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FIRST BASEMENT FORAY / [DATE] / THREE

CASSIUS GOT THE same startled rabbit look when I asked, a week into living together, what was up with the basement. He didn’t go down there. Hadn’t ever seen it open. I’ve never lived in a place with a basement. Grandpa’s house had an attic. Was fun to hide up there as a kid. Cassius told me he hadn’t gone down there for the seven months he’d been living in the house so far. Wasn’t planning on doing it either.

CASSIUS: I OPENED IT UP BECAUSE MY NIECE WANTED TO PUT SOME THINGS DOWN THERE A MONTH AGO.

SMITH: NIECE?

CASSIUS: HER NAME’S JANE. SHE VISITS SOMETIMES.

SMITH: THAT’S COOL.

CASSIUS: YEAH. WE MADE IT DOWN A COUPLE STEPS BEFORE THE STENCH HIT US. JANE SAID IT SMELLED LIKE AN ANIMAL DIED DOWN THERE AND DIDN’T WANT TO PUT HIS STUFF WITH IT. I HAVEN’T TOUCHED IT SINCE.

CASSIUS DID NOT do anything about the supposed dead animal. Would’ve pressed more there if he didn’t have the habit of ordering takeout for both of us most nights. He was a very quiet housemate. Either stayed in his room or went out for hours without reason. Don’t think he had a job. Very easy to live with. I hadn’t found a job yet, but I didn’t want to spend my downtime cleaning up guts. Any dead animals found on the job got handled by calling up pest control and filling out paperwork. Bosses liked to cover their asses. Couldn’t have cleaners poking corpses and getting sick enough to sue. Cassius was all for that route.

THE LIVING ROOM had a cable TV set up. Cassius didn’t watch it much. I put it on while making food. Like to have some sound going on while I do stuff. Ads ran for a Palomino based pest control company sometimes. HENRY & SONS. A small family run deal, from the looks of it. Used puppets in them. Muppet-styled, not anything cheap. They were cute and they did their job because I called them up. Laid out the situation- housemate thinks there’s a dead animal down in the basement because of a bad smell, though neither of us got a look at it- and got a visit set up for one hour later. Slow day for them, apparently.

THE VAN THAT pulled up had whiskers, ears, and a tail. Peeling decals with those same puppets on the side. Man who knocked at the door introduced himself as MICHAEL MOLINA. Kept his hat pulled low enough that it rested on his glasses and declined to shake my hand. Already had his work gloves on. Smelled like chemicals and cigarettes. He nodded along with the bit of info I could offer- Cassius had retreated back to his room and left me alone- and grabbed more gear from the van.



(GAS MASK, HEADLAMP, A COUPLE BOTTLES OF CLEANER HUNG ON HIS ARM BY THE HANDLES, AND A MOP. TAIL OF A TRASH BAG POKING OUT OF A JUMPSUIT POCKET.)

MICHAEL: YOU HAVE A HAIR TIE?

I DID. HE thanked me and put his hair up. Followed me to the basement door while laying out the details of dead animals. Big things had more meat to rot through, hot weather made the smell worse. If it was something like a raccoon which had gotten into the basement to give birth, it could smell for upwards of two months. He asked me if I’d noticed any smell on the ground floor. I hadn’t. Don’t think I had. You question the bad smells you’ve dismissed when there’s the possibility of it being rot. Went over to knock at Cassius’ door and got his word. Seven months of living there was better than my one week. He shrugged and said maybe. His room was far from the basement and he didn’t walk around the house much. Even when he was living alone.

SEVEN MONTHS OF rot was a bigger problem than a single animal. Michael said it could just be a case of there being an animal nest down there. Mistaking the smell of urine and feces for rot. Would have to look for the access point instead of clean up a single mess. Would cost more money.

MICHAEL: DO YOU HEAR ANY SCRATCHING SOUNDS AT NIGHT?

(I SHOOK MY HEAD. CASSIUS THOUGHT OVER IT. SHRUGGED.)

THE LONGER WE talked, the more annoyed Michael looked. I don’t blame him. Simple job was shaping up into something complicated. He still said ‘SURE’ when I asked if I could come along when he did an initial walkthrough of the basement. Don’t know why I wanted to. Curious, I guess. Gas mask pushing his glasses further up into the low brim of his hat and headlamp on top of it when the switch at the top of the stairs didn’t do a thing. He laughed when I asked if I’d be all good without a mask and shrugged. Said ‘PROBABLY’ and started down.

IT WAS NOT a case of misidentified smells. Cool basement air for three stairs, then rot. Cassius told me, after Michael left, that his niece hunted a lot. That she would not mistake the smell of a dead thing. I believe him. Two more stairs down and Michael laughed again. To himself: ‘FUCK’. To me: ‘YEAH, YOU’VE GOT SOMETHING DEAD IN HERE. SMELLS LIKE DOG’.

SMITH: THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?

(THREE MORE STAIRS DOWN. EIGHT SO FAR. THIRTEEN IN TOTAL. I WAS A LITTLE GROSSED OUT. STILL SHOULDN’T HAVE SPOKEN TO HIM LIKE THAT.)

(MICHAEL LAUGHED. HE DID IT A LOT. DIDN’T SOUND GENUINE THIS OR ANY OTHER TIME.)

MICHAEL: ANIMALS SMELL DIFFERENT WHEN THEY ROT. SOME OF THEM ARE REAL DISTINCT. HAD A GROSS JOB A BIT AGO THAT TURNED OUT TO BE DOGS AND IT SMELLED LIKE THIS. PALOMINO’S GOT SOME STRAYS.

SMITH: CHRIST.

STAIR TEN WAS where I tapped out. The air felt thick. Soupy. Didn’t know if the sweat was from the smell or the inexplicable humidity. It forced itself to the forefront of thought. Wormed into every single inch of existence. Breathing through the mouth was even worse. I tried. Gagged. Pressed a hand to my face and whipped it away when it just made things worse. Michael gave me a single glance, over the shoulder and a sliver of an eye between mask and hat, when I stopped. He trucked on. No more laughter.

BASEMENT FLOOR AND he spoke. ‘YOU HAVE A LEAKY BOILER OR SOMETHING? MIGHT EXPLAIN THE AIR MOISTURE. I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT THEM.’ Neither do I. I said as much. Wanted to go back upstairs and leave him to it, but I didn’t. Michael shuffled around the basement with all his supplies still in his arms. Wasn’t much down there besides the boiler, breaker box, and some taped up cardboard boxes. Shoved to one wall, a couple kitchen chairs. He walked a circuit and stopped in the middle. Put his hands to his hips. ‘HUH’. Sniffed the air- I heard it through the HEPA filters loud and clear. Skin crawled at the thought of doing that myself. He squatted down with his heels on the ground and gave the place another look. ‘I DON’T SEE ANYTHING OBVIOUS HERE. GOING TO GIVE SOMEONE A CALL. MIGHT TAKE A MO’, SO YOU CAN HEAD BACK UP’.

I DID SO gladly. Caught a couple words as I trotted up the stairs- ‘HEY HENRY, IT’S MICHAEL. GOT SOMETHING DOWN ON QUAIL AVENUE’. Guess he wasn’t one of the ‘& SONS’. Sat at the very top step, feet planted on the second, and caught my breath. It took a bit for the shivers to go away. Never have had a strong stomach. It hadn’t smelled like there was a single source to it. Like the air itself had gone off, instead. Footsteps. Cassius stood above me. Made a face.



CASSIUS: YOU SMELL AWFUL.

SMITH: THANKS, MAN. MICHAEL SAYS IT SMELLS LIKE DEAD DOG.

CASSIUS: JESUS. THERE’S A DOG DOWN THERE?

SMITH: NOT THAT I SAW. DON’T THINK MICHAEL SAW ANYTHING EITHER.

CASSIUS: HUH.

SMITH: YEAH.

CASSIUS: DO YOU THINK HE’S GOING TO HAVE TO TEAR OUT THE WALLS OR SOMETHING? MAYBE AN ANIMAL CRAWLED BETWEEN THEM AND DIED.

SMITH: HAVE YOU SEEN THE WALLS DOWN THERE? THEY’RE CINDER BLOCK.

CASSIUS: OH. YEAH, I DIDN’T MAKE IT TO THE BOTTOM. JANE THOUGHT IT WAS TOO GROSS.

NEITHER DID I, but the smell still burned my nose. Breath in, rot. Breath out, rot. Insistent. Didn’t stop until Michael clunked the stairs after a few more minutes. Chemicals and cigarettes cut through easy. Could smell the rest of reality a moment later. Still juggled all his supplies in one hand, the other with his phone. ‘YEAH. OKAY. I’LL DO THAT. THANKS. SEE YOU.’ He hung up. Stuck it back in his pocket. ‘I TOOK ANOTHER LOOK. YOUR BOILER SEEMS ALL GOOD,’ Cassius shot me a look at that and I waved it away, ‘BUT I DIDN’T SEE ANY SIGNS OF DEAD ANIMALS. NO FLIES, MAGGOTS, JUICES, OR STAINS.’ He held up a finger with each missing piece of evidence. ‘JUST A SMELL. WHICH WOULD USUALLY POINT ME TOWARDS THE WALLS, BUT THOSE’RE SOLID.’ His next best bet was to walk around and see if the rot was seeping out anywhere else. I said it was all good with me. Cassius agreed. He trailed along with me as we followed Michael around the house. Michael knocked the top of his mop against the ceiling at a couple points (‘JUST TO HEAR IF THERE’S ANYTHING LIVING UP THERE’) and tapped the walls with steel toe boots at different points. He didn’t talk much. The ‘HUH’s and ‘HM’s got less assured the longer he went without results.

WE CIRCLED BACK to the hallway with the basement doorway. Nothing seeped out despite the open door. Michael looked down to the dark. Looked back with a shrug. ‘I SHOULD TALK WITH THE BOSS ABOUT THIS MORE. IF YOU WANT, I CAN CALL YOU BACK WHEN WE’VE GOT A MORE SOLID GAMEPLAN’. Honest. There wasn’t much more to be done but go along with it. Said we didn’t owe him any money for what amounted to a half hour’s worth of walking around. He pointed out towards the front door and asked if we minded him taking a moment outside before heading out. I said it was no problem. Asked if I could join him and got a ‘SURE’.

OUTSIDE, MICHAEL PULLED out a pack of cigarettes. Muscle-memoried up to the point of lighting one and then startled. Pulled it out of his mouth and asked if I minded.

SMITH: NO, IT’S FINE WITH ME.

MICHAEL: ALRIGHT. YOU WANT ONE?

SMITH: NAH.

(MICHAEL LIT THE CIGARETTE. SCUFFED HIS BOOT THROUGH THE DIRT YARD A COUPLE TIMES.)

MICHAEL: WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT GHOSTS?

(UNEXPECTED. HE LAUGHED WHEN IT TOOK ME A MOMENT TO RESPOND.)

SMITH: THEY’RE COOL. LIKE, I BELIEVE IN THEM. WHY?

MICHAEL: WONDERING. THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME YOU’VE GONE INTO THE BASEMENT?

SMITH: YEAH.

MICHAEL: HM. IT SMELLED LIKE THE AIR ITSELF WAS FUCKED DOWN THERE. NOT A SINGLE SOURCE-POINT.

SMITH: OLFACTORY RESPONSES AREN’T COMMON SIGNS OF HAUNTINGS.

MICHAEL: WOULD YOU CONSIDER THE AIR AN EMPTY VESSEL?

(PEOPLE WHO GOT THEIR ENTIRE BASIS OF GHOST KNOWLEDGE FROM MOVIES AND OTHER LIES DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THE PERVADING THEORY OF GHOST INTERACTION. NEW EYES ON MICHAEL DID NOT REVEAL A SINGLE NEW THING.)

SMITH: I MEAN, EVEN IF IT WAS THAT, WOULDN’T IT BE A BIT TOO BROAD FOR PROJECTION? NOT TIGHT ENOUGH FOR ANYTHING OF SUBSTANCE TO HAPPEN.

MICHAEL: WHAT ABOUT VISUAL PROJECTIONS NOT THROUGH DIGITAL MEANS? GOT TO BE SOME WAY FOR GHOSTS TO PUT UP THEIR BODIES FOR PEOPLE TO SEE.

SMITH: YOU CANNOT SAY THEY ARE DOING IT FOR THE LIVING’S BENEFIT ALONE. THERE’S BEEN RECORDINGS THROUGH NOTHING BUT SECURITY CAMERAS OF THAT SHIT.

(A LAUGH.)

MICHAEL: ALRIGHT, WHATEVER. BAD WORDING. BUT IT’S HAPPENED.

SMITH: YOU THINK MY BASEMENT IS HAUNTED?

MICHAEL: I DON’T KNOW. NOT REALLY. HENRY’S GOING TO WANT ME TO ROOT AROUND THE BASEMENT CEILING FOR DEAD ANIMALS. IT’S PROBABLY THAT.

SMITH: FOR SEVEN MONTHS?

MICHAEL: MAYBE.

(A MOMENT.)

SMITH: HOW DO YOU KNOW ALL THAT GHOST STUFF?

MICHAEL: COULD ASK YOU THE SAME.

SMITH: I’M A GHOST HUNTER.

MICHAEL: YEAH, I CAN SEE THAT.

(ANOTHER.)

MICHAEL: I THOUGHT I WAS GETTING HAUNTED FOR A WHILE. TURNED OUT TO BE NOTHING.

MICHAEL LEFT AFTER that. Reminded me to keep an ear out for whenever he called and then drove off. The basement door was shut and Cassius back in his room when I went inside. Smelled like nothing but air conditioner and the faint smoke on my clothes. Didn’t think about how disgusting it had been in the basement, still three stairs from the bottom.

I HAD A dream that night. Was in my room, in the house, and there was a dog staring at me from the doorway. It didn’t come in and I didn’t go out. Behind it, the rot. I woke up and could still smell it before putting on my jacket. Smoke, then.