The ghosts led them past the cracked and melted remains of a Ground Round and a nail salon to a door that, in a normal world, might to go the outside.  To a parking lot. Abby stared at the doors – smoked overs and opaque – and reached for one of the handles.

A ghost caught her wrist with what remained of its hand.  No.  The meaning was clear even if the phantoms made no noise. Continue reading →