Amber asks gently. “So, Thomas, what’s the worst thing you’ve heard?”

  “That’s a great question. Honestly, I have a lot of answers to that question. I’ve heard hissing in the tunnels. There’s also been something moving tools around in the workshop. I remember one of my colleagues, a mechanic kept having to pce the screwdrivers back on the wall. It’s been going on for a long, long time, let me tell you.”

  “What about the Burned Man – what’s his story?” Harley interjects.

  “It was the 50s, going onto the 60s when it happened. Back in the day, our head mechanics had to get the coasters going from the engine room. A few sparks went up – it turned into a raging inferno. The poor chap tried to make his way through the smoke; he didn’t make it out. The fire got to him. A lot of mediums that pay us a visit give the chap that name, the Burned Man, the Burned One. Of course, with a pce like this there’s more than one incident. I’ve heard from the mechanics that the chap had a personal project that he wanted to carry out.”

  “Any idea what it was?” John asks.

  “No, it was lost in the fmes. He had a name, Neil Kennedy.”

  “What were the other stories? I’ve heard a bit about the kids from the Cyber Zone.”

  “Ah, yes. When I was running through the footage one night, I saw them in the tunnel to the Camity coaster. I don’t know if they were a brother-and-sister duo, but we have a name for them. The Nightwatchers.”

  “What do these ‘watchers’ do exactly?” Vukosava is going into investigative mode.

  “They py games with the guests, not the kind that they enjoy. They like pying tag, you feel a chill. A sudden shock to the system some have told me.” Thomas rubs his chin. “I remember checking the bathrooms – people were saying that there were kids in there, they did drawings on the gss. It was ice cold in there.”

  “What did they draw?”

  “Names. Images of how people died.”

  The group nod slowly together, it’s a hard thing.

  Thomas pauses for a moment. “My point is there’s a lot of stories about things going on at the park. It feels endless sometimes.”

  “What about the tunnel – that runs beneath the park?”

  Thomas leans forward on the bench. “I can answer that very easily. I’ve seen things move on their own, the stuffed animals are special. In a bad way. Now, I’ve been a Security Manager for many years and there’s pces in this park that I wouldn’t go into at night. I think you guys would understand this feeling well, you don’t feel safe, you feel sick.”

  “Thanks for telling us, we’ll have sure to stay safe.”

  “I’ll let you get to it. If you need anything, you got my number. Have a good night.” Thomas rounds the corner down to the main administrative building that overlooks the entrance.

  John makes his way down to the tall bck fence that surrounds the Camity coaster. He pulls at the chain and padlock, it rattles – startling them for half a second.

  “You’d think we wouldn’t even get a shake.”

  “Some things never change, shitting our pants – that goes along with our occupation.” Harley walks up the ramp to the docking zone. The carts were not in operation; they were nestling alongside the maintenance shed. “Speaking of which, is that the shed?”

  “This room is where they work on the broken coasters. Make sure you get a good look at it.” John pushes open the door which has three signs on it – maintenance shop, maintenance only and no smoking. Vukosava shrugs, pretty cut of the mill. On the inside are a few of the carts, it’s clear that it’s a gruelling job. It’s something her father does, Vukosava reflects, working on old technical equipment let alone something that’s still from the st century.

  There’s a first aid kit, a fire extinguisher and rge work benches and a wall full of tools. Screwdrivers, drills, paint brushes, duct tape.

  “As the stories go, the hissing isn’t from up here, it’s down there. So, there’s got to be away we can get down there.”

  “Woah, woah! You got to be kidding!” Nathen is by the carts.

  “Yep.” James says. “That’s a dder. I dare you to sit on number three.”

  “I’m not breaking my ankles for that.”

  “That wouldn’t be a good thing.” Amber agrees pointing at one of the carts. “It looks endless.”

  Sure enough, there’s several tunnel beneath the coaster that go down into the abyss.

  “Okay, I don’t feel like losing my foot.” Vukosava says lightly. “Is there a safer way down?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it covered. Follow me.” John leads them around to the other wall, full of old nameptes and posters. There’s a small dder that goes beneath. It’s completely dark on one end, there’s bolts and nuts all over the floor. Big boxes.

  “Ah!” John starts spitting and spluttering. “Stupid webs.”

  “It’s a rite of passage to get a mouthful. You can’t call yourself an investigator without it.”

  “I wish I got the memo sooner. Anyways, Mr. and Mr. Cameramen, can I have a REM-Pod please?”

  *The REM-Pod is capable of producing its very own electromagnetic field (EMF). The existence of materials and objects that conduct electricity has the potential to set the device off.

  James obliges handing it over, as Nathen gets one of his fshlights.

  “In this very room, they picked up hissing and they believe something dark lingers down here.”

  “Could it be the Burned Man?” Harley asks. “The Nightwatchers?”

  “We’ll be figuring it out, or at the very least getting some answers. At least with the head mechanic we do have some trigger objects here.” John gestures to another workbench.

  “Oh great, so they can stick possibly stick some screwdrivers into our necks or give us concussions with hammers. That sounds like a great time.” Harley snorts loudly. “Either that or a wrench will give me a bck eye.”

  Nathen scoffs. “You have an active imagination.”

  “Because of course I do.” Harley blows hair out of her face.

  John turns on the REM-pod while Vukosava puts the fshlight down. They pce both on one of the spare carts, they’re down up with the undercoat, but there’s no theatrics thrown on.

  For the Camity coaster, there’s raging volcanos and meteors raining down.

  Beep! The REM-pods gone off.

  “Well, that’s a good sign for the night. We’re not going to need to dig around much.” John crosses his arms. “Can you let us know if you’re done here with us right now? Just go near the red light, it won’t do you any harm. It’ll just let us know that you’re here.”

  There’s no response.

  “It started off quick; I guess it’s given us an answer.” Vukosava says. “It’s let us know it’s here, but it doesn’t want to communicate. That means only one thing.”

  John nods. “We’ll have to change our flow a little bit. This is my new piece of ghost equipment, it is the DR60. It’s a voice recorder and a special fact for you guys at home, this particur model has been discontinued.”

  “I believe the expnation for that is people were reporting that it was malfunctioning and they were hearing random voices.” Vukosava points to the small box, with the screen and microphone. “However, in the case of ghost hunters and paranormal investigators they believe that it connects to the other side. Speaking of which, how much do you spend on it?”

  “I got it from eBay. The miracles of buying stuff online for ludicrous prices.”

  “The method of getting answers with the DR60 is pretty straightforward, you ask a question to give it about ten seconds, then you ask again. Then we’ll repy it and we’ll see what answers we get.” Vukosava gives a quick expnation for the audience.

  Thump!

  “That was footsteps for sure.” Amber looks up.

  “I guess there’s no better time to start bsting away.” John rubs his hands together.

  He primes the DR60.

  Vukosava starts off, everyone will get one question each. “Is there any spirit down here in the maintenance room of the roller coaster?”

  Ten seconds' pass.

  “If you are here with us, can you tell us something about yourself?” Amber asks.

  “Are you familiar with other paranormal investigators? Paranormal celebrities?” Harley follows suit.

  “If you want us to leave, give us a sign.” John throws in on the end.

  As they py the recording back, the group waits in anticipation.

  Vukosava’s voice buzzes through. Is there any spirit down here in the maintenance room of the roller coaster?

  Why do you want to know? The voice is deep and breathy through the mic.

  If you are here with us, can you tell us something about yourself?

  Nothing.

  That’s sometimes the case with the recordings done on the DR60, you get a mixed array of answers. Vukosava knows of the more recent versions of the DR.

  Are you familiar with other paranormal investigators? Paranormal celebrities?

  Nothing again.

  If you want us to leave, give us a sign.

  Go upstairs. The voice could belong to the Burned Man, the Soldier, or something else entirely. That’s the thing about entities; they have a lot of yers to them. At times, YouTubers can have the arrogance to assume that they can figure out cases that have been going around for decades. There’s a reason private investigators and the extension of the police force do not take kindly to the interference of the supernatural investigators.

  A pause follows, before three more words go through. You will be surrounded.

  “Well, that’s ominous.” Harley points out. “We’re always very lucky with this sort of thing.”

  “Because of course we are.” Vukosava slowly makes her way out of the basement, heading back up to the maintenance shed. She can feeling a tingling sensation run down her spine, perspiration gather around her forehead. There’s something dangerous and it’s been slowly drawing closer and closer with each passing minute. There’s just one line of questioning to follow, is it from the theme park, or is it outside the theme park?

  She looks towards the wilderness, the forest that encircles them.

  It’s not a question if something is in it – it’s when it’s going to become a problem.

  “Hey, are you okay?” John asks her.

  “I’ve just got complete body chills, has anyone else got one?” Vukosava makes sure to chuckle at the end, trying to py off her fear as a joke.

  John stands at the door to the maintenance shed. “If you want to come with us, we’ll be in the tunnel.”

  “We’ll need to be careful, let’s try not to provoke anything.” Vukosava is taking the lead, dropping down onto the tracks as they walk towards the tunnel. At the entrance to the tunnel is a danger sign, it’s completely dark and their fshlights struggle to pierce through it. It’s a long, winding thing with white support beams that make it look like a mineshaft. As they continue along in a tight unit, a barely audible ugh carries down to them.

  It’s the child spirits that Vukosava dislikes the most.

  “Always the freaking kids that get me.” John chuckles. “Why is there always a kid of some kind at haunted locations? Why does it have to be like this?”

  James mutters. “Hey, man, you have a talent for this sort of thing.”

  “We’ll get to the middle and set up some more ghost equipment.”

  Harley starts putting on a raspy, crackly voice. It’s like an old crone snuck up on them. “Yes! Yes!”

  Amber jumps. “Gosh, really, Harley, why are you doing that?”

  “What – can’t a girl have a bit of excitement about something?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Vukosava shakes her head.

  “A lot of things.”

  “It’s all fun and games, that’s going to change.” John predicts.

  On cue, a loud thud goes off behind them. The group swings around, scanning through the darkness.