The Condemned Hotel: Chapter 1

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He was being followed. Austen picked up the pace, but the footsteps behind him sped up too. He could cross to the other side of the street, but in this abandoned, tumbleweed town, there was no doubt who they were after. The Zombie Slingers wanted him dead. Running ahead, looking for cover, Austen searched for a barrel, or a storefront, anything to hide behind. Slipping behind an oak tree, he set his rifle to his shoulder.

'Beep. Beep. Proximity alert!'

The bad guys were coming from all sides. He was going to die for sure! He smiled.

Austen loved this type of computer game, where the story is so compelling, and the surprises so creepy, you can't help but turn just one more corner. He hit 'save,' automatically checking the time as he did so.

Crap! He should've picked up Rhea hours ago. His little sister was at a neighbour's house, letting their lively Havanese, Cigarro, play with their schnauzer puppy. He logged off and went to bring her home.

Tiffany lived on the same street, three doors down. Their pool had been the envy of the neighbourhood when Austen was a kid. Going there still evoked memories of splashing, heard from the wrong side of the fence, and Tiffany laughing at him for being left out.

Austen banged the door.

When there was no answer, He went around the side and opened the gate to the backyard. He never enjoyed seeing Tiffany, but her puppy was a magnet for Cigarro, and seven-year-old Rhea. He walked in, looking into the windows for a glimpse of Rhea or the dog. He was halfway to the pool when Tiffany shouted: "Hey!"

Austen jumped back like he'd almost stepped on a rattlesnake. Tiffany was laid out on a towel, wearing a thong bikini. He couldn't help but envy the water drops, racing down her chocolate brown shoulders as she sat up, hugging her legs.

"Idiot! What are you doing, almost stepping on me like that?"

"I came to get Rhea."

"She walked home an hour ago."

"You let her go alone?"

"It takes thirty seconds."

"She never made it."

In a panic, Austen phoned everyone, but none of the neighbours had seen her. He was about to phone the police when Tiffany said: "Wait, I'll call Dad."

It was awkward, listening to Tiffany's half of the conversation as she begged her policeman father to look 'without making a fuss.' "Please," she said, "her dog probably chased a squirrel into a backyard or something."

Austen felt like grabbing the phone and shouting: 'send the SWAT team!' But Tiffany was a year older, in university, and her Dad was a cop. Maybe they knew what they were doing.

When she got off the phone Austen said: "You're the worst babysitter ever."

"And you still panic over nothing." She slipped a t-shirt over her head and stepped into a pair of shorts. "You were in charge of Rhea, not me," she said.

"I'm going to look for her." Austen left, calling out his sister's name and looking up and down the sidewalk. He had to find Rhea before Tiffany's Dad drove up in a cruiser. This was the first time his parents had left him in charge for the weekend. If he didn't find Rhea soon, they would never forgive him. He pictured his sister's crying face. She could be lost, alone. Cigarro could have dragged her into the park. He started running in that direction.

"Wait up!" Tiffany shouted.

Why should he? When they were kids, Tiffany used to belittle him as they walked to and from school.

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