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turned into rugged brush and open fields. The top of a worn white house appeared in the distance, and Veronica almost jumped for joy. She pulled out one of the water bottles and downed it before picking up her pace.

Light rain peppered the ground, moistening the old dry soil around Veronica. She looked over her shoulder and saw dark clouds brewing in the distance. Damn Georgia weather. The house was still a few miles away. But she didn't want to get caught in a downpour. She picked up her pace more to a jog and Timber trotted along beside her. She kept her eyes glued to the trees that lined the road, watching for any movement, prepared to defend herself.

The rain was falling harder when she reached the old, rustic house. The dark clouds were directly overhead as she bounded on to the wood porch. All the blinds were drawn, and the door shut. She pressed her ear to the door and listened. Silence. Veronica walked around to the back of the house and saw that the back door was also closed and all the back windows had their curtains drawn too. She turned the handle and realized it was unlocked. She went back to the front porch, jiggled that door handle and listened. No noise came from inside, so she turned the handle and gave the door a little push, and it popped open on squeaky hinges. She slipped inside the dark house, Timber right behind her. She choked on the foul air and pulled her shirt up over her nose.

The clanging rhythmic sound from the rain on the tin roof could barely be heard inside the house. She pulled her gun from her hip and trudged through the living room and into the kitchen. A dead man lay on the floor. The source of the foul air. Veronica’s eyes burned and watered. He had been there for a while. Huge chunks taken from his flesh, teeth marks left behind, some big, some small. She stumbled, gagging, from the kitchen. Her nerves lit on fire, and the hair on her neck shot to attention. Timber seemed worried, and he crouched to the floor, scurrying quietly, looking all around.

Veronica searched the whole downstairs, but found no one else. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her shaking hands as she held the gun out in front of her and hurried up the stairs. Timber trotted up behind her. Upstairs there was a floral wallpapered hallway, lined with closed doors with brass knobs. Quaint and creepy. Floorboards creaked under her feet.

She went to the first door and leaned against it, listening. There were no sounds inside. She jiggled the handle to get the attention of anything inside, but no sound came from the other side of the door. She opened the door and the cheerful pink walls covered in hand-painted butterflies slammed her in the gut like a sumo wrestler. Some little girl’s tiny white four-poster bed was in the corner, still unmade from whoever had slept in it last. Toys spread out across the room as if dropped mid-play.

She kept the door open and moved to the next closed door and listened. At this one, she heard footsteps and the occasional rattle. She took a deep breath and looked down at Timber.

“Are you ready, boy?” she whispered. She could have sworn that dog nodded his head.

She flung open the door and froze. A tiny golden-haired toddler girl with black veins covering her face and lips lined with blood raced for her. Veronica fumbled with her gun. She couldn't shoot a child, she wouldn't shoot a child. Right behind the girl came a woman with the same golden hair. Veronica held the gun up but couldn’t bring herself to make the shot. So, she turned and ran.

She went through the next closed door across the hall and realized Timber wasn't beside her anymore. She didn't have time to look for him because the two monsters that had once been mother and daughter were blocking the doorway. Their angry eyes glued to her. The woman charged and Veronica didn’t even have time to think. She opened the window and pushed herself out of it onto the roof. She slipped on the tin in the rain and landed on her stomach just as the woman swiped at her. Veronica slid down the roof, turning her body so her feet were facing the ground. She lost her hold on her gun and it slid along the tin next to her. Her toes caught the top of the gutter stopping her from falling to the ground below. The gun slid past her. She reached for it, but it was too late. The gun went over the side and onto the ground. Veronica looked up at the woman hanging out the window, rage across her face as she debated following Veronica onto the roof.

Veronica knew this was her only shot. She lifted her toes off the gutter and let her body slide down the roof until she fell from the side of the house. Catching herself with her hands on the edge of the roof, hanging like a child from the monkey bars, her biceps burned, and she looked at the ground below. She dropped and landed on her feet but fell to her side in a puddle of muddy water. A frustrated scream came from above her, but no one followed her over the edge.

Veronica swept her hands through the dirty water puddle, looking for her gun. But she couldn't find it. Timber’s bark sounded from inside the house and fear clutched her heart. She jumped to her feet and ran around the house until she found the back door. Without thinking, she opened the old door.

“Timber!” she screamed.

She heard the thumping of footsteps upstairs, and then down the stairs, and saw Timber come into view as he leaped from the stairs in the living room with the mom right behind him.

“Run Timber!

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