The fence that had crashed to the ground was in uneven halves, sharp around the edges. On top of it was one of the biggest dogs Miles had ever seen - not that he'd seen many. It was panting and wagging its tail, though Miles couldn't say why it would be happy at a time like this.
"Where did it come from?" Luca asked, immediately moving towards it.
Miles grabbed his arm to hold him back, and the dog didn't move. "That yard, idiot. It just broke the fence down."
Luca tried to tug himself free. "It looks perfectly calm! I want to give it a pat."
"Are you kidding? It's fucking huge and just knocked a fence down and probably has fleas!"
Luca frowned at Miles. "He just wanted to escape!"
Miles let go of Luca's hand, making an effort to make the movement especially dramatic. "Whatever. Go, pet it. You'll probably get rabies."
"As if." Luca outstretched both hands and without a second thought, starting to pet the dog, clucking his tongue playfully when the creature continued wagging its tail. Miles watched from where he stood, eyes narrowed. The dog wasn't in bad shape, considering it had just come from a house that Miles had thought was abandoned, and it had had the strength to knock over the fence. He wasn't surprised the animal had wanted to get out, though - the yard was tiny, and the dog was massive.
Miles glanced at the house, which was now easily accessible with the fence broken. "Luca, I'll be right back, okay?" Miles turned towards the house and stepped over the ruined fence, moving into the yard. "Give the dog a name or whatever. Scream if you need me."
Luca looked over his shoulder. "You're going in there?"
Without looking back, Miles called, "Somebody has to! I'll be back soon."
Miles pulled his phone from his pocket and flicked on the flashlight, warily testing the front stairs one at a time. They creaked but supported his weight. He continued up.
Miles rested his hand on the door handle once he was on the porch, heart hammering in his chest. He didn't know why he was scared - he was so sure that this house hadn't seen a resident in decades.
He turned the handle. It clicked, and the door immediately swung open.
At once, Miles was hit with a stench that made the bile rise in his throat. He stumbled back a step, covering his mouth with his hand.
He didn't want to go in, but he did so regardless.
He shuffled cautiously, one step at a time, hand over mouth though it didn't help much. The floorboards were rickety beneath his feet, groaning at each step he took.
Using his elbow, he nudged a door open and was provided with the unexpected sight of a bedroom in good shape. It was decorated. Shelves were full of small trinkets and photo frames that hadn't collected dust. Clothing-filled drawers hung open. The bedsheets were ruffled.
He was suddenly unsure that this place was abandoned after all.
Miles took an aghast step back, pausing in the hall for a moment just to regain his composure. He realised he was shaking when the light from his phone's flashlight wobbled.
If the house wasn't abandoned, then where was its owner?
Miles continued creeping through the hall, putting in a great deal of effort to not let the floorboards groan anymore. They disobediently did so anyway.
Miles had seen enough old horror movies to know that he ought to turn back. Right now.
But he didn't. Something wasn't right. The dog was in good condition and so were the rooms in this house.
As Miles grew closer and closer to where the end of the hallway opened into a larger room, he realised what the horrible scent was that hung so thickly in the air: blood.
Miles reached the end of the hall and a small cry slipped his lips.
There was been somebody living here, and somebody else had come to kill them.
Rather, there had been a person living here.
Miles leaned heavily against the wall, his hand falling away from his mouth as his flashlight illuminated the scene in the room before him.
Everywhere, blood was strewn. The walls, the furniture, the floor especially. No matter where his eyes roamed, however, they always returned to the middle of the room, where two bodies were sprawled ungracefully across the scarlet-stained carpet.
Dead.
Blood was still leaking from the bodies - this had happened recently. Miles felt sick thinking that when Bri had led him and his group to the treehouse, the person taking residence in this house - and their murderer - had been alive.
They'd killed each other.
Miles could feel his knees quaking, threatening to give way.
He didn't want to let himself get nearer, but he felt his feet dragging him closer against his will. He was drawn to the scene; he wanted - no, needed - to see what had really happened.
There were knives on the ground, but not just that. Fire pokers smeared with blood, photo frames splattered with red, even hardcover books had been used as weapons.
Miles gagged again and clapped a hand back to his mouth. One of the faces was smeared with black, and Miles realised the colour was oozing from her eyes, which had run completely onyx.
The black fluid still pooled from her eyes and ran like tears down her cheeks.
Miles desperately turned away to find himself looking at his own reflection in a fractured full-length mirror hanging on the wall. It was almost a relief to look at himself; something alive. But it wasn't all too comforting. His dark hair was smudged crimson and his face was dirty. He could see himself trembling.
Miles was focussing too hard on trying to recognise his own reflection to notice that by his feet, something in the mirror moved. It was only when he looked down disappointedly at his ruined sneakers that he saw the movement again.
Miles let out half a cry as he whirled around, pressing his back hard against the mirror and shining his light down at where the movement had come from.
There was a groan, and one of the bodies lifted his head.
This time, Miles couldn't keep himself from letting out a yelp. His feet were glued to the ground, gaze locked with the man who had lifted his quivering head. The face staring at Miles was gaunt and ghostly and bloody, eye sockets sunken and lips parted to let a shuddering gasp escape.
Then, as Miles was watching, the man's eyes burst, a black fluid gushing from them and leaking down his blood-spattered cheeks.
There was a thud as the man's head hit the ground.
If he hadn't been dead before, he certainly was now.
Miles didn't dare linger for another instant. Hand still clutched to his mouth, Miles propelled himself away from the cracked mirror and practically leaped from there to the hallway. A cool breeze penetrated the old house as Miles raced for the exit, his vision swimming as the coppery smell - and taste - of blood overwhelmed his senses.
Miles hardly made it outside before he tossed his phone to the ground, collapsed to his knees, and threw up into the bushes.
"Miles?"
Miles ignored Luca, gripping his stomach as he choked up his breakfast. His mind was reeling with memories of what he'd seen, but not just that. Unwillingly he was again forced through the recollection of Harvey's dead body in his arms, of the sight of the man that Lia had killed bleeding out onto the ground.
Death had never felt so real.
"Miles, are you okay?"
There was a soft touch on Miles' shoulder. He immediately lifted a hand and slapped Luca's hand away before leaning back and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He sat still for a moment, eyes closed and breathing deeply, just making sure he was finished before hauling himself to his feet.
His head pounded, just for a moment, as he steadied himself. He held his breath; one, two, three seconds before slowly releasing it and opened his eyes.
Miles stood still, just focussing on keeping himself upright, prior to leaning back down and picking up his phone and switching off the flashlight.
"We're going," he said, leaving no room for argument. Miles didn't look at Luca or the dog and certainly not back at the house before advancing towards the exit made courtesy of the broken fence.
Luca's voice contained panic. "Can the dog come?"
"Fuck, I don't care. If it slows us down, then no."
Luca looked torn, but he scurried after Miles shortly and much to the boy's apparent relief, the dog caught up in a few long strides.
"What happened in there?" Luca asked, trying his hardest to keep up with Miles' swift pace.
"Trust me," Miles breathed, "you don't want to know."
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