It was a long, paved driveway to nowhere. Fifty yards of winding tree-lined blacktop ending in an open field. There was no building at the end, nothing to indicate the driveway’s purpose, no sign that a building had ever stood here. Zack stood at the end of the drive and let his eyes trace over it.
“You looking to buy?” Startled, Zack turned to see a wizened old man with a cane looking at him.
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “I still don’t understand the point.”
The old man grinned, an unsettling gap-toothed smile. “Ah,” he said, “you’re asking all the right questions.”
“I haven’t asked anything,” Zack puzzled.
“Not in words, no,” the old man said, “but here.” He reached up with a gnarled paw and tapped Zack on the temple. “You won’t be sorry you bought the place. It’s a real winner.”
Zack began to object when a stinging sensation on his hand distracted him. He raised his hand in time to see a drop of blood fall from one finger and land on the pavement. He looked up, and the old man’s eyes were luminous.
