its harsh orange light in all directions. She could see the footprints more clearly now and saw that they continued on down the hall toward the bedroom; the door of which, she now noticed, was ajar.
“Wait,” Cameron whispered, tapping her shoulder.
Alice turned her head. “What?”
“You shouldn’t go first. Let me.”
“I’m fine.”
“ Bullshit . You’re unprotected. If there’s something in that room, I need to get in there first.”
“What do you think is in that room?”
“I don’t know… a ghost?”
Alice rolled her eyes and turned again to face the door at the end of the hall. “If there is a ghost in that room, I’m probably better equipped to deal with it than you are, with or without my powers.”
“Alright, but I’m not going to be held—”
There was a loud explosion of sound, a series of unearthly shrieks, and then chaos erupted. By the time Alice turned around again to see what had happened, Cameron was all the way on the other side of the hall—and he was being pinned up against the TV unit by something tall, thin, and entirely naked.
The old man .
Alice felt like all the breath had been sucked out of her lungs. Where the fuck had it come from? Behind them? That didn’t matter. It was here, it had Cameron and Alice— Trapper . Instinctively she went to pull Trapper up from the strap she always kept around her neck, but it wasn’t there. Like a phantom limb she was imagining its presence, and for a moment had felt powerful again, but the moment passed.
She watched Cameron struggle against the old man, who had grabbed Cameron by the shoulders and had started to hoist him up and off his feet. What do I do, she thought in that breathless instant of panic. When she had told Cameron she was better equipped at dealing with ghosts than he was she had lied, and now she was paying for that lie.
“Hey!” she said, screaming at the thing to get its attention. “Right here! Are you blind? I think you missed your target.”
The old man craned his neck around and snapped it into a 180-degree arc. It grinned an almost toothless grin, narrowed its black eyes, and tossed Cameron aside like he was a wet rag. As it turned the rest of its body around, Alice reached into the gun pocket of her leather jacket, produced the Glock, and cocked it. The metallic sound of the barrel sliding on its hinges sent a rush of power through Alice’s body and she raised the gun with both hands.
If it was here and she was seeing it, then it had manifested in the flesh; and a bullet wound would hurt him just as much as it would her.
It screeched, an ear-splitting sound that caused nearby windows to crack, and began to charge down the length of the corridor. Alice gently squeezed the trigger, and the gun went off with a loud bang and a bright flash. She had almost forgotten the feel of a gun in her hands—the muzzle flash, the kick-back, the smell of gunpowder. She had only had to discharge her gun on the field once during her time on the force, but used to go to the range often to hone her skills. Back in her Academy days, Alice had been the best shot of her intake.
And some skills you just don’t forget.
When the bullet flew out of her Glock, it went straight into the old man’s head and out the other side. The point of impact was tiny, but the exit was messy. Bits of gore so dark they could have been black sprayed one of the nearby walls, but the old man didn’t lose much speed. Alice squeezed the trigger again and succeeded in hitting the old man on the head this time too. It screamed as it barreled toward her, its mouth unhinging to become a dark, wide O.
Alice stretched the gun out with one hand and put a bullet in the thing’s mouth just as he came crashing over her, but the moment the Glock’s muzzle flashed the old man dispersed into a cloud of shadow that broke like a harmless wave of—putrid—smoke, and the bullet struck the wall on the far side of the hall.
Cameron came into view, his
“Wait,” Cameron whispered, tapping her shoulder.
Alice turned her head. “What?”
“You shouldn’t go first. Let me.”
“I’m fine.”
“ Bullshit . You’re unprotected. If there’s something in that room, I need to get in there first.”
“What do you think is in that room?”
“I don’t know… a ghost?”
Alice rolled her eyes and turned again to face the door at the end of the hall. “If there is a ghost in that room, I’m probably better equipped to deal with it than you are, with or without my powers.”
“Alright, but I’m not going to be held—”
There was a loud explosion of sound, a series of unearthly shrieks, and then chaos erupted. By the time Alice turned around again to see what had happened, Cameron was all the way on the other side of the hall—and he was being pinned up against the TV unit by something tall, thin, and entirely naked.
The old man .
Alice felt like all the breath had been sucked out of her lungs. Where the fuck had it come from? Behind them? That didn’t matter. It was here, it had Cameron and Alice— Trapper . Instinctively she went to pull Trapper up from the strap she always kept around her neck, but it wasn’t there. Like a phantom limb she was imagining its presence, and for a moment had felt powerful again, but the moment passed.
She watched Cameron struggle against the old man, who had grabbed Cameron by the shoulders and had started to hoist him up and off his feet. What do I do, she thought in that breathless instant of panic. When she had told Cameron she was better equipped at dealing with ghosts than he was she had lied, and now she was paying for that lie.
“Hey!” she said, screaming at the thing to get its attention. “Right here! Are you blind? I think you missed your target.”
The old man craned his neck around and snapped it into a 180-degree arc. It grinned an almost toothless grin, narrowed its black eyes, and tossed Cameron aside like he was a wet rag. As it turned the rest of its body around, Alice reached into the gun pocket of her leather jacket, produced the Glock, and cocked it. The metallic sound of the barrel sliding on its hinges sent a rush of power through Alice’s body and she raised the gun with both hands.
If it was here and she was seeing it, then it had manifested in the flesh; and a bullet wound would hurt him just as much as it would her.
It screeched, an ear-splitting sound that caused nearby windows to crack, and began to charge down the length of the corridor. Alice gently squeezed the trigger, and the gun went off with a loud bang and a bright flash. She had almost forgotten the feel of a gun in her hands—the muzzle flash, the kick-back, the smell of gunpowder. She had only had to discharge her gun on the field once during her time on the force, but used to go to the range often to hone her skills. Back in her Academy days, Alice had been the best shot of her intake.
And some skills you just don’t forget.
When the bullet flew out of her Glock, it went straight into the old man’s head and out the other side. The point of impact was tiny, but the exit was messy. Bits of gore so dark they could have been black sprayed one of the nearby walls, but the old man didn’t lose much speed. Alice squeezed the trigger again and succeeded in hitting the old man on the head this time too. It screamed as it barreled toward her, its mouth unhinging to become a dark, wide O.
Alice stretched the gun out with one hand and put a bullet in the thing’s mouth just as he came crashing over her, but the moment the Glock’s muzzle flashed the old man dispersed into a cloud of shadow that broke like a harmless wave of—putrid—smoke, and the bullet struck the wall on the far side of the hall.
Cameron came into view, his
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