Who Let The Ghosts Out?

Chapter 8 - Rat Race

The wall I scuttle along never ends. Once in a while it is broken by an entrance, but they are all blocked, including the one where they threw in my carer. No idea how long ago that was. Too long, in any case. In the beginning, I expected him to come back out and feed me cheese, but he didn't. Not an acceptable behaviour for carers, but humans are funny like that. They cuddle you one day, and the next poof, you're history.

I stop to sniff the air. It's beyond foul, which is hardly surprising, given the amount of humans they dumped in the rooms that lie beyond those doors. No one ever came out, so I reckon they are all terminally trapped.

In all fairness, that would be a good reason my carer didn't return. I would have forgiven him, but I reckon I won't ever get the chance to show him that.

The tiles under my paws are icy, so I move on. My breath billows out in little puffs of white, a bit like the air in the thing my carer called fridge. A great place that was, full of yummy morsels. I slipped in there one day without him noticing, but in the end it wasn't all that much fun. Once the door closed, the lights clicked off, and the place was effing hard on my poor bare footsies. Even the fur didn't do the trick. So I only nibbled a bit at the bacon before squealing my head off.

Worked wonders, that did. The door opened, and my carer picked me up. I even got my favourite Roquefort for my troubles.

Sigh. Those were the days.

I move on. The last entrance on the right gapes open, the stupid ghosts didn't even bother closing the door on this room. Too much in a hurry, the lot of them. Something about going to the seaside. Well, that's what the humans do, every year. But the ghosts are not really human any longer. Or are they?

I stop and twitch my whiskers at that conundrum.

Well, the younger ones still remember their life, so that would count in their favour. Perhaps it was they who wanted to take a holy day on the beach?

On the other hand, they didn't bring shovels and stuff, and they didn't strike me as being particularly cheerful about the whole excursion.

I wonder what a tsunami might be? And a nuclear power station? Never heard those words before. The head honcho muttered something about chain reactions, the Earth's core and a solar explosion. Followed by galactic shifts and a fourth dimension. Is there one? Maybe it's full of cheese?

Seriously, I have no idea what they're up to, but then humans, whether alive or dead, never make much sense.

From the doorway I can spot three inert figures sprawled in an untidy heap, funny gadgets scattered all around them.

Must be another bunch of ghost hunters, just like my carer. The way that lot looks, with their bloodless faces, their sightless eyes, they're goners.

Bodes ill for my carer, but then I knew that already, didn't I? But one has to make sure. I mean, come on, I'm perfectly capable of fending for myself, but life with a carer is just so much easier. Why bother looking for food if it ends up in front of my muzzle all the time. And cheese doesn't grow on trees.

I scuttle into the room, chiller even than the blasted corridor.

Now, why did I do that? I should get a move on.

Instead, I'm drawn to that sorry heap of ex-humanity piled up on the dirty floor like so much rubbish. Three women, one tall, slim with dark hair, the other one also tall, but there's a lot of her to go around. Clad in cheerful bright colours, she must have been a fun person in life. The third is the tallest of the lot, and she is wearing funny pink stripes on her arms and legs.