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  Tony waved his hand. “Aw, no problem—I have a way with words,” he said modestly.

  “Are you okay?” Shawn asked Petra.

  “Yeah, I guess,” said Petra, inspecting a small, angry, red mark on her arm. “What did that lame-brain throw at me, anyway?”

  “This,” said Tony. He squatted down near the side of the dirt road and pointed at a small yellowish object on the ground.

  “A cigarette butt!” exclaimed Shawn angrily.

  “Oh, gross me out the door,” said Petra in disgust.

  “It’s still smouldering,” observed Tony.

  “Stamp it out,” ordered Petra. “Everything around here is as dry as matchsticks…a spark is all it would take to send these hills up in smoke.”

  Tony ground the butt ferociously beneath the heel of his sneaker.

  “Come on, guys,” said Shawn. “Let’s get back to the course. Are you ready, Craig?”

  No answer.

  “Craig?” Shawn looked around him in alarm. His younger brother was nowhere to be seen.

  Shawn shouted again. “Craig!”

  The white cliffs glowered down at him in obstinate silence. Shawn turned back to Tony and Petra. “Where is he?” he asked.

  “And where is Hobart?” said Petra.

  chapter

  3

  A Ghost Underground

  “Okay,” said Petra, “everybody just stop and think— when was the last time one of us saw Craig or Hobart?”

  Shawn ran his hand through his hair, and scanned the impassive cliff face for the hundredth time. “I don’t know.”

  The three of them had dashed about the quarry, searching without success.

  “Think,” insisted Petra. “When was the last time anybody heard Craig say anything?”

  “I don’t know,” Shawn said again in frustration.

  “What about when the ATVs came?” Tony said. “Craig loves anything with an engine…I can’t imagine him keeping quiet about that.”

  “You’re right!” said Shawn. “He can’t have been with us when the ATVs showed up or he would have said something for sure.” He shook his head angrily. “I thought he was right behind me when the ATVs came. How could I have not noticed that my own brother was missing?” He kicked a rock savagely, sending it bouncing off the stubbly chin of the cliff.

  “None of us noticed,” Petra said bluntly. “We were all a little preoccupied with the problem of impending death.”

  “The half-pipe!” exclaimed Tony, suddenly.

  “The what?” said Shawn—but Tony was already running.

  “The half-pipe!” Tony called back over his shoulder. “That big dip in the road…Craig said it would be a good place to ride a mountain bike. That was the last thing he said.” He took off along the dirt road.

  When Shawn and Petra caught up with him, Tony was standing at the top of the dip in the road. It did look like a half-pipe.

  “This is it,” said Tony. “This is the last place I remember seeing Craig.”

  Petra shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the quarry again. “We looked over here already,” she said, shaking her head. “I still don’t see anything.”

  “CRAIG!” called Shawn.

  “HOBART!” yelled Tony.

  Nothing.

  Shawn strained his ears, listening:

  A fat bumblebee hummed quietly to itself as it burrowed busily into the petals of a purple flower. Grasshoppers clicked their wings in a stuttering staccato. A flock of crows cawed accusingly in the distance. And from somewhere beneath their feet, a ghost began to moan.

  Ooooooooo-ooooooo…

  Tony’s bristly hair stood up even straighter than usual.

  “D-d-d-did you guys just hear that?” he whispered.

  “Uh-huh,” Shawn whispered back.

  Ooooooooo-ooooooo…

  “Petra, do you know what’s making that noise?” whispered Shawn. Wide-eyed, Petra shook her head.

  Ooooooooo-ooooooo…

  The sound came again.

  “Aw, I’m sure it’s n-n-nothing,” quavered Tony. “It’s probably just the wind, or a creaking tree trunk, or the ghost of some long-dead miner buried in the gypsum and doomed to haunt the quarry forever.”

  “Way to make us feel better,” said Shawn.

  “Don’t mention it,” said Tony.

  Ooooooooo-ooooooo…! the sound moaned from somewhere below them.

  “Spare me, O Great Ghost of the Quarry!” cried Tony, falling to his knees.

  “Tony, there are no such things as ghosts,” hissed Petra.

  Ooooooooo-ooooooo…!

  “Oh y-y-yeah?” chattered Tony. “Tell that to our p-p-paranormal pal down there.” Tony pointed to the ground.

  “That’s exactly what I intend to do!” huffed Petra. “There must be a logical explanation…” She walked away from the boys, staring hard at the ground.

  “Uh, Petra…what are you doing?” asked Shawn warily.

  “Looking for our underground ghost,” she answered. “That sound has to be coming from somewhere.”

  Shawn moved cautiously across the quarry floor, kicking at piles of white rubble and pushing aside clumps of scraggly bushes. “And what are we looking for, exactly?”

  “Oh, just the usual stuff,” Tony interjected before Petra could answer. “You know—gateways to the underworld, portals to alternate universes, rips in the space-time continuum…stuff like that.”

  “You watch way too much TV,” Shawn told him.

  “Well, you never know,” said Tony seriously, talking over his shoulder as he pushed his way through a patch of tall weeds. “I saw this show on TV last week about UFOs and—”

  Tony disappeared.

  Shawn blinked. One moment, Tony had been standing in the long grass, a few metres away. The next, he was gone.

  “This has got to stop happening,” said Petra.

  Shawn and Petra sprinted towards the spot where Tony had been standing.

  “Whoa!” yelled Shawn, skidding to a stop as a gaping hole suddenly appeared at his feet. He teetered, arms flailing, and then Petra’s hand was gripping his elbow, yanking him back from the edge.

  “It’s a sinkhole!” gasped Petra.

  Shawn gave a low whistle. “That hole could swallow my dad’s car! What made it? A meteor?”

  Petra shook her head. “The ground collapsed. Gypsum erodes really easily. So when rain or underground springs wash away a pocket of underground gypsum, there’s nothing left to support the soil on top, and the ground sinks in on itself. Kind of like when you dig a hole in a snowbank and the roof caves in. My uncle says there are all kinds of sinkholes back here…and more could open up at any time.”

  “Hey, stop talking and GET ME OUT OF HERE!” It was Tony’s voice, sounding weirdly hollow, and it was coming from the sinkhole. Shawn threw himself on his belly and peered over the edge.

  “Tony! Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” came Tony’s voice, “considering I’m siting right next to our underground ghost.”

  chapter

  4

  In the Hole

  Shawn looked down into the sinkhole. The ground had collapsed into a funnel shape; it was like looking down into a big, empty ice-cream cone. The walls of the sinkhole were made of loose, reddish-brown soil, freckled white with bits of gypsum. At the bottom of the pit, Shawn could see Tony staring up at him. Next to Tony loomed a dark, shadowy shape. Before Shawn could say anything, the black shape threw back its head, opened its massive jaws…and howled.

  Ooooooooo-ooooooo…! The cone-shaped hole worked like a giant megaphone—the howl rose mournfully, echoing weirdly off the dirt walls.

  Tony clapped his hands over his ears and glared at the great black beast sitting next to him. “All right, all right—we heard you already!”

  Hobart dropped his head and gave a short, apologetic bark.

  “Meet our underground ghost,” Tony called up to Shawn, jerking his thumb at the big Newfoundland dog. �
�And guess what—he’s got company.” Another shape stirred in the shadows behind Tony and a second face squinted up into the sunlight at Shawn.

  “Hey, bro.”

  It was Craig. His voice sounded shaky and sheepish. “I took a wrong step and ended up down here. And Hobart followed me before I could tell him to stay.”

  “Lucky for you he did,” said Shawn. “He’s got a louder voice than you do.”

  “All right,” said Petra, her voice suddenly brisk and businesslike. “Let’s get you out of there.”

  A short search rewarded them with a long, stout stick, which they lowered into the hole. Several minutes later, after much scrambling (and a certain amount of arguing), the “underground ghosts” re-emerged into the sunlight, shoving and pulling one very unhappy Newfoundland dog between them.

  “Next time, you get the rear end,” Tony grumbled at Craig. Tony, who had been pushing Hobart from behind while Craig hauled him up by his collar, was covered in red dirt from the dog’s scrabbling paws. “I think he kicked half the hole back down on my head!”

  Tony rubbed his sleeve across his face—but since the sleeve was as dirty as his face, it didn’t improve matters much.

  “We should go somewhere where you can get washed up,” said Petra, grinning as Tony blinked at her from a mask of dirt.

  “The golf club,” said Tony, nodding decisively. He paused to shake an earthworm out of his shorts. “I’ve had enough of nature for one day. Besides, I think I hear a cheeseburger calling my name.”

  Picking their way carefully across the quarry floor (and keeping a sharp eye out for sinkholes this time), the friends regained the dirt road and began following its twisting white ruts back towards the golf course. But they had only been walking for a few minutes when a familiar buzzing sound reached their ears. And it was getting louder.

  “Uh-oh,” said Petra. “The ATVs are coming back.”

  chapter

  5

  Tragedy

  “ATVs?” said Craig. “Cool! Hey, maybe they’ll take us for a ride.”

  “I don’t think you want to ride with these guys,” Shawn told him.

  The buzzing was getting louder. It was coming from the trail ahead of them, and it was approaching quickly.

  “Maybe it’s just a really big mosquito,” said Tony, hopefully. “A really, really big mosquito…”

  Petra looked at him and raised her eyebrows.

  “Or maybe not,” said Tony.

  “We should get out of sight,” suggested Shawn.

  “Over there,” said Petra, pointing behind them. The boys followed her gaze. A narrow white footpath veered away from the road, snaking up a steep hill at the back of the quarry to vanish into the forest.

  “Good eye,” Shawn told her. “Let’s go!”

  The four friends and Hobart scrambled up the steep path, sneakers (and paws) skidding on the loose, white rock. Reaching the top, they flopped down in the shade of the forest’s edge. Shawn crawled forward on his belly and peered back down the way they had come. From up here, he had a perfect view of the quarry. It sprawled across the landscape like a scar—an alien-looking terrain of white boulders, cliffs, sinkholes, and gullies. Tall, straw-like grasses waved above the white rubble. Patches of poplar trees huddled here and there, and stands of stunted spruce sprouted like prickly islands in a hard, white sea. The drone of approaching engines reached a crescendo.

  “Here they come,” Shawn whispered.

  Below them, the same ATVs sped into sight. Revving their engines, the riders zoomed into the quarry, bouncing and careening over the uneven terrain.

  “That looks like so much fun,” Craig sighed wistfully. “Why can’t we just go down and hang out with them for a while?”

  “Trust me,” Shawn told him. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Sure I do!” Craig started to argue, but then Petra hissed at them to be quiet.

  “Look!” she said.

  The noise of the four-wheelers had flushed a deer out of the underbrush. The teen riders gave chase at once, swinging their vehicles around in pursuit. But Shawn noticed something else.

  “She’s got a fawn,” he said.

  “Oh no,” breathed Petra.

  The friends watched helplessly as the ATVs sped after the panic-stricken animals.

  Fanning out, they herded the deer before them like sheep, keeping them inside the rocky confines of the quarry, preventing their escape. A large boulder loomed in front of the racing animals, blocking their path. The doe gathered herself for a mighty leap. Sailing over the top of the obstacle, and beyond the reach of the ATVs, she vanished into the safety of the forest. The fawn, too small to make the jump, swerved around the rock instead. Losing sight of its mother, the confused baby veered back towards the centre of the quarry.

  Like wolves, two of the ATVs swarmed towards the running fawn. Shawn saw the third rider hesitate… or perhaps his machine had stalled. The fawn was no match for the four-wheelers. The leader pulled up alongside the galloping animal. Gunning the engine, he reached out one hand as if to grab the terrified creature. The fawn swerved violently sideways to evade the rider’s grasp…and rocketed at full speed over the edge of a rock-strewn gully.

  From their hidden vantage point, Shawn and his friends cried out in horror and dismay.

  The fragile fawn tumbled down into the ravine, coming to a violent stop against a rock. It lay motionless, its neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

  The chase was over.

  Petra covered her face in her hands. “Oh no!” she wept. “Oh no, no, no!” Tony stared at the scene below, his face frozen in shock. Craig jumped up, fists clenched, and started to head down the path toward the ATVs, but Shawn caught up to him and pulled him back roughly. “Stay here!” he choked. “There’s nothing we can do now.”

  Down below, the ATV riders cut their engines and dismounted. They gathered at the top of the little gully, looking down at the lifeless body. A moment of utter silence fell over the quarry. Then the leader raised both his arms over his head…and cheered. After a hesitant second, his buddy copied him, and soon they were exchanging high-fives and slapping each other on the back. The third rider continued to stand over the gully, looking down at the fawn. Finally, the leader pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and passed them around.

  “We’ve seen enough. Let’s go,” said Shawn.

  Beside him, Craig was shaking his head in disbelief.

  “That wasn’t cool,” he kept saying. “That wasn’t cool at all.”

  Petra was still weeping silently, tears of fury and sorrow streaking her cheeks. Shawn touched her shoulder gently and motioned towards the forest.

  “We’ll go this way for now, and give those guys time to take off. We can double back when they’re gone.” He got up and headed along the trail into the woods. Petra, Tony, and Craig stumbled after him, with Hobart padding along behind.

  The friends walked in silence along the forest trail until they were well out of sight and earshot of the quarry. When they reached a small pocket of sunshine pooling on the track in front of them, they all stopped together, as if by some unspoken signal. Petra simply stood still, staring down at the carpet of leaves and pine needles beneath her feet.

  “I can’t believe they did that,” she said. “I can’t believe it.”

  Shawn shook his head. He couldn’t believe it either. Even the normally chatty Tony said nothing, but stared bleakly down at the trail.

  Suddenly Craig snapped a branch angrily across his knee with a crack that made them all jump.

  “I hate them,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “I hate those guys! I hope they crash their stupid quads and bust them up into little, tiny pieces of scrap metal!”

  “We all feel that way, bro,” said Shawn quietly. “But we can’t change what happened.”

  “We can report them to the RCMP,” said Petra fiercely.

  Shawn nodded. “That we can do.” He glanced at his watch. “I bet those guys are
gone by now. It’s probably safe to head back.”

  Shawn led the way back down the trail. His friends followed in glum silence. They had almost reached the quarry when Tony lifted his head and sniffed the air.

  “Man, I’m so hungry I can already smell the barbecue back at the club restaurant.” He closed his eyes, inhaled, and sighed dreamily: “Mmmmm… cheeseburgers.”

  Craig wrinkled his nose. “Hmm. Smells more like smoke to me.”

  “I hope they’re not burning the cheeseburgers!” said Tony, opening his eyes in sudden alarm.

  “How can you think about food at a time like this?” Petra asked him.

  “It’s called ‘comfort food,’” Tony told her. “Cheeseburgers cheer people up. It’s a well-known fact.” Petra opened her mouth to reply, but the whine of approaching engines cut their conversation short.

  “Oh no!” groaned Petra. “Not these guys again!”

  “Let ’em come!” growled Craig, cracking his knuckles.

  Just ahead, the trail dropped out of sight into a steep dip. From somewhere down in the hollow came the sound of rubber tires crunching across gravel. The engine noise swelled like a swarm of angry hornets.

  “Get off the path!” Shawn barked. He pulled Craig and Tony into the underbrush at the side of the trail. Petra grabbed Hobart’s collar and hauled him into the bushes too.

  Just in time.

  Three ATVs flew over the crest of the hill and slammed down onto the trail, tearing up the ground where Shawn and his friends had been standing just seconds before. The riders weren’t laughing now. They were hunched low over their handlebars, gunning their engines, urging their machines forward at breakneck speed. Their mouths were grim, their eyes wide. The first two quads flashed past in a spatter of mud and disappeared around a bend. The third quad was almost out of sight when its driver suddenly slammed on his brakes and skidded to a stop. Twisting around in his seat, the dark-haired teen spat a single word at them:

  “Run!”

  chapter