For the next hour, the group agreed on a quick walk-around of the outer buildings, wanting to get a sense of the property while at least a little daylight remained. The drizzle had softened into a faint mist, and the forest seemed even denser now, the trees forming dark silhouettes against a fading gray sky.

“Probably better to stick together,” Amanda said, glancing toward the tree line.

No one disagreed.

“And we should be back before nine,” Kyrie added. “Just in case the clock ticks again.”

With that, the nine adventurers stepped back out into the damp evening, their boots crunching softly over gravel and mud.

The shed was the closest structure, and they reached it first. Inside, the smell of damp wood and earth lingered in the air. A stack of neatly split firewood filled one side, and beside it stood the well; a hand-pump design with a metal basin beneath it. Everything looked functional and well-maintained.

The phone stood mounted along the back wall. It was black, heavy, and encased in a metal box reminiscent of an old payphone. A hinged cover protected the receiver, and above it hung a wooden sign carved in careful lettering:

For medical emergency only.
Calling out will end the event immediately.

The group exchanged quiet glances.

“Well… that’s comforting,” Casey muttered.

“At least we know it’s there,” Kyrie said, though her voice carried a hint of uncertainty.

They stepped back outside, the mist settling lightly on their jackets as they moved toward the outhouses next. The doors creaked open one at a time. The reaction was immediate.

“Oh, wow. Nope,” Amanda said, stepping back quickly.

“Good lord,” David muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Even the herbs hanging above the doorway inside, bundles of drying leaves tied with twine, did little to mask the smell. The attempt at rustic authenticity was… perhaps a little too authentic.

“I’m definitely using the chamber pot,” Jennifer said, wrinkling her nose.

Patrick nodded solemnly. “Same.”