“You sure?” Russell glanced to Max who sat in the middle of the bench seat, staring at them.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine for a few minutes. If I spot any trouble or need anything, I’ll hit the horn,” Cathy replied, tilting her head.
Russell handed her his Glock. “Here.”
“Don’t you need that?”
Russell shook his head. “I took John Deere’s from the station. Besides, I’ll have Max with me. I’d feel more at ease if you had something to defend yourself with.”
Cathy took the Glock 17 from Russell, and set it in her lap. “Don’t take your sweet time, all right?”
“I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that.” Russell looked to Max, then said, “You ready, big man?”
Max groaned, then stood. He moved toward the back driver’s side door and barked.
Russell tossed open his door, then stepped out.
Cathy cleared her throat. “Watch yourself in there.”
“We will.” Russell shut his door, then turned to the back seat of the SUV.
The anxious German shepherd groaned, then barked. He pawed at the window as Russell opened the door.
“Come on. Let’s check things out.”
Max bolted from the back seat in a blink and hit the ground running—his nose trained to the dirt, tail wagging. He paused, then lifted his front paw. His ears twitched, gaze looking to the open field behind the garage.
“What is it?” Russell asked, searching for whatever had captured the German shepherd’s attention.
The open field showed no shadowy figures scampering about. Silence loomed large except for the hoots from owls that resided in the nearby trees.
Max lowered his leg and dropped his head back to the ground, investigating the unfamiliar surroundings.
“Keep your eyes and ears open for any trouble.” Russell made his way toward the screened in porch with John Deere’s piece clutched in his palm. He cycled a round, skimming through the torn screen that enclosed the porch.
Max followed at his side, sniffing the ground as they moved through the weeds.
A concrete walkway led from the back of the worn, wooden steps of the house to the garage. Grass grew through the fissures that snaked along the surface.
In the middle of the yard, just off the beaten path of the walkway, was an old-fashioned well with a hand pump. Russell wondered if it worked.
Max trotted up the walkway, stopping shy of the steps. He groaned, then pawed at the corner of the rotting wood door.
Russell trailed behind, flanking the anxious canine who had his nose near the edge of the entrance.
Cathy was right about the unsettling vibe the home gave off.
Max didn’t bark or show any signs of hesitation. He waited patiently for the door to open. Max looked up to Russell.
“Yeah. Yeah.”
Russell cracked open the door.
The hinges squeaked loud in the dull silence.
Max forced his way through the opening and onto the porch.
Russell pulled the door open wider, then climbed the wooden steps. His hand closed over the grip of the pistol a hair tighter–his nerves tightening a notch more.
The patio was open and free of clutter.
A carpet of leaves crunched under his boots.
Max patrolled the width of the space, trotting to the far wall then back to Russell’s side. He sniffed around the base of the walls, then planted himself right in front of the back door leading into the home itself.
Russell leaned in close, peering through the grime that coated the glass to the lingering darkness of the home.
The kitchen appeared empty with no furnishings in the drab space. The vague outline of cabinets lined the far wall with no appliances fixed in the black open spaces between the counters.
Russell felt his back pocket, then slipped his fingers inside the opening. He pulled his phone out and thumbed the power button.
The screen splashed the manufacturer logo, then booted up.
Russell waited for the phone to come online.
Max grew impatient, pawing at the jamb, then the base of the door.
“All right, I’m working on it. I can’t see as well as you in the dark, so give me a second.”
The phone was at ten percent.
Russell turned on the flashlight.
A bright light shone from the back of his phone, illuminating the worn and faded paint of the door’s surface.
Here we go.
He grabbed the knob, then turned.
The gears inside clicked.
Russell pulled on the knob, but the door wouldn’t budge. He tugged a bit harder, jerking toward him.
The door broke free of the jamb.
Max darted inside.
“Max, wait up, will ya?” Russell said, in a loud whisper.
Max ignored the command and sniffed around the kitchen.
Russell slipped through the back door, and shined his flashlight over the abandoned house. The wooden floor creaked under his weight.
A musty, earthy smell made Russell’s nose crinkle. The scent reminded him of rotting wood or wet socks that had been tossed in a hamper and left.
The wall paper had lost its adhesion and peeled away from the walls in places. Cobwebs clung to the corners and nooks. The silky webs were coated in dust, and whatever insects dared cross the tangled webs.
Max trotted past Russell, heading for the hallway that led toward the front of the house.
Russell strode across the kitchen to the window above the sink. He peered out of the unkempt glass at the open field.
Bark!
Max.
Russell backed away from the counter, then turned on his heels to face the hallway. He made a beeline to the opening, and brought his piece to bear.
“Max? Where are you?” Russell walked down the dark, narrow passage.
Bark.
Russell followed the sharp barks and nails scratching. A black void loomed next to him from the opened door that led to the basement. Russell shinned his light over the ether, illuminating the stairs that descended into the depths of the unknown.
He continued on, making his way around the banister.
Max faced the far wall that led into a massive living space. He clawed at the baseboards; his nose trained to the dusty cobwebs that stuck to the walls.
“What did you find?”
Russell shone the light on the wall where Max pawed.
He groaned, then jumped back.
A mouse ran alongside the baseboards, then skirted the corner of the wall.
Russell jumped back. He hated the small vermin.
Christ.
“Leave that filthy thing alone, and let’s check out the remainder of the house.”
Max peered around the corner of the wall, but didn’t give chase to the tiny varmint that infested the home.
They cleared the remainder of the bottom and top floor, finding nothing more than dust, cobwebs, and some furniture within the entire place.
Russell made his way down the rickety staircase and the dark hallway to the kitchen. He closed the door to the basement for added security and his own peace of mind. The thought of a rat coming into the home made his skin crawl.
Max ran out of the back door, over the porch, and into the weeds.
Russell tucked the piece inside his waistband and made his way back to the Bronco.
Cathy had her door slung open, petting the crown of Max’s head.
“Well?” she asked.
“It’s clear, minus the bugs and rodents,” Russell answered, looking at the abandoned home. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for some time.”