what was
inside.

             
“Well...they’re tools alright,” he muttered as he strained to look closer.

             
Shelf after shelf laid various instruments, delicately lined up and free from
rust and dust. It was clear that whoever owned them took great care of them.
What some of them were was what was in question. Some of them were obvious like
the multiple knives that were no bigger than ones used to skin fish. Or the
large leather paddle studded in steel rivets and its accompanying nine tail
whip and flog. There was a collection of binding implements from leather straps
to simple bits of rope. It was the assortment of oddly medical-looking
equipment that threw the couple for a loop. There was a metal wheel with sharp
spines alone the edge and a round circular metal frame with spikes that
protruded inward. There were a handful of similar devices that looked the same
with equally confusing purposes.

             
“I think we found the playpen of the drifter in that attic room,” Violet said
quietly as she backed away, oddly as if she was trying not to be found out.

             
“There’s nothing to suggest that this belonged to...” he started to reply
before he was cut off by a shrill scream from his partner.   

             
“Violet!” he yelled into the dark as he spun around with the candle,
frantically searching for her in the dark.

             
“I’m fine. I just tripped on something,” she called out from somewhere below.
Her voice was clearly filled with embarrassment rather than pain.

             
“Are you alright?” he asked as he made his way into the center of the basement,
stumbling into the feet of his wife who seemed to be on the floor.

             
“I’m fine. I backed up and clipped into something and fell on it. Happily it’s
a cushion or mattress and not a table saw”. 

             
Riley bent down with his knee to the mattress and stuck out the light, trying
to check up on his wife. Violet sat there with her face disheveled and her
cheeks rosy with embarrassment. Her clumsiness was almost cute. But it was then
that he got a better look at what they were on.

             
It was a queen sized bed, bare from linings and any sort of dress. What was on
it were various stains of browns, reds and yellows far too old to identify. To
both ends of it were even more restraints, positioned entirely to bind hands
and feet. Just to the side was a collection of various lubes and a box of
condoms. It was absolutely clear the sole purpose of the bed and the basement
as a whole.  

             
“I think you should grab my hand and get off of that thing as fast as you can
without touching it or even looking at it,” Riley said with a grimace.

             
Violet couldn’t help but look over her shoulder to see what her husband was
rattling on about. It was only a few moments before she let out another scream,
this time in disgust. Without even thinking she placed her hands down on the
bed and pushed off to get up as fast as she could.

             
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” she yelled at her husband.

             
He grabbed her by the crook of her elbow as he tried to avoid grabbing her by
her filthy hands and headed in the direction that he thought were the stairs.
Luckily his guess was right as he kicked the bottom step a bit too hard. It was
a short sprint upwards towards the light before they were back on the main
floor in the living room of the house.

             
“The fuck?” she cried out as she urgently wiped her hands on her jeans
repeatedly to try and get off the invisible germs that she thought were
attacking her in full force.

             
“The last thing I thought we’d find down there was a kinky sex dungeon,” Riley
said as he made his way over to the grocery bags that sat on the counter in the
kitchen.

             
“Sex dungeon? Who says that it still isn’t the drifter’s slaughter prison?” she
asked as he made his way back to her with one of the bottles of water that they
had bought.

             
He tossed her the bottle which she tore open in a fever before pouring it over
her hands to try and get them clean.

             
“There’s nothing to say that there’s anything evil about that basement aside
from our overactive imaginations,” said Riley.

             
“Were we seeing the same thing down there? How do you explain all of those
crazy murder weapons and torture devices?”

             
“Again, maybe they weren’t torture devices. Or at least they might not be
murder weapons. It could all be kink stuff for platonic sexual use. It was
basic S&M material from what my virgin eyes could tell. Just because
someone was into the kinkier side of getting down and dirty doesn’t make them
evil,” he tried to explain to deaf ears.

             
“You do realize that you’re most likely trying to rationalize the sex habits of
a serial killer, right?” she stated with obvious aversion on her face.

“I’m just not convinced that the basement means
anything other than what it appears to be. And unless we find tufts of wolf
hair caught between some of those restraints I’m failing to see the connection
between our fabled
Sourmouth
and that sex dungeon. So
can we do
me
a
favour
and
just drop the topic until we can come up with something more conclusive?”

Violet groaned in annoyance, “Fine. Whatever. Just
don’t expect me to go anywhere near that basement again”.

“And what about the attic?” he questioned.

“What about the attic?”

“Didn’t you want to search for clues? Find out more
about this great mystery?”

“Forget about that attic. I can’t handle any more of
this house. I think we need to take a break from the place,” she answered as
she paced back towards the front door, grabbing her coat off of the floor.

“Take a break? And do what?”

“Let’s do our searching elsewhere. This house is
ancient, isn’t it? There has to be someone in the
neighbourhood
that’s seen a thing or two about the owners. Or the drifter that came along and
killed them with an axe”.

Standing by the door already in her coat it was clear
that she was fully intending to leave with or without her husband.

As hard as he wanted to sulk, Riley realized that it
was no good to fight her on the matter. If she didn’t want to be in the house
at the moment then she surely wasn’t going to remain in the house. So with a
losing sense of reluctance he grabbed his light windbreaker and headed towards
the door.

“In the very least you’re going to be the asshole
asking everyone about their life stories,” he said as he shut the door behind
him when they reached the porch.

“It’s not their lives I’m interested in. It’s whether
anyone in this house has lost theirs”.
             

Chapter 7

             
The
Tylers
started off in a walk as they headed
towards the closest house down by the edge of the water to the left of
Poyam’s
. But when they arrived at their destination it was
clear that it hadn’t be used much more than the one they were currently in. It
was another five minutes of trotting through the long slippery grass around the
perimeter of the lake before they found another house to investigate which also
looked to have been vacant. Downtrodden by the lack of
neighbourly
spirit they returned to the house to get in their rental car for the sake of
warmth and ease. When they left base camp it was still warm enough that their
jackets sufficed in keeping them from freezing. But once the sun had been down
long enough that they forgot that it had just been daytime the temperatures
instantly plummeted.