My shoes were sticking to the floor of the woods. While running I'd found a few other peices of fabric. It was made clear that someone had dragged Sam across the ground, and was very sloppy at it.

Lifting my foot up, I became extremely fustrated when it took more effort than needed. I looked down and groaned. It was mud.

I hated mud. Mud slowed me down. But I couldn't stop by then. I knew with all my heart that Sam had been taken that way; I just had to suck it up and sludge through.

Wondering how long the damn woods were, I dug out my cell phone and called Claire. It took the woman three rings to pick up, and even then she wasn't altogther coherent.

"Sorry to bother you, Claire. But I needed to know...how big are the woods behind the school?"

Taking another several long moments to reply, I continued dragging my boots through the mud. "Oh, I'd say at least twenty five miles. Maybe more. Why, have you found Anna?"

Groaning, I told the lady I had an idea, and was about to hang up, when she went on. "Oh, yes, I'd say about that much. The Franklin's hated them being so small. And who would disagree. A fast runner could get through them in a fairly short amount of time, and living right in front of it could get annoying. Unfortunatly, they've passed on, so no one's had to worry about that."

For once I was thankful Mrs. Davenport used her talking skills. "Excuse me, did you say there was a house on the other side?"

"Oh yes. The woods wrap around. Our other half of the town is on the other side. Most people use those woods to camp and take wilderness hikes."

"I gotta go," I said quickly. Closing the phone, I thought of the possibilities. Did Anna's boyfriend, Dave, get pissed at Sam and take him. It had to be somebody who could drag Sam several miles without problems. Which ruled out Lacey. Besides, legend said she was buried in the woods. Spirits can't leave their place of death.

Twenty five miles. I figured I'd already gone seven. Leaving a whole lot more ahead. My heart didn't want me to stop. My foolishness told myself I could do it, I could make it. I didn't need to rest. That Sam was out there, and if it were him in my situation he would keep going. But my mind and body were screaming. It had been awhile since I'd run eight miles straight. My poor legs wanted to give out. Going from constantly sitting in a car to running a marathon was hard on them.

Sam, would he really keep running. My breath was coming in short gulps. After getting off of the phone with Claire I realized just how tired I really was. Sticthces in my side and cramps in my feet forced me to stop.

Keep on running. Sam wouldn't do that. I would do that. And that was why I was going to fail to find him in time, because I was a lowsy hunter.

"No!" I yelled. Thinking that way, believing it was already too late was going to hurt me. I couldn't let one bad image of Sam pop into my brain. It would freak me out. Besides, I knew I was a good hunter deep down. Dad had taught me well. I just needed to have faith in myslef.

As I was recupurating, the answer of what to do came to me. It was the only way.

I had to go back.

My mouth opened wide and I let out a deep, dark scream while I rammed my fist into the tree next to me. I couldn't help. My anger had escaped before I could stop it.

But I was so furious. Time was flying by and I still wasn't even positive Sam would be at that house. But trying to finish walking the sixteen miles through bushes and mud, in the middle of the night, with freaky animals, was not going to get me far.

I had to go back to my car, find out how to get to that house, and go there. And find out if Sam had been taken there.

Readjusting my duffel bag and Sam's backpack, I began to head back; head down, spirit sinking.

------

Driving as fast as I felt I could without getting a ticket, I attempted to clean up a bit. The clock in the Chevy read 4:51 A.M. Dawn was coming; fast. I had tried to jog back to the beginning of the woods, but I was too worn out. The entire trip I'd kicked myself for being so slow.

But, I'd eventually crawled back out of the trees and into the open. My breath was ragged and I was doubled over; winded. Seeing my baby, parked in the deserted grass, its windshield covered in dew, cheered me up a bit. At least no teenage punks had decided to mess with it while I was gone.

Pulling out the town map Sam had forced me into buying from under the passenger seat, I studied where the Franklin house was located. From the looks of it, I had another fifteen minutes of driving ahead of me.

Pressing the gas pedal alittle harder, I dared a cop to pull me over.

----

The house looked as if it were pulled out of a classic text book horror story. Moss covered trees overhung the long, thin sidewalk. It was painted a dull, peeling gray with navy blue shutters that were hanging by only a hing.

Although it was a fairly large house, with two or three stories, it didn't look as if it were being used.

Walking up to the front door, I noticed that the windows and door were boarded up. "Just dandy," I mumbled. Going around the side, and managing to get tangled in every sort of previous living plant, I checked the side out. It wasn't better. There was mold growing on the side wall and one of the windows was busted.

Turning the corner to the back, I had looked straight past the fallen oak tree. It was on its side, its dead leaves covering a vast amount of area.

With the backside I had alittle more luck. The door to the back had several wooden boards lying a few feet from it, and the door was cracked.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," I said in a low voice. Securing my bags I walked up to the door, took a deep breath, and pushed on the door.

It opened easier than I'd expected. Years of kids busting in must have loosened the hings. Also, it looked like a pretty weak ass door. The Franklin's must not have spent much money on high quality home equipment.

The inside was dark, but the rising sun allowed me to see certain spots. Coughing, I looked around. The place was covered in dust. The door led into a small dining room, with a wooden table and six chairs surrounding it. The walls were covered in an ugly flowered wallpaper, with paintings of forests framed hung up.

Directly to the right, was an adjoining living room. There was the typical couch and loveseat, with the stiff backed chair, and in the center a glass coffee table. On the other wall was a brick fireplace, with bookscases covering the rest of the wall. The house screamed old people.

Walking over to the living room, I stopped short in front of a small oak desk. On it was a telephone that had long been disconnected, some yellowed paper, and a photograph in a miniture circular gold frame. It was of a group of girls, about twelve years old, taken in front of that house. Upon a closer look I realized that one of the girls was Anna.

"What the hell?" This was turning into a real complicated situation. I just wanted to find my brother and get him back to our hotel. Then we could worry about whatever creepy was going on in the town.

Deciding to investiagte the rest of the house, I pulled out my flashlight, glanced at my pistol, and made a short decision that that might come in handy.

Walking back into the dining room, throwing my arm over my nose to keep out some of the dust, I began my room inspections.

The kitchen was attached to the dining room. Not much different than the other rooms. Shitty wallpaper, old furniture, tacky curtains.

I went from room to room on the first floor. There was a foyer on the other side of the kitchen, which led to a long, dark hallway. From fisrt galnce it looked like there were four or five rooms.

"Well, might as well get started."

The first door held a closet, filled with moth eaten coats and rotten shoes.

The second door contained a tredmile and some weights. The owners might have had crappy taste in decorating, but at least they stayed in shape.

The third door I tried held a bedroom. The walls were white (thank God, no wallpaper) and the floor had a simple tan carpet. In the center was a bed and across from it a long white dresser. Once again I felt something off, but couldn't quite place what it was.

I slowly made my way over to the dresser. Something was sitting on it, but I couldn't see from the doorway.

Eventually, every second felt like an hour by that point, I saw a beautiful gold necklace sitting there. It was open, but I wasn't sure what it held.

Squinting, I shined my flashlight on the inside. It was a picture. I'd seen that picture before. But where? I cursed my mind for working so slow. She looked familar.

Before it came to me, i had given up. Sam was in that house, and I didn't want to waste time figuring out who was in some picture. Placing the locket in my pocket, I turned around and began to walk back out of the room.

A/N: Please review, I'm really interested to know how you think the story is going to end. I always like to know how people are taking my stories! Thanks!