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“Hell yes,” Phoe snapped back. “Apache, you are team two and have the crematorium. Chance, you’re team three and have floor one, Wing A, which was the maternity ward. Calamity, you have team four and the Children’s Building. Team five is Gunner and the Mess Hall. Tiny, you have team six and Wing D, floor five. Bear, you have team seven and have the tunnels.”
“No dolls!” Chatter screeched.
“No dolls,” Phoe confirmed, but there was a look in her eyes Drake didn’t like. “Team eight is Big Al—floor three, Wing C. Silvie, Clio, Rooster, Axel, Dave, alongside Lisa and Jason, will monitor the screens.”
“Yes!” Silvie hissed, pumping the air. Rooster and Axel also looked over the moon. Clio was rather calm, but Drake guessed that was because of everything that had happened lately. Even so, Drake was relieved to see Clio there and looking healthier than the last time he’d seen her.
“Remember, guards will search you for weapons. Collect your equipment and go,” Phoe finished.
Out of the darkness, camera crews appeared. Drake reckoned there were at least two operators for each team. This seriously had to be the worst Halloween ever!
Team One.
Command Post
“Look, they’re going in,” Dave said, pointing to the screen. Silvie leaned forward and grinned.
“Note how Marsha, Janey, Lynda and Rosie are in front? The guys are going to get all macho at the entrance and push them behind them. But the girls are the braver ones,” Silvie said.
“Are they usually wimps?” Jason asked, bemused.
“No, but Phoe tends to find the things that frighten the hell out of them and uses it against them on Halloween. She’s evil like that. This, however, nobody could have imagined. And some of those guys are really superstitious. Apache will have to be carried into his one,” she replied with a giggle.
“That bad?” Dave asked.
“Oh yeah. You watch, those big alpha males; half will be screaming by the end of tonight, and the rest will follow suit tomorrow,” Axel boomed.
He, Silvie, Clio and Rooster all laughed and high-fived each other as Jason, Lisa, and Dave looked bemused.
Drake
How the fuck did he get the morgue? Rage owned their own crematorium; why couldn’t he have got that? It would have been more comfortable. While Drake did not believe in ghosts, he wasn’t stupid enough not to believe there wasn’t something beyond his understanding. His senses were all alert, and he was prepared to defend his team at all costs.
“Ready?” he asked.
Several no’s came back at him, but the women pushed forward. Damn them, they’d no fear!
“Hey, behind me, I enter first,” Drake said, and Marsha snorted at him. Before Drake could stop her, she shoved open the doors to the morgue and stepped inside.
“Oh my God!” her voice returned disgusted. Drake almost tripped himself trying to get through the door after her.
“What?” he exclaimed, alarm in his tone.
“Would you look at the state of this place?” Marsha demanded as a cameraman followed them in.
Drake sent Marsha a disbelieving look as the cameraman chuckled.
“You’re complaining about the dirt?” Drake asked incredulously.
“Well, yeah, it’s filthy!” Marsha retorted.
Drake raised his eyes to heaven and murmured, “Why me? Please, someone tell me, why me?”
The cameraman laughed, and Drake knew that moment would find its way to the screen.
“Is anyone here?” Lynda demanded, holding out the EVP recorder.
“Can you tell us your name?” Rosie asked.
