It was a windy night. The wind screamed and howled outside of the old house as three figures sat at a rickety table. The table was empty, but it wouldn’t be for long…

“When is she going to be here…I’m starting to get…hungry,” said Randall, who had his feet up on the tablecloth and his hands behind his head.

Jack and Lauren were silent as Randall sighed. They looked at each other, uncomfortable. The house was cold, not able to insulate much through the wooden walls with peeling paint. A lone clock ticked, ticked, ticked as time went by and the group waited. 

“If she doesn’t hurry, I’m going to–” Suddenly, Randall was interrupted by the front door being kicked open with force. A familiar figure with burning red hair and deep blue overalls walked in, carrying a large black bag. 

“Dinner has arrived!” said the late Ashley. She was breathing heavily as she shut the door once more with her foot, making Jack and Lauren jump.

“Finally…you were about to make me angry…” said Randall, annoyed.

“Sorry, the food was…feisty…” responded Ashley. She walked over to the table and set the black bag onto it. It was long and crumpled. It smelled like sweat and dirt.

“Shall we dig in?” said Ashley, finally.

“Let’s…” said Randall.

Ashley reached for the bag, slowly pulling it towards her…revealing a gruesome sight: a knocked-out man, covered in blood and dirt. Yet, she didn’t get to finish removing the bag as Jack suddenly jumped up, pushing Ashley back. He ran for the door with Lauren following. This was their only chance.