Donald’s van rattled as he drove down toward the end of the dead end street off of Maple Dr. The tools and worn chemical bottles clanged together at every dip, crack, and pothole. The van swayed back and forth from the dips and holes in the road. The shocks weren’t doing much anymore against the bumps of the road.

“One last job for the day,” Donald muttered to himself as he crept down the bumpy dead end road.

The exhaust hummed an annoying overtone with every depression of the light accelerator pedal. Donald looked forward to getting home and opening a beer. He had a cooler sitting between the two front seats that previously carried his lunch. Now it waited for the moment of cold ice and a six pack of canned brew. He wasn’t known to drink heavily, but wasn’t opposed to the occassional “road soda”, as he called them, on a Friday afternoon on the way home. And that’s what today was, Friday. One last job.

The van came to a screaching hault in front of the last house at the end of the road. House number seventeen. The squealing of the brakes always irked Donald, but he couldn’t afford to fix the van right now. In fact, most repairs were put on the back burner for other things that Donald felt were more important. It wasn’t easy running a small business, especially nowadays, but Donald had a strong reputation as one of the best exterminators in the area, and people called from all around when they had pest problems because he was the best at what he did. Donald killed the ignition and slid out of the van. He went to the rear and unlocked the back hatch doors, swinging them open. He unlocked the cage separating the tools from the cab and stepped up into the back of the van. Looking over toward the house, he spotted Edith Gardenia standing in her doorway waiting for him.

“Afternoon Mrs. Gardenia,” Donald greeted her.

“Hello Donny! I’m so happy you could come today!”

Edith was a regular customer of Donald’s. Anytime a racoon crawled under Edith’s porch, or a flux of spiders or mice became apparent in her basement, Edith called him. She always called him Donny. Even though he hated the name, he never corrected the elederly woman. He knew she only meant it as a term of endearment. She was alone now, a widow with no family, and Donald always felt he filled a small gap in her life. So Donny it was, and Donny it would be. Donald was grateful for the business, but hoped this one would be quick like the others. He approached her front steps.

“What’s the problem today Edith? Mice again? It is getting cooler out so they tend to sneak their way in, as you know.”

“I don’t think it’s mice this time Donny. There are strange loud noises coming from the vents in the house. I found one of the duct covers in the basement off this morning when I was down there doing a load of laundry. It sounds BIG, like a rat or a squirrel,” Edith said with an edge of anxiety in her throat.

“A rat or squirrel huh? Well let me grab a couple things and I’ll go check it out Edith.”

“Oh thank you so much for coming. I’ve been so nervous today. I’m not sure what it is but it sounds rather large. I was worried it would break through one of the vent covers upstairs and come after me. I’ve been hiding in the bathroom reading for most of the day.”

Donald grabbed his tool belt from the truck, leaving the spray chemicals behind for now. His belt was his general tool kit consisting of a couple small flashlights, an extendable mirror, a couple pouches of bait, a tranqulizer gun, a screwdriver with multiple attachments for removing ducting or panels, and the most important tool of all, a collapsible cattle prod. He fastened the leather tool belt around his waist and turned to follow Edith into the home. She lead him to basement and pointed down the stairwell. She wouldn’t go down with him.

“It’s in the vent down there she said, I heard it right before you came. It had made its way upstairs to the second floor at one point. God only knows how, but it did. But right before you came I heard it rattling away down there,” Edith told this to Donald with a very present fear in her voice.

“Well don’t get to shaken up. I’ll take care of it Edith. I’ll holler up to you if I need something.”

“I’ll wait here,” Edith said.

“Probably for the best. I don’t need you getting bit if it’s a rat or racoon or something.”

Donald headed down the basement stairs. Each step creaked and coraked under his heavy leather work boots as he slowly made his descent. The loudest of which was the bottom stair, and when Donald hit this step, a loud shuffle echoed throughout the basement that made Donald jump a mile.

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself, “Keep it together man.”

“It sounds big doesn’t it,” Edith hollered down the stairs.

“I should say so,” responded Donald.

Donald proceeded into the basement, flicking the switch on the wall next to the stairway to illuminate part of the dark and murky room. He looked around. The walls were a ship grey color, painted in several heavy coats. Drip marks were every few feet, painted hastily probably. Donald looked around the basement ceiling to locate the air ducting. He reached for another light with a pullcord attached and yanked it down to illuminate the darkened area of the room. Just then, he noticed the vent nearest to the furnace pried off and laying on the basement floor. He moved over to it to inspect it. The cover had been completely torn off of the ducting, quite violently. Part of the ducting was still, in fact, attached to the cover. Certainly not a clean break. The strange part was, the access was at least eight feet off of the ground. Whatever had broken in had to have climbed up the ducting from the furnace. It would’ve had to held onto the smooth surface while prying off the cover. This wasn’t making much sense.

“Well I definitely don’t think it’s a rat Edith,” he shouted up.

“What do you think it is?”

“Im not sure, but whatever it is, it’s big.”

Donald’s anxiety coursed through his veins when he ralized he wasn’t prepared for this situation. He’d never seen something actually tear a vent off like this, especially with this much force. It looked more like a bear’s work than a small pest. Donald grabbed Edith’s stepladder from the corner near the washing machine. He took one of the flashlights from his belt and the mirror. Setting up the small ladder and climbing up, he telescoped the mirror out and stuck it in the vent. There was no way he was trusting to stick his head in there.

Donald shined the flashlight onto the mirror and moved it around in the vent. Suddenly a loud BANG came from the opposite side of the basement. Whatever made the bang was now scurrying across the ventilation toward the opening that he was standing right next to. Donald’s blood pumped, but he knew he had to identify what he was dealing with. He pointed the mirror toward the noise and shined the light until he could catch a glimpse of whatever was coming toward him. At that moment, Donald saw several tiny red eyes staring straight into the mirror.

Donald’s heart lept out of his chest and he lost his balance, falling backward. A shriek came from the vent that was not of this world. The scurrying became nearer to the opening and he fought the pain in his rear end and back from the fall, quickly trying to get back to his feet. As he tried to raise himself, Donald saw a large claw emerge from the vent opening, as black as the night, almost resembling a crab. He tried to scream, but his adrenaline was so high at this moment he couldn’t find the breath to let out any noise. He was in a complete state of shock. The creature’s long crab-like claw reached out the vent and grabbed the torn outside, lowering itself down through the opening. Donald was completely paralyzed with fear. Sweat ran down his brow like someone had dumped a pitcher of water on top his head. The creature’s head emerged and gazed at Donald with the twelve red eyes he had seen through the mirror. Those sinister red eyes. Letting out a deafening shriek toward Donald, a wet oozy drool dripped from what appeared to be its mouth. Those razor teeth showed bright against the black skeletal of the creature.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

Donald finally mustered a scream. He scrambled to reach for his belt. He wasn’t prepared for anything like this whatsoever. The creature’s entire body slowly emerged from the gaping hole in the ventilation. Its razor mouth still gleaming at him from the light of the basement bulbs. The red eyes haunted him, staring. Donald scrambled for the cattle prod. He knew he wouldn’t be able to shoot the damned thing in the state he was in, and God only knew if a tranqulizer would do anything. Edith had been yelling down to him the entire time in a state of panic, but Donald finally was able to comprehend her cries.

“SHUT THE DOOR NOW!” he yelled to her.

“What is it? What is going on? Are you alright Donny?”

“For God’s sake Edith! SHUT THE DOOR!”

The door slammed with an immense thud from above. Donald extended the cattle prod and turned it on in a flurry. The creature hung there staring at him. Donald’s heart was moving so rapidly he felt he was on the verge of collapsing. He quickly moved to a knee and stumbled backward to his feet, bracing himself against the basement wall. Staring at those twelve red eyes. The eyes of something not of this world. Its menacing gaze locked onto his. It let out a snarl and a short, loud shriek at him.

“Jesus Christ,” he pleaded.

He knew if he turned away from the creature it may chase after him and follow him up the stairs, then it could get to Edith. He couldn’t allow that to happen. Donald began to come to grips with what was happening and what he needed to do. He needed to kill this thing. This thing from another world. Donald raised the cattle prod and struck the trigger. It let off a sizzle in the cool basement air. The creature snarled again and flew from the vent at full velocity toward Donald’s head. Donald watched it fly toward him almost in slow motion. Two long crab-like claws spread out like wings, eight spider-like legs curled up into its black torso, and those eyes. Those twelve sinister red eyes staring at him.

Donald raised the cattle prod and pushed the trigger in as hard as he could. Directing it right at the flying creature. The creature struck the prod and let out the loudest shriek he had heard from it, then collapsed onto the floor in a ball. Donald kicked the creature away from him with his leather boot. It flew across the room and crashed into the opposite wall. He sprinted toward where the creature lay and jammed the prod into it, mashing the trigger down and watching it convulse and shake as the voltage streamed through it black body.

He quit the prod and stomped his boot down on top of the creature with a disgusting crunch. As green goo oozed out from the bottom of his work boot, Donald raised his foot again and again, stomping the life out of the menacing creature. When he was sure it was completely terminated, he raised his foot to look. What a mess it had made. He aimed his flashlight and knelt down to examine whatever this thing was. It had the features of a crab almost, at least the hard shell and the two immense claws. But there were also elements of fur and skin, almost like a spider. This was certainly no pest Donald had ever seen.

Donald turned as fast as he could and raced up the basement stairs, his boots barely touching the steps as he moved faster than he had ever thought possible. Swinging the door open at the top in a panic, he slammed it shut behind him with a thundering crack.

“What happened. What was it?” she stammered.

“I don’t know, but whatever it was its dead now. You should call the police, see if they can get someone here to examine whatever the hell it is.”

Edith went to the phone and dialed. Donald stepped back down into the basement. His adrenaline starting to calm. He proceeded down each squeaking step carefully and peered his head around the corner of the stairwell toward the spot where the creature lay. Still there, still dead. He stood there for awhile, staring at the leviathan of nightmares. Those eyes, those sinister red eyes. Donald looked around the basement for a shovel or dust pan to possibly move the thing out of there, but then decided maybe it was best if he left it alone for the police to investigate. Just then, a small thump came from the vent shaft above his head. He turned and stuck his mirror back into the ravaged hole in the ventilation. Donald couldn’t see anything. Another soft thump. Donald then realized the furnace had just kicked on and he took a long deep breath. He went back upstairs to greet Edith, who was waiting patiently on the porch for the police.

“They should be here soon,” she said, “You ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What was that thing dear?”

“I don’t know Mrs. Gardenia. I don’t know."

Donald was shaken. He couldn’t control the trembling in his hands. He was soaked through his jumpsuit with sweat. Edith, seeing this, went inside and fetched a blanket to wrap him with. She comforted him for awhile to try to settle his nerves. Holding him close and rubbing his back. The sun started to set and the streetlights kicked on. They could see a police cruiser heading up the street, followed closely by the animal control officer that Donald knew all too well at this point. Donald looked at Edith and smiled, she smiled back. Those eyes, those sinister red eyes.