‘It’s gone all cold,’ said Bigmac.

‘We ought to be getting back,’ said Wobbler, his voice shaking. ‘I ought to be doing my homework.’

Which showed he was frightened. It’d take zombies to make Wobbler prefer to do homework.

‘You can’t see them, can you?’ said Johnny. ‘They’re all around us, but you can’t see them.’

‘The living can’t generally see the dead,’ said Mr Vicenti. ‘It’s for their own good, I expect.’

The three boys had drawn closer together.

‘Come on, stop mucking about,’ said Bigmac.

‘Huh,’ said Wobbler. ‘He’s just trying to spook us. Huh. Like Dead Man’s Hand at parties. Huh. Well, it’s not working. I’m off home. Come on, you lot.’

He turned and walked a few steps.

‘Hang on,’ said Yo-less. ‘There’s something odd—’

He looked around at the empty cemetery. The rook had flown away, unless it was a crow.

‘Something odd,’ he mumbled.

‘Look,’ said Johnny. ‘They’re here! They’re all around us!’

‘I’ll tell my mum of you!’ said Wobbler. ‘This is practising bein’ satanic again!’

‘John Maxwell!’ boomed the Alderman. ‘We must talk to you!’

‘That’s right!’ shouted William Stickers. ‘This is important!’

‘What about?’ said Johnny. He was balancing on his fear, and he felt oddly calm. The funny thing was, when you were on top of your fear you were a little bit taller.

‘This!’ said William Stickers, waving the newspaper.

Wobbler gasped. There was a rolled-up newspaper floating in the air.

‘Poltergeist activity!’ he said. He waved a shaking finger at Johnny. ‘You get that around adolescents! I read something in a magazine! Saucepans flying through the air and stuff! His head’ll spin round in a minute!’

‘What is the fat boy talking about?’ said the Alderman.

‘And what is Dead Man’s Hand?’ said Mr Vicenti.

‘There’s probably a scientific explanation,’ said Yo-less, as the newspaper fluttered through the air.

‘What?’ said Bigmac.

‘I’m trying to think of one!’

‘It’s holding itself open!’

William Stickers opened the paper.

‘It’s probably just a freak wind!’ said Yo-less, backing away.

‘I can’t feel any wind!’

‘That’s why it’s freaky!’

‘What are you going to do about this?’ the Alderman demanded.

‘Excuse me, but this Dead Man’s Hand. What is it?’

‘Will everyone SHUT UP?’ said Johnny.

Even the dead obeyed.

‘Right,’ he said, settling down a bit. ‘Um. Look, um, you lot, these . . . people . . . want to talk to us. Me, anyway—’

Yo-less, Wobbler and Bigmac were staring intently at the newspaper. It hung, motionless, more than a metre above the ground.

‘Are they . . . the breath-impaired?’ said Wobbler.

‘Don’t be daft! That sounds like asthma,’ said Yo-less. ‘Come on. If you mean it, say it. Come right out with it. Are they . . .’ He looked around at the darkening landscape, and hesitated. ‘Er . . . post-senior citizens?’

‘Are they lurching?’ said Wobbler. Now he and the other two were so close that they looked like one very wide person with six legs.