Teacher's room, Garfield High, East Atlanta, DeKalb County, Georgia. Tuesday, October 29th, 2019. 11:20.

"Wipe that grin off of your fucking mouth, detective. It's creepy," Sara protested.

"I beg to differ. Hearing you girls bickering has lightened up my day," Keynes rebutted. "A school should be full of children laughing anyway."

"This is a high school, Winston," Kelly rebutted. "It should be full of mean girls."

"Oh, great, everyone's a comedian now," Sara rolled her eyes.

"Sara, if you please," Brett called her.

"I'm going to check on Mary," Kelly said and left.

She approached and clarified some addresses for him. Even if Sara didn't remember the exact house, Abby basically had video recorded through her eyes and filled in for her. Brett relayed the information over the radio to the rescue teams.

"All right!" Brett cheered. "We already have a dozen survivors secured. Things are going smoothly."

"That's a lot of people," Keynes checked the map.

"Lucky bastards," Sara remarked, then quickly corrected herself, "when one is neck-deep in shit, anyone with a clean hand to wave for help seems lucky."

"Gross, but true," Brett quipped.

Kelly popped her head into the room, "Hey, guys... and gal, lunch will be served at the cafeteria soon. Mary found something she could work with in the pantry and whipped something up for us."

"This is Haunted House to Werewolf Daddy, we're out for lunch," Brett called on the radio. ", you are on your own. Over."

"Roger that, Closet Vampire," Hainsworth replied. "Over."

"What's wrong with those call signs?" Sara cringed.

"It's operation Thriller Night!" Brett waved his stiff arms around like in the break dance musical.

"There's something Thriller..." Kelly sang and joined the dance, trying to pull Sara to join.

"Stop that!" Sara pushed Kelly away. "Next thing Keynes starts to boom box, and then I'll start searching for hidden cameras or try to rip your faces off because you're obviously impostors."

Instead of moving away, Kelly pulled on the girl's arm, using her own strength to drag Sara along. "Come, let's eat." She laughed.

Everyone left the room and went toward the stairs.

"Bet you the food is poisoned," Sara snorted. "Can Mary even cook? Is this going to be one of those anime scenes where the food has a mosaic over because it's too gross for TV?"

"Sara! Be nice to your friend!" Kelly chided.

"Yes, mom," She rolled her eyes.

"Mary is doing her best. And I helped! My food isn't poisoned."

"Kelly is a kitchen wizard," Brett commented.

"Bet you sang a cooking song," Sara teased.

Kelly grinned, then started. "'Les poissons, les poissons, How I love les poissons, Love to chop and to serve little fish...'" She grabbed Sara's arm and mocked chopped it.

"Great, now it's a musical! Quit it, that song is gross," Sara flinched. "And I think we had enough cannibal jokes for a year."

"Oh, right," Kelly's voice flat-toned as she glanced askew at her. "That's rich when over half said cannibal jokes came from you."

"Do what I say, don't do what I do," Sara tweeted.

"Mary told me Sara likes to bathe in puppy blood," Brett quipped.

"Really? What happened?" Kelly insisted. "I meant to ask about the bandages but..."

"Pack of corrupted dogs attacked us this early morning. Had to put all of them down. And no, Brett, I didn't enjoy a single moment."

"The bad-stuff?" Kelly worried.

Sara scratched the bandages on her right arm," Maybe that dog's saliva had hallucinogenic properties. That's it, this is not real."

"What's the bad-stuff? It sounds ominous," Keynes asked.

"The bad-stuff is the stuff that is bad and corrupts animals who eat human flesh and also binds the undead to the freeway," Sara explained condescendingly like the detective was a toddler. "That's the reason for this rushed operation. The bad-stuff is coming at us with a vengeance in Halloween."

"The wheelchair elevator is over there, see you downstairs. Brett, can you help me? The car won't move unless the wheelchair is secured."

Kelly pulled her away from the two men and whispered. "Will you be fine? Did you find out anything new about the bell?"

"No, what about you?"

"Nobody I asked heard anything."

Abby explained.

Sara raised an eyebrow. Where did the fairy learn that meme? "What about Kelly?"

"It's just the two of us then," Sara said and relayed to Kelly the information the fairy told her.

"When is the next seal breaking?" Kelly asked, worried.

Brett sniffed as he came back, "Oh, something smells great!" Then his stomach rumbled. "And because of someone ruining the table, I didn't get to have enough breakfast!"

'Tomorrow,' Sara mouthed to Kelly, who nodded back, then whined, "Right, it's blame-everything-on-Sara day."

Kelly hugged her from behind, "let's get some filling in those waifish hips of yours. You get grumpy when you are hungry."

"Is that from the chocolate candy bar ad?"

*

*

Pearly Gate Estates, Decatur, DeKalb County, Georgia. Tuesday, October 29th, 2019. 12:00.

Sara was on her own. Not because she had ditched Mary on Kelly - she did - but because the other girl needed some rest after an exciting morning. So, she left Mary under Kelly's care and left to have some solo adventure.

While she scouted the communities on a bicycle earlier, looking for survivors, Abby located a few ghosts as well as an odd Mana signature. She was here to investigate those now. Leaving ghosts behind could very well mean new wraiths wandering around after Halloween. She couldn't let them, especially because the unconscious people would want to return to their homes after they woke up.

Sara looked around. She was in a mid-to-low-class gated suburb, apparently one of those HOA where everything was like an oil painting of the American dream and conformed to some nineteen-fifties old granny's standard. Stepford Wives level of neat. She felt like she'd stepped in one of those old slice-of-life dramas or a sitcom. The lawns were equally trimmed and looked the same, the driveways, even the curtains inside the houses were cut out of the same fabric.

Not many crashes, apparently. Everyone who lived in this wealthy community was probably stuck in traffic or in downtown Atlanta. She could barely smell the dead.

She picked the lock to the first ghost house and looked inside. Dead bodies and a few rats on the couch. Thankful for the gas mask, she entered anyway. The rodents hissed at her.

"Boost Adroitness," she whispered and dashed forward.

The cannibal rats had no chance to escape Sara's knife. She didn't even bother to imbue the weapon, her strength alone more than enough to dispatch the mana-engorged vermin. As the last rat squeaked its last, Sara turned the boost off to save Mana.

"Did I break-even?" She asked Abby.

Sara was on a tight MP budget. The fight with the corrupted dogs had a net loss of 135 MP, the stunt at the meeting room cost her another nine points, and she recovered only ninety-one per day. With Halloween a day and a half away, she needed to ration it out. She had no idea what to do were she forced to face a wraith on an empty MP pool. If she could remain conscious on an empty MP pool, that is.

"Good," she crowed and went on to investigate the house.

The furniture was old and threadbare, hinting at the former residents’ means. She went into the kitchen and after opening a few cabinets, found the modest pantry. A gaggle of roaches, more precisely an aptly named “intrusion of roaches” if she cared to look up in a dictionary rushed out of the pantry-cabinet. She saw chewed-through boxes of cereal and several… roach-beans on the shelves. Called ootheca by biologists, each pod held more than three dozen eggs. Oblivious to that, Sara thought they were oddly smooth roach-poop.

Sara retched and moved away from the cabinet. She thought she should requisition a flamethrower from the military base. Yes, she was owed a flamethrower, Sara decided on her own.

"Where's the ghost?" She asked.

She climbed the stairs, wary of the house's spectral residents. "Hi, I'm Sara," she shot preemptively.

The ghost of a young woman dressed in a business suit with a pencil skirt giggled. "I know! Welcome, Sara! I was waiting for you."

The girl wondered what the ghosts did while they waited for her. It seemed too convenient now that she gave it some thought. Was Abby summoning the ghosts as she pleased?

Also, could she get a clue that a ghost was a ghost? Sara would wish the ghosts were transparent or had any hint they weren't material. She could see a C-note neatly folded in her breast pocket, as well as the bulge of a stack of banknotes in her pockets. She had an odd financial calculator in her hand and a golden button with a bank logo on her lapel.

"How may I help you move on? Is there any last wish you want fulfilled?"

"Yes, I lost my baby!" The woman said without a hint of sorrow in her voice.

Sara almost filed this woman for elimination. She had no time for odd requests that were impossible to fulfill. "Do you know where it is?"

"Somewhere in the house," She replied.

"Abby?"

"I need you to stand still, ma'am. We are searching for your baby. How old are they?"

"A year old. The rascal started to climb every piece of furniture after he learned to walk."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sara said.

"I appreciate that, Sara. I truly do. We feel no sorrow for being dead if that helps."

"Were you a bank executive?"

"Yes! What gave me away? Was it the calculator? I can't seem to be able to drop it."

"It happens. You were one of the good ones, then. Most other ghosts have a lot of sin carved on their souls."

"Hold on," Sara raised a hand. "We got a signal. Please stay where you are ma'am."

Following Abby's instructions, Sara went to the master bedroom and lifted the lid on the tank. The baby was inside the water, staring at her.

"Found you, little rascal!" Sara said.

Abby warned.

The baby, a boy judging by the haircut, started to giggle. She reached inside and picked him up. Felt like a normal baby, he was even warm. Water dripped from her hands but not from the ghost.

"Steady she goes," Sara mumbled. "Be a good boy and stand still for me, okay?"

"Sa-ra!" The baby said and giggled.

Sara's nose and eyes stung. Too cute. Stupid female hormones.

"Yes, big sis Sara is here to play with you. We're playing statues now. So, be a good statue, okay?" She cooed.

Slowly, she carried the baby ghost to his mother.

"Oh, my baby!" The woman took him from Sara's arms and covered the little boy with kisses. "Thank you, Sara."

They started to fade.

> You gained 2 Skill Points.

> You recovered 40 MP.

With her natural regeneration, she needed ten MP to fill the tank by tomorrow morning. She marked that as a lesson for the future. Mana was not a resource one could spend without consequences. It was hard to come by and not sold in shops. Speaking of which...

"Are Mana potions a thing? I mean, to recover MP?"

Earth's magical knowledge would need to be built from the ground up, it seemed.

"Put the points on Skill Boost. If I'm burning Mana on a boost, it better be a big one."

She did a quick search of the house, finding the dead baby on his crib but nothing of interest. She moved onto the next haunt.

The gated community had a private park with concrete tables for games and picnics. A board for either checkers or chess was printed on the concrete. There she found her next ghost.

An old man, wearing a pastel green suit with a bow tie. He looked shriveled; a raisin's skin was smoother than his. Hunched but with a glean to his eyes and teeth. This crooked man was a con artist during his Halcion days.

"Sara! Good day to you!" He waved with one hand, the other firmly on his cane.

"Hello, sir. Good day. How may I help you move on to the afterlife?"

"Play a game of chess with me," the ghost requested. "But please, don't throw the game. Try your best to win."

Sara sat across the table from the old man. "Can I ask my fairy for help?"

"Never mind, she doesn't know how to play chess. Maybe you can teach her a trick or two?" She asked, hoping that the ghost wouldn’t make the game drag on forever.

They started playing. She lost in thirty moves and caught the old man cheating but didn't call him on it.

"Disappointing. How do you expect to win without cheating?" He grumbled.

What was disappointing was that the ghost hadn't vanished. "Wait, was I expected to cheat?"

"Of course! I never won a honest game in my whole life!" He smiled with perfect teeth. Cackling, he leaned forward, "Wanna play Three-card Monty?"

"You surely made a buck scamming people. Have you ever been caught?"

"Almost, twice. But you can tell when the customer is suspicious, so you set them up! I had a weak magnet inside my cups, and a normal ball and another with a steel bearing inside. Depending on the customer, I'd use one or the other. The magnetic ball would get stuck in the cup, but a firm shake would make it drop."

She played another game, this time she attempted to cheat several times. The old man would catch her every single time but just made her repeat the move. This time, she lost in thirty-five. The old man faded along with his chess pieces.

> You gained 2 points of Adroitness.

> You gained 1 point of Flattery.

"Odd. Can they always conjure objects?"

"Can I do that too?"

"We're off to the next ghost, I guess."

The next two ghosts had ordinary requests. One wanted some candy, and Sara shared one of hers. The other wanted her to find a book at the public library and earned an imbued knife through the heart. Sara felt sorry for the ghost but she had no time for such an errand. She earned another three points in Skill Boost and topped her MP pool with the leftover Mana.

Now she had to find the source of the strange Mana signature Abby picked up.

*

*

Richard Moore Drive, Pearly Gate Estates, Decatur, DeKalb County, Georgia. Tuesday, October 29th, 2019. 14:40.

She entered the house and turned her flashlight on. Though the heavy blinds blocked most of the sunlight, it was still possible to see inside. But she was up against an unknown magical entity and being careful was how people survived. If whatever lurked in that house was corrupted, some light might be the difference between getting away unscathed and getting a nasty wound. Or worse.

This one was well-decorated and very masculine. The furniture was solid and practical. Two vintage hunting rifles forming an X occupied the center of the living room side wall. A deer head hung over the fireplace, and a glass cabinet full of liquor bottles stood behind a two-stool bar. On the bar she found a glass bowl with a keychain. She took a car-shaped fob with a brand logo on it, a stylized "T". Sara grinned. This alone was a jackpot.

Sara reached the corridor and looked at the photos on the wall. A saluting army officer wearing desert camouflage with a torn Iraq flag deep in the background, then a framed medal. The same man, older, in hunting clothes, kneeling next to a pair of smart-looking hunting dogs. Behind them, a dead deer.

She approached the half-open door she assumed led to the kitchen and heard a whimper. A dog's whimper. Sara called the dog with a whistle. She got a muted strangled bark for answer. with her foster father's knife in her hand, she pushed the door open slowly. The whimpering intensified. When nothing rushed in to attack her, she opened the door all the way.

Sara found a couple of American Foxhounds, the same on the photo, splayed on the kitchen floor with sad looks. They whimpered again but displayed no hostility at the intruder.

The larger dog, apparently a male, had a large black coat that extended to the back and sides of the neck, as well as black spots on the white fur of its neck, chest, and front legs. The smaller one, probably a female, was white and caramel only, with an irregular brown pattern on her back like someone had placed a round piece of cloth over an otherwise white dog, and then some caramel fur covering the back of her legs, butt, and half her tail. She also had a single caramel spot over half of her skull only. She had one completely white ear. Sara thought she had a lovely coat pattern.

"Abby, are they corrupted?"

"Wait, but that means..." Sara sighed. "What does it mean, exactly?"

"Magical animals," Sara repeated, skeptical.

"Are they recovering from the backlash?"

The larger one tried to lift its head but didn't seem to have the strength. Sara stowed her knife and approached them, cooing, "Who's a good boy? Who's a good girl?"

Kneeling next to the dogs, Sara reached slowly to pat their head. They didn't growl, resist her touch, not even flinched away.

"There, there," she crooned as the other hand met the second dog. "We're all friends here."

Looking around, she an open cabinet door with dog paraphernalia and an empty bag of twenty pounds of dog food lying on the ground. The dogs had ripped it open and eaten most of their feed and now were probably starving. Maybe too weak to move by themselves.

She lifted her gas mask and felt the smell of urine and feces. Sara immediately dropped the mask back on her face.

"I need to take them with me."

Sara stood up and the dogs whined. "I'm not going anywhere. Why don't I get your harnesses and leashes, then we try to go for a walk?"

The magic word made tails wag. The dogs were too weak to move, though.

She stood up and checked the cabinet. She found harness, leash, and collar. The tag read "Bella."

"Bella? Is that you?" Sara asked and squealed in delight as Bella reacted to its name immediately. “Good girl!” She checked the other collar. "Brutus?"

The male dog wagged his tail harder.

She also found some cans of premium dog food tossed around, the kind you gave sparingly as a treat. They apparently tried to get them but she only managed to push them around. Sara took a can and their feed and water bowls. As she stood up, she found a plastic folder with documents.

Sara went back to the dogs and poured some water from her own bottle. She let them eagerly lap the water and poured a bit more, afraid that they would get sick from drinking too much water. They seemed to have recovered a bit of their strength as Brutus licked Sara's hand. Their focus, however, was on the can of premium food in her hand.

"You want this, right?" She asked the obvious question. Bella let out a faint bark as Sara pulled the lever and opened the can.

"Stay!" She ordered as the starving dogs attempted to jump at the food. Sara didn't praise them for fear they would take that as a signal to release the previous command.

Abby remarked. Sara agreed with a nod.

After she split the food in both bowls, she pushed them toward the dogs. Still splayed on the kitchen floor, they stretched their necks to eat. Bella whimpered a canine gormandizing groan as the food vanished in seconds.

"I think one can is too little for both of you," Sara mumbled as she fetched another two. These also were inhaled by Bella and Brutus. After that, she gave them a little more water.

"I don't think your daddy will come back," Sara lamented. "Do you guys want to come with me?" They perked up at the word 'come'.

Sara stood up and remembered to check the folder. It contained documents and veterinary records for both dogs. Training certificates, vaccination, state-issued licenses. They were siblings. She opened the back door and checked outside. Two plastic dog carriers rested side-by-side on the back porch. Sara went back and put harness and collar on both dogs. She brought the carriers inside, one by one because they were too bulky. She also noticed each carrier had a fluffy dog bed and blankets inside.

"In you go," She said. The dogs didn't move. "Bed. Home. Kennel." She tried several commands. 'Kennel' did it. Bella feebly stood up and limped into her carrier. Sara closed the door and opened the next one. "Brutus, kennel!" She commanded.

Brutus obeyed like the good boy he was.

Sara found a duffel bag and stuffed it with all the dog’s belongings. She laid the bag next to the carriers and knelt again. "I'm going to check the rest of the house; you guys stay here."

They whined as she left the kitchen.

Sara explored the rest of the house. The master bedroom was rather spartan but still carried the same refined uptown-style decoration. She didn't bother browsing the wardrobe and just a cursory examination showed it was all boring boomer male clothes. The second bedroom was converted into a storeroom which had a lot of hunting, camping, and fishing equipment as well as camping stuff like portable stoves, a large winter-approved (it said on the label) tent, and so on.

She took a combat knife and added it to her pack.

Another bedroom was converted into an office with an entire wall dedicated to leather-bound books. Mostly history, military strategy, geography, and a few literature classics. One shelf had a whole Encyclopedia Britannica, from A to Z, a relic of the past Millennium. The desk had an American flag on a tiny pole and was neatly organized. A stack of business card revealed the house owner. It contained “Maloney Smith, military consultant” and his contact information. She saw another medal on a jewelry box, a five-point star made of what seemed to her as tarnished copper. Maybe Hainsworth could tell her its real name. This one was clearly very important as it was placed somewhere the owner would see every day at work. Mr. Smith was probably a retired military officer. Maybe the two even knew each other.

Sara sat on the leather chair and checked the drawers. They were locked but that was but a minor inconvenience to her, she just had to use the wave rake to get it open and it was not a fluke. The first one had a nice 9mm pistol over a sheaf of papers, along with a leather holster. She checked carefully; the gun was loaded and in pristine condition just as she expected of a former army officer. She searched the drawers and grinned when she found the last one had a fake bottom. Well, not a fake bottom but a detachable one. If she left the drawer halfway open, she could access the desk space underneath the bottom drawer. She removed the hidden metal box and checked for a lock. She only found a thumbprint reader.

“I feel like I’m in a spy movie.”

She could always open it later. Sara glanced at the bookshelf, and then stowed the lockbox in her backpack. After giving it some thought, she decided against switching her gun with the one she found. While the pistol she found seemed to be in working order, she couldn’t rely on an untested weapon. After she removed the magazine and emptied the chamber, she took it with her, nonetheless.

Just as she was about to leave, she focused on that spy movie feeling and spun to face the bookshelves. The gaps between the middle one and on either side were different. Just the fact it had gaps instead of being a single piece of furniture raised her suspicion. It wasn't neat and the whole house was spotless. Sara shoved the middle bookshelf and it had a little motion. Grinning, she took a thin metal bar from her pack and prodded all along the gap. It hit the metallic hinges on two spots which was enough for her. On the other side, she only felt a latch at the same height one would find a lock’s deadbolt. She removed the book next to it and found a keyhole hidden behind a plastic disk flush with the bookshelf wall, with the same texture as the wood. Pressing on the right spot lifted it and revealed the keyhole.

She went back to the drawers and took a small key lying on the bottom of the second drawer. She thought nothing of it before but now it made sense. The key went in easily but she found it hard to turn after an eighth of a turn. After thinking for a while, she pushed the bookshelf as far as it would go, held it in place, then turned the key all the way. When she released the pressure, it came out before it swung effortlessly to the side, revealing a gun rack that would look good in the big screen.

“Totally a spy movie now,” she chirped as she flicked a light switch. To her surprise, LED lights flashed to life.

It had a dozen guns, along with enough boxes of ammunition to wage a small war, Charles Bronson style. It even had a carbon fiber bow and two quivers of arrows. The only guns she recognized was the ubiquitous AR-15 and AK-47 rifles. But she was pretty sure the gun as tall as her was some sort of sniper rifle. The top shelf had a lot of folded gun-carrying nylon bags, neatly organized and separated by sheets of cardboard.

Conflicted, she voiced her decision out loud to convince her other half. “You’d be an idiot to leave this arsenal here, Sara. Hainsworth don't want to give me guns, I don't need none of his stinky guns. I'm Rambo now."

She packed the guns on their bags and took everything, including the battery pack and the strip of LED lights hidden under the boxes of ammo. Sara left the books behind, regrettably. Giving it a second thought, she took the medal. Maybe Hainsworth would be interested in that.

On her way to the garage, Sara checked on the dogs, who seemed very happy to see her back. She opened the carry to pet them a little, then closed it.

The garage was dark and she used her flashlight. The graphite panels of a Tesla model S greeted her. She pushed the buttons on the fob until the door handles flared out. The girl could barely hold a squeal as she went around the car, admiring it. She found it was still plugged to the wall socket. Sara removed the cable and checked the wall charging unit. She detached it from the wall and unplugged the power socket.

The giddy girl loaded the car with the dog carriers and gun bags. After opening the garage door manually and securing it open with ropes, she drove away.

Bella made a faint, wheezing, but happy bark.

"Yeah, girl. Let's go to your new home," Sara said as she slowly drove into the sunset.