Chapter 3: The First Rule of Ghost Club

Chapter 3: The First Rule of Ghost Club

The days following the voice mimicry were a special kind of hell for Ash. He operated in a state of hyper-vigilance, his nerves stretched taut as piano wire. Every flicker of a light, every unexpected sound from a game cabinet, sent a jolt of ice through his veins. He found himself watching Maya constantly, not out of any romantic inclination, but with a gnawing, protective guilt. The entity had used her. It had targeted her to get to him, and that made this whole nightmare intensely personal. He had isolated himself with this secret for years, believing it was his burden to carry alone. But now, the circle of infection was widening.

His carefully constructed composure, the cynical armor he wore to face the world, was cracking under the strain. He wanted, more than anything, to tell them. To warn Zach and Josh, his only real friends. To explain to Maya why he kept staring at her with the haunted eyes of a man on death row. But how? How do you tell someone you’re being haunted without sounding completely insane? The first rule of having a demon attached to you was that you didn't talk about the demon attached to you.

The breaking point came on a slow Thursday night, an hour before closing. A mother and her young son, maybe seven or eight years old, were the last customers in the building. The boy was pressed against the glass of the main prize counter, his finger leaving a smudge as he pointed at a ridiculously oversized plush dragon.

“That one, Mommy! The green one!”

Ash forced a smile, the muscles in his face feeling stiff and unused. “Good choice. That’ll be twelve thousand tickets.”

As the mother began feeding a mountain of paper slips into the ticket eater, Ash leaned against the counter, his gaze drifting to the large pane of glass separating him from the prizes. The reflection showed the brightly lit arcade behind him, warped and distorted. He saw the boy, vibrating with excitement. He saw the mother, looking tired but fond. And standing directly behind them, so close its long, skeletal fingers could have rested on the child’s shoulders, was Frank.

It wasn't a fleeting glimpse this time. It wasn't a trick of the light. The shadow figure was there, rendered in perfect, horrifying detail in the reflection. It was a column of absolute black, a tear in the fabric of the room, its tall, gaunt frame and unnaturally long limbs horribly distinct. It had no face, but Ash felt its attention, its cold, predatory focus, fixed not on the boy, but on him. It was showing off. It was telling him it could stand anywhere, behind anyone, and he was powerless to stop it.

A choked gasp escaped Ash’s lips. He flinched back, knocking a stack of plastic prize cups to the floor. They clattered loudly on the tile.

“Everything okay?” the mother asked, turning from the ticket machine with a concerned frown.

Ash’s eyes darted from the reflection back to the real space. There was nothing there. Just the mother and her son, staring at him. The space behind them was empty.

“Fine,” he croaked, his voice tight and strangled. “Just… dropped something.”

He fumbled with the cups, his hands shaking so violently he could barely pick them up. He couldn't look at the glass again. He finished the transaction on autopilot, his heart hammering a frantic, painful rhythm against his ribs. He slid the giant dragon across the counter, avoiding the boy’s ecstatic grin. As soon as they were out the door, the lock clicking behind them, Ash sank against the counter, dragging a shaky hand across his face.

That was it. The line had been crossed. This thing wasn't just haunting him anymore; it was threatening to touch the outside world. It was standing behind children.

“Whoa, dude. You look like you just saw a ghost,” a voice said.

Ash looked up. Zach was leaning in the doorway of the back office, an eyebrow raised in amusement. He was lanky, with a perpetually unimpressed expression that Ash usually found comforting. Tonight, it felt like a challenge. On the other side of the room, Josh was busy refilling a claw machine, his headphones blasting music so loud Ash could hear the tinny beat from across the room.

“Both of you,” Ash said, his voice low and urgent. “Office. Now.”

The seriousness in his tone cut through Zach’s sarcasm and even penetrated Josh’s musical bubble. A few minutes later, the three of them were crammed into the tiny, cluttered office, the door shut. Maya, who had been cleaning the food court area, saw the impromptu meeting and poked her head in, her expression curious.

“Everything alright?”

“You too, Maya. In here,” Ash commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

He waited until she had slipped inside, closing the door behind her. The small room felt airless. He was facing the two people he’d worked with for three years, and a near-stranger he felt a desperate need to protect. This was it. The dam was about to break.

“I’m not crazy,” he began, the words sounding weak even to his own ears. “You have to believe me. I’m not crazy, but this place… this place is wrong.”

Zach crossed his arms. “Okay, Ash, you’re freaking us out. What’s going on?”

Josh, ever the enthusiast for anything weird, leaned forward, his eyes wide. “Is this about Frank?”

Ash’s head snapped toward him. “You’ve seen him?”

“Nah, man, just the stories. Cold spots, stuff moving on its own. The usual.”

“It’s not the usual,” Ash said, his voice cracking. He recounted everything. He told them about the laser tag door pushing back with impossible strength. He told them about the tall, motionless shadow he’d seen in the loft. Zach’s expression shifted from amusement to skepticism.

“Faulty hydraulics, man. And the lighting in there is garbage. It plays tricks on your eyes.”

“Then explain this,” Ash shot back, his gaze finding Maya’s. “The other night. I was in the back closet. I heard you calling for me. Screaming for help from inside the laser tag arena. You said the door was stuck.”

Maya’s face went pale. “What? Ash, I never left the front counter.”

“I know,” he said, the guilt twisting in his gut. “I ran in there like an idiot. It was empty. The voice… it was perfect. It was you. It was a trap.”

The room fell silent. Josh looked thrilled and terrified in equal measure. Maya just looked stunned. But it was the flicker of doubt in Zach’s eyes that gave Ash the courage to continue. The psychological angle was harder to dismiss than a broken door.

“And just now,” Ash said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “At the prize counter. A little boy was standing there. And in the reflection, in the glass… Frank was standing right behind him. I saw him. It was taunting me.”

That was it. He had laid all his cards on the table. He felt exposed, vulnerable, waiting for the laughter, the pity, the dismissal.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Josh broke the silence. “Holy crap. That’s… that’s insane.”

“It’s exhaustion,” Zach argued, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “We work stupid hours in a creepy old building. Our brains are gonna fill in the blanks with spooky stuff.”

“No,” Ash said, shaking his head. “I’m not imagining it. And I’m not going to just stand by and let this thing… escalate.” He took a deep breath. “I bought some stuff online. After the voice thing.” He reached under the desk and pulled out a small, duffel bag. He unzipped it, revealing a cheap-looking EMF meter, a digital voice recorder, and a small, speaker-like device covered in dials. A spirit box.

“You’re kidding me,” Zach breathed, staring at the gear.

“We have to know for sure,” Ash insisted, his desperation palpable. “I need to prove it. To you, to myself. We stay tonight. After we lock up. We turn everything off, and we try to make contact.”

“Dude, we’ll get so fired if Henderson finds out,” Zach protested.

“This is like an episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved!” Josh whispered excitedly. “We have to do it!”

All eyes turned to Maya. She was looking at Ash, her expression unreadable but intensely focused. She saw the raw, undiluted fear in his eyes, the frantic plea for validation. She remembered the sheer panic on his face when he’d stumbled out of the laser tag arena. He hadn't been faking that.

“I’m in,” she said quietly, her voice firm. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Her simple, unwavering support was like a physical blow. Ash felt a surge of gratitude so strong it almost buckled his knees.

With Maya on board and Josh practically bouncing off the walls, the pressure on Zach mounted. He looked from Ash’s desperate face to Josh’s manic grin to Maya’s calm resolve. He let out a long, suffering sigh, running a hand over his face.

“Fine,” he groaned. “One night. We play ghost hunters for a couple of hours. But if a demon possesses Josh, I am not performing an exorcism. And for the record, I still think you’re just sleep-deprived.”

The relief that washed over Ash was immediate and overwhelming. He wasn't alone in this anymore. They believed him. Or at least, they were willing to try.

As they filed out of the office to finish their closing duties, a new energy filled the air. The arcade was no longer just their dead-end job. Tonight, after the last lock turned and the fluorescents died, The Pit would become their laboratory. And they, willingly, would be the experiment.