We heard Benny telling me to grab a Ouija board if I saw one, and then Chrissy’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Don’t you dare. My aunt did the Ouija board once and she doesn’t believe in any of that stuff, but she said that Ouija boards are actually dangerous.”

Chrissy’s fingers dug into my arm.

We watched history repeat itself until there were five eleven-year-olds down in the basement with us, the beams of their flashlights cutting through the murk.

Chrissy yanked on my shirt and I looked round. From behind a distant stack there came a fast-moving, flickering light, like someone going crazy with a flame-thrower. Then it cut off. No light, no flames, no smoke. The kids hadn’t noticed it.

“Found it,” Chrissy’s younger self said. We walked after Tyler, joined the kids at the circle. Standing inside the circle was Bubba Moon.

Not the Pete Green Bubba Moon, but the original. A bald man, once heavily muscled, but with all that going to seed now. His gut was expanding, stretching the scars, distorting the symbols on his bare torso. He watched the kids crowd round him. They couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see us.

“Big bad Bubba Moon,” Pete said in a soft voice.

Chrissy shrieked as the stacks beside us exploded, sending junk flying and old magazines fluttering like dying bats. A man hurtled through the air, bursting from one stack and disappearing into another. All this went unnoticed by the kids, unnoticed by Moon, but Chrissy and I ran over and I lunged into the stacks, gun at the ready, but of the man there was no sign.

We looked back at the circle. Pete was lying down in it while Bubba Moon stood over him. “Hey, guys, who am I?” he said, and laid his head back and pretended to be dead.

Grinning, Moon lay down with him, on top of him and over him, and all the flashlights went out.

The kids screamed, panicked, ran for the window, but Chrissy and I stayed and watched with mounting horror as Bubba Moon slowly got up, Pete moving within him, aping every movement. When they were both on their feet, Moon stepped back slightly, allowed Pete to stand on his own. Then Moon’s hands went to Pete’s shoulders, fingers digging into his shirt. When he lifted one shoulder, Pete lifted his foot, and together they lurched back towards the window.

I turned away from the unfolding scene, towards the sound of shouting. Gun in one hand, Chrissy’s hand in another, I stepped cautiously towards a tall pile of shoeboxes. There was sudden movement, and one of Moon’s People staggered out of the darkness. His shoulder hit the pile and he hit the ground and the shoeboxes toppled, spilling out hundreds of cassette tapes that clattered across the floor.