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molasses?” Gopher asked, stepping up next to us.
    “The air,” I said. “It’s thick with spooks.”
    “Should make for some great footage, then,” Gopher said happily. Leave it to Gopher to always think about the ratings. Our show, Ghoul Getters , hadn’t even aired its first episode yet, but Gopher wasn’t about to pull back on the throttle. He wanted footage of majorly creepy stuff. Period.
    When John, Meg, and Kim joined us, I pointed to the stairs. “Better get on with it,” I said.
    We climbed the steep rock staircase for maybe ten minutes and had gone only about halfway to the top when I heard a call coming from somewhere above us. Grabbing Heath’s shoulder in front of me to stop him, I asked, “Did you hear that?”
    “What?”
    Something faint reached my ears again and I turned my head in the direction, which was up and over to my left. “That.”
    Heath cocked his head. “All I can hear is Gilley.”
    I looked over my shoulder as Gil clutched the old iron railing while he hacked and wheezed like he was running a marathon. “I’ll ... never ... make ... it ...,” he gasped.
    I frowned and felt myself getting frustrated again. I’d been trying to get Gil on some kind of exercise regimen for ages, and he staunchly refused to work out anything but his fingers as they flicked across the keyboard of his computer. “You’ll make it,” I told him flatly. Just then, I distinctly heard a male voice call out, “Alex!”
    “Whoa,” said Heath, whipping his head in the direction of the mysterious voice. “Now, that I heard.”
    Gilley lifted his head to glare at me, oblivious to anything but his own suffering. “This is the last ghostbust I’ll ever agree to that involves this many stairs!”
    “Shhh!” I told him, while I listened again.
    “Alex!”
    “Who is that ?” Gil asked, turning his head to look in the same direction Heath and I were squinting in.
    “I think it’s that same guy from last night!” I said.
    Heath appeared puzzled. “Why hasn’t he recruited some help to find this Alex person he’s searching for? I mean, if he’s been looking all night, you’d think that the moment the causeway opened up again, he’d head back to the mainland to alert the coast guard.”
    Gilley was fishing around in his backpack again, and after a moment he came up with a pair of binoculars. “I thought we might need these on this shoot,” he said, putting them to his eyes and scanning along the top of the cliff where the voice was coming from.
    I watched him anxiously, a terrible sense of foreboding forming in the pit of my stomach. “Something’s not right,” I whispered.
    At that moment Gilley sucked in a breath of surprise.
    “What?” I asked.
    Gilley thrust the binoculars at me. “He’s in trouble!” he said, and pointed to the top of the cliff. I squinted but couldn’t see anything, so I put the binoculars up to my eyes and played with the focus while searching along the cliff—and that was when I nearly dropped the glasses. “Ohmigod!”
    “What?” Heath asked.
    I pulled the binoculars away and grabbed his hand, running past him up the stairs. “Come on!”
    “What’s the matter?”
    “Just follow me!” I yelled, pumping my legs as fast as I could to get to the top in time.
    Dutifully Heath followed behind. In short order we reached the top of the rock, my legs screaming with the effort, and I tore across the unusually flat terrain, passing the large stone castle as we ran. I barely noticed it because I was so focused on getting to the far end in time.
    As we raced forward, we both distinctly heard someone calling for help, and I used every ounce of my reserve strength to run as fast as I could. Heath came abreast of me quickly, and as the cries for help became more urgent, he picked up his speed and zoomed past me in three strides.
    By the time he reached the edge of the cliff, he was a good twenty yards ahead of me. I watched him drop to his knees and reach down;