Amy opened her mouth to say something but then realized she didn’t have a single thing to say except “Okay.”

07: Wanweird

They found Basil and the others in Bedrooms, hiding behind a Drazel chest of drawers.

“Shhhh,” Matt hissed, waving them over. “The guy’s … in … there.”

He jabbed a finger toward the double doors leading to the back of house. Amy obediently ducked behind the Drazel.

“What’d he look like?” she whispered.

“We didn’t actually see him,” Basil said. “But Trinity saw someone moving and then we all saw the doors swinging. We’re going to lure him out, then we’ll nab him in a pincer movement.”

“What’s a pincer movement?” Amy asked.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Ruth Anne said. She marched up to the double doors and pushed them wide open. “There’s nobody here. He’s probably still in Dining Rooms hiding under some shelves, the poor thing.”

“That was extremely dangerous,” Basil said. “You could have been attacked.”

Ruth Anne shook her head. “Anyone hiding in this store is probably in a heap of trouble. My guess is that this fella needs some serious help.”

“She’s got a point,” Amy said. “I don’t want to be here. Why would this guy?”

Basil ignored her. “Let’s go to Dining Rooms.”

“Hang on,” Matt said.

He opened a Tawse wardrobe and removed one of his gear bags. He unzipped the top, reached inside, and pulled out a black Maglite. It was about two feet long and resembled a cross between a flashlight and a riot baton. It looked like it could put a serious crease in a skull.

“You are not going to use that on a human being,” Basil said.

“That depends,” Matt said. “This guy nearly attacked Trinity.”

“I’ve been trained in retail crisis management,” Basil said. “Let me handle this.”

Matt marched off toward Dining Rooms without answering him. “You can’t beat up a ghost,” Trinity called, going after him, the others following in their wake.

“You do realize that you’re not in control of this situation anymore,” Amy said to Basil.

“I am one hundred percent in control of this situation,” Basil said, hurrying to keep up.

They began the long trip along the Bright and Shining Path to Dining Rooms. They passed enormous Pronk mirrors leaning against the walls and showing cold, silver versions of themselves trapped in glass. They walked past rows of armchairs waiting for visitors who would never come, past stripped shelves, bare tables, empty beds, doors to nowhere.

“Something smells,” Ruth Anne said.

“Something nasty,” Trinity added.

The sour, marshy stench of rotten mud crept across the Showroom floor like a low-lying fog. The closer they got to Dining Rooms the worse it got, crawling up their nostrils and creeping down their throats. It was the same smell in the bathroom, the same smell emanating from the Brooka earlier that morning. It made Amy’s skin feel slimy.

“Stay close,” Matt told Trinity, but she pulled away from him, still angry.