Maggie's first thought as she entered the dark and creepy house was one of cliché. Of course it was raining outside, probably the worst thunderstorm their remote town had seen in several years. That was part of the appeal of this particular excursion, she supposed. After all, the house was said to be haunted by the last person to live here -- "Old Man" Smithers, who had died over fifty years ago.

The musty smell was overpowering. She doubted anyone had even set foot in this place in that same fifty years. Beside her, Colin clicked his flashlight on, piercing the inky interior. Cobwebs covered every square inch of the ceiling, and there was dust everywhere.

"Nice place," commented Kirk from behind.

A disgusted reaction escaped the throat of Jill, who stood beside Kirk. "Whose dumb idea was this, anyway?"

"Yours," replied Colin with a snicker. "Remember? You said you like haunted houses."

"I changed my mind," Jill decided. "This place is disgusting. Haven't they ever heard of maid service?"

Maggie smiled inwardly, her bespectacled eyes taking in the aged interior. There was a history here, and secretly she hoped they could figure out what really happened to Mister Smithers. It was the only unsolved murder in Bergville's history. In fact, it was Bergville's only murder.

"Have a sense of adventure," Maggie said to Jill. That's what this was for Maggie: an adventure. "Besides, this was your idea."

Jill gave another disgusted snort. "I don't need any more 'adventure' in my life, thank you. Let's get out of here," she said, tugging on Kirk's arm.

"No way. I wanna check this out," he said prying her hand off his arm.

Her jaw jutted out a little as she frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "If you two are going to look around here, why not come back when it's light out? You know, like rational human beings?"

Colin tipped the light up, illuminating his face from below. "Are you frightened of the ghost of Mr. Smithers?" he asked in a low, spooky tone.

"Of course not. There's no such things as ghosts!" she said, stomping her foot, sending up a puff of dust.

The sound echoed through the house. It was followed by a clap of thunder and flash of lightning. Jill let out a scream as a shadowy figure appeared in the corner by the cobwebbed staircase.

Maggie jumped, and Colin must have done the same. There was a thump as his flashlight hit the floor and then they were plunged into darkness. At the sudden absence of light, Maggie's heart, which had received a jolt at the shadowy spectre, started beating even harder. Her hand reached out and grabbed the nearest thing. When it said, "Ow, not so hard," she guessed it to be Colin.

Jill had shrieked even louder when the light went out, but now she was unusually quiet.

"Is everyone okay?" Kirk asked, his voice a little shaky.

"Yeah."

"All right here."

"Jill?" he asked. There was no answer. "Jill?"

Maggie's ears strained to hear a tell-tale sign that Jill was still with them. All she heard was Colin cursing under his breath: "Where the hell is the flashlight?"

"Is this what you're looking for?" came a voice from behind them all. Light shined in Maggie's eyes as Colin's flashlight was activated from outside. Maggie shrieked from surprise, kicking herself afterward. She wasn't a shrieker.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The owner of the voice (and thief of the fallen flashlight) was Robert, Jill's on-again-off-again boyfriend. He had his arm wrapped tightly around Jill's waist, and she stood beside him in the still-open doorway, a smirk of deep satisfaction on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Maggie demanded of Robert in annoyance, most of which was at herself.

"Heard you were having a party without me. I thought I'd come by and liven things up."

"Just what we need," Maggie said under her breath.

Kirk had been rummaging in his own backpack and pulled out two more flashlights. He handed one to Maggie. "I think what she's trying to say," he said to Robert, "is that we didn't think you'd want to come. This isn't a rave, you know."

Jill jumped to Robert's defense. "He can protect me from the big bad ghosties."

Maggie rolled her eyes and turned away. She clicked her flashlight on and scanned the foyer in the direction of the figure they'd seen. She had been so worried about Jill she'd forgotten about it. Now she saw that the figure was just a hatrack with a sheet covering it. "Hello, mystery guest," she said to it with a small chuckle.

"So where do we crash?" asked Robert, oblivious to the hints he'd been thrown.

Maggie whirled on him, shining her light directly into his face. "Listen, Bobzilla. We don't need you here. In fact, we don't want you here. We came to solve a murder, which is a little too complex for your microscopic brain."

"We did?" asked Colin. "I thought we were just here to see the haunted house."

"Besides," added Jill, "I invited him."

"Figures," said Kirk. "I think we should set up 'camp' in the living room and then look around a bit."

"Fine," scowled Maggie, glaring at Robert. She stormed off to the left, where the living room supposedly lay.

The others picked up their dropped gear and, after Colin had closed the front door, followed her.

Maggie felt a little embarassed about losing her temper, but she didn't look back as she stormed into the livingroom. She didn't know why Bob bothered her so much. None of Jill's other boyfriends, and there'd been a few, had ever gotten on her nerves like he did. She decided that she'd try to get along with him for tonight, just because she didn't want this adventure ruined after all the fun she'd had planning it. But if he said one nasty thing to her...

When the others came in, Maggie was slapping the seat of a couch. There was barely anything left of it, just a wooden bottom with some shreds of fabric still sticking to the top. The rest of the fabric had obviously rotted away, and any padding it once had had been carried away by generations of long dead mice to make into comfortable nests. Even so, it was the most promising thing, besides the floor, to sit on.

"Wow."

Maggie turned to see that Colin's eyes had grown large, and he was staring at the delapitated remains of the livingroom as if it were a treasure trove. Slowly, his flashlight slid over everything as he studied every inch of the room.

"This is awesome."

Jill wrinkled her nose and grimaced. "It looks like a death trap to me."

Kirk grinned. "It just might have been."

Maggie sat down gingerly on the couch. "Does anyone know which room he was actually murdered in?"

She looked at her three friends, who shrugged. She was surprised when Bob spoke.

"It was his bedroom." Maggie raised her eyebrows at him so he continued, "My grandfather worked on the case. It was his first investigation. He talks about it sometimes when he wants to impress people."

Maggie mulled this over. There wasn't a lot known about the case, most of the files had been shut and hushed up years ago. If Bob knew some background information, he might be useful after all.

"So," Kirk said, "Do you think we should break up into groups?" And then his eyes began to sparkle as he asked spookily, "And who wants the bedroom?"

"I'll take the bedroom," Maggie said immediately. There was no way she was going to miss looking at the scene of the crime.

"I want to go with you," said Robert, and Maggie nearly gagged.

Jill, of course, let out a shrill sound like a puppy being kicked. "I'm not going in there!"

"Fine," Robert replied with a half shrug. "You can explore the downstairs area."

Jill's eyes narrowed, and Maggie braced herself for a shrieking tirade, but one never came. Instead, Jill merely folded her arms and sulked. There would be a fight later, but for now, she was mercifully quiet.

"Col and I are gonna look around down here," Kirk said. "Who knows? Maybe we'll find a hidden treasure or something."

"It's a plan," Colin said with a crossed high-five to his partner in crime. "Hey, does this place have a basement?"

"Storm cellar," Maggie answered. "There's a door on the west wall outside."

"Cool..." Another high-five, punctuated with a light rumble of thunder.

All heads turned to Jill, who was trying hard to look like she wasn't listening. "I'm staying right here!" she nearly yelled. Then, collecting herself, she added, "I brought a mini-broom. I'll sweep up in here a little bit. It's filthy!"

Maggie smiled, and her excitement rose. After two weeks of talking about it, they were actually here! This was going to be fun. "Ready, Lizard Boy?" she called to Robert, though oddly not out of malice.

He nodded to her and gestured wtih his arm. "Lead the way."

The faint beam of the flashlight wavered slightly as it highlighted the uneven steps that lead down to the storm cellar. Colin gripped the banister tightly as he and Kirk made their perilous way downward.

"God! It stinks down here!"

Kirk spun around and cackled eerily. "'Tis the stench of decomposing flesh, my son!" he boomed, tilting the flashlight upward so it contorted his face into cavernous shadows.

"Knock it off!" Colin shouted, more disconcerted than he wanted to admit.

Kirk laughed. "Chill out, man! No one's been down here in ages. Of course it smells."

"You smell," Colin snapped. "And what's that squeaking noise?"

"It's just the banister! You're going to break it if you squeeze it any harder. That thing's older than we are. Go easy on it!"

"Oh please! Why don't you go easy on my flashlight!"

"Get over it. Oh, wait!" Kirk reached out to grasp a string hanging from the ceiling. "Let there be light!" He tugged. The light bulb came on, and promptly blew out again, just long enough to light up the entire small storm cellar.

Like a furry carpet, rats coated the entire bottom floor, writhing and squeaking. As one, they all turned beady little dark eyes on the intruders and began moving towards the stairs. Colin let out a yell of disgust, turned around, and dashed up the stairs, moving a lot faster than he had been going down them. Kirk was right on his heels.

"Quick!" Colin grasped one of the weighty doors and heaved it shut. Kirk struggled with the other one. Rain had made the old wood slick, and he dropped it twice before managing to get it closed. There was the sound of several small bodies slamming uselessly against the wood, then silence. The boys stood in the rain, hearts hammering, breath coming too fast.

"That. Was. Disgusting," Kirk said finally, making a statement of each word.

"Strange, anyway," Colin replied.

"Strange? STRANGE? Coll, strange is me passing Algebra; strange is you getting a date with Jennifer Sandler-"

"Hey!"

"Strange is something unusual. This was more than unusual! It was nasty!"

"But Kirk, listen."

"What?"

"Just listen."

"I am listening; you're not talking."

Colin gestured to the doors. "Do you hear them?"

Kirk squatted down and listened intently. There was nothing but the sound of raindrops landing, and his own breathing.

"I want to check it out."

"Coll, NO! What if they're waiting right inside the door, poised to..."

"To...what? And if they are, I'll drop the door again. Only a few could get out."

"I'll hold the flashlight," Kirk said wearily, all his previous bravado gone in the face of this new aspect of the adventure.

"Thanks." Colin tugged at the handle. The door creaked slowly open at his efforts. No rats were emerging. Kirk directed the light down to the floor. It was empty, not so much as a whisker.

"Where...where did they all go?" Kirk wondered aloud.

"Like I said: Strange."

"I'd say more like X-files material."

"C'mon Scully," Colin stepped down into the storm cellar.

"Call me Scully again, and I'll feed you to the rats," Kirk threatened, following with the flashlight.

There was no response.

"Coll?" He shone the light directly ahead.

The stairwell was empty.

Colin was gone.

Kirk felt a surge of panic come up from his stomach and push itself into his mouth. Determined not to scream, he clenched his teeth. All that came out was a slight squeak, one that sounded like something one of the rats might have made.

Calm down, he told himself rationally. You just think that Colin disappeared. He is still here somewhere. Your eyes are deceiving you. Breathe....breathe....

After telling himeself to breathe several times, the pressure against his lips lessened, though dread lay in the pit of his stomach like a stone. Once more, he shone the light around the cellar. This time, he was thorough, shining it in all the places that could hide his friend. The beam shook a little in its path, but Kirk couldn't do anything about his trembling fingers.

"Colin?" It came out as a strangled whisper. Kirk cleared his throat and said, just slightly louder, "Colin?"

There was no answer. Of course there was no answer, he hadn't expected there to be. The cellar was empty.

Once more Kirk told himself to breathe as his chest constricted. He had never been so scared in all his life; his brain was frozen and he couldn't do anything but stand and stare at the place where his friend should have been.

After a moment, he remembered that he was not completely alone. Somewhere close by Maggie and Jill and Robert were waiting. All he had to do was go and get them. They'd know what to do.

With relief, Kirk turned to climb back up the stairs. Every rational thought he had fought for flew back out of his head at what he saw.

The door was closed behind him.

As Jill sat alone in the dirty living room, she wondered what she had been thinking. Why had she refused to go with the other groups and told them that she would stay here? Alone.

Soon after the last voices had faded, Jill had begun hearing noises. She told herself that they were just her imagination, but that didn't make them go away. She had taken out her broom and started to sweep as she ignored the things her mind was telling her waited in the shadows.

There was a lot of dust and dirt built up over the last several decades. She was afraid her tiny little broom was inadequate for the gigantic task she'd set before herself. Still, it beat listening to the whispers and giggles she kept hearing.

Suddenly she stopped sweeping as she realized that was exactly what she was hearing. Those chittering sounds weren't the mice scurrying inside the walls, in an uproar at having been disturbed after all this time. It was the sound of squeaky children's voices giggling. She picked up the light she'd taken from her pack and sprayed its light across the room into the farthest corner. All that was there was the crumbled armchair that had probably been out of style even when the house was new. There was no sign of any children. Even the giggling had stopped.

This house is going to drive you bonkers, she informed herself. She had to agree with the assessment.

With a shaky hand, Jill replaced the light to a position where she could continue her chore of sweeping inches of grime from the floor. After another moment, she realized she heard the whispering again. This time, she made out a single word:

"Jillllll...."

At first, Jill stood stock still, unable to believe what she was hearing. The voice continued to softly call her name. Then several voices joined it, mingling together in a way that made every hair stand up on her body.

Jill screamed. It was so loud, it echoed off the walls, and she was sure her friends heard it. Frantically, she ran from the room and towards the front door.

That's when her light went out.