«‘You left this at our house. When you didn’t come back, I thought I’d bring it over.’ He paused, then added, «‘I was worried when you didn’t answer the door, and then I heard the dog barking. It’s still outside in the cold.’ Harold took the coat from Ethan’s outstretched hand, with slow, deliberate movements.
«‘Thanks. Yeah, about the dog. It’s still not really warming up to me.
I’m not so sure about bringing it inside anymore. I hope you understand.’ Ethan couldn’t help himself. He looked pointedly at the open trap door.
«‘What’s down there, Harold?’ Harold’s posture stiffened, his expression guarded. «‘Nothing that concerns you.’ «‘I was looking for you,’ Ethan pressed. «‘I started to get worried when you didn’t answer your phone or come to the door.
Your car is here. But you weren’t.’ Harold didn’t respond directly to this. Instead, he glanced at the German Shepherd.
«‘You moved my dog.’ «‘It was restless and kept barking at the bunker door,’ Ethan explained. «‘I moved it to calm it down.’ Harold’s jaw tightened visibly. Ethan decided to be direct.
«‘Why have you been lying to me all day, Harold?’ «‘You said you’d bring your dog inside, but it’s still out here. You said you were going to finish that larger doghouse this morning, but it’s barely started. You claimed to be meeting friends when you went to the breeder alone.’ Ethan paused, studying Harold’s increasingly agitated expression.
«‘What’s really going on?’ For a moment there was silence broken only by the sound of the wind and the occasional whine from the German Shepherd. Then, without warning, Harold lunged forward. Ethan barely had time to react before Harold slammed into him, grabbing his jacket and pushing him backward with unexpected strength.
They grappled in the snow, Harold’s face contorted with a mixture of rage and fear. «‘You should have minded your own business,’ Harold snarled, landing a solid punch to Ethan’s midsection. The blow knocked the wind out of Ethan, but years of physical labor had kept him strong, despite his grief.
He managed to block Harold’s next swing and push the man off him. «‘What are you hiding, Harold?’ Ethan demanded, circling warily now, keeping his distance. Harold didn’t answer.
Instead, he charged again, this time driving his knee into Ethan’s stomach as they collided. Ethan doubled over, gasping, and Harold used the opportunity to shove him toward the open-trap door. «‘Get in there!’ Harold commanded, his voice eerily calm now, despite the violence of his actions.
«‘Crawl in and go down!’ Ethan straightened, wincing from the pain in his abdomen. «‘You can’t make me go down there!’ A chilling smile spread across Harold’s face as he reached behind his back and produced a handgun. «‘It’s either you climb down yourself, or I’ll drop your dead body down.
Your choice.'» The sight of the weapon sent a jolt of fear through Ethan, but he maintained his composure. «‘The police are on their way here, Harold.’ Claire called them when I couldn’t find you. If you fire that gun, every neighbor will hear it.» Frustration flashed across Harold’s face, but he kept the gun trained on Ethan.
Instead of shooting, he stepped forward and struck Ethan across the face with the weapon, sending him stumbling backward. Blood trickled from a cut above Ethan’s eye as Harold continued to push him toward the doghouse, trying to force him to crawl into the narrow opening. Despite the pain and disorientation from the blow, Ethan fought back, grabbing Harold’s wrist and twisting it until the gun fell from his grasp.
In a desperate move, Ethan kicked the weapon, sending it sliding across the wooden floor of the doghouse and down into the darkness of the bunker below. Enraged, Harold charged again, but this time Ethan was ready. He sidestepped and used Harold’s momentum against him, sending him crashing into the side of the doghouse.
In the distance, the wail of police sirens cut through the night air. Harold’s head snapped up at the sound, panic replacing rage in his expression. Moments later, two police cruisers pulled up in front of the house, their lights bathing the snowy yard in alternating red and blue.
Officers emerged quickly, hands on their holsters, as they approached the scene of the struggle. Police! Hands where we can see them! one officer shouted. Both men raised their hands, though Harold did so reluctantly, his face a mask of frustration and defeat.
The officers separated them, one checking Ethan’s bleeding face, while the other restrained Harold. What’s going on here? the first officer demanded. Before Ethan could respond, Claire appeared, having followed the police cars from their house.
Ethan, are you okay? she called, hurrying toward him. I’m fine, he assured her, though the cut above his eye was still bleeding freely. Ethan quickly explained to the officers what had happened, how Harold had acted strangely all day, how he’d discovered the bunker beneath the doghouse, and how Harold had attacked him when confronted.
He pulled a gun on me, Ethan added. I managed to disarm him, but the weapon fell down into the bunker. The officers looked at Harold, who remained silent, his expression unreadable…
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