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It was dusk on a warm, summer day when I first saw a dead body. Mitch and I rode our bikes down the dirt road to the old town known as The Lacking City. Uncertainty and fear churned in my gut like bubbling oil. We had heard stories about the bodies that were said to haunt the ruined buildings, but now we were less than two blocks from the town hall and I could not turn back. It was as if a magnetic field was pulling us forward into its mysterious heart. My legs propelled me down the street, along with Mitch's, who followed closely behind. We stopped just outside of town limits on a gravel lot where we parked our bikes next to an abandoned blue van. A sense of dread shot through me and I felt frozen to my seat. Then I noticed it: a faint light flickering off in the distance near one of the many crumbling houses. As if drawn by a flame, we both moved towards it at once.
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