Drive, Bosco...Just Drive!
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The door opened swiftly, no creaks or groans. As if it had opened on it's own, with no need to exert any force. Bosco stepped into the room and felt the temperature drop. And when he breathed out, he could see his breath mistify before his face. Bracing his arms from the cold, he stepped further into the cold chamber- looking for the woman who could give him directions.

The lights were on, and Bosco was very thankful for that. He could see a desk before him- across the room and in front of a large window. He noticed quickly that the gaunt draperies swung loosely, billowing towards the desk. But the window they protected was closed. And the lamp on the desk was shielded by a heavy piece of material, draped over a bare light bulb.

To his right was a grand bookcase shelved with what looked like thousands of books; each dust free and immaculately indexed. On his left was a small table, and on the wall behind that hung a large oil painting. It was done in dark, rich colours and depicted the portrait of a young beautiful woman in a white chiffon gown.

Bosco's eyes grew large as he recognized the woman in the painting. He spun around the room looking for the woman from the hall.

And as he turned about in circles, his foot caught on the rug and he fell to the floor. He rolled over and pushed himself up, but was grabbed from behind before he could get to his feet.

The hand was cold.

Bosco shivered from both it's touch and the fear coursing through his veins. But he still couldn't help but look at the woman.

It was the one from the portrait. And when Bosco let his eyes travel to the painting, he noticed an empty hole- where the woman had once been.

"Have the horses arrived?" asked the woman, scooping up her gown and turning from Bosco.

"Uh...um... what?" he stammered, his eyes darting from the woman to the empty portrait.

"Charles shall be so delighted when I arrive," she said gleefully, stepping up to the painting and examining it's opulent frame. She ran a hand down the carved wood with a loving touch, then turned back to the awe struck Bosco. "Don't you think so?"

"Uh...um...what?"

The woman smiled childishly with a shrug. "Come fetch me when the horses have arrived," she said, then stepped back into the painting.

"Uh...um...what?" Bosco stared at the painting, watching the contours coalesce from a mortal being to that of an image on canvas. His mouth dropped, and his heart beat a strong rhythm against his rib cage.

"Now that's some freaky shit," he murmured, eyes still fixated on the painting. He shook his head, knocking all the stunned pieces back into action. He was still lost on the second floor, and without light in the hallway.

But he did know one thing, and it was the same thing he knew in the hall just moments before running blindly down it- he had to get out of there.

Searching the room frantically with his eyes, Bosco caught sight of some candles on the little desk before the grand portrait. With hesitant steps, he approached the table and quickly grabbed the candles before the woman could climb back out and snag him back to her world.

Once he had the candles, he searched for some matches. He flew about the room, wanting to make his stay as short as possible, and finally found some on the desk before the window. With trembling fingers, he lit a candle, threw the rest on the desk and ran for the door- one hand cupped over the flame to protect it's life.

"Staircase. Staircase. Staircase. Staircase," he chanted, as he ran down the hall. Now that he had some light, his journey had become more agreeable and he could navigate with more ease.

To his right a door appeared and he stopped to investigate. When he shone the light passed the berth he noticed it was a staircase. Bosco remembered Bobby's story and realized this must be the one leading to the basement.

Carlos was in the basement.

Bosco drew in a deep breath and leaned over the staircase. He had no intentions of descending into the bowels of the house, so cupped his hand over his mouth and yelled. "Carlos!"

A strong, cold rush of air blew past him, distinguishing the candle. Bosco didn't take time to analyze his situation any further. He dropped the makeshift light and ran down the hall further, arms flailing over his head in a panicked run.

And when the wall suddenly opened to his right to reveal a long staircase, he turned and bounded down the steps towards the front door. But just as he was about to open the great door, he remembered something. Or more to the point, someone.

Carlos.

Bosco glanced over his shoulder, staring at the door beside the staircase. There was no way he was going to go down there. And the sudden voices coming from the parlor indicated that maybe he didn't have to. One of the voices sounded like his friend's.

He followed the voices down the hall and into the room. At first he could only see the man at the mantle smoking a pipe, and Bosco let out a weak cry as he came to an abrupt stop. His eyes searched the room till he found his friend sitting in a high back chair by the window.

"Carlos," he said between ragged breaths. "Time to go."

Carlos' eyes quickly darted to his friend in the doorway, but he didn't move a muscle. He was the epitome of a human statue.

Bosco stepped further into the room and noticed the other occupants; the butler, an elderly woman, a younger woman and a small child.

They were the same people from Jimmy and Bobby's story, and Bosco was just waiting to hear one of them start spouting Shakespeare. But he really didn't want to stick around long enough to listen. He approached Carlos, ready to grab him and run.

But a shrill voice startled him, causing him to stop and grab his chest.

"Isn't it lovely!" shrieked the female voice. The younger woman ran across the room to join the man at the mantle where she embraced him lovingly.

Bosco looked at Carlos. "What's going on here?" he asked carefully, keeping an eye on the couple.

"I have no idea," replied his friend, still a statue in the chair. "I've been here ever since you went upstairs, and I didn't know then what was going on. And I still don't know now." Carlos paused and let his eyes flick to couple at the mantle. "They were all accusing each other of murder a few minutes ago."

"You've been here the whole time?" asked Bosco, scratching his head.

"Yep," replied Carlos. "There was no way I was gonna go down into the basement. I made the butler bring me here so I could wait for you."

"Smart man," Bosco said, waving his hand and beckoning his friend. "Let's get out of here." But no movement was forthcoming from Carlos. "Let's go!" repeated Bosco, his impatience and fear fighting for priority emotion.

"No problem," replied Carlos. "But first you're gonna have to pry my hands from this chair. I don't think I can do it on my own."

Bosco rushed forward and stepped behind the chair. Grabbing the back with both hands, he heaved the chair forward- knocking Carlos onto the floor. He grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled his friend to his feet.

Together they ran for the door, but were stopped by the butler blocking their exit into the hallway. "I presume you have fixed the electricity?" he asked, his voice monotone and dry.

Bosco raised his eyebrows, almost high enough to reach his hairline. "Uh, no," he replied skeptically. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure if the wrong answer would cause a longer stay. "But candles are safer on the environment. I suggest you use those!" he rushed, brushing past the butler, Carlos in a tight grip behind him.

He pulled his friend toward the front door and out into the night. When they were several feet from the main entrance, they finally stopped to catch their breaths. Both were facing away from the house, bent over with their hands braced on their knees as they drew in long, ragged breaths.

"You gonna look back?" asked Carlos, raising his eyes only high enough to see Bosco.

"Nope," replied his friend between breaths. "Not after what Jimmy and Bobby said."

Carlos nodded. "Me either."

"You ready?"

Carlos drew in a long breath and nodded. But as he did, his head turned to his left where he could see the house behind them. Or more like, the empty place where the house once stood. He stood up, and this time, he grabbed Bosco by the shoulder and dragged him further away.

"What?! What?!" cried Bosco, as his body was pulled and hauled over the misty terrain. "Did you look back?!"

Carlos kept running, his head straight forward. "Yep."

"What was there?!"

"What wasn't there is more appropriate!" replied Carlos, still dragging his friend.

A moment later they found the road. The mist cleared around a small sports car as if it had been waiting to lift upon their approach. Carlos and Bosco raced for their respective doors and jumped in. The latter fumbled with his keys while the other quickly locked the doors.

"Please work. Please work," Bosco prayed as he tried to turn the engine over.

The alternator kicked in, and the motor began to thrum. "Was the house really gone?" he asked, throwing the car into drive.

Carlos turned to him, his eyes steady and determined. "Drive, Bosco...Just drive!"

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~The End- So, go read the next installment in the series 'Drive, Davis!...Just Drive!'~