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In fact, the hallway was completely dark and empty. I took a cautious step over the threshold and could just about see a string tied to the inner door handle, stretched taut as it disappeared under a closed door on my left. Light glowed underneath, and I could tell that was where the Alpine folk music was coming from.

Motel art covered every inch of wall space, some of it proudly displaying the name of the motel it had been taken from. Humanised hot dogs had been drawn on every piece—a karate-chopping hot dog standing proud on the hill of a scenic landscape. A hot dog in a sheer nightgown draped over a chaise longue in a still-life piece. One smoking a cigarette in the rain outside a watercolour of a neon-lit diner.

There was an enormous monstera plant wrapped around the banister and creeping its way upstairs. Frank and Beans’ tandem bike was leaning against the wall next to an inflatable paddling pool filled with sand, which was blocking the doorway to the kitchen.

“What the fuuuuck?” Vince muttered under his breath as we slowly took a few steps inside.

The yodelling music seemed to get louder. I peered through the open doorway to our right. It was dark, but I could see that it was supposed to be a dining room, except the table was piled high with more bags of dog kibble, an assortment of mismatched knives and forks, and several bowls of old, congealing kibble and milk. Behind it was a glass display cabinet filled with trophies. Taped to the top of it was a strip of paper with the words OUR KARATE TROPHIES!!! crudely written.

“Dude,” Vince murmured, sounding a little hoarse. “I’m kind of shitting myself. This is scary.”

I swallowed and tried not to show that I was pretty freaked out too. “They’re just thieves. This is all stuff they’ve stolen.”

“Okay, but why did they steal”—he pointed at a brand new chainsaw in the corner of the hall and gulped—“that?”

I stared at it, resisting the urge to reach over and grab Vince’s hand. “I… I think they just steal whatever they can. It doesn’t look… used.”

“It’s right next to the paddling pool filled with sand,” he hissed. “That seems like a serial killer thing, right? Sand to soak up the blood?”

“They’re not serial killers,” I hissed back, my voice wobbling a little. “They’re just weird.”

“I’d bet big fucking money that all serial killers are weird too,” Vince whispered frantically. He reached out and clutched my shirt when I took a hesitant step toward the closed door opposite. “Dan. Buddy. I don’t wanna go in there.”

“You don’t have to,” I whispered, but I wanted to haul him against me and make him promise he wouldn’t leave me alone in here. “You can go wait in the car.”

“No, I fucking can’t!” he hissed. “Not if you’re staying. I’m not leaving you alone to get murdered. I guess we’ll just get fucking murdered together.”

“They’re not going to murder us,” I said unconvincingly, looking around for a potential weapon. There was the chainsaw, but… I didn’t know if I had the stomach for that.

Spotting nothing else, I carefully slid one of the framed pictures off the wall and handed it to Vince, then grabbed another. He didn’t question it, just gripped it tight and got ready to use it as a weapon.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the closed door. “Ready?”

“No.”

“We can’t just keep standing here!” I whispered. “I’m going in.”

“Fuuuck,” Vince groaned. “I can’t believe I’m going to die without ever finding out what kind of snacks they serve at an orgy.”

“You’ve never been to an orgy?” I asked in surprise, then huffed and nudged his arm as I hissed, “Stop distracting me. And the snacks entirely depend on who’s hosting. It’s really hit or miss. So is the orgy part, honestly.”

“Do they know we’re here?” he whispered worriedly, nodding at the closed door. “Are they just standing in there waiting for us? Probably with axes? Or more chainsaws?”

I hesitated. “We’d hear if they had a chainsaw, right? Even with the yodelling?”

“Oh god, what if their dicks are out?” Vince groaned.

“Why would their dicks be out?” I hissed. “Shut up, Vince. You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re nervous? I don’t even know what the fuck we’re doing when we find them,” he hissed back. “Are we beating them up? Lightly scaring them? Or at this point, are we just hoping our limbs don’t end up in the serial killer sand pit by the kitchen?”

Why the hell had I thought bringing Vince would be a good idea?

Deciding not to give him time to freak me out even more, I held my breath and grabbed the door handle, pushing it down as slowly and silently as possible.

“No, do it fast!” Vince whispered, making me grit my teeth. “We need the element of surprise. It’s all we’ve fucking got.”

“I’ve already fucking started!”