There was a deep, oppressive silence on the other end of the receiver for a long moment. The phone felt heavy, real and old, like it had more substance to it than the plastic thing Michael had destroyed against the window.<br/><br/>Then there was the intake of breath that precursors speech.<br/><br/>"Hello, Michael."<br/><br/>The voice that spoke back was his own.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>In the Foyer, the smell of stagnant pond water begins to fill the room. Anyone in the room feels the dull sensation of slime across the tops of their mouths, the stench is so strong. Water begins to seep in lazily from under the floorboards, creeping inch by inch from the edges of the room. The advance is slow.<br/><br/>Deep down the western hall, a door opens with a loud creak.