It Took Place in a New York Cemetery (Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?, Graveyard)
Title: It Took Place in a New York Cemetery
Author: Lucky_Ladybug/insaneladybug
Claim: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (General Series)
Table: Do-It-Yourself
Prompt: Graveyard
Rating: T/PG-13
Summary: It was a zombie jamboree, took place in the New York Cemetery.... The guys get into some serious disasters of a different sort while chasing Double Trouble.
Warnings: Creepiness?
Notes: Will be cross-posted to ladybug_tales
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
It Took Place in a New York Cemetery
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! It was mostly inspired by a strange dream I had, but also by the prompt Graveyard at 10 Hurt Comfort. The cemetery is largely based on a real cemetery I know well and love, but because I didn't want to say that it had become the scene for the dark events that happen here, I decided to change it to a nameless, fictional cemetery in New York. As always, these are the fictional Rockapella from the show only. I do not write Real Person fanfiction of any kind. Thanks to Kaze and Crystal Rose of Pollux for plot help!
It really should not have happened.
Rockapella had been in pursuit of Double Trouble for the last forty-five minutes. The terrible twins had stolen a car from a classic car show and sped off through the city. Taking an ACME car, the singing detectives had followed. And now, just when they had finally been closing in, Double Trouble had managed to speed around a corner and elude the ACME agents.
"They're nowhere to be found!" Sean exclaimed in frustration, leaning out of the driver's window to study the street. It was quiet, with only a few streetlamps to light the way. All the houses were in darkness at this late hour.
"But they can't have gone far," Elliott frowned. "The cars at that car show aren't supposed to have much gas, just in case someone does try to run off with one."
"Then let's keep looking," Sean said, pulling back inside and revving the engine.
As they turned the next corner, Scott regarded the scene to their right with unease. "It's that old cemetery," he noted, catching sight of several old and rounded headstones. "Arguably the largest one in the state." The cold iron gate stretched on ahead of them, most likely continuing for the many blocks that spanned the cemetery's length. Scott had not realized that they were this close to it. He was certainly not afraid of cemeteries, but still, it was not the sight he wanted most to see on a late October night.
Sean gave it a cursory glance. "Well, I don't think Double Trouble would take up grave-robbing, so there's no sense in stopping here," he said.
"Maybe you're thinking wrong," Elliott exclaimed as they neared a side entrance. The gates were closed, but could be easily scaled if someone so desired. Parked in front of them was a now-familiar red car.
"You've got to be kidding," Sean moaned. Pulling up behind the stolen automobile, he opened the door and stepped out, approaching with caution. The other vehicle was parked, the key still in the ignition. Double Trouble were not inside.
Sean pushed back his gray fedora, regarding the car in annoyance. "What a place to run out of gas," he said.
By now the other three had gotten out as well, frowning at the car. "Just because the car's here doesn't mean Double Trouble went inside the cemetery," Elliott said. "They probably just ran along the sidewalk and turned the corner at the first place they could."
"Unless they were looking for a shortcut," Barry surmised, walking over to the gates. They were pushed inward, as if they had recently been climbed over, and a small white card was laying on the ground below. Barry bent to pick it up.
"An ad for a local nightclub," he announced. "One of them must have dropped it."
Sean let out a frustrated sigh. "Then it's into the cemetery we go as well," he said then, adopting a cheerier tone. "Who's first?"
No one made a move to climb the gates. Instead they stood staring, as if expecting something to come out through the entrance. It looked cold and uninviting in the dark.
"Okay, fine! I'll go first," Sean said, walking past them to the gates. In one swift move he climbed up to the bottom bar, then leaped over the top half to the concrete on the other side. "Nothing to it," he declared.
The others followed, giving their new surroundings an uneasy glance. Graves stretched in all directions on either side of the road. And this seemed to be one of the older sections; old monuments and statues stretched into the sky, while other, smaller stones were thin and rounded at the tops-as tombstones are traditionally depicted in old pictures and films.
"This place is huge," Elliott frowned. "We shouldn't split up."
"No, probably not," Sean agreed. "Let's just keep to the roads for now. Double Trouble probably made a beeline for the nearest exit!" He started walking, accidentally kicking aside a pinecone that had fallen into his path. Slowly the others began to follow, hurrying to keep up with their group leader.
"Come on," Sean smirked, glancing over his shoulder, "you're not afraid of the cemetery, are you?"
"Of course not," Scott retorted, "but that doesn't mean we like it very much, either!" He turned, starting at the sight of a bird perched on a tall obelisk. After a moment he frowned, shaking his head. The bird was carved of granite.
"The most important thing to remember is not to let it get to you," Sean said. "Cemeteries are for the living, not the dead." He remained focused on the path ahead. Double Trouble probably would have taken this path, not turning to the right or the left. Surely there was a way out from this part.
"You're really sure of that?" Scott said. He did not especially want to talk about this, but he was half-curious to see what Sean would have to say.
"Of course," Sean shrugged. "If I was dead, the last place I would want to visit would be my grave! There wouldn't be anything interesting about that."
"Unless someone was visiting," Scott said.
"Which probably wouldn't be happening at one in the morning," Sean said.
"Can we please stop talking about death?" Elliott groaned. "Especially one of us dying?"
"No one's going to be dying any time soon," Scott said, looking to Elliott.
"I don't know," Elliott answered. "So many things have been happening to us lately. Twice one or more of us could have died. It's not something to talk about lightly." He regarded Sean with some annoyance. Sometimes he wondered whether Sean fully appreciated the seriousness of these situations. But he knew Sean really did; treating the experiences in a light-hearted manner after the fact was just his way.
"I know that," Sean said then. "I was just answering Scott's question. I don't think we'll meet any ghosts in here."
Scott frowned. "But speaking of ghosts, isn't there some weird legend about a grave here?" he said.
"You find those in any cemetery," Elliott said. "Most of it's just stories the local kids make up to scare each other."
"I don't believe it's true," Scott returned. "But I think it had something to do with a grave that had a crazy inscription, 'Victim of the Beast' or something like that." While cemetery lore was certainly not his specialty, he had come across some odd bits of information over the years. That one had stuck out in his mind because it was so strange.
"'Beast'?" Elliott repeated. "So the person was mauled by a dog?"
"Nobody knows," Scott said with a frown. "A few people have tried to research it, but they haven't got very far."
"Maybe the inscription was meant to be cryptic," Sean said. "In a cemetery this big, there's probably a lot of off-the-wall epitaphs."
". . . Has anyone noticed that the streetlamps have gotten dim?" Barry spoke.
They looked up. It was as if a veil had been pulled over the lamps near them on the block corners. The wattage had decreased to the point where only the outlines of the tombstones around them could be seen-not the details and certainly not the inscriptions.
". . . If it was just one of them, I'd say the bulb was burning out," Sean said then. "But there's at least two or three right around here that are like this."
"And not just them," Elliott said, pointing back the way they had come. "Look!"
They turned, following his gaze. Sure enough, the glows from the lights behind them were much more faint than when they had arrived.
"It could be Double Trouble playing a prank," Sean said, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
"What happened to them making a beeline for the nearest exit?" Scott said.
Sean shook his head. "There has to be some explanation for this," he said, gesturing at the lights. "I'm not going to believe that we've got ghosts just because of some dim bulbs."
". . . I hope they won't think you're calling them dim bulbs," Elliott remarked, his tone dry.
Sean waved his hand at Elliott in a dismissive way. "Let's keep going," he said. "Full speed ahead, no detours!"
For a while the plan seemed to work. But after several blocks Scott was growing uneasy again. The lights were getting darker still, and the exit was not in sight. The only thing visible as far as they could see was tombstones. And behind them, the gates through which they had entered were not in sight, either. That was impossible, and yet it was true. Scott's stomach dropped. What did that mean? Were they lost in the cemetery?
A glance at Sean let him know that even their resident jokester was not pleased. There was a tense set to Sean's eyes and jaw.
". . . Sean, something's not right here," Scott spoke at last. "I think we're lost."
Sean frowned at their surroundings. "We know we've been going in a straight line," he said. "It'd be worse to turn in some other direction right now."
"My flashlight isn't working," Scott said, holding it up. As the streetlamps had gotten more dim, Scott had brought out his flashlight in the hopes of using it. But its bulb was dim as well, flickering dangerously to indicate it was giving up the ghost. On second thought, that probably was not the best choice of expression.
"Mine isn't working, either," Elliott said, demonstrating by flipping the power switch on it. It did not turn on at all.
Barry narrowed his eyes. He and Sean brought out theirs for comparison, clicking them on. The bulbs, like Scott's, were flickering and about to die.
"If the streetlamps keep getting dim, we'll be in the dark before long," Barry said. Up ahead, it did not look like there were any lights at all. Apparently they were only near the edges, and not at the heart of the cemetery.
Sean shut his flashlight off again. "This would make a great story to tell the Chief," he said. "We let Double Trouble go free because it started getting dark in the cemetery."
Scott sighed. Sean was right, of course; they could not abandon their mission for a reason like that. And what if it even was Double Trouble pulling a prank? Rockapella would look ridiculous for leaving.
"Okay," Scott said, "let's keep going." But then he frowned. "Sean?"
Sean had vanished!
Scott's eyes widened in disbelief. "Sean?!" he exclaimed. "Where are you?!" He whirled around, his trenchcoat sweeping out around him. Elliott and Barry turned as well, bewildered.
A hand snaked out of the dark, clamping down on Scott's shoulder. The poor blond leaped a mile into the air, yelping in shock.
Elliott crossed his arms, not amused. "Come out from behind that tree, Sean," he scolded.
Their group leader stepped back into the dim light with a shrug. "We need something to lighten the mood," he said. "So we're lost in a cemetery with the lights burning out. No biggie. Maybe there'll be a zombie jamboree."
"Grabbing me like a rising zombie isn't going to help lighten the mood!" Scott retorted.
"Oh, there aren't really any zombies," Sean said. "We're all too tense."
Elliott sighed. Sean was trying to make himself laugh as much as he was trying to get the others to laugh. Maybe they were too tense. And that was not going to help them.
"Come on," he said. "Let's keep walking. Sooner or later we have to hit the exit."
The others concurred, resuming their journey down the lonely path.
Even the moon seemed to be against them. Either that or the veil that was being pulled over the streetlamps was affecting the light from the sky as well. Every now and then the moon came out from behind a cloud, allowing a few thin streams of a white glow to shine down on the boys. But under the circumstances, it seemed more eerie than comforting.
"I feel like we're in an Edgar Allan Poe story," Elliott muttered, pushing his hat back on his head.
"Like The Tell-Tale Heart?" Scott said, glancing up with unease at a tree branch that resembled a clawed hand.
"Or The Raven," Elliott said.
"Nevermore," Sean cracked.
Barry kept silent, turning on his flashlight every once in a while to examine their surroundings. It did not do a great deal of good, but the battery was still working a slight bit-on the road. When he tried to move the beam over any of the tombs, the bulb flickered and threatened to extinguish itself. Then, when he directed the glow back to the road, it became steady again-though still weak.
Sean came to an abrupt halt. frowning at what was ahead of them. The road ended, becoming fresh grass instead. There were still the roads to the sides, but they faded into the unknown. In front of them, gravestones stretched as far as they could see.
"Now, gentlemen, we have a choice to make," he said, his hands going to his hips. "Do we plunge ahead, breaking our vow about tramping over the grass? Or do we turn to the side and quite possibly fade into the darkness?" He gestured from the left-hand path to the right. None of the options looked inviting.
"What do you think Double Trouble chose?" Barry asked.
"The left would be the most likely road for an exit," Sean mused. "Eventually it might go to the front gate."
"While the right path would go deeper into the cemetery," Scott said.
"And so would going over the grass," Elliott said.
Scott frowned at the left path as they turned to face it. "It doesn't look much like it goes to the front gate," he said. "It's completely dark a block or so down. Maybe we should keep going straight, since we can at least see what's ahead of us."
"Hmm. . . ." Sean put a hand to his chin as he pondered. "Let's stay on the left road long enough to try to see what's past the darkness," he said. "If we can't, we'll cross to the grass and keep going left that way, since it doesn't look like it's that dark anywhere on the grass. Is that agreeable with everyone?"
The quartet exchanged looks. All were hesitant, even Sean, but it seemed the best option. Despite not believing that ghosts were at work, they knew that something else could leap out of the darkness at them, such as Double Trouble or even far more dangerous people. Blindly marching into the pitch blackness would be a ridiculous idea.
"Okay," Scott said at last. "Let's try it."
With that they began to walk down the left-hand path. To their left, on the grass, was an old mausoleum-probably for an entire family judging by the size. Beyond it were more gravestones. Monuments covered the ground to the right. On the road, their four shadows stretched out in an eerie fashion courtesy of the still-dimming lamps.
"The air feels colder down here," Scott announced after a moment, pulling his trenchcoat closer around him.
"It is kind of nippy," Sean agreed, glancing at a shadow out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think, El?"
No response. The other three looked at each other in confusion, then to where Elliott should have been standing by Scott. No one was in sight.
"He's gone!" Scott gasped. How could that have happened? He had been right there. All of them had seen his shadow. In fact, even now there was still a fourth shadow on the ground, standing right next to Scott. A cold chill ran up his spine.
"Elliott, where are you?!" he screamed, running away from the eerie presence and moving to the edge of the grass on the left side. The others wasted no time in running after him.
"Maybe he didn't come with us when we moved down this path," Sean suggested, struggling to push aside the growing worry taking hold of his heart. "Let's go back and look!"
Scott shook his head, staring towards the way they had come. They had not advanced that far past the corner. He could see back to where they had started. Elliott was not there, either.
"He must've wandered onto the grass somewhere," Scott said, trying to calm his shaking nerves. Was the phantom shadow still following them? Did it have anything to do with Elliott's mysterious disappearance? And if Elliott was nearby, why hadn't he answered Scott's exclamation? He could not have gotten far away so fast. What if he was hurt?
"Okay, the last thing we want to do now is panic," Sean said, despite the fact that part of him now felt like screaming as well. "Let's spread out and look for Elliott, but always stay in sight of each other! We'll meet back here in ten minutes."
Scott and Barry concurred.
Sean began to double-back to the mausoleum near the corner. Maybe the door was unlocked and Elliott had fallen inside? That was far-fetched; there would not be any reason for the door to be open, and they would have heard a crash if Elliott had ended up in there. Unless he had gone in on purpose, but that was highly unlikely, too. Elliott, though occasionally clumsy, was streetwise and cautious. He would not enter a strange mausoleum for the kicks of it.
Still, there was something going on at the tomb. Sean quieted as he grew nearer. He could hear snatches of voices, though what they were actually saying was inaudible. Maybe it was Double Trouble. He moved to a pine tree right next to the structure. A pinecone crunched under his feet, prompting a wince to pass over his features. If Double Trouble heard him coming, then the jig was up.
But the whispering continued. Sean leaned forward, straining to catch any part of it.
"This is where I live," a female voice said. It was matter-of-fact, and yet somehow melancholy as well.
Sean stiffened. Had he really heard that? It was still so indistinct. Maybe it was a mistake.
He slipped to the side of the mausoleum. Still the inaudible whispering continued. But as he moved to the front and was faced with a half-open door, it stopped. Had his shadow across the doorway prompted whoever was inside to grow silent? This could still be an elaborate prank.
He pushed the door the rest of the way open, no longer worrying about making noise. It creaked on long-rusted hinges as it moved aside, revealing the contents. Six pedestals were inside, three along each wall, each bearing a sarcophagus. At the very back was a seventh. No one had been in here; their footprints would be obvious in the inch-thick dust on the floor.
And yet the voices had clearly been coming from here. Sean frowned, leaning further inside. "Ollie ollie oxen free!" he called. His voice echoed off the walls and floor with no response.
Giving the tomb a suspicious glance, he began to straighten up. At the same moment, a bony hand came down on his shoulder.
He leaped a mile into the air, his braids flying. Then he whirled, looking behind him for the source of the attack. Was that a movement behind the tree? Yes, there was something black-probably a dark trenchcoat.
"Okay, Scott," he said, beginning to relax, "now you've had your revenge on me for the prank I pulled. Why don't you come out now?"
Scott did not budge.
Sean's eyes narrowed. "I didn't expect you to be playing jokes when Elliott's missing," he said, walking over to the tree. "Enough is enough." He reached out, grabbing for the dark cloth. Instead his hand passed through. At the same moment, the mausoleum door began to creak shut.
Slowly he looked from the shadow behind the tree to the closing door. He had not exerted pressure on the door to keep it open when he had been in the doorway. It had held open fine on its own; it should not be creaking shut.
It finished its journey with a bang. The lock clicked into place.
Sean fled.
He was still breathing heavily when he arrived back at the spot where the three of them had separated. In desperation he cast his gaze around the block of grass. Scott and Barry were nowhere in sight. He slapped his forehead in frustration. They had been supposed to stay where they could be seen!
"Scott!" he called. "Barry! Elliott!"
No one answered him. Above him, an elm tree waved its branches near his head.
He was alone.
****
Elliott's eyes narrowed as he wandered around a hill with cobblestones set in the side of it. This was one of the most intricate cemeteries he had ever explored. Or maybe it was the most intricate; tramping through cemeteries was not a big hobby of his. It was really ridiculous that they were all lost in it now; all they had wanted was to catch Double Trouble, and this was what they had gotten for their efforts. Double Trouble were still at large, too. Nothing had been accomplished. Now they were all separated from each other.
It had first happened when they had been going to take the left-hand path. Elliott had started down the road only to find himself walking with three shadows. He had run to the grass on the right, calling for the others, but to no avail. And now he was thoroughly disturbed. Where were they? How had they vanished just like that? And whose shadows had those been? Or did he really want to know?
Elliott was a practical person. His first inclination was to not believe in ghosts. But whether he believed in them or not, something weird was happening. He was not hallucinating; the shadows were real and his friends had vanished.
Grass and leaves crackled somewhere behind him. He stiffened, whirling to look. But the spot was empty. None of the others were there.
He crossed his arms in annoyance. "Okay, Sean, is this another one of your pranks?" he asked the night. There was no place for Sean to hide, unless he had dived behind the large monument to the right.
A low, eerie whistle answered him. Either it was the slight breeze picking up, or Sean was indeed trying to play a prank. He had already made Scott jump nearly out of his shoes upon their first realization that they were lost in the cemetery, by hiding behind that tree and suddenly grabbing Scott's shoulder. He either found it a huge joke that they were stranded in a cemetery, or else he was trying to make the others see it that way. But after having been here as long as they had been, Elliott was not in the mood to make a joke of it.
Annoyed now, the brunet slipped around the tombstone he was standing by. Two could play at this game. If Sean wanted to play tricks, then Elliott would give him a taste of his own medicine. Was that a slight movement next to the other monument? He crept forward, making sure not to step on any leaves or twigs.
Icy fingers reached under his dark curls, touching the back of his neck. Instantly he stiffened. That was not Sean.
"Who dares to play on my grave?" a cruel voice hissed.
Elliott whirled to face his assailant. Still nothing. But now the air around him was cold, nipping at his cheeks and hands.
"I'm not playing on anyone's grave," he retorted. "As soon as I find the others, we're leaving. Then you won't have anything to worry about."
"Foolish boy," the invisible spectre said. "You have already trespassed. The only way to leave is through death!"
Unseen hands gripped at his shoulders, digging through his dress shirt and into his flesh. He gritted his teeth, pain shooting into his body. If this thing could touch him, why couldn't he touch it? Struggling to raise his hands, he clawed at the phantom's limbs. His hands only passed through thin air. And a frozen numbness was beginning to spread through his arms. They dropped limply to his sides.
At the same moment he was thrust to the left, the monument only too happy to make his acquaintance. The last thing he remembered was the splitting agony of the stone connecting with the side of his head.
****
Scott was uneasy.
They had already been here for far too long-over two hours, according to his watch. And now they had all gotten lost from each other. He could not figure out where Sean and Barry had gone; they had been supposed to stay together. He had kept them in sight as long as possible, but then, upon looking up from an eerie monument with a glass window and a shelf holding a broken urn, they had vanished.
Possibly more disturbing was that his comb phone would not work. It was just like it had been in Egypt, with something jamming the signal. There was a chance it was just his phone that was malfunctioning, but he doubted it.
There was something unsettling about the entire place. Everything seemed so dark and desolate. What if there was some kind of film or fog over the entire cemetery? That sounded ridiculous, and yet with their luck, and their misadventure in Egypt, it did not seem as impossible as it once might have. It was certainly no secret that the lights were behaving in an erratic manner. If anything, they had grown still more dim-when he saw one at all.
The tombstones just ahead looked more modern. Was that a good thing? Maybe it meant there was an exit close by. Not that it mattered. As long as he was without the other three, he was not leaving.
As he rounded a corner, he slammed into someone-or something-else. A stunned yelp left his lips as he stumbled back, pushing up his hat as it fell forward over his eyes. The other person cried out as well. It was safe to assume that it was a person, at least. He should not be able to crash into a ghost.
"Whoa! You pack a pretty big wallop!" a familiar voice informed him.
"Sean!" Scott exclaimed in relief, seeing the taller man looking back at him. "Where have you been, man?!"
"I was going to ask you that," Sean replied, crossing his arms. "You and Barry disappeared right when we were supposed to meet back at that other part of the cemetery!" He glanced around as if to make sure they were alone. "Finding Elliott and Barry isn't even our only problem now."
Scott stared at him. "What do you mean?" he frowned.
"We're not the only ones here!" Sean told him. "I saw Double Trouble a while ago. They were wandering around acting lost themselves."
"Double Trouble?" Scott repeated, incredulous. ". . . We're lost in a cemetery with Double Trouble." He could hardly believe that the twins were still here. He had thought sure they would have escaped through the nearest gate and be in the next county by now.
"It looks that way." Sean sighed. "I tried following them, but when they went over that hill into the new part I couldn't keep up. They disappeared somewhere around a section where there's a lot of Chinese and Korean graves."
"Oh, well, that's just great," Scott said. "I wonder if they've stolen something else."
"We'll never know as long as our phones are on the fritz." Sean looked to the left, his braids sweeping out and then falling against the side of his neck. "Have you poked around over there?" he wondered, indicating an older part of the cemetery.
Scott shook his head. "I was going to check out the new part to see if there was an exit," he said. "Then we'd at least know somewhere to go when we find the others."
"There isn't an exit," Sean said. "There's just a chainlink fence, and a bad drop on the other side."
Scott frowned, looking in that direction. Aided by the dim lights of the streetlamps ahead, he could just make out a grave marker that was tall and triangular shaped. One side of it was jagged.
He sighed, looking away. "Okay," he said, "let's look through the older part."
He walked alongside Sean as they began to move in that direction. The last thing he wanted to do was to lose track of the other again. They needed to stay together. And in this cemetery, it was far too easy to become separated.
"Where did you lose Barry?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sean said. "It was around the same place where I lost you. I'd gone over to that mausoleum to look for Elliott, and when I turned back, you were both gone!"
Scott looked to him. "That's how it was for me!" he exclaimed. "I was right in that place where we were supposed to be, and I couldn't see you or Barry!"
Sean stared at him. "Could we have all been there and just not seen or heard each other?" he said.
"How would that even be possible?" Scott said, staring right back.
Sean shook his head. "It shouldn't be, unless we're all being bamboozled by . . . something."
". . . Something like a ghost," Scott said.
"I didn't say that," Sean said.
"But you were thinking it," Scott said.
Sean sighed in defeat. "Alright, something like a ghost," he admitted. "Or ghosts. . . ." He frowned at a nearby angel statue. "That plot doesn't sound so cliché when it's happening to us."
Scott glanced to the side. Barry and Elliott would not have been . . . spirited away, would they? That sounded off-the-wall even considering everything else they had seen, but maybe it wasn't. Or maybe he was just letting his imagination get away from him because of the eerie atmosphere here. He turned back, just in time to nearly be smacked by a gnarled claw. His mouth dropped open in disbelief, but almost instantly realization dawned. It was a tree branch. Shaking his head, he moved to the side.
He was just being ridiculous. He and Sean were both here. There was no reason why the others would not be, especially if Double Trouble were there. Surely the spirits would get angrier at those crooks than they would at Rockapella. Of course, if Double Trouble had not stolen anything from the cemetery and were just aimlessly wandering, too . . . well, it really depended on how much the ghosts disliked visitors in general.
". . . Do you think Barry and Elliott are alright?" Scott said at last.
"Sure," Sean replied. "Why wouldn't they be? This place is so big they must just be wandering here and there and everywhere."
"I guess. . . ." But now Scott was only half-listening. This older section was so mysterious. Several sections, likely family plots, had cast-iron fences all the way around them. Inside, the grass was long and unruly. Apparently, since the spaces were not big enough to accommodate lawn mowers, nothing had been done at all. Maybe the old locks on the gates would not even open anymore.
The trees were very tall and old, stretching high above them and into the dark sky. Even the tallest of the monuments came nowhere near the trees' height. But their size was still impressive, anyway. They must belong to important and wealthy locals. Scott paused to gawk at one whitish-gray slab that had to stand at least fifteen feet, if not higher.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say this place goes on forever," Sean said.
"It feels like it does," Scott sighed. "And is it just me or is it still darker here than it even should be?"
Sean shoved his hands in his pockets. "It isn't just you," he said. "Where's a really good flashlight when you need one?"
"I wonder if even a really good one would work here tonight," Scott muttered.
As they turned the next corner, Scott's eyes widened in surprise. A figure was wandering among the gravestones on the next block. Then it paused somewhere near the center, as if seeing something. Had Scott and Sean been sighted? No, the figure was beginning to bend down next to one of the monuments, a dark hat falling forward on the person's head.
"Hey," Scott said in realization, "isn't that Barry?"
Sean perked up. "I think so," he said. He hastened forward, crossing the road to the next block. Scott hurried after him, not bothering to worry wondering if dashing over the graves was disrespectful to the dead.
His heart leaped into his throat as the full scene came into view. The figure was indeed Barry, and he was bending over a lifeless form sprawled on the ground. Having heard the others running through the grass, he had briefly glanced up but then had returned his attention to the body.
"Elliott!" Scott gasped. Flying the rest of the distance, he crashed to his knees by their fallen friend. Elliott was slumped in a mostly prone position, facing away from them. He did not stir as Scott laid a frantic hand on his shoulder, and from Barry's expression, Elliott had not moved when Barry had arrived, either.
Scott gripped tighter at the slackened shoulder. "El . . . what happened to you?" he spoke, his voice clearly reflecting his disbelief and horror.
Sean fell to his knees as well, alarmed at the sight. "Is he . . . ?" He could not bring himself to finish the sentence.
Barry shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted, his tone and expression grim. "I tried to feel for a pulse, but I couldn't find it. His skin's like ice."
"Ice . . . ?" Scott swallowed a cottonball in his throat as he began to turn Elliott to face him. The brunet fell into position, his head turning to the left. A gasp left Scott's lips. Elliott's flesh was almost whitish-blue in color. His eyes were closed, with no indication that they would open any time soon. His hands shaking, Scott grabbed Elliott's wrist to search for a pulse. The cold chill that swept through him nearly made him drop Elliott's hand back to the grass.
"What's wrong with him?!" Scott cried, clutching the frigid hand. "It's like he's . . . he's frozen alive!" If he was alive. . . . If Scott was honest with himself, Elliott could not look more dead.
Sean reached out, touching the sculpture next to them. An involuntary shiver went down his spine at the unnatural chill.
"I've got the feeling that whoever's buried here wasn't a nice person," he exclaimed, pulling his hand back.
"Then maybe getting Elliott away from here would help?!" Scott suggested, panic-stricken as he stared down at the lifeless form. Elliott had been fine the last time Scott had seen him. He couldn't be beyond help now. That was unthinkable!
"Maybe," Sean said, frankly disturbed and confused by the situation.
Without warning Elliott stirred, a moan slipping from his lips as he forced his eyes open. He blinked, trying to focus as Scott stared down at him.
"El!" Scott exclaimed, relief and joy washing over him. "Are you okay?!"
Elliott blinked again, then winced, a hand slowly moving to his head. "Ow," he hissed. "Something hit me . . . or . . . no, I hit something. . . ." He grimaced, his fingers locating the cruel bump. "Something threw me into something. . . ."
"Like the person who's buried here?" Sean frowned.
". . . It was some ghost, so probably so." Elliott frowned too, bewildered. "I remember my arms went numb right before it pitched me into the thing . . ." Shakily he sat up, turning to stare at the monument. He had hit his head on that? No wonder he was dizzy. Well, dizzy was a mild word for what he was feeling.
Scott reached to touch Elliott's hand. "Your skin still feels really cold," he declared with a shiver. But thankfully, it was a bit warmer now that he was awake. Some color had started to return to his face.
Elliott gave him an odd look. "Cold?" he repeated.
"Yeah . . . like you were bewitched or something," Scott said.
"Maybe I was," Elliott said, massaging the bump with care.
"But we hadn't even done anything to help you yet," Scott objected. "We were going to take you away from this tombstone thing, and then you woke up."
Elliott gave a helpless shrug. "I can't explain it," he said.
"Let's not try," Sean said. "Let's just get away from this grave. The stone feels ice cold, just like you did."
Elliott gave it a disturbed look. "The grass is cold too," he frowned. "I thought it was just because it's late autumn, but maybe it's not." He reached out, grabbing at the base of the monument as he tried to pull himself upright. His eyes widened at the stabbing cold that shot into his hand.
Scott took hold of Elliott's other arm. "Don't touch it," he said, worried as to what would happen if Elliott continued to make contact with the tombstone. "We'll help you up, El."
Elliott nodded, jerking his hand back from the stone as he regarded it in wariness. Then he looked away, clutching at Scott's arm as he began to rise. Sean and Barry slowly stood as well, waiting in case their assistance would be needed. Elliott managed to balance himself, swaying a bit as everything floated in and out of his line of vision. The cemetery was rocking back and forth. He shut his eyes, still gripping at Scott.
Worried, Scott put his arm around his friend's shoulders. "El?" He watched as Elliott clamped a hand over his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. . . ." Elliott looked up. "I think I'll be a lot better when we get away from here. That girl ghost, whoever she was, pretty much wanted to kill me."
"And maybe she would have, if we hadn't shown up," Sean said under his breath. Louder he said, "Can you walk?"
"I think so," Elliott replied. "I'll just have to take it slow." He took a shaking step forward, then another. The aching pain from the bump remained, but once he had passed the borders of the strange woman's grave, it was as if a vise was released from his heart. He stopped, gasping in surprise at the change. The others looked to him with questions in their eyes.
"I feel a lot better," he said, looking to them. "She had some kind of hold over me."
"That's just wrong," Scott said with a shudder. "Come on, let's get you out of here, man. You need to see a doctor about that bump."
Elliott winced. "It's okay," he said. "Really. We still have a mission to complete."
Sean frowned. "We'll call a tow truck for the stolen car," he said. "Double Trouble will just have to get away this time. After getting bonked by that thing . . ." he nodded toward the stone, ". . . there's no way any of us will believe you're okay."
Elliott sighed as he began to move forward again, with Scott still offering support. "I don't want to be responsible for messing up this assignment," he objected.
"I kind of think we were doomed from the moment we stepped in here," Scott said. "You're not responsible, El."
"Speaking of being doomed . . ." Sean cast a worried look around the area. "Are we even going to be able to get out of here? We never even found an exit."
At that moment identical screams of terror reached their ears. As the quartet stared in amazement, Double Trouble ran into view, crashing into Sean and Barry. Immediately they seized the party animals, moving to wrench their wrists behind their backs. To their surprise, Double Trouble offered no resistance.
"We've gotta get out of here," exclaimed the one with the black shirt.
"This ain't no place for a party," added the one with the white shirt.
"At least behind bars we can do the jailhouse rock," said the one with the black shirt.
"Do we dare ask what you saw?" Sean said, frowning at them as he snapped a pair of handcuffs around his prisoner's wrists. Barry was doing likewise with his captive.
The twins looked at each other, then back at the ACME agents. "Ghosts!" they said in unison.
"How about an exit?" Sean said.
"There was some field off at the other side," said the one with the white shirt, "but we couldn't pass!"
"Why not?" Scott spoke up.
"We couldn't find it!" said the one with the black shirt. "The ghosts made this black fog swirl all around us and tried to pull us into the ground! So we just turned and ran for it!"
"But you know the exit's in that direction?" Scott said, a bit of hope coming into his eyes.
"Maybe," said the one in the black shirt, "if you can get over there."
"You'd better keep talking," Sean told Double Trouble. "You're prisoners of ACME Crimenet now, and as long as we're here, you'll be here."
"Sure, we'll tell you," said the one in the white shirt. "Better yet, we'll show you. But we're not going back to the spot where the ghosts tried to get us pushing up daisies."
"We don't really want to go there ourselves," Scott said.
Sean and Barry kept Double Trouble ahead of them while still keeping hold of their handcuffed wrists. Scott and Elliott followed alongside their friends, not wanting to take any chances on falling behind and getting lost again. And the path Double Trouble were taking was only making them more nervous. There was no light now, save the vague and dim beams from the moon and stars that passed through the thick clusters of trees. They had to squint to see what was ahead of them at all; there was always the danger of tripping over a headstone in the dark. At one point Sean nearly ran headlong into one-but he and his prisoner stopped in time and Sean gave the monument a displeased glare.
"It's over there," the one with the black shirt said at last, looking to a location just ahead of them.
Rockapella stared into the distance. Yes, something was definitely there, beyond the last of the graves-the high main gate to the left that ran along three of the cemetery's sides. It did not cover the side just to the right, where the field could be seen. Was it possible that they would really be able to escape? Somehow that seemed too easy, after both their own and Double Trouble's experiences. There must be a catch. Either it was an illusion or else they would not be able to escape if it was real.
"How far away is the place you were having trouble with?" Scott asked.
"A long way back there," answered the one in the white shirt, "but who's to say it'll be any different here? These ghosts love to party."
"Unfortunately," Sean sighed. "Okay, let's try it. Proceed with caution!"
Something was watching them as they moved forward. Maybe it was the ghosts. Maybe they had familiars hiding around tombstones or in trees. Or maybe even the tombstones and the trees were observing. Elliott shot a glance towards a weeping willow to the right. Several of its long, mournful branches were swaying in an nonexistent breeze. The rest of the tree, and everything around it, was still.
Until something closed around Sean's ankle. He froze, his eyes widening as he stared downward. Nothing was there. But it was not his imagination; a hand had definitely closed around his leg. Gritting his teeth, he tried to take a step forward anyway. The invisible hand jerked back, pulling his foot with it. With a yelp he fell to the grass. The twin he had been restraining leaped out of the way.
"Sean!" Scott exclaimed in disbelief, staring at their group leader.
"What happened?" Barry frowned, looking over as well.
Sean struggled to his knees. "Something's got hold of me!" he gasped. "It's still here; I can feel it!" In desperation he reached down to his ankle, but his hand only passed through air before coming to rest on his own leg. He stiffened.
"It's starting!" yelped the twin in the black shirt. "Handcuffs or no handcuffs, we're out of here!"
Elliott was at his side in an instant, his eyes narrowed in warning. "You're not going anywhere," he said, taking hold of the criminal's bound wrists.
Scott ran to Sean while Barry looked on in concern, still holding onto the other crooked twin. "Sean, can you get up?!" Scott demanded.
Sean shook his head. "I don't know," he said, grabbing at the tombstone next to him as he tried to rise. A frigid arrow slammed into his palm. He gasped, staring down at his hand. It was frozen solid.
"Sean!" Scott grabbed at his shoulder, desperation tinging his voice. "Sean, snap out of it!"
Sean could only hear Scott from a distance. The cold was increasing, spreading up his arm and to his shoulder. He could not free himself.
"Join me," a voice whispered. "Come to a world where the warmth and the light never dare enter."
His eyes widened. No, he would not go with her. He had already traveled to the Netherworld once, completely against his will. He would never go again. She was pulling, reaching into his body as her taloned fingers brushed his spirit. And he was fighting her, even as the ice continued to spread. . . .
Warm hands grabbed his shoulders. "SEAN!"
He started into the present as he was given a violent a shake. Scott, Elliott, and Barry had all gathered around him in worry. Scott was grasping Sean's shoulders, panic in his eyes.
"Sean, you're okay! You're fine!" Scott said. "You have to keep away from the gravestone!"
Slowly he shook his head. "I can't . . ." he choked out. "My hand . . . frozen. . . ."
"Your hand's just fine, too!" Elliott said. To prove it, he grabbed onto Sean's left hand. But his eyes widened in shock. He could not lift it away from the monument.
"Maybe you have to pull away yourself," Barry said, looking back to Sean.
Sean turned, studying the stone and his hand. Of course, that was it. The cold was real, but his hand was not frozen. The ghost was trying to confuse him and get him to fall prey to her tricks. Then she would try to claim him hers.
He tore his hand free, ignoring what sounded like ripping flesh. His hand was fine, he was fine. He had to keep repeating that to himself. He was fine. . . .
His skin was in ribbons. No . . . it was part of the illusion. His hand was whole. He stared at the bleeding mass, his fingers curling. His hand was whole. He brought his fingers down, making a fist. His fingertips touched firm, healthy flesh. Yes. The illusion faded.
He dropped his hand to his side. "Let's go," he said, his voice filled with determination. "What happened to the terrible twins?"
Identical yelps of horror answered his question. Double Trouble were running circles around the area, despite their restrained hands. Black mists were threatening to encircle them. Under different circumstances, it might have been amusing.
Elliott watched, alarmed at the sight. "Well, we can't let even them end up ghoul food," he said, starting to walk forward. "Hey!" he called. "The more you run around, the more they'll come after you! You have to stay calm!"
"Easy for you to say!" one of them retorted.
"I mean it!" Elliott said, walking right into the territory of the mist. It swirled around his ankles but fell away. He reached out, grabbing the party boys by their upper arms. "They don't have any power over you if you're not scared of them."
"Scared?!" the one in the black shirt scoffed. "We're not scared. We just don't like the way they party."
"Then I guess we're unanimous," Sean said, coming forward and taking hold of him. "We're going through that field and getting out of here, whether they like it or not."
Barry gave a firm nod as he and Scott approached. As Barry reclaimed the one in the white shirt, the six of them began to push forward once more.
Still the spirits were watching. They were not willing to relinquish their unwelcome visitors, nor were they ready to accept that their hold over the mortals was shattering. Hatred flamed in their twisted souls.
A gasp left Scott's lips as they made their way to the edge of the open field. The cruel ones of the graveyard's inhabitants were making themselves manifest, their wretched forms appearing, one by one, in front of the hoped-for escape. Within a matter of seconds there were countless rows filled with nothing except the transparent phantoms-their eyes sunken, yet burning with bloodlust, their mouths open as they hissed in rage, their hands clawed as they lashed out to rip through the hapless group. The air was filled with a chill more sharp and more piercing than any winter's night.
Every one of the men wanted to turn and run in sheer horror. But they would still be stranded if they did. The spirits would never let them leave.
"We have to go forward!" Sean said, raising his voice to be heard over the howls and wails of the dead.
"Right through them?!" one of the twins exclaimed in disbelief.
"That's the only way," Sean said as he unlocked the handcuffs. He turned, exchanging a knowing look with Elliott. The brunet gave a barely perceptive nod.
Scott swallowed hard, his stomach turning at the thought.
Elliott looked to Scott. His eyes were filled with the same dread and loathing. But this had to be done. Sean was right-every other exit had failed, and would continue to fail, as long as they tried to run. But now he only wanted the ghosts to think that they were going to plow through. What they were actually going to do was to swerve at the last possible second and try to scale the gate to the left. There was a chance that they would not all make it, with the high and sharp spikes protruding from the top and the spirits giving chase. Someone could be hurt-or worse. But they were going to try anyway.
"Close your eyes," Barry said. "Don't look at them. Don't pay any attention to them. Just focus on us getting out." He unlocked the other twin's handcuffs.
At last Scott nodded. "Let's do it," he said.
"Carmen should give us a raise for this!" Double Trouble moaned in unison.
Shutting their eyes tightly, they barreled towards the teeming mist. The cold hit them from all sides. It was impossible to breathe. This had been a mistake. They were all going to die. They would join the lost souls in the cemetery. Not all of the spirits were evil, of course-but the ones that were attacking them most certainly were.
And then, suddenly they broke free.
They were running to the left, desperate to reach the gate. Double Trouble flew out ahead, arriving first and leaping at the cold iron. Their shoes slipped, but still they tried. Then they were grasping the spokes, vaulting over to the other side. A dark vest caught over the sharp point, beginning to tear. In panic the twin yanked it free, ignoring the loud ripping.
Sean leaped over the top before they could try to get away. In a flash he had the handcuffs snapped back on the one with the black shirt. Elliott, who sprang over after him, took care of the other pair of handcuffs. For the moment Double Trouble did not even complain. They were still trying to process that they were out of the cemetery at last.
The spirits, furious at being tricked, were gathering at the gate while still blocking access to the field. Elliott watched, his heart doing a somersault as Scott flung himself at the gate. Was he going to make it? The ghosts were grabbing for him, tearing at his coat and hat and even his hair. Scott yelped, kicking them out of reflex even though it did no good. He swayed, nearly falling off the gate.
"Scott!" Elliott exclaimed, reaching out his hand. Sean ran over to assist as well, his thoughts racing. Had he led them wrong? What if one or more of them did not make it out? What if Scott and Barry both fell to the spirits? No, he could not think that. They would make it!
Scott scrambled to the top of the gate, struggling to balance himself. "Look out below!" he cried as he jumped. Entirely by accident he knocked Sean to the ground, landing on top of him. Elliott stared at the spectacle.
For a moment Sean lay dazed, the wind knocked out of him by the sudden fall. But then he shook the stars from his vision. Scott was pulling himself into a kneeling position, his curls falling into his face. Sean picked up Scott's hat as he drew himself upright.
"Are you okay?" he asked, handing the younger man the black fedora.
Scott nodded, sloppily sticking it on his head. "What about you?" he returned.
"Oh, I'm just fine," Sean smirked. "It sure beats being pulled into the ground by ghosts."
But then his attention was diverted again. Barry was trying to scale the gate now. He had come last on purpose, making sure that the others had the chance to escape. And the ghosts were livid. They were going to have at least one to keep with them for all eternity. The dark mists swirled around Barry, even as he struggled to make the climb. In spite of his best efforts, his grip was loosening. The ghosts were causing the gate to slip out of his grasp.
Scott leaped up, running over to the gate. Elliott and Sean were dashing over as well, alarm and horror in their eyes. Sean reached out, grabbing for Barry's wrist. The others followed suit, but all of them caught only frosty air.
"The rest of us made it over!" Scott exclaimed. "Barry, we won't let you be left behind!"
For a moment Barry looked at him, with something in his eyes that Scott did not want to see. But then the fog thickened. He fell backwards into the mists.
"NO!" The scream came from all around him, but Scott knew it was his own voice. In an instant he was pressed against the bars, desperate as he reached through for their other friend. Barry could not be lost to them! He had to still be there, fighting his way through the mists! He would not be defeated so easily!
Sean and Elliott were reaching too, straining as far as their hands could stretch. But they only touched the cold fog as it began to disperse. Beyond it, nothing remained. They slumped back, unwilling to believe the truth.
Scott stared, his face chalk white. Trembling, he shook his head as he sank back against the bars of the cold gate. He had recognized the look in Barry's eyes. It was the same look Scott had held when he had determined to sacrifice himself to save the others from the curse.
It was the look of someone going to his death. But in this case, it was a fate far worse than just death.
"No," Scott whispered. "They can't have taken him. They can't . . . !" He had been right ahead of Barry. He should not have allowed this to happen. He should have insisted that Barry go first. But he had not wanted to waste time arguing the matter, as he had known would happen if he suggested it. He had thought they would all make it to the other side.
Elliott laid a hand on Scott's shoulder, tightly squeezing. Somewhere in his mind, Scott was aware of it. But he kept staring through the bars, back at the cemetery.
Sean was badly shaken. He had devised the ploy of leaping over the gate when every other path had been blocked. He had known the risks, but had determined that they had to be taken. And now, because of that, Barry was . . .
"Wait!" Elliott exclaimed. The others looked up. In the near-total darkness beyond the gate, something had moved.
A figure stumbled around the final gatepost, gripping it to stay balanced. His knuckles were white, his breathing pained. He had only barely made it away from the vengeful ghosts, finding himself further back in the cemetery than where he had been before. As quick as possible, he had struggled to get to safety before the spirits could return for him.
"Barry!" Scott cried, his eyes widening in astonishment and sheer joy.
Instantly he and the others gathered around Barry, rejoicing that he was alive and well. Barry regarded them with a tired, but firmly sincere, smile.
A grin spread across Sean's features. "You made it!" he declared. "We're all here!"
Scott gave an awed smile. "We're here," he repeated, pushing back his hat on his head. "Just like it's supposed to be."
Elliott was smiling too, overjoyed that they had all escaped the horrors inside the gates. But then a realization occurred to him. Blinking in sudden confusion, he turned to look back at the cemetery. Now that the spirits were gone, everything was still; even the eerie sensation was no more. Was that just because they were outside the cemetery boundaries? Or had the ghosts really left for tonight?
". . . Wow." The twin with the white shirt had spoken. "That was some mass hallucination. And this time we didn't even have to drink anything to see it!"
Barry shook his head. "It wasn't a hallucination," he said, his voice only thinly veiling the horrors he had seen. Now he could understand at least some of what Sean had been through in the Netherworld. It was not an experience he would wish on anyone.
Scott's eyes were worried. "Are you really okay, Barry?" he wanted to know.
Barry nodded. "Yeah," he said.
"You're sure this wasn't all some crazy mirage?" the twin with the black shirt said.
"If you've gotta have some physical evidence, this bump should prove it," Elliott said, wincing as he reached up to touch the cruel injury. It was most certainly still there.
Scott winced too. "You still need to see a doctor, El," he said. "And we have to get these recalcitrant twerps back to ACME. Let's just call a tow truck for the stolen car on our way there."
Sean nodded. "Come on," he said, jerking the twerp . . . er, twin in the direction he wanted to go. With a sigh the party-loving thief turned to walk that way.
Their path eventually took them past the main gates, which were decorated at the top with sharp points that grew taller near the center and became smaller near the hinges. The way was shut, a chain and lock fastened around the two gates. Beyond them, the graves looked melancholy and lonely but not unusual. For a moment they looked at the stones as they walked by, as if half-expecting something to happen. Nothing did.
As they moved past the front entrance, the chain loosened and slipped free. The gate began to creak open.
It only took a split second for the guys to process what had happened, and for them to decide what to do about it.
They ran to the car without stopping.
Author: Lucky_Ladybug/insaneladybug
Claim: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego? (General Series)
Table: Do-It-Yourself
Prompt: Graveyard
Rating: T/PG-13
Summary: It was a zombie jamboree, took place in the New York Cemetery.... The guys get into some serious disasters of a different sort while chasing Double Trouble.
Warnings: Creepiness?
Notes: Will be cross-posted to ladybug_tales
Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
It Took Place in a New York Cemetery
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! It was mostly inspired by a strange dream I had, but also by the prompt Graveyard at 10 Hurt Comfort. The cemetery is largely based on a real cemetery I know well and love, but because I didn't want to say that it had become the scene for the dark events that happen here, I decided to change it to a nameless, fictional cemetery in New York. As always, these are the fictional Rockapella from the show only. I do not write Real Person fanfiction of any kind. Thanks to Kaze and Crystal Rose of Pollux for plot help!
It really should not have happened.
Rockapella had been in pursuit of Double Trouble for the last forty-five minutes. The terrible twins had stolen a car from a classic car show and sped off through the city. Taking an ACME car, the singing detectives had followed. And now, just when they had finally been closing in, Double Trouble had managed to speed around a corner and elude the ACME agents.
"They're nowhere to be found!" Sean exclaimed in frustration, leaning out of the driver's window to study the street. It was quiet, with only a few streetlamps to light the way. All the houses were in darkness at this late hour.
"But they can't have gone far," Elliott frowned. "The cars at that car show aren't supposed to have much gas, just in case someone does try to run off with one."
"Then let's keep looking," Sean said, pulling back inside and revving the engine.
As they turned the next corner, Scott regarded the scene to their right with unease. "It's that old cemetery," he noted, catching sight of several old and rounded headstones. "Arguably the largest one in the state." The cold iron gate stretched on ahead of them, most likely continuing for the many blocks that spanned the cemetery's length. Scott had not realized that they were this close to it. He was certainly not afraid of cemeteries, but still, it was not the sight he wanted most to see on a late October night.
Sean gave it a cursory glance. "Well, I don't think Double Trouble would take up grave-robbing, so there's no sense in stopping here," he said.
"Maybe you're thinking wrong," Elliott exclaimed as they neared a side entrance. The gates were closed, but could be easily scaled if someone so desired. Parked in front of them was a now-familiar red car.
"You've got to be kidding," Sean moaned. Pulling up behind the stolen automobile, he opened the door and stepped out, approaching with caution. The other vehicle was parked, the key still in the ignition. Double Trouble were not inside.
Sean pushed back his gray fedora, regarding the car in annoyance. "What a place to run out of gas," he said.
By now the other three had gotten out as well, frowning at the car. "Just because the car's here doesn't mean Double Trouble went inside the cemetery," Elliott said. "They probably just ran along the sidewalk and turned the corner at the first place they could."
"Unless they were looking for a shortcut," Barry surmised, walking over to the gates. They were pushed inward, as if they had recently been climbed over, and a small white card was laying on the ground below. Barry bent to pick it up.
"An ad for a local nightclub," he announced. "One of them must have dropped it."
Sean let out a frustrated sigh. "Then it's into the cemetery we go as well," he said then, adopting a cheerier tone. "Who's first?"
No one made a move to climb the gates. Instead they stood staring, as if expecting something to come out through the entrance. It looked cold and uninviting in the dark.
"Okay, fine! I'll go first," Sean said, walking past them to the gates. In one swift move he climbed up to the bottom bar, then leaped over the top half to the concrete on the other side. "Nothing to it," he declared.
The others followed, giving their new surroundings an uneasy glance. Graves stretched in all directions on either side of the road. And this seemed to be one of the older sections; old monuments and statues stretched into the sky, while other, smaller stones were thin and rounded at the tops-as tombstones are traditionally depicted in old pictures and films.
"This place is huge," Elliott frowned. "We shouldn't split up."
"No, probably not," Sean agreed. "Let's just keep to the roads for now. Double Trouble probably made a beeline for the nearest exit!" He started walking, accidentally kicking aside a pinecone that had fallen into his path. Slowly the others began to follow, hurrying to keep up with their group leader.
"Come on," Sean smirked, glancing over his shoulder, "you're not afraid of the cemetery, are you?"
"Of course not," Scott retorted, "but that doesn't mean we like it very much, either!" He turned, starting at the sight of a bird perched on a tall obelisk. After a moment he frowned, shaking his head. The bird was carved of granite.
"The most important thing to remember is not to let it get to you," Sean said. "Cemeteries are for the living, not the dead." He remained focused on the path ahead. Double Trouble probably would have taken this path, not turning to the right or the left. Surely there was a way out from this part.
"You're really sure of that?" Scott said. He did not especially want to talk about this, but he was half-curious to see what Sean would have to say.
"Of course," Sean shrugged. "If I was dead, the last place I would want to visit would be my grave! There wouldn't be anything interesting about that."
"Unless someone was visiting," Scott said.
"Which probably wouldn't be happening at one in the morning," Sean said.
"Can we please stop talking about death?" Elliott groaned. "Especially one of us dying?"
"No one's going to be dying any time soon," Scott said, looking to Elliott.
"I don't know," Elliott answered. "So many things have been happening to us lately. Twice one or more of us could have died. It's not something to talk about lightly." He regarded Sean with some annoyance. Sometimes he wondered whether Sean fully appreciated the seriousness of these situations. But he knew Sean really did; treating the experiences in a light-hearted manner after the fact was just his way.
"I know that," Sean said then. "I was just answering Scott's question. I don't think we'll meet any ghosts in here."
Scott frowned. "But speaking of ghosts, isn't there some weird legend about a grave here?" he said.
"You find those in any cemetery," Elliott said. "Most of it's just stories the local kids make up to scare each other."
"I don't believe it's true," Scott returned. "But I think it had something to do with a grave that had a crazy inscription, 'Victim of the Beast' or something like that." While cemetery lore was certainly not his specialty, he had come across some odd bits of information over the years. That one had stuck out in his mind because it was so strange.
"'Beast'?" Elliott repeated. "So the person was mauled by a dog?"
"Nobody knows," Scott said with a frown. "A few people have tried to research it, but they haven't got very far."
"Maybe the inscription was meant to be cryptic," Sean said. "In a cemetery this big, there's probably a lot of off-the-wall epitaphs."
". . . Has anyone noticed that the streetlamps have gotten dim?" Barry spoke.
They looked up. It was as if a veil had been pulled over the lamps near them on the block corners. The wattage had decreased to the point where only the outlines of the tombstones around them could be seen-not the details and certainly not the inscriptions.
". . . If it was just one of them, I'd say the bulb was burning out," Sean said then. "But there's at least two or three right around here that are like this."
"And not just them," Elliott said, pointing back the way they had come. "Look!"
They turned, following his gaze. Sure enough, the glows from the lights behind them were much more faint than when they had arrived.
"It could be Double Trouble playing a prank," Sean said, feeling a bit uncomfortable.
"What happened to them making a beeline for the nearest exit?" Scott said.
Sean shook his head. "There has to be some explanation for this," he said, gesturing at the lights. "I'm not going to believe that we've got ghosts just because of some dim bulbs."
". . . I hope they won't think you're calling them dim bulbs," Elliott remarked, his tone dry.
Sean waved his hand at Elliott in a dismissive way. "Let's keep going," he said. "Full speed ahead, no detours!"
For a while the plan seemed to work. But after several blocks Scott was growing uneasy again. The lights were getting darker still, and the exit was not in sight. The only thing visible as far as they could see was tombstones. And behind them, the gates through which they had entered were not in sight, either. That was impossible, and yet it was true. Scott's stomach dropped. What did that mean? Were they lost in the cemetery?
A glance at Sean let him know that even their resident jokester was not pleased. There was a tense set to Sean's eyes and jaw.
". . . Sean, something's not right here," Scott spoke at last. "I think we're lost."
Sean frowned at their surroundings. "We know we've been going in a straight line," he said. "It'd be worse to turn in some other direction right now."
"My flashlight isn't working," Scott said, holding it up. As the streetlamps had gotten more dim, Scott had brought out his flashlight in the hopes of using it. But its bulb was dim as well, flickering dangerously to indicate it was giving up the ghost. On second thought, that probably was not the best choice of expression.
"Mine isn't working, either," Elliott said, demonstrating by flipping the power switch on it. It did not turn on at all.
Barry narrowed his eyes. He and Sean brought out theirs for comparison, clicking them on. The bulbs, like Scott's, were flickering and about to die.
"If the streetlamps keep getting dim, we'll be in the dark before long," Barry said. Up ahead, it did not look like there were any lights at all. Apparently they were only near the edges, and not at the heart of the cemetery.
Sean shut his flashlight off again. "This would make a great story to tell the Chief," he said. "We let Double Trouble go free because it started getting dark in the cemetery."
Scott sighed. Sean was right, of course; they could not abandon their mission for a reason like that. And what if it even was Double Trouble pulling a prank? Rockapella would look ridiculous for leaving.
"Okay," Scott said, "let's keep going." But then he frowned. "Sean?"
Sean had vanished!
Scott's eyes widened in disbelief. "Sean?!" he exclaimed. "Where are you?!" He whirled around, his trenchcoat sweeping out around him. Elliott and Barry turned as well, bewildered.
A hand snaked out of the dark, clamping down on Scott's shoulder. The poor blond leaped a mile into the air, yelping in shock.
Elliott crossed his arms, not amused. "Come out from behind that tree, Sean," he scolded.
Their group leader stepped back into the dim light with a shrug. "We need something to lighten the mood," he said. "So we're lost in a cemetery with the lights burning out. No biggie. Maybe there'll be a zombie jamboree."
"Grabbing me like a rising zombie isn't going to help lighten the mood!" Scott retorted.
"Oh, there aren't really any zombies," Sean said. "We're all too tense."
Elliott sighed. Sean was trying to make himself laugh as much as he was trying to get the others to laugh. Maybe they were too tense. And that was not going to help them.
"Come on," he said. "Let's keep walking. Sooner or later we have to hit the exit."
The others concurred, resuming their journey down the lonely path.
Even the moon seemed to be against them. Either that or the veil that was being pulled over the streetlamps was affecting the light from the sky as well. Every now and then the moon came out from behind a cloud, allowing a few thin streams of a white glow to shine down on the boys. But under the circumstances, it seemed more eerie than comforting.
"I feel like we're in an Edgar Allan Poe story," Elliott muttered, pushing his hat back on his head.
"Like The Tell-Tale Heart?" Scott said, glancing up with unease at a tree branch that resembled a clawed hand.
"Or The Raven," Elliott said.
"Nevermore," Sean cracked.
Barry kept silent, turning on his flashlight every once in a while to examine their surroundings. It did not do a great deal of good, but the battery was still working a slight bit-on the road. When he tried to move the beam over any of the tombs, the bulb flickered and threatened to extinguish itself. Then, when he directed the glow back to the road, it became steady again-though still weak.
Sean came to an abrupt halt. frowning at what was ahead of them. The road ended, becoming fresh grass instead. There were still the roads to the sides, but they faded into the unknown. In front of them, gravestones stretched as far as they could see.
"Now, gentlemen, we have a choice to make," he said, his hands going to his hips. "Do we plunge ahead, breaking our vow about tramping over the grass? Or do we turn to the side and quite possibly fade into the darkness?" He gestured from the left-hand path to the right. None of the options looked inviting.
"What do you think Double Trouble chose?" Barry asked.
"The left would be the most likely road for an exit," Sean mused. "Eventually it might go to the front gate."
"While the right path would go deeper into the cemetery," Scott said.
"And so would going over the grass," Elliott said.
Scott frowned at the left path as they turned to face it. "It doesn't look much like it goes to the front gate," he said. "It's completely dark a block or so down. Maybe we should keep going straight, since we can at least see what's ahead of us."
"Hmm. . . ." Sean put a hand to his chin as he pondered. "Let's stay on the left road long enough to try to see what's past the darkness," he said. "If we can't, we'll cross to the grass and keep going left that way, since it doesn't look like it's that dark anywhere on the grass. Is that agreeable with everyone?"
The quartet exchanged looks. All were hesitant, even Sean, but it seemed the best option. Despite not believing that ghosts were at work, they knew that something else could leap out of the darkness at them, such as Double Trouble or even far more dangerous people. Blindly marching into the pitch blackness would be a ridiculous idea.
"Okay," Scott said at last. "Let's try it."
With that they began to walk down the left-hand path. To their left, on the grass, was an old mausoleum-probably for an entire family judging by the size. Beyond it were more gravestones. Monuments covered the ground to the right. On the road, their four shadows stretched out in an eerie fashion courtesy of the still-dimming lamps.
"The air feels colder down here," Scott announced after a moment, pulling his trenchcoat closer around him.
"It is kind of nippy," Sean agreed, glancing at a shadow out of the corner of his eye. "What do you think, El?"
No response. The other three looked at each other in confusion, then to where Elliott should have been standing by Scott. No one was in sight.
"He's gone!" Scott gasped. How could that have happened? He had been right there. All of them had seen his shadow. In fact, even now there was still a fourth shadow on the ground, standing right next to Scott. A cold chill ran up his spine.
"Elliott, where are you?!" he screamed, running away from the eerie presence and moving to the edge of the grass on the left side. The others wasted no time in running after him.
"Maybe he didn't come with us when we moved down this path," Sean suggested, struggling to push aside the growing worry taking hold of his heart. "Let's go back and look!"
Scott shook his head, staring towards the way they had come. They had not advanced that far past the corner. He could see back to where they had started. Elliott was not there, either.
"He must've wandered onto the grass somewhere," Scott said, trying to calm his shaking nerves. Was the phantom shadow still following them? Did it have anything to do with Elliott's mysterious disappearance? And if Elliott was nearby, why hadn't he answered Scott's exclamation? He could not have gotten far away so fast. What if he was hurt?
"Okay, the last thing we want to do now is panic," Sean said, despite the fact that part of him now felt like screaming as well. "Let's spread out and look for Elliott, but always stay in sight of each other! We'll meet back here in ten minutes."
Scott and Barry concurred.
Sean began to double-back to the mausoleum near the corner. Maybe the door was unlocked and Elliott had fallen inside? That was far-fetched; there would not be any reason for the door to be open, and they would have heard a crash if Elliott had ended up in there. Unless he had gone in on purpose, but that was highly unlikely, too. Elliott, though occasionally clumsy, was streetwise and cautious. He would not enter a strange mausoleum for the kicks of it.
Still, there was something going on at the tomb. Sean quieted as he grew nearer. He could hear snatches of voices, though what they were actually saying was inaudible. Maybe it was Double Trouble. He moved to a pine tree right next to the structure. A pinecone crunched under his feet, prompting a wince to pass over his features. If Double Trouble heard him coming, then the jig was up.
But the whispering continued. Sean leaned forward, straining to catch any part of it.
"This is where I live," a female voice said. It was matter-of-fact, and yet somehow melancholy as well.
Sean stiffened. Had he really heard that? It was still so indistinct. Maybe it was a mistake.
He slipped to the side of the mausoleum. Still the inaudible whispering continued. But as he moved to the front and was faced with a half-open door, it stopped. Had his shadow across the doorway prompted whoever was inside to grow silent? This could still be an elaborate prank.
He pushed the door the rest of the way open, no longer worrying about making noise. It creaked on long-rusted hinges as it moved aside, revealing the contents. Six pedestals were inside, three along each wall, each bearing a sarcophagus. At the very back was a seventh. No one had been in here; their footprints would be obvious in the inch-thick dust on the floor.
And yet the voices had clearly been coming from here. Sean frowned, leaning further inside. "Ollie ollie oxen free!" he called. His voice echoed off the walls and floor with no response.
Giving the tomb a suspicious glance, he began to straighten up. At the same moment, a bony hand came down on his shoulder.
He leaped a mile into the air, his braids flying. Then he whirled, looking behind him for the source of the attack. Was that a movement behind the tree? Yes, there was something black-probably a dark trenchcoat.
"Okay, Scott," he said, beginning to relax, "now you've had your revenge on me for the prank I pulled. Why don't you come out now?"
Scott did not budge.
Sean's eyes narrowed. "I didn't expect you to be playing jokes when Elliott's missing," he said, walking over to the tree. "Enough is enough." He reached out, grabbing for the dark cloth. Instead his hand passed through. At the same moment, the mausoleum door began to creak shut.
Slowly he looked from the shadow behind the tree to the closing door. He had not exerted pressure on the door to keep it open when he had been in the doorway. It had held open fine on its own; it should not be creaking shut.
It finished its journey with a bang. The lock clicked into place.
Sean fled.
He was still breathing heavily when he arrived back at the spot where the three of them had separated. In desperation he cast his gaze around the block of grass. Scott and Barry were nowhere in sight. He slapped his forehead in frustration. They had been supposed to stay where they could be seen!
"Scott!" he called. "Barry! Elliott!"
No one answered him. Above him, an elm tree waved its branches near his head.
He was alone.
****
Elliott's eyes narrowed as he wandered around a hill with cobblestones set in the side of it. This was one of the most intricate cemeteries he had ever explored. Or maybe it was the most intricate; tramping through cemeteries was not a big hobby of his. It was really ridiculous that they were all lost in it now; all they had wanted was to catch Double Trouble, and this was what they had gotten for their efforts. Double Trouble were still at large, too. Nothing had been accomplished. Now they were all separated from each other.
It had first happened when they had been going to take the left-hand path. Elliott had started down the road only to find himself walking with three shadows. He had run to the grass on the right, calling for the others, but to no avail. And now he was thoroughly disturbed. Where were they? How had they vanished just like that? And whose shadows had those been? Or did he really want to know?
Elliott was a practical person. His first inclination was to not believe in ghosts. But whether he believed in them or not, something weird was happening. He was not hallucinating; the shadows were real and his friends had vanished.
Grass and leaves crackled somewhere behind him. He stiffened, whirling to look. But the spot was empty. None of the others were there.
He crossed his arms in annoyance. "Okay, Sean, is this another one of your pranks?" he asked the night. There was no place for Sean to hide, unless he had dived behind the large monument to the right.
A low, eerie whistle answered him. Either it was the slight breeze picking up, or Sean was indeed trying to play a prank. He had already made Scott jump nearly out of his shoes upon their first realization that they were lost in the cemetery, by hiding behind that tree and suddenly grabbing Scott's shoulder. He either found it a huge joke that they were stranded in a cemetery, or else he was trying to make the others see it that way. But after having been here as long as they had been, Elliott was not in the mood to make a joke of it.
Annoyed now, the brunet slipped around the tombstone he was standing by. Two could play at this game. If Sean wanted to play tricks, then Elliott would give him a taste of his own medicine. Was that a slight movement next to the other monument? He crept forward, making sure not to step on any leaves or twigs.
Icy fingers reached under his dark curls, touching the back of his neck. Instantly he stiffened. That was not Sean.
"Who dares to play on my grave?" a cruel voice hissed.
Elliott whirled to face his assailant. Still nothing. But now the air around him was cold, nipping at his cheeks and hands.
"I'm not playing on anyone's grave," he retorted. "As soon as I find the others, we're leaving. Then you won't have anything to worry about."
"Foolish boy," the invisible spectre said. "You have already trespassed. The only way to leave is through death!"
Unseen hands gripped at his shoulders, digging through his dress shirt and into his flesh. He gritted his teeth, pain shooting into his body. If this thing could touch him, why couldn't he touch it? Struggling to raise his hands, he clawed at the phantom's limbs. His hands only passed through thin air. And a frozen numbness was beginning to spread through his arms. They dropped limply to his sides.
At the same moment he was thrust to the left, the monument only too happy to make his acquaintance. The last thing he remembered was the splitting agony of the stone connecting with the side of his head.
****
Scott was uneasy.
They had already been here for far too long-over two hours, according to his watch. And now they had all gotten lost from each other. He could not figure out where Sean and Barry had gone; they had been supposed to stay together. He had kept them in sight as long as possible, but then, upon looking up from an eerie monument with a glass window and a shelf holding a broken urn, they had vanished.
Possibly more disturbing was that his comb phone would not work. It was just like it had been in Egypt, with something jamming the signal. There was a chance it was just his phone that was malfunctioning, but he doubted it.
There was something unsettling about the entire place. Everything seemed so dark and desolate. What if there was some kind of film or fog over the entire cemetery? That sounded ridiculous, and yet with their luck, and their misadventure in Egypt, it did not seem as impossible as it once might have. It was certainly no secret that the lights were behaving in an erratic manner. If anything, they had grown still more dim-when he saw one at all.
The tombstones just ahead looked more modern. Was that a good thing? Maybe it meant there was an exit close by. Not that it mattered. As long as he was without the other three, he was not leaving.
As he rounded a corner, he slammed into someone-or something-else. A stunned yelp left his lips as he stumbled back, pushing up his hat as it fell forward over his eyes. The other person cried out as well. It was safe to assume that it was a person, at least. He should not be able to crash into a ghost.
"Whoa! You pack a pretty big wallop!" a familiar voice informed him.
"Sean!" Scott exclaimed in relief, seeing the taller man looking back at him. "Where have you been, man?!"
"I was going to ask you that," Sean replied, crossing his arms. "You and Barry disappeared right when we were supposed to meet back at that other part of the cemetery!" He glanced around as if to make sure they were alone. "Finding Elliott and Barry isn't even our only problem now."
Scott stared at him. "What do you mean?" he frowned.
"We're not the only ones here!" Sean told him. "I saw Double Trouble a while ago. They were wandering around acting lost themselves."
"Double Trouble?" Scott repeated, incredulous. ". . . We're lost in a cemetery with Double Trouble." He could hardly believe that the twins were still here. He had thought sure they would have escaped through the nearest gate and be in the next county by now.
"It looks that way." Sean sighed. "I tried following them, but when they went over that hill into the new part I couldn't keep up. They disappeared somewhere around a section where there's a lot of Chinese and Korean graves."
"Oh, well, that's just great," Scott said. "I wonder if they've stolen something else."
"We'll never know as long as our phones are on the fritz." Sean looked to the left, his braids sweeping out and then falling against the side of his neck. "Have you poked around over there?" he wondered, indicating an older part of the cemetery.
Scott shook his head. "I was going to check out the new part to see if there was an exit," he said. "Then we'd at least know somewhere to go when we find the others."
"There isn't an exit," Sean said. "There's just a chainlink fence, and a bad drop on the other side."
Scott frowned, looking in that direction. Aided by the dim lights of the streetlamps ahead, he could just make out a grave marker that was tall and triangular shaped. One side of it was jagged.
He sighed, looking away. "Okay," he said, "let's look through the older part."
He walked alongside Sean as they began to move in that direction. The last thing he wanted to do was to lose track of the other again. They needed to stay together. And in this cemetery, it was far too easy to become separated.
"Where did you lose Barry?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sean said. "It was around the same place where I lost you. I'd gone over to that mausoleum to look for Elliott, and when I turned back, you were both gone!"
Scott looked to him. "That's how it was for me!" he exclaimed. "I was right in that place where we were supposed to be, and I couldn't see you or Barry!"
Sean stared at him. "Could we have all been there and just not seen or heard each other?" he said.
"How would that even be possible?" Scott said, staring right back.
Sean shook his head. "It shouldn't be, unless we're all being bamboozled by . . . something."
". . . Something like a ghost," Scott said.
"I didn't say that," Sean said.
"But you were thinking it," Scott said.
Sean sighed in defeat. "Alright, something like a ghost," he admitted. "Or ghosts. . . ." He frowned at a nearby angel statue. "That plot doesn't sound so cliché when it's happening to us."
Scott glanced to the side. Barry and Elliott would not have been . . . spirited away, would they? That sounded off-the-wall even considering everything else they had seen, but maybe it wasn't. Or maybe he was just letting his imagination get away from him because of the eerie atmosphere here. He turned back, just in time to nearly be smacked by a gnarled claw. His mouth dropped open in disbelief, but almost instantly realization dawned. It was a tree branch. Shaking his head, he moved to the side.
He was just being ridiculous. He and Sean were both here. There was no reason why the others would not be, especially if Double Trouble were there. Surely the spirits would get angrier at those crooks than they would at Rockapella. Of course, if Double Trouble had not stolen anything from the cemetery and were just aimlessly wandering, too . . . well, it really depended on how much the ghosts disliked visitors in general.
". . . Do you think Barry and Elliott are alright?" Scott said at last.
"Sure," Sean replied. "Why wouldn't they be? This place is so big they must just be wandering here and there and everywhere."
"I guess. . . ." But now Scott was only half-listening. This older section was so mysterious. Several sections, likely family plots, had cast-iron fences all the way around them. Inside, the grass was long and unruly. Apparently, since the spaces were not big enough to accommodate lawn mowers, nothing had been done at all. Maybe the old locks on the gates would not even open anymore.
The trees were very tall and old, stretching high above them and into the dark sky. Even the tallest of the monuments came nowhere near the trees' height. But their size was still impressive, anyway. They must belong to important and wealthy locals. Scott paused to gawk at one whitish-gray slab that had to stand at least fifteen feet, if not higher.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say this place goes on forever," Sean said.
"It feels like it does," Scott sighed. "And is it just me or is it still darker here than it even should be?"
Sean shoved his hands in his pockets. "It isn't just you," he said. "Where's a really good flashlight when you need one?"
"I wonder if even a really good one would work here tonight," Scott muttered.
As they turned the next corner, Scott's eyes widened in surprise. A figure was wandering among the gravestones on the next block. Then it paused somewhere near the center, as if seeing something. Had Scott and Sean been sighted? No, the figure was beginning to bend down next to one of the monuments, a dark hat falling forward on the person's head.
"Hey," Scott said in realization, "isn't that Barry?"
Sean perked up. "I think so," he said. He hastened forward, crossing the road to the next block. Scott hurried after him, not bothering to worry wondering if dashing over the graves was disrespectful to the dead.
His heart leaped into his throat as the full scene came into view. The figure was indeed Barry, and he was bending over a lifeless form sprawled on the ground. Having heard the others running through the grass, he had briefly glanced up but then had returned his attention to the body.
"Elliott!" Scott gasped. Flying the rest of the distance, he crashed to his knees by their fallen friend. Elliott was slumped in a mostly prone position, facing away from them. He did not stir as Scott laid a frantic hand on his shoulder, and from Barry's expression, Elliott had not moved when Barry had arrived, either.
Scott gripped tighter at the slackened shoulder. "El . . . what happened to you?" he spoke, his voice clearly reflecting his disbelief and horror.
Sean fell to his knees as well, alarmed at the sight. "Is he . . . ?" He could not bring himself to finish the sentence.
Barry shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted, his tone and expression grim. "I tried to feel for a pulse, but I couldn't find it. His skin's like ice."
"Ice . . . ?" Scott swallowed a cottonball in his throat as he began to turn Elliott to face him. The brunet fell into position, his head turning to the left. A gasp left Scott's lips. Elliott's flesh was almost whitish-blue in color. His eyes were closed, with no indication that they would open any time soon. His hands shaking, Scott grabbed Elliott's wrist to search for a pulse. The cold chill that swept through him nearly made him drop Elliott's hand back to the grass.
"What's wrong with him?!" Scott cried, clutching the frigid hand. "It's like he's . . . he's frozen alive!" If he was alive. . . . If Scott was honest with himself, Elliott could not look more dead.
Sean reached out, touching the sculpture next to them. An involuntary shiver went down his spine at the unnatural chill.
"I've got the feeling that whoever's buried here wasn't a nice person," he exclaimed, pulling his hand back.
"Then maybe getting Elliott away from here would help?!" Scott suggested, panic-stricken as he stared down at the lifeless form. Elliott had been fine the last time Scott had seen him. He couldn't be beyond help now. That was unthinkable!
"Maybe," Sean said, frankly disturbed and confused by the situation.
Without warning Elliott stirred, a moan slipping from his lips as he forced his eyes open. He blinked, trying to focus as Scott stared down at him.
"El!" Scott exclaimed, relief and joy washing over him. "Are you okay?!"
Elliott blinked again, then winced, a hand slowly moving to his head. "Ow," he hissed. "Something hit me . . . or . . . no, I hit something. . . ." He grimaced, his fingers locating the cruel bump. "Something threw me into something. . . ."
"Like the person who's buried here?" Sean frowned.
". . . It was some ghost, so probably so." Elliott frowned too, bewildered. "I remember my arms went numb right before it pitched me into the thing . . ." Shakily he sat up, turning to stare at the monument. He had hit his head on that? No wonder he was dizzy. Well, dizzy was a mild word for what he was feeling.
Scott reached to touch Elliott's hand. "Your skin still feels really cold," he declared with a shiver. But thankfully, it was a bit warmer now that he was awake. Some color had started to return to his face.
Elliott gave him an odd look. "Cold?" he repeated.
"Yeah . . . like you were bewitched or something," Scott said.
"Maybe I was," Elliott said, massaging the bump with care.
"But we hadn't even done anything to help you yet," Scott objected. "We were going to take you away from this tombstone thing, and then you woke up."
Elliott gave a helpless shrug. "I can't explain it," he said.
"Let's not try," Sean said. "Let's just get away from this grave. The stone feels ice cold, just like you did."
Elliott gave it a disturbed look. "The grass is cold too," he frowned. "I thought it was just because it's late autumn, but maybe it's not." He reached out, grabbing at the base of the monument as he tried to pull himself upright. His eyes widened at the stabbing cold that shot into his hand.
Scott took hold of Elliott's other arm. "Don't touch it," he said, worried as to what would happen if Elliott continued to make contact with the tombstone. "We'll help you up, El."
Elliott nodded, jerking his hand back from the stone as he regarded it in wariness. Then he looked away, clutching at Scott's arm as he began to rise. Sean and Barry slowly stood as well, waiting in case their assistance would be needed. Elliott managed to balance himself, swaying a bit as everything floated in and out of his line of vision. The cemetery was rocking back and forth. He shut his eyes, still gripping at Scott.
Worried, Scott put his arm around his friend's shoulders. "El?" He watched as Elliott clamped a hand over his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. . . ." Elliott looked up. "I think I'll be a lot better when we get away from here. That girl ghost, whoever she was, pretty much wanted to kill me."
"And maybe she would have, if we hadn't shown up," Sean said under his breath. Louder he said, "Can you walk?"
"I think so," Elliott replied. "I'll just have to take it slow." He took a shaking step forward, then another. The aching pain from the bump remained, but once he had passed the borders of the strange woman's grave, it was as if a vise was released from his heart. He stopped, gasping in surprise at the change. The others looked to him with questions in their eyes.
"I feel a lot better," he said, looking to them. "She had some kind of hold over me."
"That's just wrong," Scott said with a shudder. "Come on, let's get you out of here, man. You need to see a doctor about that bump."
Elliott winced. "It's okay," he said. "Really. We still have a mission to complete."
Sean frowned. "We'll call a tow truck for the stolen car," he said. "Double Trouble will just have to get away this time. After getting bonked by that thing . . ." he nodded toward the stone, ". . . there's no way any of us will believe you're okay."
Elliott sighed as he began to move forward again, with Scott still offering support. "I don't want to be responsible for messing up this assignment," he objected.
"I kind of think we were doomed from the moment we stepped in here," Scott said. "You're not responsible, El."
"Speaking of being doomed . . ." Sean cast a worried look around the area. "Are we even going to be able to get out of here? We never even found an exit."
At that moment identical screams of terror reached their ears. As the quartet stared in amazement, Double Trouble ran into view, crashing into Sean and Barry. Immediately they seized the party animals, moving to wrench their wrists behind their backs. To their surprise, Double Trouble offered no resistance.
"We've gotta get out of here," exclaimed the one with the black shirt.
"This ain't no place for a party," added the one with the white shirt.
"At least behind bars we can do the jailhouse rock," said the one with the black shirt.
"Do we dare ask what you saw?" Sean said, frowning at them as he snapped a pair of handcuffs around his prisoner's wrists. Barry was doing likewise with his captive.
The twins looked at each other, then back at the ACME agents. "Ghosts!" they said in unison.
"How about an exit?" Sean said.
"There was some field off at the other side," said the one with the white shirt, "but we couldn't pass!"
"Why not?" Scott spoke up.
"We couldn't find it!" said the one with the black shirt. "The ghosts made this black fog swirl all around us and tried to pull us into the ground! So we just turned and ran for it!"
"But you know the exit's in that direction?" Scott said, a bit of hope coming into his eyes.
"Maybe," said the one in the black shirt, "if you can get over there."
"You'd better keep talking," Sean told Double Trouble. "You're prisoners of ACME Crimenet now, and as long as we're here, you'll be here."
"Sure, we'll tell you," said the one in the white shirt. "Better yet, we'll show you. But we're not going back to the spot where the ghosts tried to get us pushing up daisies."
"We don't really want to go there ourselves," Scott said.
Sean and Barry kept Double Trouble ahead of them while still keeping hold of their handcuffed wrists. Scott and Elliott followed alongside their friends, not wanting to take any chances on falling behind and getting lost again. And the path Double Trouble were taking was only making them more nervous. There was no light now, save the vague and dim beams from the moon and stars that passed through the thick clusters of trees. They had to squint to see what was ahead of them at all; there was always the danger of tripping over a headstone in the dark. At one point Sean nearly ran headlong into one-but he and his prisoner stopped in time and Sean gave the monument a displeased glare.
"It's over there," the one with the black shirt said at last, looking to a location just ahead of them.
Rockapella stared into the distance. Yes, something was definitely there, beyond the last of the graves-the high main gate to the left that ran along three of the cemetery's sides. It did not cover the side just to the right, where the field could be seen. Was it possible that they would really be able to escape? Somehow that seemed too easy, after both their own and Double Trouble's experiences. There must be a catch. Either it was an illusion or else they would not be able to escape if it was real.
"How far away is the place you were having trouble with?" Scott asked.
"A long way back there," answered the one in the white shirt, "but who's to say it'll be any different here? These ghosts love to party."
"Unfortunately," Sean sighed. "Okay, let's try it. Proceed with caution!"
Something was watching them as they moved forward. Maybe it was the ghosts. Maybe they had familiars hiding around tombstones or in trees. Or maybe even the tombstones and the trees were observing. Elliott shot a glance towards a weeping willow to the right. Several of its long, mournful branches were swaying in an nonexistent breeze. The rest of the tree, and everything around it, was still.
Until something closed around Sean's ankle. He froze, his eyes widening as he stared downward. Nothing was there. But it was not his imagination; a hand had definitely closed around his leg. Gritting his teeth, he tried to take a step forward anyway. The invisible hand jerked back, pulling his foot with it. With a yelp he fell to the grass. The twin he had been restraining leaped out of the way.
"Sean!" Scott exclaimed in disbelief, staring at their group leader.
"What happened?" Barry frowned, looking over as well.
Sean struggled to his knees. "Something's got hold of me!" he gasped. "It's still here; I can feel it!" In desperation he reached down to his ankle, but his hand only passed through air before coming to rest on his own leg. He stiffened.
"It's starting!" yelped the twin in the black shirt. "Handcuffs or no handcuffs, we're out of here!"
Elliott was at his side in an instant, his eyes narrowed in warning. "You're not going anywhere," he said, taking hold of the criminal's bound wrists.
Scott ran to Sean while Barry looked on in concern, still holding onto the other crooked twin. "Sean, can you get up?!" Scott demanded.
Sean shook his head. "I don't know," he said, grabbing at the tombstone next to him as he tried to rise. A frigid arrow slammed into his palm. He gasped, staring down at his hand. It was frozen solid.
"Sean!" Scott grabbed at his shoulder, desperation tinging his voice. "Sean, snap out of it!"
Sean could only hear Scott from a distance. The cold was increasing, spreading up his arm and to his shoulder. He could not free himself.
"Join me," a voice whispered. "Come to a world where the warmth and the light never dare enter."
His eyes widened. No, he would not go with her. He had already traveled to the Netherworld once, completely against his will. He would never go again. She was pulling, reaching into his body as her taloned fingers brushed his spirit. And he was fighting her, even as the ice continued to spread. . . .
Warm hands grabbed his shoulders. "SEAN!"
He started into the present as he was given a violent a shake. Scott, Elliott, and Barry had all gathered around him in worry. Scott was grasping Sean's shoulders, panic in his eyes.
"Sean, you're okay! You're fine!" Scott said. "You have to keep away from the gravestone!"
Slowly he shook his head. "I can't . . ." he choked out. "My hand . . . frozen. . . ."
"Your hand's just fine, too!" Elliott said. To prove it, he grabbed onto Sean's left hand. But his eyes widened in shock. He could not lift it away from the monument.
"Maybe you have to pull away yourself," Barry said, looking back to Sean.
Sean turned, studying the stone and his hand. Of course, that was it. The cold was real, but his hand was not frozen. The ghost was trying to confuse him and get him to fall prey to her tricks. Then she would try to claim him hers.
He tore his hand free, ignoring what sounded like ripping flesh. His hand was fine, he was fine. He had to keep repeating that to himself. He was fine. . . .
His skin was in ribbons. No . . . it was part of the illusion. His hand was whole. He stared at the bleeding mass, his fingers curling. His hand was whole. He brought his fingers down, making a fist. His fingertips touched firm, healthy flesh. Yes. The illusion faded.
He dropped his hand to his side. "Let's go," he said, his voice filled with determination. "What happened to the terrible twins?"
Identical yelps of horror answered his question. Double Trouble were running circles around the area, despite their restrained hands. Black mists were threatening to encircle them. Under different circumstances, it might have been amusing.
Elliott watched, alarmed at the sight. "Well, we can't let even them end up ghoul food," he said, starting to walk forward. "Hey!" he called. "The more you run around, the more they'll come after you! You have to stay calm!"
"Easy for you to say!" one of them retorted.
"I mean it!" Elliott said, walking right into the territory of the mist. It swirled around his ankles but fell away. He reached out, grabbing the party boys by their upper arms. "They don't have any power over you if you're not scared of them."
"Scared?!" the one in the black shirt scoffed. "We're not scared. We just don't like the way they party."
"Then I guess we're unanimous," Sean said, coming forward and taking hold of him. "We're going through that field and getting out of here, whether they like it or not."
Barry gave a firm nod as he and Scott approached. As Barry reclaimed the one in the white shirt, the six of them began to push forward once more.
Still the spirits were watching. They were not willing to relinquish their unwelcome visitors, nor were they ready to accept that their hold over the mortals was shattering. Hatred flamed in their twisted souls.
A gasp left Scott's lips as they made their way to the edge of the open field. The cruel ones of the graveyard's inhabitants were making themselves manifest, their wretched forms appearing, one by one, in front of the hoped-for escape. Within a matter of seconds there were countless rows filled with nothing except the transparent phantoms-their eyes sunken, yet burning with bloodlust, their mouths open as they hissed in rage, their hands clawed as they lashed out to rip through the hapless group. The air was filled with a chill more sharp and more piercing than any winter's night.
Every one of the men wanted to turn and run in sheer horror. But they would still be stranded if they did. The spirits would never let them leave.
"We have to go forward!" Sean said, raising his voice to be heard over the howls and wails of the dead.
"Right through them?!" one of the twins exclaimed in disbelief.
"That's the only way," Sean said as he unlocked the handcuffs. He turned, exchanging a knowing look with Elliott. The brunet gave a barely perceptive nod.
Scott swallowed hard, his stomach turning at the thought.
Elliott looked to Scott. His eyes were filled with the same dread and loathing. But this had to be done. Sean was right-every other exit had failed, and would continue to fail, as long as they tried to run. But now he only wanted the ghosts to think that they were going to plow through. What they were actually going to do was to swerve at the last possible second and try to scale the gate to the left. There was a chance that they would not all make it, with the high and sharp spikes protruding from the top and the spirits giving chase. Someone could be hurt-or worse. But they were going to try anyway.
"Close your eyes," Barry said. "Don't look at them. Don't pay any attention to them. Just focus on us getting out." He unlocked the other twin's handcuffs.
At last Scott nodded. "Let's do it," he said.
"Carmen should give us a raise for this!" Double Trouble moaned in unison.
Shutting their eyes tightly, they barreled towards the teeming mist. The cold hit them from all sides. It was impossible to breathe. This had been a mistake. They were all going to die. They would join the lost souls in the cemetery. Not all of the spirits were evil, of course-but the ones that were attacking them most certainly were.
And then, suddenly they broke free.
They were running to the left, desperate to reach the gate. Double Trouble flew out ahead, arriving first and leaping at the cold iron. Their shoes slipped, but still they tried. Then they were grasping the spokes, vaulting over to the other side. A dark vest caught over the sharp point, beginning to tear. In panic the twin yanked it free, ignoring the loud ripping.
Sean leaped over the top before they could try to get away. In a flash he had the handcuffs snapped back on the one with the black shirt. Elliott, who sprang over after him, took care of the other pair of handcuffs. For the moment Double Trouble did not even complain. They were still trying to process that they were out of the cemetery at last.
The spirits, furious at being tricked, were gathering at the gate while still blocking access to the field. Elliott watched, his heart doing a somersault as Scott flung himself at the gate. Was he going to make it? The ghosts were grabbing for him, tearing at his coat and hat and even his hair. Scott yelped, kicking them out of reflex even though it did no good. He swayed, nearly falling off the gate.
"Scott!" Elliott exclaimed, reaching out his hand. Sean ran over to assist as well, his thoughts racing. Had he led them wrong? What if one or more of them did not make it out? What if Scott and Barry both fell to the spirits? No, he could not think that. They would make it!
Scott scrambled to the top of the gate, struggling to balance himself. "Look out below!" he cried as he jumped. Entirely by accident he knocked Sean to the ground, landing on top of him. Elliott stared at the spectacle.
For a moment Sean lay dazed, the wind knocked out of him by the sudden fall. But then he shook the stars from his vision. Scott was pulling himself into a kneeling position, his curls falling into his face. Sean picked up Scott's hat as he drew himself upright.
"Are you okay?" he asked, handing the younger man the black fedora.
Scott nodded, sloppily sticking it on his head. "What about you?" he returned.
"Oh, I'm just fine," Sean smirked. "It sure beats being pulled into the ground by ghosts."
But then his attention was diverted again. Barry was trying to scale the gate now. He had come last on purpose, making sure that the others had the chance to escape. And the ghosts were livid. They were going to have at least one to keep with them for all eternity. The dark mists swirled around Barry, even as he struggled to make the climb. In spite of his best efforts, his grip was loosening. The ghosts were causing the gate to slip out of his grasp.
Scott leaped up, running over to the gate. Elliott and Sean were dashing over as well, alarm and horror in their eyes. Sean reached out, grabbing for Barry's wrist. The others followed suit, but all of them caught only frosty air.
"The rest of us made it over!" Scott exclaimed. "Barry, we won't let you be left behind!"
For a moment Barry looked at him, with something in his eyes that Scott did not want to see. But then the fog thickened. He fell backwards into the mists.
"NO!" The scream came from all around him, but Scott knew it was his own voice. In an instant he was pressed against the bars, desperate as he reached through for their other friend. Barry could not be lost to them! He had to still be there, fighting his way through the mists! He would not be defeated so easily!
Sean and Elliott were reaching too, straining as far as their hands could stretch. But they only touched the cold fog as it began to disperse. Beyond it, nothing remained. They slumped back, unwilling to believe the truth.
Scott stared, his face chalk white. Trembling, he shook his head as he sank back against the bars of the cold gate. He had recognized the look in Barry's eyes. It was the same look Scott had held when he had determined to sacrifice himself to save the others from the curse.
It was the look of someone going to his death. But in this case, it was a fate far worse than just death.
"No," Scott whispered. "They can't have taken him. They can't . . . !" He had been right ahead of Barry. He should not have allowed this to happen. He should have insisted that Barry go first. But he had not wanted to waste time arguing the matter, as he had known would happen if he suggested it. He had thought they would all make it to the other side.
Elliott laid a hand on Scott's shoulder, tightly squeezing. Somewhere in his mind, Scott was aware of it. But he kept staring through the bars, back at the cemetery.
Sean was badly shaken. He had devised the ploy of leaping over the gate when every other path had been blocked. He had known the risks, but had determined that they had to be taken. And now, because of that, Barry was . . .
"Wait!" Elliott exclaimed. The others looked up. In the near-total darkness beyond the gate, something had moved.
A figure stumbled around the final gatepost, gripping it to stay balanced. His knuckles were white, his breathing pained. He had only barely made it away from the vengeful ghosts, finding himself further back in the cemetery than where he had been before. As quick as possible, he had struggled to get to safety before the spirits could return for him.
"Barry!" Scott cried, his eyes widening in astonishment and sheer joy.
Instantly he and the others gathered around Barry, rejoicing that he was alive and well. Barry regarded them with a tired, but firmly sincere, smile.
A grin spread across Sean's features. "You made it!" he declared. "We're all here!"
Scott gave an awed smile. "We're here," he repeated, pushing back his hat on his head. "Just like it's supposed to be."
Elliott was smiling too, overjoyed that they had all escaped the horrors inside the gates. But then a realization occurred to him. Blinking in sudden confusion, he turned to look back at the cemetery. Now that the spirits were gone, everything was still; even the eerie sensation was no more. Was that just because they were outside the cemetery boundaries? Or had the ghosts really left for tonight?
". . . Wow." The twin with the white shirt had spoken. "That was some mass hallucination. And this time we didn't even have to drink anything to see it!"
Barry shook his head. "It wasn't a hallucination," he said, his voice only thinly veiling the horrors he had seen. Now he could understand at least some of what Sean had been through in the Netherworld. It was not an experience he would wish on anyone.
Scott's eyes were worried. "Are you really okay, Barry?" he wanted to know.
Barry nodded. "Yeah," he said.
"You're sure this wasn't all some crazy mirage?" the twin with the black shirt said.
"If you've gotta have some physical evidence, this bump should prove it," Elliott said, wincing as he reached up to touch the cruel injury. It was most certainly still there.
Scott winced too. "You still need to see a doctor, El," he said. "And we have to get these recalcitrant twerps back to ACME. Let's just call a tow truck for the stolen car on our way there."
Sean nodded. "Come on," he said, jerking the twerp . . . er, twin in the direction he wanted to go. With a sigh the party-loving thief turned to walk that way.
Their path eventually took them past the main gates, which were decorated at the top with sharp points that grew taller near the center and became smaller near the hinges. The way was shut, a chain and lock fastened around the two gates. Beyond them, the graves looked melancholy and lonely but not unusual. For a moment they looked at the stones as they walked by, as if half-expecting something to happen. Nothing did.
As they moved past the front entrance, the chain loosened and slipped free. The gate began to creak open.
It only took a split second for the guys to process what had happened, and for them to decide what to do about it.
They ran to the car without stopping.