Page 59 of Haunted Spurs

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

This time the wood creaks, groaning under a massive, physical weight. The sound is unmistakable: heavy boots. A man emerges from the thick shadows.

He is wearing the exact same long, black slicker raincoat as the hologram, but this one is gleaming with real blood. The same raw leather mask covers his face, but now we can hear him breathing. It's a harsh, animalistic rasp filtering through the eyeholes. In his right hand, protected by a thick rubber glove, he grips a lumberjack axe. He drags the blade against the wooden wall, producing a metallic scrape that makes my skin crawl.

He is solid. He is armed. Emma lets out an ear-splitting scream.

"RUN!" Levi roars.

And it is absolute, total chaos. Hell.

Survival instinct kicks in—the group breaks apart in a split second. It's a blind, irrational, deafening scramble. The twins, Cade and Cole, bolt toward the service stairs at the back of the hall. Carolina and Indya scream, running blindly toward the west wing of the estate. Emerson is petrified, his logic completely collapsing, and Susan has to grab him and drag his dead weight away. Sam snatches Katherine around the waist and shoves Josh and Lizzie forward to get them moving.

"Selene, let's go!"

I grab her hand tightly. Her fingers are like ice. With my other hand, I grip Ollie's leash; he is growling furiously, the hair on his back standing straight up.

I pull them both with desperate force, sprinting in the opposite direction of the carnage, plunging into the east wing of the second floor.

We run blindly, guided only by instinct. Somewhere, in the bowels of the massive, labyrinthine estate, I can hear doors slamming, terror-muffled screams, heavy and fast footsteps.

My heart is exploding in my ears. Adrenaline burns through my veins. I need a safe haven. I need to get Ollie and Selene safe right fucking now.

I feel along the carved wooden wall in the dark until I find the recess of an inset door at the end of the hall. I grab the old brass handle, throw my shoulder against the wood, and shove it open, pushing them inside.

I walk in last and slam the door behind us.

Fumbling frantically, I find the heavy iron deadbolt and slam it into place with a metallic clack, then turn the key in the lock twice.

I turn to face the room. The enclosed silence of the bedroom is broken only by the violent sound of our ragged breathing and my dog's frightened panting.

We are alone. We're locked in, separated from everyone else.

And I have no fucking idea what is waiting for us out there.

19

You Can't Do This to Me

Selene

I lean my back against the door Ron just bolted shut. My mind is a frantic whirlwind, an overturned chessboard where none of the pieces make sense anymore.

I don't know what to think. I can't process it.

The blood. The dark pool spreading across the hardwood. The leather mask. The axe.

And that head. The hair soaked in red.

My brain, which is used to birthing horrors on paper, categorically refuses to process a horror so tangible and real. I'm shaking. I'm shaking so hard I can hear my teeth chattering together.

In the heavy silence of the locked room, I hear the rustle of Ron's clothes. Then, his voice. Low, broken by adrenaline, but soft.

"How about a hug?"

The question hangs in the air.

I don't answer. I don't have the strength to, nor the words. But my body moves before my mind does. I push off the wooden door and take a step toward him. Then another.