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Scar crouched behind the door of the room he was taking shelter in, listening to the unnatural thud of a ghost’s footsteps on the other side of the door. He held his breath, waiting in tense silence until the footsteps faded into nothing again.
He finally breathed out a shaky breath as Grian shouted an all clear from another room and unfolded his legs to stand.
“Alright, five more minutes,” he heard Impulse shout. They’d almost cleared the house, gathering what supplies might be useful. Scar had a bag full of canned food and batteries slung over his shoulder.
He peered out into the hallway as the rest of the group appeared from their hiding places.
“Do we have your magical thingy yet?” Skizz asked, fixing Impulse with a glare. Impulse glanced down at the pendant around his neck, its green eyes glowing a lot less than it used to.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. Gem poked him in the side.
“We have not found it yet and we’re not leaving without it,” she said.
“I’m fine!” Impulse protested again.
“We don’t want you to turn into a zombie,” Grian called from downstairs. “One last sweep.”
“I haven’t checked this room properly yet,” Scar said, gesturing to the room behind him. He turned back inside and peered around. It was dark, dim light seeped through the boarded up window.
He wondered what this room had been, years ago. Someone’s bedroom? Had someone dreamed and played in here, years ago? Before the world ended and the house became a trap to turn any unsuspecting soul into a forever inhabitant.
He didn’t like ghost houses. The thought of staying in one place for long already made him uncomfortable; too easy to get caught like that. Staying in a ghost house for any length of time had the added fun side affect of risking turning into a ghost.
But they often had good supplies, long abandoned by survivors of the end of the world. And they were the only place that had the magical items Impulse needed to keep his zombie infection from spreading. So Scar didn’t mind going to one every so often.
This particular room didn’t have much to offer on a first sweep. It likely had been a bedroom, and so there was no food. But Scar dug through all the corners and was rewarded by a flash of gold.
It was indeed the very item they were looking for! A golden figuring with glittering eyes. He processed the fact that the eyes were red rather than green a second after he picked it up.
The second he did, the whole world went black. He yelped, staggering backwards and for a second felt fingers pressing on his neck. He hit the ground with a loud thud and found himself staring up at the ceiling.
For a long moment he felt cold. Unnaturally cold, like a ghost touch or something much, much worse.
The figurine’s eyes were green now. A dull, unnatural green that felt wrong, but they were green.
For a moment, he lay there wondering if that had just happened and knowing it was something bad. Then the door burst open and Grian glared down at him.
“Scar? You okay?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah, I’m alright.” He pushed himself to his knees and tried to slip the figurine into his bag, feeling suddenly very loathe to give it to anyone else.
“Oh, you found it!” Grian said, seeing the item before he could hide it away. “We can go now, stop lying around!” he held out a hand to help Scar up and he accepted it.
“I’m not sure it’s a good-” His protest was cut off by a sudden fierce pain in his throat. He gasped, doubling over and coughing violently as his throat burned, feeling like something was ripping its way up from inside.
“Scar?” Grian asked, concern taking over his expression. Scar gasped, coughing a few more times and pressing his hand to his throat as the pain faded.
“I’m okay,” he croaked, though he wasn’t sure that was entirely true. He felt cold again, and his throat was raw.
“You sure?” Grian asked.
Scar nodded, slipping the figurine into his pocket. He still didn’t want to give it to anyone else, not until he’d figured out what was going on.
“Come on, lets get out of here,” Grian said. He turned and left the room and Scar followed.
His throat still burned, but he didn’t say anything as he followed the others out of the house and they regrouped outside the front door.
“Alright, everyone good?” Impulse asked as they gathered and he did a quick headcount.
“Did that feel weird to anyone?” Scar asked.
“No more weird than any spooky ghost house,” Skizz said, glaring at the house.
“Is that why you screamed when you saw that mouse?” Gem asked.
“Hey! It was a really big mouse!” Skizz protested.
“And it was a really big scream!” Gem shot back, grinning.
“What do you mean, weird?” Impulse, asked, ignoring their continued bickering. Scar shrugged.
“Hmm, probably nothing,” he said. “I just…felt--” Again as he tried to speak his words caught on barbs in his throat and he coughed again, doubling over himself and gasping. This coughing fit lasted longer. He coughed, throat feeling like it was being scrapped raw, eyes watering.
When he finally stopped, chest aching, Grian and Impulse were both looking at him with concern.
“You getting sick?” Grian asked.
“No,” Scar muttered. He coughed weakly again into his hand, half expecting to come away with blood splatted on his skin.
“Let’s get out of here,” Impulse said. “I’ve had enough of this place.”
“Good idea,” Skizz agreed. He’d retreated a few paces, his and Gem’s bickering turning into Gem trying to tackle him.
Scar trailed at the back of the group, feeling lightheaded and exhausted. His throat was burning and his chest was aching from the effort of coughing and he knew it didn’t feel natural. They all piled into the van and woke up an unimpressed Jellie who had been napping on the passenger seat.
She disappeared into the back of the van to sulk and Scar debated joining her, but decided he’d rather stick with the others in the cab. He scrambled up into one of the back seats, rubbing his throat as he did.
“You sure you’re okay?” Grian asked, settling beside him. Scar nodded, not really wanting to speak right now. He wasn’t sure if he’d trigger another coughing fit or not. Grian didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press it. “You got the figurine, right?”
“Oh,” Scar said. His voice sounded far more normal than he expected it too after coughing his throat raw. He dug into the bag and pulled out the figurine and moved to hand it to Impulse in the driver’s seat.
But something stopped him. The dullness of the eyes, the sense of unease, the coldness he had felt.
“Does it seem--” Again he started coughing, violent, shuddering coughs that shook his whole body. He dropped the item and curled into himself, shuddering and gasping between breaths, whole body shaking, nausea threatening to join the party.
His vision blurred and he shuddered, just enough to drawn in breath only to cough it out again. Someone’s hand was on his back but right now he couldn’t process anything except the violent coughs wracking his whole body.
Slowly, the coughing died. He gagged a few times, shuddering and coughing, blinking tears out of his eyes, his throat still burning. Everyone was staring at him in concern, Grian’s hand resting on his shoulder.
“That’s not normal, right?” Gem asked. Scar shook his head miserably.
“Did something happen inside?” Impulse asked. Scar hesitated, then slowly nodded. He coughed a few more times, stomach muscles aching.
Skizz handed him a water bottle and he took a few sips, the water soothing his throat. He swallowed and coughed again, then caught a glimpse of the figurine on the floor.
Hesitantly, he picked it up.
“I think its--”
He cut himself off by pain in his throat. Thankfully this time it wasn’t accompanied by coughing, but his whole throat caught fire, pain blocking any words from escaping. He shuddered, pressing his hand to his throat and shrank into himself.
“Scar?” Someone called his name and he shook his head, pushing himself further into the corner of the cab. Everything hurt and especially his throat.
And then suddenly, it stopped. He gasped, opening his eyes and blinking a few times to clear his vision. Grian and Gem were hovering around him, eyes filled with concern.
“You okay?” Gem asked. Hesitantly, Scar nodded.
“Impulse and Skizz took the figurine back into the house--they think maybe a ghost tried to hitch a ride on it.”
“How?” Scar whispered, tensing himself against pain that might cause.
“We still don’t really know how the ghosts work,” Gem said. “They’re weird.”
“Yeah,” Grian agreed. “But it seemed to not want you to say anything about it.”
“It's gone now?” Scar asked hoarsely. He rubbed his throat, feeling exhausted.
“Hopefully,” Gem said. She looked out the window back towards the house. “Can you talk about it now?”
“I don’t know if I want to,” Scar said. “That really hurt.” He hesitated a moment, then decided he needed to know. “When I picked it up I felt cold,” he said, bracing himself against pain in his throat or more coughing. When nothing happened, he let out a relieved laugh.
“You good?” Grian asked.
“I--I think so. There was definitely something wrong with that thing.” Again, there was no pain and he grinned. “Stupid ghost.”
“Stupid ghost!” Gem agreed.
“Alright!” Impulse and Skizz returned, piling into the front of the cab. “Let’s get out of here,” Impulse said.
“We still need to find you a new magic item,” Grian said, poking his shoulder.
“We’ve got time,” Impulse said. “Haunted houses aren’t that rare.”
“We just gotta be more careful,” Gem said. “Don’t want to pick up any unwanted tag alongs.”
Jellie finally decided to rejoin them, bounding in from the back of the van and settling herself on Scar’s lap with a casual stretch. She curled up on his lap and started purring, and Scar felt himself relax a little more at the familiar warm of her sleeping form.
He buried his hand in his fur and rested his head against the window and listened to his friends bickering as they drove away.