"Go around," muttered the older of the two brothers, narrowing his eyes. His breath formed a rapidly cooling cloud in the air before him, and he swallowed- that meant ghosts. Fortunately, they were completely prepared for this.
Dave nodded in response and slipped into an easy crouch, sliding the pump on his shotgun back as quietly as possible. It wasn't very quiet.
The air was too cold for September, but that was naturally supernatural. Impossible frost formed curls on the remains of a broken window pane. Dave sniffed gently, wrinkling his nose- the wood of the window pane was still splintered and still released the faint scent of pine. Newly broken- definitely violence here. He slipped along the side of the building like a particularly quiet and shotgun-bearing wraith and covered the back door and window.
A sharp sound cut through the air- his brother readying his own rock-salt-loaded firearm. Dave allowed his to make a loud clicking noise as the round settled into place and he flicked the safety off, and the air temperature dropped ten degrees.
Simultaneously, they kicked the front and back doors open.
This cabin was barely a shed. There was only one large room and a loft, and their target was perched on the desk in the center of the room- a young boy with spiky brown hair, wearing only woolen pants and a shirt- no shoes, although there was a discarded ghost-y cape lying on the floor.
Dave brought the gun up and shot, mentally blocking out the horrifically loud sound. He was used to having his ears blasted into by now, and even with the earplugs that every hunter wore when they knew a firefight was inevitable, it was still painful.
Bro fired as well. The ghost snapped its head around, looking at Dave, and made a strange hissing sound before disappearing into mist.
Dave lowered his gun and darted forwards, setting the firearm on the small wooden desk before searching through its warped drawers for anything detailing where this ghost's body might be buried.
"It says he drowned, in a lake," Dave muttered with a sigh after viewing a few yellowed papers resignedly. "They got the body out, though, but it took weeks because the ice was too thick for a while."
"Son of a fuck," Bro said appreciatively. "So this guy's mad because they didn't get his body out?"
"I don't know. It's the best we've got, but the body... It doesn't say where the body went."
Bro glanced around the dark loft, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses. "I don't like this place. Is that all that's there?"
"Looks like it."
"Then let's get out of here."
Dave stood, grabbed his gun, and carefully stuffed the papers in his jacket. They exited the shack and left the door swinging open. The unnatural cold was fading, which meant the ghost- though probably not dead- was moving off. Not intending to kill them, then.
They carefully stepped into their car- a 1999 TARDIS blue Chevy Camero, boosted with a Corvette engine- and roared away. Dave huddled in his seat, checking the rearview mirror every few seconds.
"Relax," Bro said with a chuckle, glancing over at him. "It's not going to try and take us down in a car."
Dave, not reassured, looked ahead towards the road, then his eyes widened behind his glasses and he let out a yell. Bro glanced forward and slammed on the breaks. There were houses here, but what concerned the brothers was the ghost, standing in the center of the road. Tendrils of frost spread like ferns across the ground, and fingers of cold reached through the air and wrapped themselves around throats and fingers. Dave and Bro both grabbed onto the sides of the car as it fishtailed wildly. Bro struggled with the gearstick and the wheel, and Dave put his head down in case of a crash.
The car pulled a 180 and finally stopped, half-parked on someone's lawn. Dave glanced up and looked around- the ghost was gone, again. Bro was breathing heavily, hands on the wheel, and staring straight a head.
"Not going to try and take us down in a car," Dave said, staring straight ahead. "Of course not. That'd be stupid."
Bro pressed his lips together and said nothing.
Dave leaned over towards the window, glancing up at the house they were now accidentally occupying the lawn of. His gaze traveled over the mundane white paint, the defective green window shutters, the tree with its tire swing, the windows with white curtains, and oh god someone was staring at them.
There was a boy standing in the window, eyes wide. He was wearing a pair of rectangular glasses, and behind them his blue eyes were huge. Dave blinked at the kid from behind his shades- god, this kid couldn't be older than, what, twelve? He looked twelve, in those Ghostbusters pajamas.
"Go, go, go," he hissed to Bro. "There's a kid watching."
Bro's eyes widened behind his shades, and he shifted the car into gear and took off, leaving some gouges in the lawn. Dave watched the kid, who stared at them until they were out of sight, and then settled back into his seat.
"Hope he didn't see the ghost," he muttered.
Bro glanced over at him quickly again. "Who?"
"That kid."
"Oh. Nah, probably not."
After a half a mile or so of average town shops and such, they pulled into the Good-nite Motel (fucking motels, Dave muttered) and disembarked from the Camero. Dave patted it with a half-smile and followed his brother to their room, which was just a few doors away from the only available parking spot. Bro unlocked the door and locked it behind them, then tossed his leather jacket onto one bed and flopped down. Dave did much the same, staring at the ceiling.
"Check the town's records tomorrow?" Dave asked.
"You got it," Bro answered, and yawned. "Get some sleep, lil' man."
"Uh huh."