The rustic red truck pulled into the school parking lot that morning, with the sound of birds chirping as the sun's rays barely broke through the pine trees. Parking in the janitorial spot by the cafeteria doors, the headlights reflected off the red bricks as my aunt and I stepped out of our respective seats. She dug her keys out of her jumpsuit as we headed toward the double doors, and a soft curse escaped her lips as she looked back at me.

“Hey, could you get back in the truck and grab my keys? I left them in the glovebox again.”

My Aunt, Elinore Henderson, a stout woman with curly, copper-colored hair, wore it loosely tied atop her head, which I could only assume was her attempt at a morning bun; her skin was a rich, honey-colored hue from hours of working in the sun. Looking at her, then at me, would be like looking in a mirror except for my hair being cut in a short pixie, and my eyes were my father's, a set of downturned hazels.

“Alright,” I replied, stretching slightly and letting out a loud series of pops as she held out the keys to me. “Anything else?” I ask, taking the keys.

“Nope, I think that’s it?” She replied with a shrug, leaning her back against the cafeteria doors. Only to have them open behind her, her eyes widening for a second as she threw her leg back to catch herself from falling. “Holy Shit!” She curses as she straightens herself.

“You okay?” I ask, stepping closer with my arms slightly out, just to be safe.

“Yeah, yeah," She responds, looking down at where the chain used to be, though, it was now lying on the ground at our feet. “Did we forget to lock up the back before the party last night?”

“I don’t remember,” I answered, bending down to the ground and grabbing the chain. "Damn, it must have been a fresh set of cutters.” I lifted both sides, showing her the clean cut.

“Damn.” She mumbles, running her hands over her face before pushing the doors open, letting the warm morning air in. “Go get my keys, I’m going to go see if Mulch is here.”

“Gotcha.” I give her a mock salute before turning back toward the truck, walking across the parking lot to the driver's side. I open the door, hop in, and reach across the center console to click open the glove box, then I yank out the keys. Slipping back out, I drop back out. I close and lock the door before walking back into the school. Swinging the keys against my fingers, I walk down the halls, my shoes squeaking across the porcelain tiles.

Stopping in front of the gym, I poke my head into the room and find it an utter mess.

“Fun.” I chuckled, shaking my head. Closing the door, I make my way down the hall and towards the janitor's closet. “Hey, Auntie, do you want me to start tearing down streamers or do you want me to start classrooms?”

“Classrooms, start with Mrs. Raine’s room and meet in the foyer.” She steps out of the closet with a buggy of cleaning supplies.

Taking the buggy, I nodded before pulling it aside to grab some black gloves from their box. I pocketed an extra set in the back pocket of my jeans as I grabbed the buggy with one hand, then pushed it toward Mrs. Raine’s room first. Using the master key with a soft click, I cleaned room after room until a pungent stench drifted up my nostrils. Reaching Mrs. Albian’s room, the stench gets worse with every step. Scrunching my face in disgust, I finish Mrs. Albain’s room, leaving it unlocked as I move to the next room.

Stopping in front of Mr. York's room, my eyes land on the crimson trail that leads away towards the foyer.

“What the hell?” I ask, grabbing the doorknob and holding the key against the lock. The door easily swings open as I still hold the key up. Pocketing the key, I push the door open further, my eyes immediately falling on the trail of red across the floor. Staggering back, heat hit the back of my neck, the sense of uneasiness dancing across my guts twisting and turning as my widened gaze sat glued to what could only be the body of Angelia Parker.

Needles pricked the back of my skull as I bolted toward the front foyer, expecting to see Mr. Mulch or my Aunt Elinore waiting for me. But as I reached the foyer, my eyes landed on the sea of red along the back walls of the receptionist's office. The only thing I could recognize was the set of faded green eyes staring up at me from the torn body.

Wheeling back a set of arms, grabbing my sides, turning my head, I find Mr. Mulch staring back at me.

“It’s okay, kid, it's okay.” He whispers, pulling me away from the smell of decay and toward the lockers, guiding me back down the hall. Further ahead, I see my Aunt on her phone, her voice quiet and muffled as she covers the receiver with her hand and looks at us.

“Another?” She questions, giving Mulch a worried look as he nods his bolding head. “Fuck…” She mumbles.

“I saw Angelia…” I murmured, my voice shaken. Elinore grips my shoulder, pulling me into a comforting hug as she hands the phone off to Mulch, who continues to talk to someone, whom I assume to be the police.

“It’s okay, kiddo.” She holds me close, then pulls back to look at my face. “We are going to go see Grandpa, okay?”

I nodded as we headed back toward the cafeteria doors, which are still wide open. Grandpa Henderson stands nearby in his uniform as other officers begin to clear the area. He looks up from his phone, a gentle smile on his face as he walks over to us. He pulls me into his arms.

Andrew Henderson, Chief of Holdridge’s officers in blue, was a larger man with grey and copper hair, a beard on his face, and calluses on his fingers.

Giving me a tight squeeze, he pulls back enough to check me over.

“No bumps, bruises, or scratches? Did you touch anything while you were in there?” He rambles off his questions as he lets me go and places his hands on his belt.

“No. I just opened Mr. York’s door and saw her,” I began. “Then I went to the foyer to check if Auntie and Mr. Mulch were finished there, and I think what I saw was Christopher Chen.” I finish, my arms crossing over my chest, with my fingers wrapping around my elbows.

“The Quarterback?”

I nodded as Aunt’s hands grasped my shoulders. The reassurance behind them made me nod.

“Damn.” He mumbles, nodding his head as he rocks on the balls of his feet for a second, the gears turning as he finally looks back. “HEY ROOKIE!” He shouts over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir?” A young woman approaches, adjusting her belt. Her dark, short, springy black curls are pulled back into a tight bun, and her shoulders are squared as she stops in front of us.

“Take them both home, I don’t want whoever or whatever to tag along, take the back road near the mortuary.”

“Gotcha.” She walks over to us, the thin line of her mouth curving into a soft smile. “Come on, let's get out of here and let the big dogs work, huh?”

“Alright then, let me get my backpack from the truck.” I nod slowly as she leads us over to the truck; the side mirror is taped off with the familiar yellow caution tape. As my aunt pops open the driver's side door, allowing me to reach in and grab it.

With the messenger bag's strap on my shoulders, we walk up to the cruiser, the red and blue lights blinking above as we get inside. Buckling into the front seat, my aunt slides into the back, settling into the middle as the Rookie unlatches the small window separating us.

There we go," she says before turning off the lights and driving away from the scene. The only sound is the tires crunching on loose gravel as we leave the lot.

Lying with my head against the cool window, I try to close my eyes. I freeze when something moves among the foliage in front of us, beady white eyes piercing into me, as Rookie turns onto the main street, blocking my view of whatever that was.