The Eleventh Minute by Arianne Aceves

Author:Arianne Aceves [Aceves, Arianne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: novella, suspense, unexpected, detectives, Murder mystery, ghosts, Psychics, book, humorous, paranormal, amateur sleuths, Crime, thriller, funny
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2021-08-12T22:00:00+00:00

22

the basement

Directly beside the basement door is a timer knob that can be set for up to 15 minutes. It’s a way to save on electricity, a get in-get-out kind of deal. Big Sam switches hands to hold his hefty toolbox then cranks the knob all the way, promptly firing up the ticker.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick.

Sweating, Sam instructs, “We’re heading over to the left-wing, in the back, to determine what’s going on and, we gotta move fast! You don’t want to be in here when the lights go out.”

Sam draws open the heavy door. Zahra looks on, imagining hanging onto the door with both hands while pulling it open with feet anchored to the floor, just to crack it an inch!

Thinking she’s hesitating, Mason encourages her. “C’mon. I’m right in front of you.”

She smiles, concealing her veiled fear.

At the end of the concrete hall, a bright light introduces an organized maze of pipes leading in all directions, highlighting the condensation on a few. Some have color-coded identification tape. Follow the yellow arrows to the left. Big Sam leading the way helps to minimize the jitters, but not by much. You can tell by your piloerection that the air is a bit too damp and stale for comfort; damn right, unnerving. The release of pressure overlaps muffled sounds from distant voices.

Steam billows into the pathway, emphasizing Sam’s shadow. Mason reaches for Zahra’s hand. This long, narrow hallway seems to be eating up the timer, so everyone shuffles a bit faster.

Up ahead, a few bright lights on a loftier ceiling tower over Big Sam, releasing the tightness in your chest. Jersey, Luigi, and another maintenance worker are in full gear, ready to go. Sam shakes hands with the men, and lips mimic a conversation, but the sounds in here make it inaudible from where we’re standing. Sam directs us forward. We keenly watch heads nod, fingers point, hands shake again. The workers mask up, so we emulate their motions.

“We’re scarcely short one mask,” Sam hollers in Jersey’s general direction!

“It’s fine! I can go without one. I’ve smelled obnoxious biohazardous materials before,” Mason volunteers.

In the back of this ominous basement, an industrial pipe lurks. Everyone gathers in while the anticipation builds.

The other maintenance worker is a friend of Jersey’s. He’s been around pipes like these since The Beatles became world-renowned and is as fiery as the steam that his leathery skin brutally handles.

Hissing comes from the seal as a pressure valve cautiously turns! Large bolts on this oversized pipe loosen one by one.

The rugged, timeworn plumber exclaims as sweat drips from under his helmet, “These bolts are pretty loose for years of sitting unopened!”

With hands placed on his hips, Sam looks on, biting his inner cheek. “Why would anybody need to open that?”

Jersey quietly mutters to Sam, “I don’t know, but it wasn’t my guys.”

Concerned there’s more to this than meets the eye, Sam backs up.

Seeing the professional crew nervous, Jersey fights through the building pressure of fear within. “Once we get

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