The Third Floor Rule

The lady paused, clearly taken aback by Gideon's sudden question. She stood frozen for a tense second before quickly recovering. She pasted that unsettling, rigid smile back onto her face.

"It seems so for now. This community is quite old in its design. Since it rests in a remote valley area and the rainy season is fast approaching, the neighbors have been moving out one after another over the past few weeks. If it were not for my husband's tragic inability to move, we would have joined them."

Her voice trailed off into a heavy silence. She swallowed hard, gripping her hands together until her knuckles turned white, then forced a brighter expression.

"Please, make yourselves at home during these days. I have personally cleaned and prepared the guest rooms on the first and second floors. Feel free to choose any of them for your rest."

Her smile vanished without warning. A chilling severity settled over her pale features, darkening her eyes.

"Just one thing to keep in mind. Do not go to the third floor, or else..."

She let the grim threat hang in the cold kitchen air. Her gaze swept over the frightened faces of the survivors, ensuring they understood the gravity of her words.

"Under no circumstances should you be curious about the third floor. It is a strict rule!"

Seeing the group nod in tense, fearful agreement, the lady allowed her mechanical smile to return.

"Since you all understand, I can leave with peace of mind. I leave my beloved husband in your capable care."

Duncan stepped forward from the back of the group, his thick beard twitching as he frowned.

"Ma'am, where are your children?"

The lady gasped and pressed a hand to her cheek in an exaggerated display of realization.

"Oh, thank you for the reminder! They must still be playing upstairs."

She turned toward the grand wooden staircase and clapped her hands loudly.

"Kids! Time to go!"

A flurry of thudding footsteps instantly answered her call. One, two, three—Gideon lost count within seconds. A swarm of chattering children rushed down the steps, their voices echoing in the quiet hallway. The caregivers stared in sheer disbelief at the large group pouring into the foyer.

The lady stood by the open front door, herding them outside one by one with practiced efficiency.

Suddenly, Gideon felt a tight, unexpected grip around his right calf. He flinched and looked down. A little boy with messy curly hair was hugging his leg.

The boy buried his face against Gideon's trousers and inhaled deeply, pressing his nose into the fabric.

"Smells so good."

Gideon frowned in confusion. He bent his knees, reaching down to gently pull the boy away.

"What did you say?"

Before Gideon's fingers could even brush the fabric of the boy's shirt, the lady lunged forward. She grabbed the boy's arm and yanked him back with startling, aggressive force.

"Hurry up! Your brothers and sisters are waiting for you!"

She clamped her pale hand firmly over the boy's mouth, muffling his voice, and dragged him out the door. She shot Gideon a hasty, apologetic smile before pulling the heavy door shut behind the last child.

A cold knot tightened in Gideon's chest. He moved to the front window and peered through the glass. The lady was shoving the children into a dark vehicle parked in the driveway. Just as she lifted the curly-haired boy into the back seat, the child turned his head.

His dark gaze locked onto Gideon through the thick windowpane.

Gideon froze in place. His breath hitched in his throat, and a wave of pure dread washed over him.

The boy stretched his lips into a wide, unnatural smile. It was a terrifying, perfect mirror of the mother's creepy expression. The child then smacked his lips together, slowly savoring some invisible, mouth-watering taste.

Gideon felt a fresh chill race down his spine. He wore no cologne. He was covered in sweat and grime from that wretched boat ride. What could have possibly smelled so appetizing to that child?

A heavy presence materialized beside him. Duncan stared out the window, his arms crossed tightly over his broad chest.

"You find it strange too, don't you? A massive horde of children, a giant husband, and this dead, quiet community. It is a nightmare."

Gideon tore his eyes away from the departing van. He remembered the older man's interrupted observation from earlier.

"When you said this house does not look lived in, what did you mean?"

Duncan kept his hard gaze fixed on the empty driveway.

"The soil in the front yard is crawling with insect eggs. If a family actually lived here and maintained these pristine lawns on a daily basis, the soil would not be infested like that. This place is abandoned. It is all a facade."

Gideon parted his lips to ask more, but his cautious nature immediately held him back. He preferred keeping a safe, calculated distance from strangers until he fully understood his surroundings. He pressed his lips into a thin line and remained silent.

Duncan seemed to read the reluctance in his stiff posture. He offered a gruff sigh and patted Gideon's shoulder.

"Let us head to the living room."

Duncan turned and lumbered down the hall.

Gideon cast one final glance out the window. The vehicle had vanished into the gloomy mist. He let out a slow, shaky breath and followed the bearded man.

The other caregivers had already gathered in the spacious living room. They huddled together on the plush sofas, their faces pale and drawn with paranoia. After a strained, hurried round of introductions, the group tried to focus on their survival. They discussed how to properly feed and care for the enormous patient upstairs.

The tension in the room remained thick and suffocating. No one truly wanted to be there. Then, Tessa, a short woman with red-framed glasses, suddenly spoke up.

"Excuse me, may I ask, how did you all end up on the boat?"