“Get it, Clark!” I yelled. “Quick!”

Clark stretched out on the floor and shoved his fingers under the refrigerator. But his fingers only managed to brush the tip of the paper, shoving it back.

“Stop!” I yelled. “You’re pushing it away!”

But Clark didn’t listen.

He shoved his hand in deeper. Groping for the paper.

Pushing it back. Farther and farther.

Until we couldn’t see it anymore.

“What did it say?” I hollered. “You read the letter! We’re perfectly safe as long as … what?”

“I—I didn’t get to that part,” Clark stammered.

I wanted to strangle him.

I spun around. And frantically searched for something to slip under the refrigerator—to ease out the letter.

But I couldn’t find anything slim enough or long enough. Everything was way too big to fit underneath.

Clark tore open the kitchen cabinets and drawers looking for something we could use.

The monster stomped on the floor above us.

The ceiling quaked.

A dish fell off the counter and shattered on the cold gray tiles. Shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

“Oh, no,” I moaned, staring up at the ceiling, watching the paint crack and crumble. “He’s down to the second floor. He’s coming closer.”

“We’re doomed,” Clark groaned. “He’s going to catch us and—”

“Clark. We have to move the refrigerator. We have to find out what it says in the rest of that letter!”

Clark and I tugged on the refrigerator. We pushed and tugged with all our strength.

Upstairs, the monster roared an angry roar.

We tugged harder.

The refrigerator began to move.

Clark knelt down and peered underneath it. “Push!” he told me. “Push! I can see a corner of the letter! Push—just a little more!”

I gave the refrigerator one more hard shove—and Clark had it! He grasped the corner of the letter between his thumb and index finger. And pulled it out.

He shook the paper, to free a clump of dust that clung to it.

“Just read it!” I shouted at him. “Read it!”

Clark started to read again. “ ‘You are perfectly safe as long as …’ ”

I held my breath, waiting for Clark to finish the sentence. Waiting to find out how we could keep ourselves safe.

“ ‘You are perfectly safe,’ ” Clark read, “ ‘as long as you do not open the door and let the monster out.’ ”

“That’s it?” My jaw dropped. “It’s too late for that! It’s too late! Did they say anything else? They must have said something else!”

“There’s a little more.” Clark read on:

“ ‘Please. Please stay away from that room. Do not open that door.’ ”

“Too late!” I wailed. “It’s too late!”

“ ‘If the monster escapes, you will have no choice. You will have to find a way to kill it.’ ” Clark looked up from the letter. “That’s it, Gretchen. That’s all it says. You will have to find a way to kill it.”

“Quick!” I ordered Clark. “Open the other letter. It’ll probably tell us more. It has to!”

Clark started to tear open the second envelope when we heard the heavy footsteps.

Footsteps downstairs.

In the next room—the living room.

“Hurry, Clark! Open it!”

Clark’s fingers fumbled as he tried to rip through the sealed envelope. But he stopped when we heard the creature’s breathing.

Deep, wheezing breaths.

Coming nearer.

My heart thumped wildly as the monster’s wheezing grew louder.

“He–he’s coming for us!” Clark cried, stuffing the unopened envelope in his pocket.

“The dining room!” I shouted. “Head for the dining room!”

“What are we going to do? How can we kill it?” Clark cried as we bolted from the kitchen.

“We—owwww!” A sharp pain shot up my leg as I ran smack into the dining-room table.

I clutched my knee. I tried to bend it. But the pain tore through it.