Calvin unfolds the couch bed. It reeks of dust and old Febreze. Frankie's nose wrinkles. She frowns.
"Thanks for coming back," Calvin says.
Frankie dumps the crate by the armrest. "Thank her," she says, nodding at Claire.
Claire smiles.
Calvin nods.
He flicks off the lights.
They slip under the blanket and listen to Calvin's footsteps on the stairs.
"Remember, if nothing spooky happens tonight, you owe me a Coke."
"I never agreed to that."
"Night," Frankie says with a yawn.
Claire shifts and rolls to face the other way. "Night."
The fridge hums, then dies—a clock ticks. Something creaks.
Claire's breathing slows. Frankie's does too. The room is silent.
Then —
Crick.
Crack.
Claire bolts upright. Her eyes slice through the darkness, searching.
In the corner, the air crumbles.
Crick-crack.
Claire's breath catches in her chest.
More of the air fractures. Bits fall and vanish. The crack widens.
Claire reaches over and grabs Frankie's arm. "Frankie," she whispers, shaking her.
Frankie blinks awake. "What—"
Claire points.
Frankie sits up. "What the hell is that?!"
Claire's voice shakes. "Calvin was telling the truth."
The crack grows into a fissure. It hangs in the air. The color pulses on the other side. Then something blocks it out.
Frankie grabs the edge of the couch. "Holy shit!"
A hulking figure peers through the crack. All head. His tiny body barely visible behind it. A wide-brimmed hat sits atop his massive head.
The preacher.
Claire's chest tightens. The air feels heavy.
The preacher sniffs. His colossal head slowly sweeps the room. His eyes fix on them.
"Come join the choir above the world. Both of you." He steps out of the crack towards them—his shoes hiss and smoke when they touch the carpet.
Claire shakes her head. "No way!"
Frankie pulls Claire close. "We're not going anywhere, creep!"
The preacher frowns, sniffs the air. His eyes follow the staircase. "Then I'll take the other one."
He turns back toward the portal.
"No." Frankie lunges.
She throws a punch. Her fist passes through his chest like air.
"What?"
He grips her wrist, lifts her off her feet, and hurls her into the wall. She collapses to the floor.
Claire crawls across the couch and runs to Frankie.
The preacher watches. He smiles, then steps into the crack. The fissure closes behind him, like nothing was there.
Frankie pants. Ribs aching. "He's real. Claire, he's real."
"Believer moment," Claire whispers.
"Yeah. We're going after him."
They sprint upstairs. Frankie yanks open Calvin's bedroom door. Empty. She rushes back, finds Claire at the top step, crumpled against the wall and holding her head.
"Frankie, something is wrong. My brain feels like it's scrambled. It hurts."
"What?"
"I dunno. But it's coming from up here."
Frankie scans the landing. Her gaze finds the attic hatch. She grabs the string and pulls. The ladder drops.
Frankie grabs Claire, braces her, and guides her up the ladder into the attic.
A low hum pulses from the back of the room.
Silhouetted against the window is Calvin, crouching beside a strange machine. Copper coils. Metal frame. Lights flicker along a console.
Claire gasps. "That's it. That's the source of the brain pain." She clutches her hair.
Frankie stares. "That's a resonator."
The machine hums louder.
Frankie steps forward. "Turn it off, Calvin. Now."
Calvin doesn't move.
His eyes are locked on the machine.
Like he's listening to something they can't hear.
Calvin's fingers hover above the control panel. The lights of the machine blink across his frozen face.
"Calvin, you moron!" She rushes to him and grabs his shoulder, jostling him back to reality. "What is this backyard science shit?"
"My dad told me if he didn't come back, to use the machine. The machine would lead him home."
She leans over the humming device, copper coils sparking in low rhythm, light pulsing. "You're lucky you didn't blow the neighborhood up. These things are dangerous."
"I didn't know!"
"Your crazy dad, all those weird machine parts on your desk… I should've known there'd be something like this in the house."
Frankie searches for the off switch. She runs a finger across the control panel.
"Stupid, janky pseudo-science radio toy."
Claire collapses to her knees. Then rolls onto her side. She curls into a ball, clutching her head.
Frankie looks over at Claire. She grabs Calvin and shoves him at the machine. "You do it."
"Ok, I'm sorry," Calvin says. His finger goes straight for the 'OFF' switch. He flicks it. The hum stutters, then fades. The lights dim.
Behind Frankie and Calvin, a crack splits the air. The fracture widens. The massive head of the preacher peers out.
Claire screams.