Ghost Hunters

by Sam Witt

  There was a faint clicking noise, a choppy, insectile rhythm. Dick held up his hand for the rest of the crew to hold up, and everyone stopped. He waited, listening for the click, but it didn’t come again. “Must be my nerves,” he muttered, and they continued walking.

  The tunnel sloped down and widened as they advanced. The pattern from the stones repeated at irregular intervals on the tunnel walls, but there were no more words. Dick swept his eyes across the path ahead of him, looking for signs of paranormal activity. Something glinted in the light from his headlamp, and he knelt down to examine it. A squashed cylinder of metal had stuck in the soft limestone. Dick took out a little pocket knife and dug it out of the stone. “A bullet,” he said, turning back to show the smashed lump to the camera. “Something happened down here—”

  Dust rained into the tunnel, covering the trailing half of the crew and their hostages in a fine layer of powdered stone. Troy shouted with surprise and tried to clear the grit from his eyes. Nancy and Liz were cowering against one side of the tunnel while Mickey sputtered and gasped on a mouthful of dust.

  Dick looked up and saw a narrow slot in the side of the tunnel, an opening they hadn’t noticed before. There was a flash in the slot, a dark shadow against the paler limestone, and Mickey screamed.

  Randall aimed the camera at the commotion, throwing a spear of light at Mickey.

  Filthy arms snaked through the opening and hooked around Mickey’s head and neck. Dick could see one of her eyes gaping through the space between those arms, wide and blue and so terrified it stunned him. Shoot the fucker, he thought, but he was frozen with terror. The arms jerked on Mickey, yanking her toward the slot. She kicked and struggled, tried to fight free while the rest of the crew stood and watched, too horrified to react.

  Mickey twisted against her attacker’s grip, thrusting her own arms up and through the hold. For one moment, she was free. She screamed in surprise and triumph then bolted toward Dick and the rest of the frozen crew.

  Filth-crusted fingers stretched out and tangled in Mickey’s ponytail. The sudden tension ripped her head back and sent her feet skidding out from under her; for one breath, Mickey hung in the air.

  The hand disappeared into the slot in the wall, hauling Mickey in like a fisherman landing a bass. Her wailing scream was cut short when her head cracked against the edge of the slot with a meaty thunk that made Dick’s stomach roll. She flopped away from the wall, only to be wrenched back into the slot. Her face smeared against the stone and then she was gone, leaving nothing to mark her passing except a bloody scrap of her cheek clinging to the wall of the tunnel.

  8

  Dick’s heart pounded with such ferocity he thought he might be dying.

  The rest of the crew was shouting, screaming really, their mouths wide and gaping at him, but he couldn’t hear them. Everything was falling apart, and all he could hear was the beating of his heart, a rapid tattoo that scrambled Dick’s thoughts with every pounding pulse.

  Mickey was gone. Yanked right into the wall, so quickly none of them had time to react. He’d drawn the gun, but hadn’t had time to squeeze off a shot. The weapon no longer held the heavy weight of power. It seemed insubstantial, ephemeral. He couldn’t shoot what he couldn’t see. Dick slumped against the wall and cradled his head in his hands, the pistol pressed against his cheek. Mickey was gone.

  He stared at the bloody tissue stuck to the wall, a blazing white light made it stand out from the darkness. Dick followed the light up to Randall’s camera. His world snapped into focus, its soundtrack blaring to life. His crew’s frantic cries for attention battered his ears, but there was only one person Dick wanted to hear. He staggered over to Randall and gripped the big man’s shoulders with both hands. “Tell me you fucking got that.”

  The cameraman pulled his head back from the camera’s viewfinder. He stared at Dick like he’d never seen him before. “She’s gone.”

  Dick chewed on the inside of his cheek. He was the only person who understood what what had to be done. Mickey was gone, but if they had her being taken on camera, then it wasn’t for nothing. They could turn that into the break of their careers. “Randy. Did you get it?”

  Randall nodded, but looked shell-shocked and wobbly on his feet. “We have to leave.”

  Troy jumped on that idea with both feet. “Randall’s right. We have to get the hell out of here before more of those things pop out of the walls and snatch someone else.”

  Liz was crouched down against the wall, hands pressed over her mouth. “It’s them. I saw its face. It’s one of them.”

  Nancy kneed Liz in the shoulder. “Knock it off. They’re all gone. After what Joe did, weren’t none of ‘em left.”

  Liz rocked on her heels, lightly banging her head against the stone wall as if trying to shake off a bad thought. “No one knows that. They could’ve hidden down here in the tunnels. We have to get out of here.”

  Amy rubbed the chill off her arms. “I’m behind you on this, Dick, I am. But we need to reevaluate our plan.”

  Dick turned away from the rest of the crew, pistol clenched tight in his fist. Why hadn’t he shot the damned thing? But that water was under the bridge and gone. He hadn’t shot whatever it was, and now Mickey was gone, and the rest of the crew was freaking out. He had to come up with something to keep them on task. “We can’t just leave her down here,” he whispered into the darkness.

  Amy threw her support behind him. “He has a point, you guys. Mickey’s as good as dead if we leave her down here.”

  Troy’s words gushed out of him like a nasal whine. “Did you see how hard her head hit that wall? No way she’s still alive. That thing is probably eating her right goddamned now.”

  Liz lit a cigarette, and the ruddy glow of its tip cast her face in harsh shadows. Suddenly, she looked ancient, a crone squatting over a fire to read portents in the entrails of the dead. “Your team’s right. That girl is gone. We’ll be gone if we don’t head out, right now.”

  Dick decided to push the moral high ground, see if he could shake some people over to his side. “You don’t know that. If we get after her right now, we might be able to save Mickey. I don’t want her blood on my hands.”

  Randall snapped back at Dick’s words. “It already is on your hands. None of us would be in danger if it weren’t for you and your big plan.”

  Nancy laughed, a crow’s caw that spooked them all. “He’s got you there. Maybe this is what you get for threatening folks what are minding their own business. You shoulda gone home when I toldja to get gone. You still gotta chance though. Let’s get the fuck out of here before anyone else gets hauled off into the dark.”

  Dick paced the cavern floor, clenched fists knuckling the back of his head. He was losing them, losing all of them. He didn’t have the words or the charisma to get them back. They were too scared of what was going on down here. He’d have to give them something else to be scared of, something that would terrify them, make them do what he wanted.

  Dick knew he was going to have to tell the truth.

  “We can’t leave.” He chewed at his thumb, spit out a hunk of hangnail. “We need the money.”

  Randall lowered the camera to his waist, but shone the light straight into Dick’s face. “Maybe you do, asshole, but I can get by. I’ve got some savings, I can scrounge up freelance gigs. Losing this shot with Lonny isn’t the end of the world.”

  Dick drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Yeah, yeah it is. For all of us.”

  He had their attention now. Every eye was turned on him. He swallowed hard and dove into the story. He spewed out every little detail, the balance that each of his crew now owed on the credit lines he’d taken out in their names. He told them about the deck of little plastic cards, how they’d stacked up while he did everything he could to keep them afloat. Told them where the gear came from, where the van came from, how much interest they owed on the cash advances he took to keep the money rolling. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. All the details th
at weighed him down like a stack of bricks seemed to drift away as he revealed them. The more he talked, the more he had to say, and the crew just stared at him, eyes wide with horror as they realized they were hearing the story of the ends of their financial lives. He’d buried them up to their necks in debt while they’d chased a dream, and now the tide was about to roll in and drown them all.

  When the last of the words were gone, Dick sagged against the wall of the tunnel and held his hands out, palms up. His left hand was empty, fingers curled like a crab. His right held the gun, black and heavy and silent. “We can dig out of this, but we have to do it together.”

  Nancy spat on the stone between her feet. “He’s full of shit. He’s just blowing smoke up your asses to get you to do something you know goddamn well is a stupid idea.”

  Amy watched Dick, her eyes wide and clear. He could feel her digging at him, trying to determine just how much of his story was bullshit. For the first time in his life, Dick didn’t have any trouble meeting her eyes. He was free and clear, all the deception had washed out of him along with his confession.

  Amy spat her gum out and unwrapped a fresh piece. “He’s not lying. We really are over a barrel here, folks.”

  Dick rested the gun in the small of his back and held out his empty left hand to his team. “We can do this. We’ll get Mickey out of here, I swear. And the footage we get along the way will make us fucking rich. No one’s ever seen anything like this. We just have to stick it out a little longer.”

  He knew he never could have swayed them without Amy throwing in on his side. He could see the venom in her glare, but he also knew she was smart enough to see the pot of the gold at the end of this rainbow of shit.

  Troy wiped the sweat from his lip and nodded. “For Mickey.”

  Randall, always in shadow behind the camera’s light, cleared his throat before speaking up. “Yeah, all right. But we’re done after this, Dick. You pay me out, and we’re through.”

  “All right then.” Dick pointed at the black slot in the wall. “Let’s get Mickey back.”

  9

  It was easy to see how they’d missed the little tunnel Mickey had disappeared into. Coming from the direction of the rope ladder, the hole’s near edge pushed out farther than the far edge, making it virtually invisible from that side. Dick motioned for Randall to get the camera aimed at the hole. He knelt down next to it and put on his game face. “This is where they took Mickey, our sound technician. She’s only been gone a few minutes. We’re going in to get her back.”

  Dick looked into the tunnel, eyes cold and hard. “Ready or not, we’re coming for our girl.”

  He turned back to Randall after a beat. “That’s good. Just keep rolling once we’re in, never know what we might find.”

  The rest of the crew was fidgeting nervously, shifting from foot to foot as they eyeballed that narrow passage. Even Nancy looked ruffled, and her sister was still rocking on her heels and sucking on her cigarette like a baby with a pacifier. Dick waved the gun in Nancy’s direction. “Ladies first.”

  Nancy straightened her spine. “Go ahead and shoot me, big man. I’m not going into that hole.”

  Dick tilted the gun in Liz’s direction. “This game’s getting boring. Your sister’s going to take a bullet if you don’t stop being such a bitch about this. You should be working with me if you want to get out of here in one piece.”

  Lazy spirals of smoke drifted past Liz’s face and hung over her head like a gray halo. “I’ll go, but not ‘cause you’re waving that pea shooter around. If you didn’t get that girl killed, she’s gonna need our help.”

  With that, Liz flicked her cigarette butt at Dick’s face with unnerving accuracy. It bounced off his forehead in a shower of sparks that had him slapping at his face. Before he had a chance to retaliate, Liz was disappearing into the hole, her sister following right behind. Despite getting what he wanted, Dick couldn’t help but feel he’d come out the loser this time. He wiped the last of the ash off his forehead and nodded to Randy. “After you, big guy. Be sure you get whatever happens to them in there.”

  The cameraman disappeared into the hole, his face pale and covered in sweat. Dick knew this was hard on Randall; the guy was a good hundred pounds overweight, and this much excitement put his aging ticker to the test. He just hoped Randall would be able to see this through to the end, because Dick had no idea how to operate their main camera. He could turn the light on and off, but that was the extent of his knowledge. He followed Randy into the hole, ducking his head to fit into the narrow passage.

  The tunnel smelled faintly of ammonia, a sharp, stinging scent that filled his nostrils. There was something else underlying the stink, something thick and earthy that made Dick’s stomach churn. More guano. The narrow tunnel pressed in on him from all sides, squeezing him like a cold stone fist. He found himself edging up against Randall, trying to stay close to the light, close to another person. Dick could feel Amy’s fingers on his shoulders and the heat of her body against his back. No one wanted to be alone down here, not after what happened to Mickey.

  Their breaths echoed in the tunnel, quick and raspy. Dick swiped beads of blinding sweat from his forehead before they could find his eyes, and salty drops ran down his spine with every step. It was too close in here, they were too tightly packed together. Dick swallowed hard against a knot in his throat.

  He tried not to imagine a hole in the ceiling like the slot they’d taken Mickey through. He tried not to think about pale, filthy arms reaching down and snatching away another member of his crew. He tried not to imagine maggot-colored hands hurling rocks down at them as they crept out the end of the tunnel. He tried not to imagine a trap in the floor opening up and sucking half his crew into a a bone-crushing fall. But the images kept coming, one after another, each more horrific than the next. He had to get out of here before he lost his mind.

  Nancy called out from up ahead, her voice muffled by the bodies between her and Dick. “Watch your step up here, there’s a drop off to the left.”

  Dick mashed his body up against the right side of the tunnel, suddenly terrified of slipping off an unseen ledge to his doom. Sweat soaked through his shirt, and the urge to shove Randall out of the way so he could just fucking run was becoming an overpowering need. He couldn’t stay cramped down here much longer. Hold it together, asshole, he ordered himself, shit is going to be a lot scarier on the surface if you don’t get this footage.

  Randall’s gasp was the only warning Dick had before the tunnel suddenly opened up. The sense of space was overwhelming, as if the world around him had vanished, leaving behind an endless midnight void. His eyes were drawn to the deeper darkness to his left, and he felt his bladder threatening to pour its contents down his legs.

  He was standing on a narrow ledge, little more than a yard wide. To his left, a yawning gulf stretched out beyond the reach of his light. Even Randall’s much brighter camera light didn’t do much to push back the gloom. Dick had the sense of the darkness as a thing, a physical presence that threatened to sweep them all off the ledge and to their doom. “Fuck me,” he whispered.

  Amy’s hand clenched tight on Dick’s shoulder and, for once, she’d stopped chomping her gum. “How far down you think that goes?”

  Dick leaned forward a couple of inches, hoping to get a better look over the edge. It didn’t really matter how deep it was—Randall’s light illuminated a couple hundred feet before the darkness beat it back. That was more than enough of a fall to kill anyone. “Too fucking far,” he muttered.

  The wind carried a faint tapping to Dick’s ear. He strained to hear it more clearly, but it was already gone. He shook his head and looked up to see Troy hustling toward him.

  Troy joined them, his breaths wheezing in and out of his lungs like an asthmatic old man. “Where’s she going?”

  He pointed past Dick at Nancy, who was moving away from the rest of the crew. There was a pale-silver glow ahead of her. “Where’d she get the light? Fuck. Get afte
r her, Randy.”

  They moved along the edge of the pit, held up by Randall’s fear of heights. He edged along like the floor was Teflon slick and he was in danger of flying off into the darkness without warning. Dick could see Nancy and Liz ahead of them, making better time than Randall was ever going to make. “Goddammit, Randall. Catch up to them.”

  But Randall couldn’t go any faster. Dick could see him trying, but his feet were just as fat as the rest of him, and the cameraman had to watch where he put them. There just wasn’t as much space for Randall as Dick and the others. Dick held his breath and hoped the big man wouldn’t fall and take their camera and all their footage over the edge with him.

  Troy’s scream stabbed into Dick’s ear. “What the fuck?”

  Amy’s scream joined Troy’s, and Dick turned back as fast as he dared. In the light of his headlamp, he could see Amy, crouched down on the ledge, both hands over the ledge. Troy was nowhere to be seen. “Help me pull him up,” she gasped, face washed out from the strain.

  Dick knelt next to her and aimed his light at Troy’s desperate, upturned face. The skinny tech wrangler was dangling from Amy’s hands, tears leaking from his eyes. “Don’t let me go, please, please.”

  “Randy,” Dick barked, “need the light.”

  He shoved his gun into the back of his jeans and reached past Amy. This close to the edge, he felt the lure of the darkness, the suicidal urge to lean out a little farther and let gravity do its job. The darkness would swallow him and all his troubles; it would be like he’d never existed. Fuck that, he raged against his fearful reptile brain. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of Troy’s shirt and leaned back with all his weight. Troy’s feet scrambled against the wall as he tried to help them. They were doing it. They were going to get the skinny little fucker back up to safety. “We got you, Troy.”

  Their tech was halfway onto the ledge, just his legs dangling over, when Troy screamed again. It wasn’t a scream of fear, but of raw pain, and it had Dick scrambling to draw his gun. He wasn’t going to be caught flatfooted by one of those fuckers again. “Fuck,” Troy screamed, “something’s biting the shit out of my leg, man.”