Dead House

The car bumped over the uneven pavement, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound as Alex and his friends approached their destination. The air inside the car felt heavy, a mix of nervous energy and unspoken tension.

Chris, in the passenger seat, squinted at his phone. "GPS says it's right ahead," he said, though his tone was uncertain.

"I don't see anything," Emma said from the backseat, leaning forward to peer through the windshield.

"It's probably one of those boring office buildings," Taylor muttered, slouched against the window. "You know, the kind that looks like it belongs in a dystopian novel or some apocalyptic movie."

"You mean like Sharkaster?" Chris asked with a smirk.

"That was a classic!" Taylor exclaimed, making half the car roll their eyes.

Alex however, didn't respond. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of Jordan. She sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the passing buildings. She hadn't said much since they left, and the awkward silence between them hadn't gone unnoticed by the others.

He clenched the steering wheel, the memory of the kiss flashing through his mind for the hundredth time. He wasn't sure what to say, or if he should say anything at all. Jordan, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, or maybe she was just good at hiding it.

Chris pointed ahead. "There! That must be it."

Alex slowed the car, pulling into a narrow alley that opened up into a small, forgotten parking lot. At the far end stood a low, dilapidated building with faded lettering on the glass door: Anderson and Sons.

The sight of it made Alex's stomach churn.

"Are we sure this is the right place?" Emma asked, her voice tinged with unease as they disembarked and approached the building.

"It's the address on the letter," Chris said, double-checking his phone.

The building looked like it had been abandoned for years. The glass on the door was smeared with dirt, and the gold lettering under what was once a proud logo, was peeling away. Weeds pushed through cracks in the pavement, and the wooden sign above the door swayed slightly in the breeze, its edges warped and splintered.

"This is a law firm?" Taylor said, raising an eyebrow. "Looks more like a haunted house."

Alex stepped out of the car, his pulse quickening as he approached the building. The closer he got, the more unsettling it felt. The air here was still, almost suffocating, and the faint scent of mildew hung in the breeze.

Chris tried the door, rattling the handles. "Locked," he said, stepping back.

"Of course it is," Emma muttered. "What now?"

Alex glanced around, his jaw tightening. "We're going inside."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Breaking and entering? Bold move, Reardon."

"Do you have a better idea?" he shot back.

To his surprise, she smirked. "Nope. Lead the way."

They circled the building, searching for an opening. Most of the windows were boarded up, the wood warped and cracked from years of exposure.

"Over here," Alex called, spotting a window where the boards had come loose. The glass behind it was cracked but intact, the edges of the frame jagged with splinters.

"You want us to climb through that?" Emma asked, her nose wrinkling.

"Unless you've got a crowbar in your bag, yes," Alex said.

Jordan knelt by the window, testing the loose boards. "These should come off pretty easily," she said, prying one free with surprising ease.

Taylor grinned. "Didn't know you had a career in breaking and entering, Jordan."

"Shut up, Taylor," she said, though there was no real bite to her words.

Alex climbed through first, landing awkwardly on the other side. The air inside was damp and stale, and the faint smell of decay clung to the walls.

"Come on," he called, stepping aside to make room.

One by one, they followed, each muttering complaints about splinters and dirt. When Jordan climbed through, Alex instinctively reached out to steady her. Their hands brushed, and for a moment, time seemed to slow.

"Thanks," she said softly, her eyes meeting his.

He nodded, his throat dry, before turning away quickly but he could have sworn the corners of her mouth lifted in a small smile.

The inside of the building was worse than the outside. Dust coated every surface, and the remnants of furniture lay scattered across the floor; broken chairs, overturned desks, file cabinets rusted shut.

"This is... grim," Chris said, his voice echoing in the empty space.

Emma stepped gingerly over a pile of papers, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. "It feels... wrong in here."

Taylor kicked at a broken chair leg, sending it skidding across the floor. "This place is a dump."

"Focus," Alex said, his voice sharper than he intended. He moved further into the room, his flashlight cutting through the gloom.

At the far end of the hallway, they found the main office. The door was slightly ajar, the words Charles Anderson barely visible on the frosted glass.

Inside, the room was eerily intact. A massive oak desk dominated the space, its surface cluttered with faded papers and empty coffee mugs. A calendar on the wall hung open to March 2014, its edges curling with age.

Chris stepped forward, scanning the desk. "This place looks like it's been frozen in time."

"More like abandoned in a hurry," Jordan said, her gaze sweeping the room.

Alex moved to the desk, his hands brushing over the scattered papers. Most were invoices and contracts, but one stood out; a newspaper clipping pinned beneath a brass paperweight.

He picked it up, the headline sending a chill down his spine:

"Anderson and Sons Closes Doors After Bankruptcy Filing."

Chris leaned over his shoulder. "That's... ten years ago."

Emma frowned. "But that doesn't make sense. How did they send you that letter?"

"They didn't," Jordan said firmly. "Someone else did, using their name."

Alex stared at the clipping, his mind racing. "It was in his handwriting," he said softly.

"What?" Jordan asked, stepping closer.

"The letter," Alex said, his voice rising. "It wasn't just sent from this office, it was written in the same handwriting as Tobias's journal. How is that possible?"

Chris looked uneasy. "Tobias has been dead for years, man. You know that."

"Exactly," Alex snapped. "So how did I get a letter from him?"

The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a heavy fog.

Emma shivered, rubbing her arms. "This is too much. It doesn't add up."

Jordan's expression was calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "We need answers," she said. "If this isn't a scam, then someone's going to great lengths to get your attention. We have to figure out why."

Alex nodded, though his stomach churned. For the first time, he felt the full weight of the mystery pressing down on him.

Whoever or whatever had sent that letter, they weren't done with him yet.

Alex turned to look at his friends, each spotting expressions of worry to varying degrees. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, something crashed outside the office.