![]() ![]() “Did we do this?”I felt more amazement than guilt. Glinting in the sun, they reminded me uncomfortably of T.J.’ssniper glasses.I turned to my friends. ![]() Only two picture windows remained intact, their glass panes smoked brown aroundthe edges from the fire. Kudzuvines had completely overtaken the right side, growing so heavy that the roof had cavedin. The left side ofthe complex had collapsed in a heap of rubble, girders, and charred beams. The pungent smell of scum from the swanlake came wafting through the gates.The half-mile driveway was littered with white feathers, possibly from theaforementioned swans bones and tufts of fur that might have once been squirrels orraccoons and a single black dress shoe that looked as if it had been chewed and spitout.At the top of the hill, the once imposing Alderman Manor lay in ruins. Since our last visit, the grass had grown high and wild in the rich Alfheimlight. That simple warning-step inside theseboundaries and you’ll die-was much more sinister.My gaze wandered over the grounds, which were roughly the size of the BostonPublic Garden. On either side of the gates, nailed to the brick columns, werematching yellow signs with glaring red letters:PROPERTY OFF-LIMITSBY ORDER OF ALFHEIM POLICE DEPARTMENTTRESPASSERS WILL DIENot prosecuted. ![]()
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