The Thing We Buried

Nick Gonzales wasn’t a man people noticed. Forty-five, balding, khakis always a size too big, and the type to nod instead of speak. He taught high school biology in a quiet town that didn’t change much and didn’t want to. He lived alone on Linden Street in a house with yellow paint that was starting to peel, and a lawn that stayed just neat enough to avoid neighborly judgment.

To most people, Nick was forgettable. That’s how he wanted it.

Because Nick Gonzales had a secret.

Not the kind that could be brushed off, like cheating on taxes or lying about a college degree. His secret lived in his basement, behind a reinforced door with a keypad lock he’d installed himself.

No one had ever seen what was down there.

No one ever would.

,,,,,,,

The trouble started when Mrs. Taormina from next door stopped by with cookies.

“I was baking anyway,” she said, standing on his porch with a smile that belonged in an ad for retirement communities. “Figured you could use some.”

Nick hesitated too long before responding.

“Thanks,” he said, voice dry from lack of use. He took the Tupperware and nodded.

“You alright?” she asked, peering past him into the house. “Heard a noise the other night. Real late. Something like… banging.”

Nick's heart ticked faster.

“Water heater,” he said quickly. “Old. Acts up sometimes.”

She smiled, but her eyes lingered on him a moment too long. “You oughta get that looked at.”

“Yeah.”

She left. He shut the door. Locked it. Drew the blinds.

Downstairs, something growled.

,,,,,,,

At school, the day was normal. Ninth graders poked at dead frogs with barely-suppressed gags. A sophomore asked if it was true that a person could survive without a stomach. Nick said yes, because it was easier than explaining. He handed back tests and ignored the whispers about his weird shoes, his quiet voice, his weird everything.

He preferred it that way.

But his mind kept drifting back to the basement.

It had been a mistake to feed it the raccoon. The sounds were louder now. The growling, constant. The scratching too. It was growing.

And Nick didn’t know how to stop it.

,,,,,,,

Back home, Nick stood in the kitchen too long, staring at the fridge.

A photo was still pinned there, curling at the corners. It showed three people in front of a lake — his mother, beaming in a floppy sun hat, Kevin with a crooked grin, and Nick, a teenager already half turned away, squinting into the sun like he didn’t want to be there.

He tugged the photo down.

Tucked behind it, almost forgotten, was the old answering machine. The light blinked red.

1 New Message.

He pressed play.

“Hi sweetheart, it’s Mom. I know you said not to call, but I was thinking about Kevin today. His birthday’s coming up and—”

He hit stop. Hard.

Stood there for a long second.

Then erased it.

Click. Gone.

He didn’t move for a while after that. Just stood in the kitchen, hands braced on the counter, until the hum of the fridge sounded like growling.

,,,,,,,

That night, he went down.

The keypad clicked open and the door creaked in protest. The basement was cold, the air metallic with the smell of iron and rot.

It was waiting.

In the far corner, shackled by a chain he'd reinforced with steel links from an old swing set, it crouched low.

Not a person. Not anymore.

Its skin was gray, stretched too tight. Its mouth was wrong — too wide, too many teeth. The eyes didn’t blink.

It used to be a man.

Used to be his brother.

“Kevin,” Nick said, barely above a whisper.

The creature turned its head, the chain clinking softly.

“Food,” it hissed.

Nick tossed in raw meat — store-bought, this time. No more raccoons. No more mistakes. He watched it devour the flesh like a machine.

Then it looked at him.

“You’re late.”

That voice. Still his brother’s. Still in there. Somewhere.

Nick stepped back. “You have to stop talking like that.”

“I remember your dreams,” it said. “You used to draw rockets.”

“Stop.”

“You wanted to leave this town.”

“Shut up.”

“You never could. So you locked me up instead.”

Nick turned and slammed the door. He sat on the basement steps for a long time, fists clenched, jaw tight.

He had done what he had to. After the accident in the lab, after the serum mutated Kevin's DNA, after the killings started. Nick had covered it up, dragged his brother here, chained him up.

Because what else do you do when your brother turns into a monster?

You hide him.

,,,,,,,

The next day, a cop showed up.

Officer Haynes. Mid-thirties. Friendly eyes but a sharp jaw.

“Hey Mr. Gonzales,” she said. “Mind if I ask a quick question?”

Nick's throat went dry. “Of course.”

“We got a report about missing animals. Pets, mostly. Cats. Small dogs. Figured it was a coyote, but then someone said they saw a person in your yard at night. Sounded strange.”

Nick blinked. “A person?”

She shrugged. “Could’ve been a shadow. But you hear anything unusual lately?”

“No.”

She looked at him too long. Like Mrs. Taormina had.

“You mind if I look around your yard?”

“Actually,” Nick said, forcing a smile, “now’s not great. I’ve got a, uh, plumbing thing. Trying to fix it.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Alright. Let me know if you see anything weird.”

Nick closed the door, waited a full minute, then sprinted to the basement.

The chain was loose.

Kevin — it — was stronger than before.

If it got out...

,,,,,,,

That night, Nick made a decision.

He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t live with the growling, the fear, the guilt that wore him down like sandpaper.

He stood in the basement with a syringe in hand. The sedative was strong enough to drop a horse. If it didn’t work…

Kevin looked up at him, silent.

“You used to be my brother,” Nick said.

“I still am.”

“No,” Nick whispered. “You’re not.”

He stepped forward.

The thing lunged.

The chain snapped.

,,,,,,,

What happened next was fast and red and loud.

Nick didn’t remember falling. Just pain. Teeth. Blood.

When he woke, it was morning.

The basement was empty.

The chain, broken.

The keypad door, hanging open.

He crawled up the stairs, every limb screaming.

Outside, a siren wailed.

A scream echoed from down the block.

He knew, without looking, where it had gone.

,,,,,,,

The town would ask questions. They’d search houses. They’d find the basement.

It was over.

Nick grabbed the phone and dialed.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

He took a breath.

“My name is Nick Gonzales,” he said. “I’ve been hiding something. You need to listen very carefully.”

Because secrets don’t stay buried. Not forever.

And monsters always find a way out.

What the Town Doesn't Know

By the time the first responders arrived, Nick had passed out again. Blood loss, mostly. His arm was torn, teeth marks ragged and deep. He came to in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed.

A nurse eyed him like he was radioactive.

Detective Cameron arrived later. Heavy-set, mustache too neat to be accidental. He pulled a chair up and sat with a sigh.

“You want to tell me what the hell was in your basement?”

Nick didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ceiling, white tiles and fluorescent lights humming overhead.

“I tried to fix it,” he said finally. “Tried to make it right.”

Cameron's jaw twitched. “We found blood. Bones. Some of them weren’t animal.”

Nick shut his eyes.

“We thought it was a wild animal at first. But there’s footage. Security cam, two streets over. Something walking like a man but — wrong. You know what I’m saying?”

Nick nodded.

“I need the truth,” Cameron said. “All of it.”

So Nick told him.

About the accident in the lab five years ago. About the synthetic virus Kevin had been working on — originally designed to regenerate tissue, cure degenerative disease. Then the trial that went wrong. The mutation. The hunger.

About how Nick had faked Kevin's death. Hidden him.

And fed him.

Cameron didn’t believe it. Not all of it. Not right away. But the footage helped. The claw marks in the basement walls helped more.

“Where would it go?” Cameron asked.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. He — it — remembers things. Places we used to go. But it’s not… human. Not anymore.”

The detective stood. “We’ll be in touch.”

,,,,,,,

The town changed fast.

Police patrolled at night. A curfew came down. News vans showed up and parked like vultures near the town hall.

They called it The Linden Street Incident.

People speculated. Wild animal. Meth lab gone wrong. Secret government project. No one guessed the truth.

But some people were scared. And some were angry.

Mrs. Taormina came to visit Nick in the hospital. She didn’t bring cookies.

“You lied to us,” she said. Her voice was soft, but shaking.

“I was trying to protect you.”

“By keeping a monster in your basement?”

Nick didn’t answer.

She looked at him like he was already dead. “My cat’s gone. My neighbor’s dog. A girl disappeared last night. Fifteen years old.”

Nick looked away.

“You’re a coward,” she said. “You should’ve killed it years ago.”

Then she left.

,,,,,,,

That night, the hospital went into lockdown.

Something triggered the alarms.

Security footage later showed a figure walking down the hallway. Long limbs. Pale skin. Blood on its mouth.

It was Kevin.

He’d come back.

Not to kill Nick.

To talk.

“You betrayed me,” it said, crouched at the foot of the bed.

“I was trying to save you.”

“I was changing. Evolving. You were too scared to let me.”

Nick couldn’t move. Even if the cuffs were off, his body was too broken.

“You locked me up,” Kevin said. “And now you want to end it? Put me down like a dog?”

Nick tried to speak, but Kevin leaned in close.

“I remember what you did to Mom.”

The words hit like a slap.

“What?”

“You told her I was dead. You let her grieve. You watched her die believing I was gone.”

Nick's throat clenched. “She would’ve been terrified.”

“She deserved to know.”

Silence stretched long and cold.

Then Kevin smiled — too wide, with too many teeth.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “You get to live. You get to watch.”

And then he was gone.

,,,,,,,

They transferred Nick to a secure facility two days later. No trial yet, but charges were stacking up- obstruction, abuse of a corpse, unlawful imprisonment.

None of it touched the truth.

Kevin was still out there.

But now, Nick wasn’t the only one who knew.

And in some small, selfish way, that made it easier to breathe.

Because secrets are heavy.

But once they’re out — once everyone sees the monster—

The burden shifts.

,,,,,,,

The next attack happened three towns over. A man found torn apart in his car, doors locked from the inside.

After that, the FBI called it a “biological anomaly.”

They issued a warning. Built a task force.

But Nick knew the truth.

Kevin wasn’t just hunting.

He was looking for something.

Maybe revenge.

Maybe family.

Maybe just someone who’d understand what it felt like to lose your humanity a piece at a time.

,,,,,,,

Nick didn’t sleep much anymore.

He’d wake up in the facility some nights thinking he heard scratching.

Thinking maybe he hadn’t locked the monster away.

Maybe he’d just become it.