Arthur felt he’d given the ghosts enough time to show themselves. What did the spirits expect them to do? Stand around obediently waiting for them until morning? It was supposed to be a hunt, not an extended school assembly. He tapped Amelia’s shoulder once again and ran, laughing, up the stairs towards the window.

Jake, horrified, ran after his son, but the floorboards were slippy in his thick socks and on the second step he fell back hard onto the hall floor. His back took the full force of the hit, knocking the air out of his lungs. He groaned, and the thought flashed through his brain that he had damaged his spine beyond repair and might be wheelchair bound for life. How could he ever camp again?

“Jake,” muttered Li-Mei, in a panic.

“Jesus, that’s all we need,” said Nancy. “Karl, make sure he is alright.”

Karl did not move. He was staring upwards.

“Quiet,” he whispered hard. “I can hear something.”

“Don’t start that. The man is injured. Let it be.”

“No, I’m serious. Listen.”

The group froze, except Jake, who groaned quietly, and focused their ears on minute sounds.

Something creaked above. It was faint and inconsequential, but it was definitely real.

“Shit,” said Karl. “Something is coming.”