“I’ll go,” Betty volunteered, stepping down from the stage.
“Are you sure about that?” Pork raised a concerned eyebrow.
“Positive. I’m not scared anymore because the ghosts are gone.” She shrugged. “Besides, you’re supposed to refrain from carrying things up and down the stairs as much as possible, remember.”
“I know, I know,” he groaned with a smile. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Right,” she nodded, walking past her father and down the stairs. The basement was far more organized and clean than before, with a lot of empty space in the middle. Shelves of food, booze, and other items lined the walls.
The only space without a shelf was where they had chiseled the hole to the sub-basement. That way they could give tours of The Old Bar, to interested patrons. They’d even written out their story and pasted it on the back of the menu for people to read.
Most customers probably wouldn’t believe it, some would even make fun, but Betty and her father knew it was true.
Walking over to the shelf stacked high with large bags of peanuts and pretzels, she picked one up and lugged it over her shoulder.
Turning, she was about to head up the stairs when she heard a low sound nearby. Glancing slowly behind herself, she stared into the gaping blackness of the hole. The quiet sound of a woman crying far away in the darkness sent chills up and down her spine.
She didn’t wait around to see what else might happen and darted up the stairs.
THE BIKER AND THE BOOGEYMAN Page 8
