Droplets fall on the car seat. “Just need some air,” I say, positioning my face near the crack. The cool wind helps a little, but not much. Elliot eyes me curiously, but doesn’t say anything.

“Wait,” Beth says. She leans forward. “What’s that?”

Up ahead, situated deep in an overgrown field, is a sprawling house. Grime clings to the outside of the façade, and the grass is tall and thick, swaying gently in the breeze. The building almost looks like it could have been beautiful once upon a time, but now it’s just decrepit. Ornaments clutter the yard, and a wire fence and wrought-iron gate encircle the property. On the lawn, a middle-aged Hispanic man prunes a pair of half-alive shrubs with rusty shears.

Jackson pulls the car into the rain ravaged dirt driveway. Rain pelts down. He parks. Waiting. Everyone looks up at the house.

“It’s bigger in person,” Elliot says.

“It’s going to be hell running wire through it,” Beth says.

“We supposed to walk?” I ask.

“She said it’s be open,” Jackson replies. He squints through the windshield and then lays on the horn. The sound echoes through the rain-soaked afternoon. The gardener doesn’t even turn his head. “What the hell?” Jackson fidgets in his seat. After a second or two, he pops another pill. Beth tenses beside him.

“Can I have some?” I ask.

Jackson snorts.

“Maybe take it easy,” Beth says.

Jackson smiles. “Have to put on the charm, don’t I?”

Beth purses her lips, about to say something, but then shakes her head. There’s a distant rumble of thunder. I study the lawn ornaments on the other side of the gate. They’re positioned in scenes: elves eating around a table, bunnies lined up in a row, fairy creatures dancing. My gaze drifts off. In the distance, I catch sight of a tiny figure past the house.

I wipe the car window’s glass with my hand. The figure is small and shadowed, but from here it looks like a child. Long hair matted down in the rain. Pressing closer to the window, I try to get a better look. The child faces me and wears a long dress. I blink a few times, wondering if my mind’s playing tricks on me again. After a moment, she turns and scurries off. Growing smaller. I try to locate her between the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face.

Wham.

Without warning, a brown mass slams the window in front of me. I yelp and pull back. Everyone jumps. On the other side of the glass, a clawing, slobbering German Shepherd snarls at me. I glare through the window, giving the dog the finger.

“Stupid dog.”