Part 3 (1/2)

I saw that Gil was pointing up and over to my left. I turned to look and noticed movement along the top of the cliff. It was still a bit too dim to see clearly, but I swore I saw a tall dark shape moving along the outer edge. ”I have no idea. But whatever it is, I think it could be trouble.”

There was a squeak behind me and the sound of a zipper. I looked again over my shoulder and saw Gil rummaging through his backpack until he located his magic sweats.h.i.+rt.

Several months earlier-before Gil and I had begun working on the TV show-I'd realized that Gilley was one of those rather unlucky people who is super attractive to spooks. For whatever reason, they love to haunt him and invariably, as he's actually terrified of spooks, they end up torturing him. To keep him safe, I'd glued about a dozen refrigerator magnets to the inside of one of his old sweats.h.i.+rts, and as long as he wore it, he would be far less appealing to mischievous or malevolent spirits.

That first sweats.h.i.+rt had had a few different versions since then, and the one he was currently shrugging into had triple the number of magnets, thus tripling its power and range of protection. Gilley, by nature, was never too careful when protecting what he treasured most in this world ... himself.

”Need some help?” I asked him when I saw how he was struggling to take off his jacket, hold his backpack, and put on the sweats.h.i.+rt all at the same time.

”I got it,” he insisted, just as he dropped his backpack. Something crunched when it struck the cobblestones, and all three of us stopped to stare at the pack.

”Uh-oh,” Heath said.

”What was in there?” I asked as Gilley stared at his backpack in horror.

”The meters,” he said weakly.

I reached down and picked up the pack carefully. Gla.s.s tinkled inside. After unzipping it and moving aside a few items, I said, ”Aww, Gil! You broke all three of them!”

”It was an accident!”

”Well, of course it was an accident,” I snapped. ”But did you have have to put the meters at the bottom of the pack where they were the most vulnerable?” to put the meters at the bottom of the pack where they were the most vulnerable?”

Our electrostatic meters, which we use to isolate ghostly hot spots at all our haunted locales, were pretty fragile gadgets and we often lost one or two due to wear and tear on our investigations, but we hadn't even made it to the island yet and a major piece of our ghost-hunting equipment wasn't just gone; it was likely irreplaceable for the rest of the hunt.

”I can get us some new ones,” Gil vowed.

I scowled at him. ”From where? The local hardware store?”

”I can buy one or two online and have it s.h.i.+pped to us.”

I sighed and handed him the pack, thoroughly irritated that he'd been so careless and stubborn when all he'd had to do was accept my offer to help. Still, as I looked into his guilty face, I softened. ”Okay, buddy. We'll work without them for now.”

We got moving again and I was really relieved when the thin drizzle stopped and the clouds began to clear. At least we'd soon be dry. Not long after that, we were standing at the base of the cliff on the rocky sh.o.r.e of the island. I tilted my chin up while Heath, Gilley, and I waited for the rest of the crew to catch up to us. Heath shrugged uncomfortably. ”You sensing that?”

I nodded. ”Feels thick as mola.s.ses.”

”What feels thick as mola.s.ses?” Gopher asked, stepping up next to us.

”The air,” I said. ”It's thick with spooks.”

”Should make for some great footage, then,” Gopher said happily. Leave it to Gopher to always think about the ratings. Our show, Ghoul Getters Ghoul Getters, hadn't even aired its first episode yet, but Gopher wasn't about to pull back on the throttle. He wanted footage of majorly creepy stuff. Period.

When John, Meg, and Kim joined us, I pointed to the stairs. ”Better get on with it,” I said.

We climbed the steep rock staircase for maybe ten minutes and had gone only about halfway to the top when I heard a call coming from somewhere above us. Grabbing Heath's shoulder in front of me to stop him, I asked, ”Did you hear that?”

”What?”

Something faint reached my ears again and I turned my head in the direction, which was up and over to my left. ”That.” ”That.”

Heath c.o.c.ked his head. ”All I can hear is Gilley.”

I looked over my shoulder as Gil clutched the old iron railing while he hacked and wheezed like he was running a marathon. ”I'll ... never ... make ... it ...,” he gasped.

I frowned and felt myself getting frustrated again. I'd been trying to get Gil on some kind of exercise regimen for ages, and he staunchly refused to work out anything but his fingers as they flicked across the keyboard of his computer. ”You'll make it,” I told him flatly. Just then, I distinctly heard a male voice call out, ”Alex!”

”Whoa,” said Heath, whipping his head in the direction of the mysterious voice. ”Now, that that I heard.” I heard.”

Gilley lifted his head to glare at me, oblivious to anything but his own suffering. ”This is the last ghostbust I'll ever agree to that involves this many stairs!”

”Shhh!” I told him, while I listened again.

”Alex!”

”Who is that that?” Gil asked, turning his head to look in the same direction Heath and I were squinting in.

”I think it's that same guy from last night!” I said.

Heath appeared puzzled. ”Why hasn't he recruited some help to find this Alex person he's searching for? I mean, if he's been looking all night, you'd think that the moment the causeway opened up again, he'd head back to the mainland to alert the coast guard.”

Gilley was fis.h.i.+ng around in his backpack again, and after a moment he came up with a pair of binoculars. ”I thought we might need these on this shoot,” he said, putting them to his eyes and scanning along the top of the cliff where the voice was coming from.

I watched him anxiously, a terrible sense of foreboding forming in the pit of my stomach. ”Something's not right,” I whispered.

At that moment Gilley sucked in a breath of surprise.

”What?” I asked.

Gilley thrust the binoculars at me. ”He's in trouble!” he said, and pointed to the top of the cliff. I squinted but couldn't see anything, so I put the binoculars up to my eyes and played with the focus while searching along the cliff-and that was when I nearly dropped the gla.s.ses. ”OhmiG.o.d!” ”OhmiG.o.d!”

”What?” Heath asked.

I pulled the binoculars away and grabbed his hand, running past him up the stairs. ”Come on!”

”What's the matter?”

”Just follow me!” I yelled, pumping my legs as fast as I could to get to the top in time.

Dutifully Heath followed behind. In short order we reached the top of the rock, my legs screaming with the effort, and I tore across the unusually flat terrain, pa.s.sing the large stone castle as we ran. I barely noticed it because I was so focused on getting to the far end in time.

As we raced forward, we both distinctly heard someone calling for help, and I used every ounce of my reserve strength to run as fast as I could. Heath came abreast of me quickly, and as the cries for help became more urgent, he picked up his speed and zoomed past me in three strides.

By the time he reached the edge of the cliff, he was a good twenty yards ahead of me. I watched him drop to his knees and reach down; then he appeared to jerk forward and I cried out, afraid he was being pulled off the edge. With two more long strides I reached him and flung myself across the back of his legs to keep him from falling.

”Noooooooooooooo!” I heard him cry, and I gripped his legs even more fiercely.

With a sickening dread I heard someone dropping away from us scream, ”Alllllllex!” ”Alllllllex!”