Ghost Hunters by Sam Witt Page B

them from drumming up any interest. “I’m going to get us out of this,” Dick said to his crew.
    Amy puffed a strand of sweaty hair out of her eyes. “You fucking better.”
    The ticking noise was back, insistent and erratic. It seemed to come from all around them, but quit anytime they stopped walking to listen for it.
    The tunnel corkscrewed down, branching and twisting its way into a maze. Dick was choosing paths almost at random, stopping only long enough to let Amy unwrap stick after stick of chewing gum. He lost count after the twentieth time she spat out her old gum and replaced it with a new wad. She caught him staring at her and shrugged. “Chewing gum’s my vice. Ripping off your friends and shanghaiing them into cannibal cave country is yours. Guess who isn’t winning the friend of the year award?”
    They were standing in a little bulb-shaped cavern with just one way in and one way out. Dick motioned to the wall, “Let’s take a break.”
    Troy groaned in agreement, and they eased him back against the wall, with his legs splayed out in front of him. His eyes were glassy and blank, and Dick didn’t like the chill temperature of his skin. They needed to get out of here before Troy bled out.
    Dick paced, knuckling his aching back. “This isn’t what I wanted to happen,” he started.
    Amy snapped her gum. “Yet here we are.”
    Randall took Dick’s side. “He was trying to get us ahead,” he said. “He was trying to keep the dream alive.”
    Dick nodded at Randall’s words. He needed them to understand, to see how he’d ended up dragging them into this world of shit. “We were so close, so many times. I just kept thinking we needed to stick with it. We needed to have a new camera, or better sound gear. Something to give us an edge.”
    Troy’s head nodded, and he slurred his words. “It’s okay, man.”
    But Amy just shook her head. “You know you fucked up. You can’t talk your way out of it. Even if this thing works out, how are we ever going to trust you again?”
    “How could you not?” Dick scraped his scalp with his fingernails. “I bet on you even when you were too afraid to bet on yourselves. If—when—we get out of here, we’ll be successful because I had faith in us.”
    Amy’s eyes narrowed to thin, angry slits. “You can’t spin that line of shit on me.”
    Dick snapped his fingers, and the big camera light died.
    He sipped his breaths, taking the smallest, shallowest inhalations he could manage. He needed to be able to hear if this was going to work.
    Click.
    Dick tried to pinpoint the sound, but the echoes confused him. He couldn’t tell if it was coming from ahead of him or behind him. His pulse quickened. He’d fucked up. He hadn’t planned on it going down like this.
    Click.
    It was definitely closer, but he couldn’t tell how much closer. Dick blinked away nervous sweat and clenched his fingers tighter around the pistol’s handle. He had to make this work.
    Clickclick.
    Where was that noise coming from? He turned in a slow circle, felt his eyes bulging as they strained to soak up any light. But there was nothing except the deep darkness and—
    Clickclickclickclick.
    It was right there, so close he could almost feel it. It had to be close for this to work, if it was too far away the whole thing would fall apart. But if he waited too long, there was no telling what might happen. He knew it would go for Troy, the weakest of their number, and he also knew Troy couldn’t survive another attack.
    Clickclickclick—
    Dick thought he knew where it was, he could see it in his mind’s eyes. His hand flew up to his headlamp and slapped the switch, flooding the darkness with sudden light.
    It was crouched over Troy, its body hiding the technician from Dick’s view. His eyes were watering from the abrupt change from darkness to light, but he could see the pale arms, the hunched back, the wild mane of black hair hanging down its back. This was his chance, before the