Shakily, Arjun descends the basement stairs into darkness. The radio sits on a dusty shelf, its receiver still warm with power. He flips the small dial and listens: static. The station presets aren't working, but just as he's about to give up, he holds the knob halfway. The screech of silence abruptly changes to a soft music box tune – and then a voice.
Through crackling interference comes a distorted message at 88.7 MHz. Arjun turns the dial carefully, tuning in. "—Don't open the floor…" The voice trails off into a gutteral moan. What? His blood turns to ice. He tries another frequency, but 88.7 holds the signal. "You mustn't lift it," the whisper repeats.
Arjun's mind races. He drops the tuner, and the radio goes dead. In the silence, he hears tiny cracks beneath his feet. Unnerved, he looks up: the boarded section of floor under his toes has a small gap forming – it must be shifting. Panic rises. Did the signal cause this?
He lunges forward, ripping at the warped plank. Wood splinters under his hands. A cold, musty breeze wafts up. Half a floorboard finally pops free – and a metal ring clatters into his hands. Below, darkness yawns. Arjun's knees nearly buckle. Cliffhanger: As he grips the ring, a creaking noise starts from deep underneath: something is crawling up the ladder toward him.