A clang echoed from somewhere deep in the bowels of the building.

“What was that?” Xander asked. “Get a grip. It’s nothing.”

Talking aloud to himself helped calm his nerves. He took a breath and entered the hallway. The nurses’ station would make a perfect home base for the game, he noted, and took a photo. He flipped the gurney back onto its wheels and pushed it against the counter. The metal frame squeaked and groaned, but it could still roll.

Suddenly a dark shape shot out from behind the station and scooted down the hallway. Xander aimed the light at it, his entire body throbbing with instant adrenaline.

“What was that?”

He crept toward the double doors.

“Who’s here?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Anyone here—”

Hiss-ss-ss!

Xander froze as a gray cat bolted past him and zipped behind the nurses’ station. Xander clutched the phone against his chest. He could feel his heart pounding.

“Okay, kitty. Nice kitty. Stupid kitty.”

Once his heart rate had returned to normal, Xander began to explore the maze of hallways that twisted and turned deeper and deeper into the building. He checked each of the rooms along the way. Some were empty. A couple still had beds in them. He took photos of potential sites that might work for Spirits and Specters.

And it was giving him some story ideas. He tapped the voice-recorder app on his phone and spoke into it.

“Alison Rigby died in this very room on a chilly winter night,” he said, recounting some of the details from the legend he had researched. They would be great for the mission setup. “Even though she had contracted TB, she might have lived longer if the doctors hadn’t injected her with experimental drugs. Her screams filled the hallways. The medical staff observed the poor woman gasping for air in her final moments. She died in utter pain and fear. Now her spirit walks the halls.” When he was done, he played it back. “Not bad, if I do say so myself. I just need more haunted rooms for inspiration.”

He propped the door open with a rubber doorstop he had found on the floor and noted the room number—176. He navigated new corridors, identifying landmarks to help him find his way back. His light flashed on an Exit sign. The door opened to a stairwell. But Xander couldn’t go up or down. A giant tangle of barbed wire was nailed across both flights of stairs.

Xander spoke into his phone. “Stick to the main floor. No sense in wrecking more of my clothes.”

He headed out of the stairwell and explored the rest of the corridor. Another set of double doors loomed in the distance. He aimed his light at them.

Two eyes reflected back at him from behind one of the windows. “What the heck?” When Xander looked closer, the eyes were gone.

“Stupid cat,” he muttered. “Had to be the cat. Right? Yeah. And why are you still talking to yourself, man? Get a grip.”