CHAPTER 2 — THE VOICE BENEATH THE FIRE

Caleb did not sleep that night.

He dragged the kitchen table against the stove and placed a loaded rifle beside him.

Eleanor sat across from him, staring at the iron pot.

They had covered it with a heavy wooden lid.

But the lid kept moving.

Not much.

Just enough to remind them that something underneath was still alive.

At midnight, three knocks came again.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Eleanor covered her mouth.

Caleb raised the rifle.

“Don’t answer it.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

A long silence followed.

Then the voice returned.

“Please…”

This time it sounded closer.

Caleb stood.

“Stay here.”

He approached the stove.

The pot trembled.

A thin stream of steam escaped beneath the lid.

Then the voice whispered his name.

“Caleb…”

He stopped.

Eleanor’s eyes widened.

“How does it know your name?”

Caleb did not answer.

He slowly lifted the lid.

The pot was full of beans.

But something was wrong.

The beans near the center had separated into a perfect circle.

Beneath them was a dark opening.

Caleb grabbed the lantern.

He lowered it toward the opening.

There was no bottom.

Only darkness.

He moved the lantern lower.

Still nothing.

The cabin suddenly became freezing cold.

Then something touched the bottom of the pot.

From below.

Eleanor screamed.

Caleb slammed the lid shut.

The next morning, they rode to the abandoned church at the edge of the valley.

There, they found Reverend Elias Boone.

He was nearly eighty years old and had lived in Black Hollow longer than anyone.

When Eleanor described the pot, the old man’s face changed.

“You should have buried it.”

Caleb stared at him.

“Buried what?”

“The pot.”

Elias walked to a shelf and removed an old leather journal.

He opened it carefully.

“Forty-three years ago, a winter storm trapped a family in this valley.”

He turned a page.

“The mother was named Ruth Bellamy.”

Eleanor frowned.

“What happened to her?”

“She starved.”

Caleb swallowed.

“But there was food?”

“Not enough.”

Elias looked at him.

“Her husband and two children died first. Ruth survived alone for eleven days.”

He closed the journal.

“On the twelfth day, the neighbors found her sitting beside an iron cooking pot.”

“What was inside?”

“Nothing.”

Eleanor felt cold despite the warm church.

Elias continued.

“She kept telling them that someone beneath the floor was feeding her.”

Caleb whispered, “And the pot?”

“The family buried it.”

“Where?”

Elias looked toward the snowy valley.

“Under your cabin.”

Eleanor’s heart stopped.

They returned before sunset.

Caleb immediately began tearing up the wooden floorboards.

Underneath was frozen earth.

Then his shovel struck iron.

He stopped.

Eleanor knelt beside him.

Together they uncovered a second iron pot buried beneath the cabin.

It was black with age.

And carved into its side were four words:

FEED ME, AND I FEED YOU.

Caleb stared at the inscription.

“Eleanor…”

The old pot suddenly began to shake.

Then came a sound from beneath the ground.

Not three knocks this time.

Dozens.

Hundreds.

As if countless hands were striking the earth from below.

And then a child’s voice cried out:

“Mother…”

Eleanor stepped backward.

Because she recognized the voice.

It was her own voice.

But she had never had children.