The Painted Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page A

presented a whole new world, one covered under a thick blanket of snow and ice. So even as Henry had been dressing himself to play in the backyard, he knew where he was really headed on this perfect snow day.
His day would be spent exploring the woods.
And that was how he would discover the monsters in the real world.
THE PRESENT (4)
The Darkness Below the House
T

he boiler needs to be drained and refilled
    every twelve hours during the winter, and the previous owner left Henry a helpful note explaining all five steps of the process very clearly. Henry had discovered the handwritten instructions tacked to the cellar door the day his family moved into their new home. He knew all about steam boilers from his father, of course, but he appreciated the kindness of the previous owner, the man who had lived here all his life, leaving behind the workshop and those rusty tools in the cellar as his legacy.
    A modern unit can do the five maintenance steps automatically, but the boiler in this cellar is anything but modern. Actually, Henry is pretty sure it was original with the house. Somewhere along the way someone upgraded the unit to oil from coal, but the idea of adding any kind of new and automated controls is laughable. Henry is hoping to replace the boiler once and for all in the spring if their finances allow. The new unit will handle the five twice-a-day maintenance steps automatically, controlled by a thermostat on the first floor. Henry will never have to visit the cellar again if all goes well.
    Right now, though, Henry stands frozen in place, unable to perform the tasks he came here to do. Something feels very wrong in the cellar. Maybe it’s those damn rats or maybe the sensation is an aftereffect of the vertigo, but his arms are covered in goosebumps and his heart is racing. He senses movement in the periphery of his vision, but when he swings the flashlight around, there’s nothing to be seen. Then:
    Thump-thump-thump , the boiler calls. The hulking mass emits a burp from deep inside the heavy cast iron belly—and Henry laughs, the tension broken by the sound.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asks himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s just a boiler! And I know how to handle a fat bear.”
Henry laughs again and crosses the cellar, the dirt cold on his feet as he hunches over to avoid hitting his head on the wooden beams. Bending like this at his hips comes naturally enough after a few months of navigating the space twice a day. The flashlight guides him past the rough spots in the dirt-packed floor. Henry wishes he had put his shoes on, but now he just wants to finish the work and get upstairs where his paints and canvas are waiting for him.
Thump-thump-thump.
The first step of the maintenance routine is simple enough. Henry flips the metal toggle switch on the side of the unit from ON to OFF. As the previous owner had written in his note, This baby’s a gulper and you don’t want her gulping while you have her valves open!
After that’s done, Henry moves to the second step. On the other side of the boiler is a spigot with a rusted cut-off valve. Below the spigot is a metal bucket with a broken wooden handle. Henry keeps meaning to replace the bucket, but somehow he never gets around to it. Too many other things to fix in the house, he reasons, although he isn’t entirely satisfied with his explanation.
After double-checking to confirm the bucket is in place, Henry cranks the rusted valve. The valve creaks, the pipes shake, and then there’s a thunderous belch of steam as the boiling black water spits into the bucket, which screams from the sudden heat. The boiler groans in pain, too. The water is as dark as the thick oil the boiler gulps.
Henry’s father had given this process a lot of nicknames, but “draining the fat bear” is probably the one Henry remembers the best. He always thinks of his old man while performing this five-step act of home maintenance each day. His father spoke fondly