Never, not once in three years the boys had been living there, had the attic been cleaned. It was understandable, as no one had any clue the attic even existed. It was a small room in the ceiling on the second floor, accessible by a cord dangling above their heads. Assuming it was a cord to a light fixture, no one pulled it; the windows lining the hallways were enough. But when the band needed a spare place to store some instruments when the guest room got too full, Malcolm suggested they haul some equipment upstairs to the extra closet. Only an amp or two with spare snares here and there. Phil and Angus began to wish it were the small amps that were selected to be stored away, as the constant angle they held it against themselves proved worse than it looked when taken up twenty steep stairs.

"Jus' one step after another, eh?"

"Shuttup, Mal, or this one's on your head," Phil answered. The drummer's back was turned on Malcolm, luckily for both of them they couldn't see the faces they made each other. Angus adjusted his hold on the amp, his fingers underneath sliding slightly to the right, making the object tilt toward the banister, and caught at the last second. "Careful!"

"I'm bein' as careful as can be!" Phil shook his head and sighed.

"How many steps left, Cliff?" Malcolm stood in front of Cliff blocking his view, and counted the remaining obstacles himself.

"Mmm, about three for you, six for Ang."

"Is your name Cliff?"

"Jus' answering your question, Rudd, don't piss all over me," Malcolm defended. Bon slid a hand in his leather jacket, the other hand grabbing the cord on the ceiling. "We're movin' some drums o' yours up here too, and...I might just drop one."

"Hey, Mal, lay off of him," Bon said with a smirk on his face. His eyes were colored with humor. "Don't taunt a man with a heavy object an' your brother on the other end." Malcolm scoffed and leaned against the wall, tapping his fingers on the chipping paint.

"Yeah? He's gonna get after Ang for something I said?"

"Don't test him, Mal, he's giving me the evil eye," Angus said as he pushed the amp forward.

"Relax, the lot of you, I'm not gonna do anything." Phil took another step up the stairs, only one more left. As soon as he reached the top he made his way around the corner while Angus followed, finally setting the amp down on flat ground. Straightening himself out, he mumbled, "Not with an audience around me."

"Where's all this goin'?" Cliff asked, joining the group. "No way the closet's big enough for all we're puttin' in."

"If it can fit the five of us, it can fit a few bits and pieces." Malcolm surveyed the amp in front of him, both carriers glad of the break, however short Malcolm allowed it to be. He'd seen bigger, but perhaps it was someone else's turn to haul it a distance. "Alright," he said standing up. "Cliff, come here."

"We're done?" Phil asked out of surprise.

"For now, yes. Cliff, you grab that side..." With the same balance on either side as the last pair, the amp was leveled off between them and met the air again. Phil gladly stepped out of their way, standing beside a sore Angus with a smile. "Bon, open the door, would ya'?" The door to the closet was at the end of the hall, giving the men plenty of time for the following events to unfold.

"Alright, my turn to help out," Bon said leaning from the cord in his grasp. It seemed to support his weight well, and it didn't surprise him to see the hallway just as bright as it was that morning, for the lights on the second story were surely old and never replaced. When a pressing weight on his shoulders from behind knocked him forward, however, the shock was more than he could suppress.

"What are you doin'?" Malcolm gasped out as Bon's body collided with the rather heavy object. His weight was added to the mix, and Cliff stumbled backwards, arms tightening around the amp.

"Fuck!"

"The hell are you doin'?" Malcolm asked again. His voice had regained firmness, and he used it against the man making their job noticeably more difficult.

"Somethin' gave out!"

"You didn't rip the ceiling out, did ya'?" Bon struggled to stand up but when he did, all eyes were on the damage behind him. The tugging of the cord peeled out a square of the ceiling, a hole of darkness in its place. Whether it was dust or the tiniest of bugs pouring like traffic, no one could tell. A wooden ladder slid from the removed patch of ceiling, striking the carpet beneath. It was narrow, and the steps looked barely enough to support a foot. "Holy fuck, you did."

"What's up there?" Angus asked, squeezing his way through the group to see.

"Dunno...we might have a look up there, yeah? C'mon, who's got a flashlight?" One by one the men shook their heads to show their lack of a light source. Malcolm grabbed the ladder with both hands, stomping his foot on the first step to check its hold. Satisfied with the wood still holding and no splinters in his ankle, he continued up.

"You jus' goin' up?" Bon asked.

"Yep."

"What if there's no light up there? You can't see!" Malcolm reached the top, feeling around for any switches. A yellow glow blinded him for a moment, giving him a smile in reply to Phil's comment. "Wait, Mal, we're comin'." Phil grabbed a hold of the ladder and followed.

"Gettin' out of work, that's what I like to hear," Bon said going next. "Job well done for me."

"Nearly squashed us, Bon," Cliff reminded.

"Eh, what's a little weight on ya'? Won't kill ya'." Phil's sneaker kicked out mere inches from his face. Bon grinned anyway. "Who knows? Might turn ya' into a diamond."

"Good one. Hey, you comin' Angus?" Cliff looked down to see Angus sitting on the amp, rolling his shoulder, holding his arm.

"Give me a minute, Phil did somethin' to my arm." He winced as the nerves awakened like a stampede. "...I think he broke my arm!"

"Ya' pulled a muscle, Ang, write a complaint. Maybe Mal can give ya' worker's comp." By the time Cliff had entered the yellow room, Malcolm had already explored every inch, the gears in his brain turning. Phil stood to the side, next to a stack of boxes, arms crossed. Bon walked around the room, stomping his foot in case the floor wasn't sturdy enough for the four of them. He made his way to Phil, stomping his foot extra hard. With a sigh he was pushed away.

"Piss off," Phil muttered.

"This like an attic or somethin'?" Cliff asked looking around. Malcolm didn't answer, being lost in his own little world. Cliff turned his head to Bon who shrugged.

"It would appear so. A very well hidden attic." Phil, after the strength of pushing Bon forward pushed him backward, had stumbled into the boxes, gently moving one out of line with the rest of the tower. Making sure they didn't crash to the ground, the top box was removed and placed on the floor, the others soon following. Their tops were covered by brown tape sealing them shut. His fingernails pathetically picked at them hoping he might scratch a bit off and see the contents inside. They were heavy enough that surely something must be inside them. With nothing more than a dent in the tape, he left them alone. Bon's foot stomped past him again, grinning when he saw Angus emerge from the hole in the ground.

"The fuck's goin' on up here, who's the elephant?" Bon reached a hand down grabbing Angus', and practically lifted the man in the air before setting him down again like a rag doll.

"It's a ballsy thing for a mouse like you to call someone like me an' elephant," Bon said, backing the man into a corner. Angus jumped when his back collided with Phil, who had stood up to block Angus from running away. "Jus' makin' sure the floor can handle another body."

"Uh, Phil, can you lend a hand here?" Phil clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"I'm stayin' on Bon's side this time, I'm playin' it safe."

"Mal, they're harrassin' me!...Mal!"

"Oi! Lads, I dunno what you're doin' over there but it's breakin' my train of thought, can ya' keep it down?" Angus fell to the floor with a thud, Phil grabbing his arms, Bon grabbing his legs. "Don't throw Angus too hard, yeah?"

"No problem, jus' takin' out the trash." Despite Angus' stubborn squirming to break loose, their grips would not falter. Angus had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing, especially when Phil started tickling his ribs. Stepping aside to gain some quiet on the other side of the room, Cliff joined Malcolm on his survey.

"We've been livin' here, what. Three years? An' we just find out about an attic?"

"Well, what'd you think was up here?" Cliff thought for a moment and laughed.

"Certainly not an attic. We turnin' it into a casino up here?"

"The day we fit a card table up here an' a bar is the day I move in," Malcolm said, tongue in cheek. "Nah, we're puttin' the equipment up here."

"Puttin' up eighty five pounds of amps up here above our heads?" Malcolm giggled through his teeth. "You sure you thought this through?"

"Bon checked the flooring, if it can hold him, it can hold anything." His cheeks turned red when the man in question approached them, he and Phil having let Angus roam free. The guitarist had found a beanbag chair and made himself comfortable.

"Jus' 'cause you're all a bunch of grasshoppers doesn't make me Farmer Brown," he said leaning on a crossbeam. "I pulled a piece of the ceiling off one time, no big deal."

"You've found us a treasure chest, mate." Malcolm slapped the crossbeam above him regretting it instantly as a sliver injected his skin. Grabbing the wood and ignoring the pain, he continued. "An empty chest, but a chest all the same."

"No gold?"

"Aw, nothin' to bet with in the casino," Cliff said, snapping his fingers.

"Nah, we're fillin' it up," Malcolm said. Bon raised an eyebrow.

"Mal wants to move the equipment here," Cliff explained. Upon hearing the words 'move' and 'equipment' in one sentence, Phil rushed over to the group.

"It's Bon's turn, now ain't it?" he asked. "Or we gettin' a roadie to do it?"

"Buck up, Rudd, we can all pitch in. First we gotta clean up around here. There's space but not much of it. We need everything in here out."

"Can't it wait till tomorrow, Mal?" Angus asked, curling up in the beanbag chair. His nail scratched at a piece of thread that poked out the side. "I'm fine right where I am."

"You can move that chair out of here if you want. Stick it in your room. I need everyone's help with this." Phil made a face of suspicion.

"And who's the maid of honor, hmm? Who will be the lucky bastard to lug the shit up the steps?" Malcolm glanced around the room, seeing a forefinger atop everyone's nose. Turning back to Phil, he grinned seeing he hadn't caught on, and touched his finger to his nose as well. Phil noticed the sly trickery his band mates carried among them. He scoffed. "No, get someone else."

"Come on, Rudd-"

"Get. Someone. Else." Malcolm spread his arms, then dropped them to his sides.

"At least put the snares away, the cymbals an' all that."

"I'll help clean up, I'll start with the boxes or somethin'."

"So you'll lug somethin' down," Bon started, "but you won't lug anything up." The drummer ran a hand through his hair, his fingers reaching a knot and accidentally pulling out a few strands. Dropping them in disgust, he sighed.

"Look, Ang an' I already hauled the monster up to the second floor, alright? We're done. It's someone else's turn."

"He's right, Mal," Angus said from his beanbag. "You and Cliff were takin' up the liftin', till Bon decided to stage dive in your path." Bon removed the finger from his nose and used his middle one to send him a friendly gesture from the other side of the room. Subtle enough so the shorter man didn't see it, but he figured he'd earned one. "Besides. It was your idea."

Malcolm surveyed the group once more and saw each of them nodding their heads. Phil even had a smile on his face, sticking his tongue out like a snake. "Alright, Cliff an' I can do a part. You alright with that, Cliff?"

"I am if you are," he agreed.

"Then it's settled," Malcolm said. "Phil? You said you were clearin' out boxes, Bon you can grab a duster an' make the space clean for our stuff, an' Angus...take care of that chair of yours."

Bon whistled as he walked out of the attic, down the ladder to find something to clean with. Cliff joked with Malcolm about getting some uniforms to wear while they worked, and romance novels to read during breaks. Waiting for his feet to touch the floor of the ladder, Phil had in his mind a mission to find some scissors, and explore what was in those boxes. The men weren't fortunate enough to meet the previous owners, and as first time guests to the third floor, it was a guessing game.

Fifteen minutes of cleaning did the small room a world of good. The walls, although still a stained yellow, were dust free, the only particles left were stuck in their noses, leaving them blasting each other in the face. Phil contented himself by staying in the corner, the scissors slicing through the tape like air. The smell was something else, collapsing through the top of the box and filling the room.

"Oh, shit..." Malcolm said.

"That just might be the case," Angus gagged, backing himself away from the smell.

"Alright, who did it?" Cliff asked. No one was willing to answer to a question so personal. And a trifle embarrassing. "Come on, we're all lads here."

"Would you lot calm down? It's jus' this box here, nothin' to shit the bed over," Phil laughed to himself. Malcolm stepped over his project to see what Phil was up to. The scissors lay on the floor next to a ball of tape, the box open.

"What are you doin' over here, makin' a mess we have to clean up?"

"I'm searchin' around a bit, seein' what was left behind. Those boxes are heavy, Mal, there's nothin' trivial about 'em." Malcolm knelt down to pry open the box flap a bit, then wrinkle his nose.

"Pawn 'em off as soon as you can, my life's flashin'." Malcolm returned to Cliff's side as they both took it upon themselves to mop the floors. A hand from behind tapped on his shoulder, and he was met with two puppy eyes. "What do you want, Angus?"

"Can I keep the beanbag, Mal?"

"You want it?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I can stick it in my room, like you said."

"I was sort of kiddin', Ang."

"Aw, what about when I have a girl over, huh? And there's too much room on the bed?" Malcolm snorted out his nose, spit landing on the corner of his mouth. He wiped it off with the back of his hand.

"You're an animal, Ang. Go ahead an' take it, I don't care what you do with it-" Angus turned and grabbed it, throwing it over his shoulder like a sack of garbage. "-as long as it's out of here."

"Woah," Phil breathed, as he pulled different items out of the box. The first one was filled with old clothes. Some papers were wedged among and between them, and he threw those out. A poorly stitched, dented fedora with a hole on top came out first, then tossed aside. Next was a long white gown, lace covering the sleeves and bodice. The bottom was beaded up and the shoulders had once been puffed to perfection. He examined this article a bit more closely, wondering if the white had been whiter years before they moved. "Someone get Dave up here, tell him I've got a little present for him."

Bon turned his head to see the smile on Phil's face and the dress in his fingers. With a cackle and a snort, he dropped the spray bottle in his hands and grabbed the attention of Malcolm and Cliff, who also succumbed to the joke. Angus had just returned, seeing the dress in Phil's grasp, yet missing the original joke. So he made his own.

"Oi, Rudd, you have a hobby you didn't tell us about?" Just when everyone thought the laughter had died down it exploded. Phil only smiled and kicked Angus away, folding the dress back up and placing the fedora on top of it. A brown jacket was pulled out next, a hand reaching in the pockets. Finding nothing, he tossed it aside.

"If all that's in here is old clothes, I'm gonna be very upset."

"Hopin' to find a money bag in there or somethin'?" Bon asked coming over. He sat on the other side of the box, grabbing a different one and the scissors. The tape was slit in half, the scissors set aside.

"Jus' somethin' cool. A sword or somethin'."

"Like I'd trust any of you fuckers with a sword," Malcolm said setting the mop down. "A letter opener is bad enough. Remember, Angus? The cut you gave me, the one I still have?"

"Your finger?" he asked. "Oh, you're fine." Malcolm shook his head and the two joined the collection on the floor, Cliff's interest arising as well. "You had Mum kiss it better, an' I got a scoldin'."

"A wooden spoon, Ang. I know that for a fact, I watched from behind the door. Nursin' my poor finger."

"You want a new finger so bad? Then by all means, take one of mine," Angus laughed, sticking his middle one in between his brother's eyes. It was shoved away along with a punch on the shoulder. "What's in that one, Bon?"

Metal figures and glass vases were taken out of the second box, each one handed off to the group to see closer. The figures were rusty, the vases filled with cobwebs and dead insects. One was chipped, and the boys were careful to make sure everything got placed back in the box, lest someone sit on something they shouldn't. Angus grabbed a box for himself and ripped the tape off with sudden strength. "Damn, Godzilla over there," Cliff muttered. The tape was crumpled up with only a slight trouble, and tossed at his head. "Thought you pulled a muscle."

"I did," Angus replied. "I jus' heal quickly. Hell, these boxes reek!"

"No less than you," Bon teased getting a tongue stuck out at him. The flaps were pulled apart revealing a yellow and brown bed sheet. The box was tossed over Angus' shoulder landing a meter away from him. "Is that a sheet?"

"Think so...a gross one. Here-" Angus unfolded the cloth till its condensed size expanded to fit around a bed, and he adjusted it over his head. He swam in it, the fabric tips touching the floor, every inch of him hidden. "-how do I look?"

"You're sure spooking me, Ang," Bon said. "I might not sleep at night lookin' at you."

"Piss off, someone give me a real opinion." Angus' voice was muffled from the thick sheet. He could see light through the stitching, but clear images were impossible.

"You gonna put that on your beanbag?" Cliff smiled. "Give your girl somethin' to sleep under?"

"No way, she'd never sleep in my room again." A clear, kitten sneeze came from under the sheet. "God, this thing stinks."

"Gives her all the more reason to sleep in your bed, Ang," Malcolm said. "You're a real ghost."

"Eh." The sheet was pulled off, rolled up and tossed behind him landing on the box. "More of a devil myself."

"Not a handsome one. Phil, how many more boxes?" Phil looked up at Malcolm then back to the box on his lap.

"This is the last one, I think..." The scissors had a bit of trouble cutting through the tape this time, and he had to make a few detours. With the cardboard all shredded up, he set the scissors down and opened it up. Now this was the box he was looking for.

A purple cloth rested on top, completely covering whatever was underneath. It wasn't till he pulled it off that he saw why it was necessary. The objects inside didn't have much shine, but instead gave off a thin luster that was just as beautiful if not more. They were gold; or that is to say, a dark bronze. A few closer to the bottom were more copper. Small cups and pots were passed among the group of men, fascinated in what their real estate agent didn't remind the sellers to take with them. Small ones fit inside large, like an ancient collection of Russian nesting dolls.

"I'd drink my tea outta this," Angus said passing a smooth cup to Cliff who turned it over in his hand.

"This one? Mmm, I prefer the uh..." His eyes scanned the group. "the one Mal's got, the one with the beading on the rim."

"That's good too. This one's got beading on the handle though..." Phil had taken out the last cup to reveal another purple cloth. Soon that too was taken away.

"Oh man..."

"What?"

Phil took out a small box, just a small, ordinary brown box. Inside were rectangular cards with the most intricate designs front and back. The backs were all the same. The front of each however, had its own little picture painted on. One had a large green lizard, with a tongue of fire sticking out. Another had a fair woman with wings like a dove on her back. She seemed to be holding something. The third showed another woman, this one of lustful purposes. She donned a red flowing dress while two butterfly wings sprouted behind her. Still another woman was displayed on a card, her arms crossed and a striped wrap on her head. The final card was scary to look at with a face to stare right back at you. It was a mask with plump lips and dark sockets for eyes. The eyebrows were arched and almost covered by the purple vines swirling on the background. The mask was smiling.

"What...is that?" Malcolm asked getting a good look. The cards were handed off to him, his view partially blocked by Angus who didn't want to be the last to see them. "Move over, Ang, I can't see."

"I wanna see too."

"Here." The cards were split in half. "You can have two, I'll take these three."

"Hey hey, lovely ladies on these ones," Angus said with a grin to match the mask card in Malcolm's hand.

"Hand 'em up, let's see." Bon took them and grinned as wide as the guitarist. "Well well now, one for both of us here."

"I'll take that blonde one if ya' don't mind," Angus said pointing to the one with the white wings. Bon nodded in approval.

"Good pick, but I've always wanted a woman in red, who can take me to bed." The group laughed as Bon fanned himself with the preferred card and they were passed down. "What'd you get, Mal?"

"This one has a sheila too, but a bit old for my taste. From Egypt or somethin'. Here, Bon, this one's got you written all over it."

"Aw, a dragon! One arm up ready to grab my lady in crimson-oh, he's havin' a bit of trouble with that arm, it ain't even attached to the rest of him!" He showed it to Cliff and Angus behind him. "Look, it's jus' floatin' there!"

"This one freaks me out," Malcolm said handing off the last card. "A mask or somethin'."

"Har-lee-quinn," Bon enunciated as he read the top. "'True feelings are masked.' Oh, they all got writing on 'em. He sure looks like you, Phil."

Phil looked up from his search and scoffed as Bon waved the card in his hand, handing it back to Malcolm. What else he had found in that box was nothing he could have guessed. Amber stones with foreign markings, several pairs of dice, and a palm sized black figure that looked like a lantern. "We had weirdos livin' before us," Phil stated.

"Lucky for them we're weirdos ourselves," Bon replied looking inside the box as well. "Those rocks have letters on 'em?"

"Nah, they're markings. Or pictures, can't tell. Oh, fuck!"

Every head was turned. "What?"

"Fuck, look at this!" Phil saw a wooden board at the bottom of the box underneath the strange novelties. It wasn't heavy nor was it light. When he flipped it over, his suspicions were confirmed.

The top corners were decorated with a sun on the left one, a moon on the right. The words 'yes' and 'no' followed after them. Below in calligraphic designs was an arch of all twenty six letters of the alphabet. Basic numbers were underneath that, with the word 'goodbye' still to follow. The bottom corners each had a black star on them. Five pairs of eyes were as wide as the mask's.

"Ain't that one of those...what are they called. Spirit boards?" Bon asked.

"Ouija," Cliff answered. "I guess both names work...that was in there with all of this?"

"Right here at the bottom." Phil inspected the board in his hands. The wood was in no way new, but in no way broken or unusable either. "Now this...is what we've been searchin' for, gentlemen."

"You were lookin' for that? Some haunted piece of wood to conjure demons?" Cliff asked raising an eyebrow. Phil's nail picked at a chip in the bottom. "This attic is probably possessed now."

"You don't really believe all that stuff." Cliff tilted his head back and forth and looked at Bon. Bon blew air out his lips and patted his knee, fiddling with the dragon card. He looked at Angus. Angus put his hands behind his back while slipping the card of the winged blonde in his back pocket and rocked back and forth on his sneakers. Without a word, he looked at Malcolm. Malcolm had stood there, staring at the mask card. Its sockets of black stared back at him, a weird sensation traveling up his hand and into his fingers. He had to force himself to look elsewhere. Phil scoffed. "You're bloody kidding."

"Oh, you're so brave, you're so intelligent not to fall for these tricks, let's see you mess around with it, huh? Call up some demons, Phil. What are you afraid of?" Bon asked with a challenging glare.

"I'm too skeptical to conjure, they'll just ignore me." Phil leaned back in his spot against a wooden beam. "Like a prank call."

"You're chicken."

"Not true."

"Then call up some demons." Bon shoved the Ouija board at Phil's chest, the wood hitting his rib. "Call up a succubus an' take her on a date."

"If you're so interested, why don't you do it yourself?" Phil glared right back. "Call up Miss Floozy on that card of yours an' take her on a date."

"I already have earned the paranormal respect, you however, are bein' a chicken."

"I'm not. A chicken!"

"Bawk, bawk, bagawk!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up!" Malcolm yelled. The card he possessed was clenched tightly in his hand, almost bending it. Bon glanced over at him, then back at Phil who searched the floor. "Look, we came up here to clean, an' now this place is a mess more than it was. We don't have time to fuck around with a Ouija board, we have an amp downstairs unattended."

"And Phil's snares," Angus added. Malcolm nodded.

"An' Phil's snares. Now before we do anything else this place needs to be cleaned up and the equipment needs to get taken care of. You hear me, Bon? There will be no rituals or summons until our work is done." Bon laughed through his teeth.

"Fine by me. Okay with you, Rudd?" Phil's eyes had never looked darker. He almost wished he had never found the stupid board, being as nosy as he was. "Malcolm's waitin' for an answer, Ruddy."

"You're a fuckin' psycho." He abruptly stood up, the box shoved aside, the board falling to the floor. His figure disappeared from the room as he climbed down the ladder, making himself busy with his snares he was ordered to carry. Malcolm sighed, he and Cliff heading over to the wall where they set their mops. Bon stood from the floor and grinned at Angus, who had been observing uneasily, and headed toward the back of the room. The footsteps' increase in volume was uncomfortable enough, but the only other direction was down the ladder with Phil. His work upstairs done, he chose risking running into the pissed off drummer in the hallway.

He made it to the first floor in a minute or two. Right around the corner by the kitchen he walked into Phil who stumbled backward. "Jesus Christ, Ang." Angus just stood there, lips slightly parted, a small frown in his eyes. Phil stood there in front of him, a stack of snare drums in his arms. The silence between them was suffocating. "Well, you gonna watch where you're goin', or what?" Phil said walking past him.

"Hey, Phil. Let me ask you somethin'." Angus followed him into the kitchen. Phil set the drums down on the counter and opened the fridge, pulling out numerous ingredients. A bag of bread with only three slices left was tossed next to a jar of mayonnaise and another jar of mustard. A head of lettuce rolled next to a block of cheese and a sharp knife was set next to a bright, red tomato. Angus licked his lips.

"Shoot."

"You're not-really skeptical, over all this. Are you?" Two slices of bread were placed on the counter, Phil opening the jar of mustard. A thick layer was spread on one side.

"You're not-really a sucker for that talk." Phil's tongue grazed over the knife catching the mustard. "Are you?"

Angus scoffed. "No."

"You gonna be first to call up a spirit? Talk to one, ask it some random generic questions then be impressed with nothing? Be fascinated with bullshit?" The mayonnaise was opened next. Angus watched the knife dip into the jar.

"No."

"Bon would. He will. He's excited."

"You were too when you found the stupid board," Angus frowned. "Maybe Bon was right." The mayonnaise was set back in the fridge. "Maybe you are a chicken."

"Chicken," Phil repeated staring at the ceiling. "Chicken, that sounds good. We have any?" He bent down to search from the bottom shelf to the top.

"I'm not a fan of it either you know," Angus said. "Callin' up the dead ain't really my idea of a good time." Phil's fingers tapped the fridge door. "Bon ate the last of it."

"Figures." The door was slammed closed. "Bon has the balls to call me a chicken when he's full of it." The head of lettuce was grabbed and shredded instead. Angus watched each leaf fall on the bread, two for each piece. Back in the fridge it went. "Just have this instead. Vegetarian style."

"I'm not lookin' forward to it either," Angus repeated. Phil heard him that time. "Talkin' to spirits, feelin' like there's somethin' behind you...it answerin' back."

"An' you believe it." Phil shook his head as he reached for the knife on the counter. The tomato met its demise and the slices were messily thrown on the lettuce, juice soaking the counter top. "You're jus' like 'em. Believin' in all the hocus pocus when there's nothin' to be afraid of."

"If you're not afraid then prove it," Angus said. Phil stared at him. His hand hovered over the block of cheese but he set it down. Angus walked around the counter to see him fully. "If there's nothin' to be afraid of, then prove it. Prove it to Bon that you're not a chicken."

"I don't have to prove anything to that psycho."

"He doesn't believe in any of that shit either, you think he does? He's not afraid to do it, but he knows nothin' will happen."

"So why's he pickin' on me, eh? Needs fresh meat every now an' then?" With a sigh Angus shrugged. "That fucker can jus' leave me alone."

The cheese was picked up and carved into with the knife. The smell reached Angus' nose and he sighed again. The meal before him was colorful, fresh, and in a way, healthy. Malcolm used to make him sandwiches when they were kids going off to school. He'd make him peanut butter and jelly, while leaving all the turkey meat and cheese for himself. Not to mention Angus' lack of fondness for jelly and the peanut butter reaching its expiration date. The bread was a story all its own. "He's not gonna let up," Angus said backing away. "I should know, he picks on me every day."

"That's 'cause you're his little buddy," Phil spat. "He teases you, but it's all in good fun. An' he knows you won't tattle to Mal on him, not that Mal would do anything anyway. Bon an' I, we're not so close."

"What are you talkin' about?"

"Oh it's quite simple really." Phil set the knife down. "See, here is Bon." He picked up a pepper shaker and set it on the counter. "He's up here on stage, in the front. Singin' his ass off. An' this," he grabbed a salt shaker. "this is me. Waaayyyy in the back." He popped his lips as he set it down. "Playin' the drums, keepin' the beat, stayin' far away from him." Angus frowned, watching Phil struggle to piece his sandwich together. "Both of you...you're havin' fun front an' center."

"Phil, you're our drummer, our stage positions have nothin' to do with it."

"Even then," Phil interrupted. "Aside all the silliness and shit of the band, Bon an' I...we ain't as close. We ain't as close as you an' I, or you an' him." Angus shrugged.

"You get along."

"We get along sure, but lately there's been some disagreein' between us two. A couple disputes."

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed," Angus mumbled. "C'mon, you guys are still close, it's just a few unlucky months-"

"About a year now," he said. "One long, and one very unlucky year. I used to miss havin' good times with you all while I sit in back but now..." The sandwich was sloppily hugged in his hands, bits and pieces falling out the sides. "I'm glad I get a break from him." Right at that moment Angus covered his stomach with his arms, attempting to hide the massive roar it gave.

"Uh...that wasn't me," he mumbled. With a smile Phil grabbed the knife off the counter and set the sandwich down, cutting it in half. A messy piece was given to Angus who took it with two hands.

"Uh-huh, sure."

"Thanks," Angus said. Taking their lunches with them to the second floor and the steps of the attic, they had the ill luck of meeting Bon at the base. He grinned with his teeth, a saunter in his steps. Angus looked at Phil, a piece of lettuce getting stuck in his teeth. He turned away to fix it letting the other men hold their staring contest.

"Havin' a bit of trouble, Ang?" Bon asked.

"Not here," he answered over his shoulder.

"No," Bon agreed. "Not there."

"Step aside, Scott," Phil said edging his way to the ladder. An arm reached up like a barrier, Phil barely keeping his sandwich together as he knocked it out of the way. A piece of cheese landed on Bon's hand.

"Gross, you little slob!" Bon laughed throwing the speck on Phil. He brushed it off. "Smells good, that a chicken sandwich, Phil?"

"You already had your fill."

"Gone?" Bon's slight frown turned into a light laugh. "That's right, I got hungry. Well, if Angus is busy pickin' his grin an' Phil's gettin' his fill, I guess I'll be on my way."

"Hey, why don't you jus' fuck off, Scott?" Phil asked. Bon stopped in his tracks.

"I'm tryin' to," he said.

"I meant for the day. Leave us to clean an' go find a chick in a bar."

"It ain't my call, Philip. Mal's been gripin' at all of us, if I could, I'd be gone right now. 'Stead I'm stuck here with you." Angus swallowed the lettuce he freed and joined in the conversation. Bon nodded toward the attic. "Why don't you take your tea party upstairs an' join the Union."

"Knock it off, Bon." Angus said shoving a glaring Phil towards the stairs. "Get along all day jus' to knock each other's teeth out later, that'll do it. Shit." Picking up the napkin he dropped, the two made their way up the stairs while Bon walked down the hall for a bathroom. "The both a ya'? Are real buggers."

"Me no worse than him," Phil stated reaching the top. He gave Angus a hand when it was his turn. "I'm not lookin' for a fight, he sticks it in me."

"You're both just as mean and as nasty as the other. Do no favors for no one."

"I gave you a sandwich," Phil lightly smiled. Angus waved the remaining meal in his hand.

"One sloppy, easy on the eyes but poor on the tongue sandwich." With a laugh they made their way to Malcolm and Cliff, the floor wet from their mops.

"Eh, eh, eh, back up a bit," Malcolm said running his mop over the floor again. "Messin' it up."

"Sor-ry, Ma'am, we were just passin' through," Phil said giving Malcolm a slight bow. Angus grinned and followed him.

"Where's your uniform, Mal?" he asked. Malcolm shoved him away and wacked Cliff with the mop when he laughed.

The two returned to their spots around the boxes, Phil on the floor with Angus standing beside him. Angus reached into his back pocket, then patting it afterward. The Ouija board was picked up and placed on Phil's lap. The wood chipped more under his wandering fingers, eventually searching for the missing piece. "Ain't there one of those little Poker chips you place on these things? To get 'em to work."

"Poker chips," Angus repeated. "I thought it was one of those tiddlywinks things."

"Not even close," Phil said revealing something from the box the board had come in. A small wooden disk lay in his palm, looking much newer than the rest of the game. "Surprised it wasn't lost."

"Mmm...looks more like a potato chip than a Poker chip," Angus observed. "I mean, I jus' could still be hungry after my sandwich, but."

I'll hide this damn thing before Bon gets back, maybe he'll forget the whole thing."

"Forget what, Phil?" Both men turned their heads to see Bon leaning on the wall behind them with his arms crossed. "Certainly can't forget you tellin' me to fuck off. Instead of face me like the chicken you deny."

"Here guys," Angus said stepping between them. "I'm usually against any idea of causing myself bodily harm. But if it gets you twats to make nice I'll let you gang up on me again." Neither one listening to the idea ever even looked at Angus. Rather, they balled their fists.

"Ang tells me you don't believe in that shit either," Phil challenged.

"Ang told you," Bon laughed.

"So either there are two logical men in this room, or one man, and one very gutless chicken." Bon smiled and walked up to the box on the floor beside Phil, the board tossed inside. He picked it up.

"Leave it up to the dead to figure which one it is," he said. "Mal, are we ready?"

A mop was set against the wall, knocked over, then picked back up again. Malcolm walked up to the group wiping the sweat from his hands. "Ready? For what?"

"We're playin' Ouija, 'member?"

"You really want to play with that thing? Do you know what you're doin', do you have everything it needs?"

"You want to check?" Bon smiled at Malcolm who rolled his eyes. "Let's see, we've got the board, we've got the talkin' piece, we've got the skeptics...I'd say we're all set."

"This place is hardly clean," Malcolm said. He eyed the stash of boxes and artifacts next to Phil. The drummer shrugged and pushed them aside.

"I'll get 'em later."

"Cliff? You comin'?" Malcolm asked taking his place on the floor. Angus sat beside him a little too close. "Back up, Ang," he mumbled pushing him away. "Cliff?"

"What?" he whined from the back of the attic.

"You wanna summon some spirits with us?" Cliff walked forward, seeing his band in a circle on the floor. Bon had the board in the middle of it, reaching into his pocket for the cards he was given. "Come on, you can have a card, take it." Malcolm gave him the second card he possessed, the one with the head wrap.

"Why do I need this?" he asked taking a spot.

"Dunno, there's five cards, five of us. I know Ang kept Miss Goldilocks in his pocket to smooch later so I figured...you wanted a woman too."

"Pick a card, Rudd, any card," Bon said holding two out to him. Phil just stared at him, Bon waving them in his hand with a spiteful grin. They were pulled away whenever Phil made a grab, and eventually both were ripped from the older man's hand. "Hey! Greedy bugger, ain't ya'?"

"Piss off," Phil mumbled. Taking the woman in red, the dragon card was thrown back at Bon, landing on the board. "Take your spirit animal back."

"My sheila! You're takin' that one?"

"Why shouldn't I? You offered both." Sticking his tongue out like the dragon, the card was picked up and settled back in his pocket.

"True, mate. Alright, we dimmin' the lights on this thing?"

"No, then we can't see," Malcolm protested. Angus stood up and turned them off anyway, leaving the men in near pitch. The hole in the floor gave them one source of light, illuminating the board just enough to make out the markings. Angus returned to his spot with a smug look. "Thank you, Ang."

"Where does this start?" The small piece was picked up and placed on the letters. Nothing happened.

"Mister Ghost?" Bon laughed. "We doin' this right, can you hear us?"

"Maybe you start at hello," Malcolm said moving it over. Each of the men looked around themselves, nothing new or out of the ordinary. "Or maybe we're jus' real bad at this..."

"Here, let me see this thing," Bon said picking the board up. "There's no instructions anywhere?"

"The makers never guessed anyone so incompetent like us would use it," Cliff said.

"We ain't incompetent, the makers were jus' lazy, we'll figure it out." Bon set the board back and put a hand to his chin. "Ah. Everyone's gotta do it."

"Why?" Malcolm asked.

"Saw it on T.V. You know, everyone puts their hand on the thingie an' then it talks to us."

"Hands on the thingie," Phil scoffed. "That's a game I've jus' been dyin' to play."

"Whatchya been doin' in your room all this week?" Bon snapped at him. "C'mon, let's try it. Unless you're chicken." Phil glared at him for an answer. If Bon wasn't such a chicken himself, surely he'd try as well. "Everyone, come on."

Bon placed his hand first on the planchette, Cliff hesitantly following. Malcolm nudged Angus and they both placed their fingers on it. Phil, after shaking his head and uncrossing his arms, joined them. It was crowded, with five grown hands atop one small piece of wood, some fingers moving aside to make room. Eyes glancing around them, nothing seemed different about the atmosphere. Phil scoffed again. "What are we doin'. I knew it! Jus' a bunch of-"

When the planchette began to move, not one more word was uttered. It would shift one way, then scoot another, making its path toward the letters in the middle of the board. Angus leaned forward in order to keep his hand on the wandering wood, gritting his teeth at the stretch. Bon's face was the only calm one, looking at each of his mates' reactions. The first letter was H, and Cliff mouthed something, keeping track of the spelling. When their hands hovered on the O, ending the response, Malcolm spoke.

"Bon?" The singer turned to him. "You're not allowed to watch T.V. anymore," he said.

"Not when I'm home," Angus agreed.

"Relax, the two of you."

"Relax?" Cliff asked, his voice cracking. "How can we relax? That thing," he pointed at it with his free hand. "just talked to us!"

"You're not scared, are you?" Bon taunted. Phil frowned, having enough of the teasing.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he asked. Bon whipped his head around. Phil sat across him, glaring. "You moved it, didn't you?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." Phil took his hand from the piece and pointed it at him.

"You moved it, you made it spell somethin' out, it was-"

"I moved it the same way everyone else moved it, it was not me!" His smile disappeared. "The pick was already on 'hello', it didn't have to go an' spell it out for us!"

"I think I would have preferred if it didn't," Angus muttered.

"Bon, give it up! We both know there's no such thing, so stop fuckin' around an'-" His words were once again cut off by the board, not by spelling, but by shaking. The Ouija board rattled under their hands, each man horrified.

"Look what you done!" Bon yelled.

"Wasn't me!"

"Oh, it's my fault then! Jus' like I moved the chip?" Malcolm pressed his hand down on the board to keep the rattling under control. It grew louder, Bon's voice straining to talk above it. "You've upset the damn thing, I haven't done-"

"Shut up!" Malcolm grabbed Phil's hand beside him and slammed it on the chip, the board settling instantly. Panting, the men stared at the object in front of them, everyone whiter than sheets. "Thank you," he breathed.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Angus muttered.

"Not now, Ang, keep it in," Malcolm said. "I can't imagine your breakfast would please the spirits if this is how it reacts to these knuckleheads."

"It ain't my fault," Phil muttered.

"It ain't mine either!"

"It ain't anybody's!" Cliff said, looking at them on either side of him. "Or maybe it's both of you for arguin' like you are." He straightened up. "What if we phoned a sleeping ghost, hmm?"

"A sleeping ghost?" Bon asked.

"Yeah, what if we woke him up, and now you're screamin' in his ear? Or one that has a hangover? I know I wouldn't want that kind of noise if I were him. Right, Mal?"

"Oi, don't bring me into this," he whined.

"Come on, Mal. Would you want someone arguin' if you had a hangover?" Cliff raised his eyebrows as Malcolm sighed.

"No. No I wouldn't."

"See?"

"Knock it off everyone, I'm gettin' a cramp from sittin' here an' we've heard one word outta this guy," Bon said.

"That shaking was just the wind?" Angus asked.

"Come on, let's spell something for it, it thinks we're lazy. How 'bout..." Bon tapped his free hand to his jeans as he thought what possible question they could ask. Phil sighed and rolled his eyes in impatience. Angus jumped when Bon snapped his fingers. "Easy. Boy or girl."

"Do ghosts have genders?" Malcolm asked.

"We might just have a lady ghost on our hands, lads, an' I for one, think we ought to present ourselves as gentlemen."

"T's alright, I've got a lady in my pocket," Angus whimpered.

Bon rolled his eyes and guided the planchette over to the A, then the R, E, held it still for a moment, then the Y, and so on until they had finished the question. Waiting a minute more, Phil shook his head. "I'm tellin' you, this is ridic-"

Bon grinned when the first letter the chip moved on was a G.

Giving Phil a look before it was even complete, Phil frowned, then returned the smirk when he read the full response. G-E-N-D-E-R-N-A.

"What the hell does that mean?" Angus frowned, eyeing Cliff who was mouthing the letters again.

"Gender...N A...not applicable?" he guess.

"Damn, what a vocabulary it's got," Malcolm muttered.

"Even takes the easy way out, don't it?" Bon said, still disappointed by the answer. "Fuckin' acronyms...well, Rudd, now you know for sure I'm not the one who's movin' it, I would have made it a lady."

"Then which one of you lot is movin' it?" Phil eyed every man in the attic, each one shaking his head. "Come on."

"You think we made it shake like that?" Malcolm asked. "It's been a while since I've conjured up a spirit, I admit." Angus laughed to himself. "But that's never happened on purpose."

"Mal, you're on fire."

"Thanks, Cliff."

"No, Mal, you're on fire!" Angus scooted away from his brother, letting go of the Ouija board. All of them did, backing away from Malcolm who just noticed a trail of smoke coming from his jeans pocket. He patted it a few times before taking the stupid risk of reaching inside it. He pulled a card out, the same one he'd been holding since Phil found it. "Christ, where do you keep your cigarettes?"

"It's this fuckin' thing!" He threw it away from him, blowing his burning hand. The card kept its flame as it landed on the board, all the men now standing as far away from it as the attic allowed them. Angus pushed Malcolm out of his way to hide behind Bon. The fire didn't spread like it normally would on such objects, instead, the bent up card fixed its creases and the flames disappeared on their own. Malcolm continued to blow on his hand and checked his pocket. There was no hole where the fire had been, but it was hot to the touch. Angus checked his own pocket for the card and pulled it out, throwing it on the board in front of him. One by one the other men did the same, the Ouija board covered in their cards. "Hey, how come none of you caught fire?"

"Didn't need to, we learned from you," Phil said.

"You alright, Mal?" Angus asked.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the sore spots on his leg and hand. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

"I'll be damned if that board really isn't possessed," Cliff said pointing at it. "Watch. We keep playing with it, one of us will die."

"My bet's on Angus," Bon said.

"What?"

"No one is gonna die tonight, we got a show tomorrow. If one of us dies and doesn't show up, spirit or no spirit, they're gonna answer to me," Malcolm said still rubbing his hand. "I dunno, maybe the ghost wanted his cards back."

"Maybe I wasn't done with mine," Angus protested.

"That's why you're goin' first," Bon said with a raised eyebrow.

"Am not!"

"Shut it, remember what happened last time there was an argument?" Angus and Bon looked away from each other, both of them rather pissed off. Phil stepped out from his spot in the corner and cleared his throat.

"He's-he's right," he stuttered, gesturing to Malcolm. Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "We-we shouldn't fight."

"Who's believin' now, Phil, eh?" Bon said rounding in on him. "This givin' you the creeps?"

"I know Malcolm's sudden ignition scared the shit outta you," Phil said, taking another step forward. "I'm not afraid to admit, I thought he was gonna set the whole place on fire."

"I was scared for your safety, Mal."

"Shut up, Angus," Malcolm muttered, waving him off.

"I think we ought to keep goin'," Phil continued. "Maybe-this, this-ghost or whatever it is, is tryin' to tell us somethin'. Maybe-we found this stuff for a reason."

"Oh now who's believing!"

"Will you do it or not?" Phil questioned, staring up at Bon. Bon placed his hands in his pockets as if to check for another card he mistakenly hid away, and that could catch on fire. "Hey, if your hair catches we're all runnin'."

"Very funny," Bon said wrinkling his nose. He shrugged and sat down again. "Alright, alright, I'm game. Not scared," he said eyeing Phil. "but game. If these ghosts wanna talk, let them talk. I wanna hear."

"I don't," Angus said.

"Get over here an' sit down, the lot of ya'," Bon said. The band took their seats again around the board. With caution and a touch of paranoia, the cards were swept aside and the planchette was picked up again. "Alright." Bon placed it back on the A and hands were on it again. "Anyone got a question?"

"Ask what it wants with us," Cliff suggested. "Why the hell it's in our house, who this stuff belongs to, who died in the first place, what is it gonna-"

"Shit, mate, we'll be on hold all night with a list like yours," Bon said. Cliff glared but Bon ignored him. "Anyone have one, sensible question?"

"Those were sensible!"

"Anyone?"

"I have one." Attention turned to Angus, who straightened himself up with a smile that could irk a man. He looked at each of his mates, that smile lingering. Malcolm stared at him, waiting for him to continue. When he didn't, Malcolm rolled his eyes.

"What's your damn question?"

"What its name is."

"Oh, was that suspense worth it!" Bon said earning a dirty look from the youngest man. "Well, that might answer one of Cliff's questions too...oh well, let's give it a shot."

The chip was moved under the men's hands, traveling across the board hitting every letter in the question, only slowing down to keep track of what letter came next. Ending on E, they waited, each with a hint of question on his face. A few minutes passed before they got a response. Everyone looked at Phil, waiting for him to make a comment to be interrupted. "What?" he asked.

"The skeptic is silent?" Bon said smirking a bit.

"No one is a skeptic now, Bon, but...if it only responds to denial..."

"I'll do it!" Angus said getting his smile back. "This is a load of shit!"

Right then the chip began to act. Instead of moving right away, it heated up, raising a bit of fear that it would set on fire itself. When it didn't, Cliff began matching the letters together as it moved across the board. "C-A-S-E  T-H-O-A-S."

"Case Thoas?" Bon asked. Cliff shrugged.

"Ya' know, Bon's not that common of a name either," he defended.

"I think you missed a few letters, Cliff," Malcolm said. "I caught a Y after the E."

"Oh, Casey," Cliff said nodding. "So it's Casey Thoas." Bon whistled.

"Even the name could go both ways."

"I caught an M," Angus said. "Don't remember where, but I saw one."

"Mthoas...no. Tmhoas...no. Thmoas..."

"For God's sake, Cliff, Thomas!" Malcolm yelled. "Casey Thomas!"

"Oh."

"Well, nice to meet you, Casey Thomas," Bon said, doing well to hide the shake in his tone. "How are you?"

"Ask if it knows Danny Thomas," Phil said. "Maybe this Casey can sing too."

"Hey, we won't have to pay for the radio," Bon joked. "You think it'll sing through the wood?"

"What does a radio do?"

"It has a speaker, Rudd, you know how radios work?"

"It was just a joke, Scott, calm your tits."

"You wish you had some!"

"You wish you could see some just once!"

"Shit!" The board was abandoned by the men, who nearly fell over from the fire that ignited the cards again. Malcolm inspected himself and his brother to make sure they weren't hurt. "Jesus..."

Orange flames expanded to cover the board on the floor, nothing burning up. A small trail of smoke flew to the ceiling, disappearing in the darkness. It dwindled, then settled on one card; the Harlequin.

"That damn card is possessed!" Bon said. Phil glanced at him, Bon's eyes solely on the inflamed card. When it died down, the seats weren't taken again. "Fuckin' fuck..."

Angus chanced a few steps toward the cards, stretching his neck to see the tops. He picked them up, dropping them from the heat. "They're hot!"

"Whadja expect, a warm waffle?" Malcolm asked. He picked the scattered cards up, using the tips of his fingers. The mask's eye sockets were glowing red now, a shiver running down his spine. He set them back on the board. "I have a question," he said, his voice soft. "What does it want with these cards?"

"That's a good question," Angus said.

A wordless mutual agreement jumped from man to man. Cliff shifted from foot to foot, Bon keeping his eyes and finger directed at the cards, Phil's head down. "Well," Malcolm said, raising his voice slightly. "We can't ask it unless we sit down."

"No," Bon said after a while. "No I suppose we can't."

"Alright then." Slowly, each one returned to his spot around the board. The cards were brushed aside again with a respectful, 'sorry', and the planchette was touched again, hands a bit shaky this time, fingers twitching. Malcolm sighed, looking around the circle. "Ready?"

Cliff shook his head. "Not a bit."

"No," Malcolm agreed. "Let's do it."

Again, the men led the piece of wood across the board, starting at W and ending on S. Waiting for a response didn't happen as the response came right away. Cliff repeated the letters out loud, making sure not to miss any. "M...A...L..."

"C..." Phil joined in.

"O...L..." Bon, Malcolm and Angus began reading too.

"M." The planchette paused, Malcolm looking slightly paler than before.

"Malcolm," Angus whispered.

"Malcolm?" Cliff repeated, frowning.

"I know what it fuckin' said!" Malcolm yelled.

"What does this thing want with my brother?" Angus asked frowning as well, but not out of confusion.

"I dunno, ask it!" Phil said.

"The fuck do you want with Malcolm?" Malcolm glared at Angus' abruptness, fearing it might not like being yelled at. The pointer moved again, the men spelling the word out.

"S...P...I...R...I...T..."

"Spirit?" Cliff asked after a minute. Bon cast his eyes down.

"The cards!"

Phil picked the card saying 'The Spirit' up, dropping it on the board. The men waited, nothing happening. "Oh, that explains it."

"What's the bottom say?" Cliff asked. It was difficult to see in the dark, and Cliff squinted to read the writing.

"Unseen forces watch over you..." Bon answered for them. He turned to Malcolm whose color returned some. "Hey, Mal, you got a friend in your closet?"

"No! I dunno, it-what the hell is it talkin' about, why'd my name come up?"

"Maybe this card has somethin' to do with you."

"Maybe the cards have something to do with all five of us," Cliff suggested. "Count yourself lucky, Mal, that's not a bad card."

"What's a good one?" While Malcolm's color returned, the crack in his voice never left. "None of these are good, they're possessed!"

"Don't let Casey hear you say that, these cards might be his," Phil said.

"Hers," Bon said. Phil rolled his eyes.

"I don't give a damn about these cards, what does my brother have to do with anything?" The pointer jerked to one side of the board, Angus almost losing his grasp. The letters appeared too quick to catch them, but a lucky few were remembered.

"I got a C and an F," Phil said.

"I got a W," Bon said.

"Two Ls," Angus said. Cliff turned as white as Malcolm had.

"M-m-me?" he stuttered.

"Hope you get a good card, Cliff," Malcolm mocked, beyond thankful that the focus was off of him. "Maybe that mask is yours."

Before he could respond, the pointer moved again, this time pausing at D. Bon looked at the pile. "Any of them start with D?" he asked.

"This one," Phil said holding up the dragon card.

"Hey, that's mine!"

"Well that blonde was mine, and the ghost gave it to my brother. Boo hoo," Angus huffed. The dragon card was set on top of the spirit, and Bon read it aloud.

"Strength and wisdom...you?" Cliff frowned.

"Why not me?"

"Goin' on like Porky Pig over there, you are! You're more chicken than Rudd!"

"I am not a chicken! Come on, ghost, give Bon a card, put him front and center!" Phil yelled at the board.

"This is total bullshit, Mal doesn't have anyone watchin' over him," Cliff said.

"An' if I do, they're not doin' their job, I caught on fire!" Malcolm agreed. "An' if Cliff's more scared than any of us, who's to say this board or whatever isn't playin' some shit with us?"

"Should we stop?" Angus asked biting his lip. Cliff opened his mouth to speak when the board did it for him.

"Angus..." Bon said staring at the pointer. "Look." Angus followed the planchette as it shifted across the board, hitting A. There were some mixed feelings in his heart when it spelled out his name, and spelled it correctly.

"Damn, this demon had the perfect chance..." Malcolm mumbled, though Angus could tell he didn't mean it, and only said it to make himself feel better. Swiftly the wooden piece moved to the Q, and again stayed there. "Q, Phil?"

"This one."

"Bon?" He read it.

"Love and prosperity. Huh. Don't be so quick to complain, Ang. You've got the best one yet."

"Why's it the old one though?" Angus asked with a hint of disappointment. "What if my next girlfriend is old?"

"You would have picked her, I hope," Malcolm said. "Hey Phil, you got any more of those?"

Phil put his lighter away and stuck the cigarette in his mouth. "No, it's my last one."

"NO one is watchin' over me!"

"Ah, quiet, I need it more than you." Bon couldn't help the slight smirk.

"A little chilly, Phil? A little...ch-ch-chicken?" Phil scowled and placed the cigarette on the board, assuming it wouldn't burn, as it showed this afternoon. It was still so dark in the little attic that it could have been evening for all they knew.

Ignoring the remark, Phil stared at the board, waiting for its next statement. The planchette remained still for a minute or two, then began to heat up again. It hardly moved at all, and they only just realized when the Q became visible again, and the P was covered. Phil swallowed.

"Your turn, Phil. What's your card?" Cliff asked. Bon swallowed too, as the planchette moved over to the H, and began to spell out-

"Hindrance?" Angus asked. "What's that?"

"It's what you are on weekends," Malcolm said craning his neck to see the card Phil shakily held up. "Fate has...blocked this path...for you."

"Well, at least Phil's not gonna die," Cliff said turning his head to stretch. "Looks like Bon over here's got the puppet."

"It's a mask!" Bon said, suddenly standing up. His fingers left the planchette. "And it's not mine! This is bullshit!"

"What's that card say, Phil?"

"It says-it says true feelings are unmasked," he answered. Bon stepped away from them, running a hand through his hair. All the men stared at him. "You got somethin' to say to us, Bon?"

"No," he mumbled. Phil held a hand to his ear. "No! No, what-what the hell does your card mean?"

"I doubt any of our cards mean anything," Malcolm said thinking it over. "None of them make any sense-'

"But you believe there's someone there," Angus said. Malcolm frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You know someone's talkin' to us, none of us are movin' the chip, none of us are settin' each other on fire."

"I think I know what Bon's got up his ass," Phil said removing his hand from the board. Giving each other a glance, Cliff, Malcolm and Angus removed their hands and watched the drummer stand up and walk towards Bon, who backed up. "I don't think he's been truthful with us."

"Fuck off, Phil," Bon said pushing him aside. Phil grabbed his arm and fought against his struggling. "Fuck off!"

"Leavin' so soon? Excitement just started, an' you're up an' goin'?" Bon shook his head, reaching his free hand up to brush the hair out of his face. "Come on, sit back down, the spirit still has to call your name. What's the matter, Bon, you afraid or somethin'? It's all just bullshit, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," Bon muttered. "But you admit it's a tad unsettling to see your name come up on a Ouija board."

"What are you goin' on about, you left before your name could show up. I'd say your card's pretty accurate, eh Mal?"

Malcolm shifted uneasily in his spot and kept his eyes glued to the mess in the middle of the circle. It was assumed as long as everyone kept their hands off of the board and its piece, that it wouldn't do anything, but turning away from it made him nervous. "Leave-leave me out of this, Phil, leave Bon to his own devices, he doesn't have to stay if he doesn't want to-"

"Why shouldn't he want to?" Phil interrupted. "He's been lookin' forward to it all day!"

"Knock it off, Phil," Cliff warned.

"Oh, so, I've been the bad guy all along, have I? It's all been because of me, this happened, I've been getting on Bon's nerves all day, talkin' him into messin' around with the dead-"

"Phil-"

"-I've been tauntin' him all day, callin' him the chicken an' what not, right?" Bon stepped back again keeping Phil at bay, once in a while eyeing the board, which still hadn't moved. He'd have been more grateful if the slightly shorter man left him alone. Bon palmed the wall behind him when Phil pushed him. "Ain't that right, Bon?"

"Everyone here knows it's bullshit, let's pack it up an' leave, Mal's got more work for us, don't he?" Bon asked sparing a glance at Malcolm who began to stand.

"Save yourself, Mal, we're not goin' till Bon here admits he's afraid."

"We're all a little afraid, Phil, none of us really expected an answer," Cliff said. "You don't really think Bon believed all this would happen, or made it happen." Phil didn't take his eyes away while Bon held his gaze at anything other than the other man. The corner of Phil's mouth turned upwards.

"I want Mr. Scott here to answer for himself."

Bon kept his lips shut, turning his face away from any wandering eyes. "I'm not afraid," he finally mumbled.

"What was that?"

"I'm not. Afraid."

"Then by all means, come over here an' join us, I think good ol' Casey Thomas wants to see you." Phil turned his head to see the planchette still stationary on the E. "I think he's itchin' to move, we all are."

"Then leave."

"We will, but it's your turn." Bon pulled away from Phil as he was grabbed and dragged back over to the circle, practically shoved onto the floor. He fell over into Angus who kindly shrugged him off, giving him a worried look.

"You don't have to do this," Angus whispered. Bon closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I've got to, Rudd won't take a hint."

"Just tell him you're a bit scared, I would have had I had the option." Bon cupped his hands together and brought his knees to his chest. "I've talked to him, I've told him you don't believe in all this...Bon, it's okay to admit you're afraid."

"Angus? Now's not the time." Angus was interrupted by Phil taking his place around the circle, adjusting the planchette under his fingers with a smirk Bon would have loved to smack off. He rolled his eyes at Phil's look. "You jus' gonna sit there like an idiot?"

"Jus' waiting for the king of 'em to take control," Phil answered. Bon scoffed and reached for the planchette, shoving Phil's hand away, and placing his own on. Keeping his own fingers far from his opponent's, Phil looked at Malcolm who joined, Angus who hesitated beforehand, and Cliff who sighed and gave in.

"I don't like this, Phil."

"Bon does."

"He never said that-"

"And what have you heard, Angus?" Phil snapped at him. "Bon tellin' on me?"

"Jus' tellin' him what I told you." With a glare, Angus finally placed his hovering hand on the chip, making a way for his own fingers. Making sure all participation was included, Phil looked down at the planchette and waited. Nothing was happening, no movement nor heat. He was almost disappointed, though he didn't let it show. Bon opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them again, the room was so dark. They must have been up there for hours by now. Rather than growing colder with the coming evening it grew hotter, and Bon used his free hand to unzip his jacket.

"A bit disappointing, Mister Thomas," Phil called into the stifling air. "Can I call ya' Casey?"

"Enough of this, Phil, let's just leave it alone," Bon said.

"You never left me alone, you've never left me alone!"

"What-"

"Ever since I came into this band I've been the picking of all your jokes-"

"I pick on everyone, it's what I do!" Bon raised his eyebrows at Phil's sudden outburst, or what he called a childish complaint. He shrugged. "Everyone in this room, anyway."

"It's true, Phil," Angus spoke up. "I'm second after you, I told ya'."

"It's all fun an' games with you, but in case Bon hasn't noticed, I ain't laughin'." Bon raised his hands off the board and tilted his head, some bravery returning.

"Well, excuse me for hurting little Philip's feelin's, I didn't realize he didn't like to be friends with the rest of us." Phil rolled his eyes. "Ya' know, the drummer before you wasn't so sensitive, he didn't care if I teased him or not, in fact, he teased me right back! An' earned a smack or two for goin' too far! If I've gone too far, why not give me a smack?"

"I'm not gonna do that-"

"Why not?" Bon took a step forward, leering down at Phil. "Chicken?"

"Shut up. Or else admit you're afraid of this whole summoning business." Bon shrugged.

"So what if I am?"

"It'd be music to my ears, to all our ears if we knew there was one thing the great Bon Scott was afraid of."

"Why are you so focused on this?"

"'Cause for once, it wouldn't be me bein' the weak one." Bon narrowed his eyes. Angus considered removing his fingers, but kept them glued when the piece began to move. He nudged Malcolm, who watched it, keeping an eye on Phil beside him. Cliff watched the letters, once again mouthing what was being spelled. Phil didn't notice. "For once I'm not the one gettin' called a baby."

"No one here's ever called you a baby, but you're sure as hell actin' like one."

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm not afraid of some stupid little board game we found-'

"You admitted yourself the card was possessed, why can't you say you're afraid?"

"Cards don't set on fire for no reason, unless Mal had a match in his pocket-or, lit the board with his breath-"

"Don't be fuckin' stupid, Bon," Phil said, glaring hard now. He raised his hands away from the board, still not noticing the movement of the planchette. Cliff took his eyes away for a second and regretted it as he missed a couple letters. "Tell me. Why do you have it out for me so much? At least give me that."

Bon kicked the floor with the heel of his shoe. "You ever hear the youngest gets picked on?"

Angus raised his hand, Malcolm shoving it down. "I'm not quite the youngest," Phil said eyeing Angus who lightly pushed Malcolm.

"You're the newest."

"So that's reason to kick my balls every day?"

"Stand up, Phil, since you give me the option."

"I'd kick yours first, if you had them to begin with." Bon raised a finger.

"Watch your mouth, if anyone's takin' anything too far, it's you," he said, locking eyes with Phil. His hands were sweating despite having removed his jacket and his heart was racing despite standing still. It was like Phil was breaking into him with a pickax. He began to regret ever pulling the piece of ceiling down, ever grabbing the dangling cord.

"Admit it, Bon." Phil's glare didn't falter, his heart was beating fast too, from adrenaline. He couldn't remember the last time he was given a chance to stick up for himself against the lead singer, and he wanted to savor it, pausing after each word. "You're. Scared."

"You want me to say it, Rudd?" Bon dropped his jacket to the floor and thumbed at himself. "You want me to say it so your underwear can untie the knot around your balls? Alright, I'm afraid!"

Bon's fear, and everyone else's, grew that second as the planchette began to move at a rapid pace across the board, only stopping at three bold letters: B-O-N. The card with the mask on it shook on the board, but didn't catch on fire. A corner rose into the air shakily, a fine crease forming. The eyes were glowing as they had before, a deep scarlet. Angus, Malcolm, and Cliff immediately removed their hands from the wandering chip and let it go crazy, circling those three letters. Phil stood up, backing away from the board once again, his look matching everyone else's.

"Everyone, get out!" Malcolm yelled. Phil turned his head to see Malcolm pushing himself off the floor, and grabbing Angus' arm. He looked down at the board again to see his cigarette on the wood, and the wood on fire. He didn't notice Cliff run beside him, or Bon grabbing him along with Malcolm, who turned around to make sure he didn't lose anyone.

The ladder shook under their weight, their patience steadily decreasing as they descended one at a time. Angus ran straight out of the house, Cliff pushing Malcolm outside with him. Bon grabbed the door then turned around when he saw Phil stop at the kitchen sink, where Cliff had a bowl filling up with water under the faucet. "You're never gonna put it out with that," he told him, looking around for something else.

"It's the best thing we've got, it wasn't big yet. Here, can you take your snares outta here, they're cloggin' the place up." Phil stayed where he was, eyes darting around. "Hurry!" Handling the stack of snares by himself proved to be tricky, and Bon ran away from the door to help shove them in his arms.

"Alright, come on," he said running ahead to hold the door open. Phil stepped outside, the cold air hitting his face harder than he expected, the sky dark. The drums covered his view of the sidewalk and he took the smallest steps one could take in a hurry, tossing them by a nearby bush. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Angus sitting on the curb staring at his hand while Malcolm looked at it over his shoulder. Malcolm saw him run back toward the house but couldn't stop him. "The fuck are you doin'?" Bon called behind Phil.

The doorknob cracked against the wall when he pushed it open. Cliff was gone from the kitchen, the faucet still dripping. Looking around he saw nothing of use, and sighed in frustration when he had to move a bunch of clothes and shoes off the couch to clear it off. Unless he wanted someone's socks on fire he couldn't use any of it. He ran to the second floor toward the bedrooms and pushed the doors open, scanning for anything to help. Angus and Malcolm's rooms were both pigsties and his own room was too organized to rummage through and find something. Bon's room wasn't attractive, but Phil opened the door wide enough to catch a glimpse of a half empty water bottle sitting on the dresser. He grabbed it but it was knocked out of his hands. "The hell are you doin'?"

"Savin' our asses, come on!"

"Cliff doesn't have much-"

"That bottle'll do more harm than good, now get out of here!" Bon pulled a struggling Phil out of his room and hardly let him go when they reached the stairs, the two almost falling the rest of the way. Before they passed the front door Cliff came down the stairs holding the bowl, panting. He set it down in the kitchen.

"Man, I hate fires..."

"Bad?" Bon asked.

Cliff shrugged. "Better than it looked. Went out fine. Hadn't started to spread yet when I got there so..." He nodded, still catching his breath. "Mal an' Ang alright?"

"Outside," Bon said. Phil stood there for a second before leaving the house, finding where the brothers were on the curb. Whether the fire, adrenaline, or the fight prior was the cause, the night air was much needed. He swallowed some, then joined the Youngs.

"Fire's out," Phil muttered.

"Everyone okay?"

"Yeah."

"Angus found somethin', think you lot should see it."

"What?"

"Angus!" Angus ran up to his brother adjusting his zipper earning a look from him.

"What?" Malcolm just looked at him. "What?"

"Show Phil what you got," he muttered shaking his head. Angus frowned in disgust. "The paper!"

"Oh! Oh, yeah." A piece of paper from his back pocket lay in his hand, crumpled and stained. "It's like a newspaper or somethin'. Here, you can-read it." Phil took it slowly, turning it right side up. "The ink's blurred a bit..."

He could still make out a few words here and there. Owner, 1920, Thomas, and death. The darkness didn't aid him at all. Phil handed it back. "What is it?"

"I read it under the streetlight over there. It said a man named Casey Thomas was the town's enemy but the outcast's savior," Angus explained. "He's from the twenties, he's long dead."

"Mayor probably had him tipped off," Malcolm said. "He was really into things like rituals, fortunes-"

"Ouija boards," Angus added.

"-an' stuff like that. That shit in the attic? Belonged to him." Phil's eyes didn't leave the paper. Angus read over it again, eyes scanning the bottom for anything he missed.

"He was the owner of this house, an' kept to himself a lot," Angus mumbled. "Neighbors said he was weird, an' mostly did business in the shady parts of town. Huh, Mal, he probably went in the bushes too-"

"Where did you find that?" Phil interrupted. Angus looked up at him.

"On the floor, in the attic," he said. Found it when you an' Bon were goin' at it...didn't have time to read it..." His eyes left Phil's and instead looked over his shoulder. Phil turned around and saw Cliff and Bon approaching them. Phil looked away from Bon, who did the same.

"Lads, Ang picked somethin' up while we were up there shittin' ourselves, look." Malcolm showed Cliff and Bon the paper, Bon holding it up higher and squinting. "Says the guy who lived here before us owned that stuff in the attic, an' he died, name of Thomas."

"Casey Thomas," Cliff said.

"'Zactly."

"Where was it?" Bon asked not handing it back. Angus reached to grab it but Bon held it away.

"On the floor of the attic, I was bored of watchin' all the arguin' and picked up some light readin'. Come on, Bon, it's mine!"

Bon laughed, his eyes sparkling even in the dark. He looked at Phil who looked down at his shoes, hands in his pockets. His smile disappeared, forgetting a jumping Angus was still in front of him. "Better get back in the house," Phil said. "The fire's out, we can-can all go to bed." He stepped away from the group and stopped. "Cliff, get my things."

"What things-" Phil was gone before he could hear him. Bon watched him sulk away, barely hearing Cliff ask Malcolm what the hell Phil was talking about. His arm dropped, Angus grabbing the piece of paper and sticking his tongue out in victory. Bon ignored him and walked to the house himself, Angus following behind. After Malcolm left Cliff to pick up Phil's snares that he threw in the shrubs, Cliff muttered to himself about his mates leaving their shit in the yard like dogs. He muttered even more when his hand brushed a leaf and he pulled it back, wet.

It was cold in the morning, a week later. About five o' clock the clouds came to stay over the little neighborhood keeping everyone who had woken up inside their houses. Everyone except, one man. One man who sat outside his house on the steps, staring at the street with a cigarette between his lips. He knew he shouldn't, but he was too cold to care, he'd care later.

He heard the door open and shut behind him and didn't bother to turn around. He leaned forward when a boot pushed his back gently, then left. He still didn't turn around, instead took another drag. "You shouldn't be doin' that," the guest said.

"Says who."

"Says a man with a brain. Says a doctor..." Phil walked down the steps and sat beside Bon. "Says me."

"Thanks for lookin' out for me but I already have a mum," Bon answered.

"Cold and smoke don't mix well with your condition."

"Thank you, again, Doctor Rudze-Ruddy-" Bon sighed. "Rudzev-"

"Rudzevecuis," Phil pronounced for him. "Rudd, is just fine. Actually, Phil is a lot better."

"No doctor?"

"No doctor." Bon feigned a smile. It disappeared shortly after. "Just a friend."

For the first time in a while Bon looked at him. All morning he'd been ignoring the freezing sting in his fingers but it seemed to increase as he stared at the other man. "You sure about that?"

"I'm not gonna be your enemy, Bon," Phil said. "As pissed off as I get with you-with any of you, I won't stand against you.' Bon turned his head again. Phil rubbed his hands together. "The band'd fall apart."

"The Youngsters would kick us out, despite both of them knowing our fame would decrease."

"Doesn't matter, that's not somethin' they tolerate. Besides, I'm tired."

"It's five thirty in the morning," Bon said.

"I meant of fighting. I just-wanna sit an' play drums, drink a bit an' live life. Fighting with a mate isn't livin', it's just goin' each day with a constant headache."

"I'm a headache, am I?" Bon laughed.

"Took a vote inside. It was either that or a bullet wound an' while it was tempting, we decided you weren't that bad," Phil said. Bon shoved him laughing harder. "You're not that bad..."

"What changed your mind?"

"Hmm?"

"Last week you wanted nothin' to do with me, took us forever to schedule for the gig. What brings you out here at five thirty five in the a of m?" Bon asked stressing random words. Phil sighed and looked at his bluing hands.

"Why'd you drag me out of the house last week?" Bon blinked.

"You wanted to barbecue your ass back there?"

"I was nowhere near the fire," Phil reminded him. Bon placed the cigarette between his teeth again, reaching into his pocket to pull out his gloves. He spoke softly, keeping the smoke in his mouth and concentrated on dressing his shaking hands.

"You would have been had you used that water bottle," he said. Phil stared at Bon's gloves with envy.

"In school they said water puts fires out."

"Yeah, water does," Bon said removing the cigarette. "Vodka doesn't."

Phil'e eyes widened. "You had vodka in that thing?" Bon nodded and adjusted the glove around his wrist. "When the hell did you get vodka?"

"What, you wanted some?"

"Bon..."

"I got some from a friend the other night, I was outta Jack an' he said he'd pick somethin' up for me if I called up another friend for him-a lady friend-to accompany." His brow furrowed and he wrinkled his nose. "I would have finished it if he gave me a good bottle."

"Why'd you disguise it?"

"So none of you'd drink it," he answered. "Because disgusting or not, it's still mine."

"Angus would have drank from a water bottle." Bon grinned.

"Yeah...forgot about him."

"Speak of the devil..." Phil pointed down the sidewalk where a little man in an oversized coat came strolling along with a whistle on his lips. The skin under his eyes was dark, his nose a cherry red. Walking closer to the house he saw Bon and Phil on the steps, both with a smirk on their faces.

"You gentlemen waitin' for me?" Angus asked.

"Jus' gettin' home, eh?" Bon asked earning a laugh from Angus. "Been hours since we've seen you, there's no other reason why you'd be smilin' at such an hour."

"Had a wonderful time," Angus said walking closer to the steps.

"How long have you been seein' this girl?" Phil asked in turn. Angus' nose blended in with the rest of his face and he buried it in his scarf. "Greta, is it?"

"Three days." Angus grinned. "You'd love her, she's a real lady."

"Unlike us?" Bon asked pretending to be offended. "Are we not good enough for you Angie boy?"

"Sorry, lads, I like my girl jus' fine, she doesn't have to fake the look like you two. You put the curlers in your hair this morning, Bon?" Angus asked jumping back when Bon stuck his foot out to kick him. "Love the lipstick, Phil, a pig couldn't wear it better."

"Shut up, ya' bugger. Hey, you'd better get inside, or Mal's gonna be-"

"Where have you been?" All three men looked up to see Cliff in a bathrobe and slippers, tying the cord and fixing his messy hair. Angus thumbed at himself. "I've been keeping Malcolm busy all night so he wouldn't notice you were gone because someone didn't leave a note!"

Angus pointed at Cliff and faced Bon and Phil. "See? That's how a real woman looks like."

"Quiet, Ang, Malcolm knows you're liable to get kidnapped, you could fit in a bicycle basket like that dog in the film. Only you're not clever enough to get out like he did," Cliff said crossing his arms.

"I was fine, I'm fine," Angus said gripping the rail on the steps and regretting it as the cold metal seeped through his palm. He was too amused to think about letting go, however. "Where is Mal anyway, in your robe with you?"

"Very funny." Angus grinned making sure all his teeth were visible earning a sigh from Cliff. "You all come inside it's freezing out here."

"Finishin' up a smoke, Cliff, I'll be in in a minute," Bon said taking a few more drags.

"The house is warmer than a fag, Bon."

"Keepin' the house clean, Cliff."

The men heard footsteps coming down the stairs and Cliff stood back when the front door was pulled open wider. Malcolm stood there with a head messier than Cliff's and the familiar crust of sleep under his eyes, or the lack thereof. "There's a draft goin' in my bedroom an' I'd appreciate it if the front door wasn't wide open for easy access."

"Close your bedroom door, then," Angus said, then covered his mouth as he thought maybe he shouldn't have drawn attention to himself. Malcolm glared at him.

"Hello, Angus. You're up early."

"He had a good night's sleep," Phil snickered.

"Not in his own bed, I assume?" It was a minute before Angus shook his head with another blush. Malcolm imitated the head movement. "Wastin' your beanbag, Ang."

"It's alright, I can bring her over anytime."

"Why's there a party goin' on out here anyway? The milkman call a conference?"

"Just a band of mates havin' a good time, right?" The question was general, but Bon noticed Phil look at him out of the corner of his eye. Angus nodded wordlessly while Cliff shrugged and ran a hand through his knotted hair. Bon stayed silent. He smoked instead.

"I'm goin' back to bed, wake me up when Bonanza comes on," Cliff said yawning and turning away from the front door. It closed behind Malcolm who stumbled forward when it hit him. He turned and kicked it.

"Real different temperature out here than last week, eh?" Bon said changing the subject.

"How do you mean?" Malcolm mumbled rubbing his sore toe.

"Forget the fire, Mal?"

"Forget it? I'm the one who saw it!" He set his foot down on the dirty welcome mat. "Hey uh, I haven't told you fellas this but..." Malcolm frowned, thinking how to word his question. "There were only us five in the room, right? Ya' know, apart from Casey Junior?"

"Yeah. Why, you feel another spirit showin' up?"

"No, I..." Malcolm ran a hand over his head. "I didn't tell you this, I sorta forgot about it. But...I dunno, it's like I was pushed over or somethin'...wasn't you, right, Ang?"

"Wish it was," Angus grinned.

"I thought it was an' I turned to smack you when I saw Phil's cig burnin' up. Wouldn't have seen it otherwise...I dunno. Jus' thought I should tell you."

Angus yawned a very big and rather unattractive yawn. Bon didn't bother keeping his laugh to himself. "That's all very nice an' swell, Mal, but I'll have to hear your story at noon, when I'm a bit less out of it. An' my ass is yearnin' for a warm bed." Angus excused himself past Bon and Phil and shoved Malcolm over with his shoulder earning a long awaited smack for several reasons. The door closed sending a rush of warm air on the two men still sitting on the steps. Bon looked at his cigarette. It still had enough to keep him frozen to the concrete.

"You really ought to toss it," Phil said. Bon turned and saw him standing. "Not to tell you what to do or nothin'. Jus' thought if we're gonna be friends..." He shrugged. "Should look out for you."

"You're too kind, Philip."

"Anytime, Ronald. Hey, anyone ever call you Ronald McDonald?"

"No, an' if you do I'll give you a smile fit for the clown you really are, understand?" Phil raised his hands in surrender.

"No problem. I know when to call it quits." Bon smiled.

"Guess we both needed a little shit stirrin', yeah?" Phil returned the look.

"Sure." He turned to head back inside, his hand stinging as the doorknob touched every nerve in his palm and enclosed fingers. "Hey." Bon turned around.

"Yeah."

"That vodka...ya' know, turnin' the house into an easy bake oven...that-wasn't the only reason you saved me...was it?"

"That reason not good enough?"

"It's only half..." Bon didn't answer. "Come on, Bon. You know what they say about maskin' your feelings."

Bon shivered, but not from the cold. The words of the card flashed before his eyes, the fear he felt that night coursed through his bloodstream like a poison. Admitting it took a weight off his shoulders he didn't realize he was carrying, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to do it again. "Believe it or not Rudd..." He sighed. "I don't hate you."

"Get the paper boy here before his shift, we can still change the headlines," Phil joked. Bon scoffed. "So you don't hate me. So?"

"You know, you're not the first one to have his back broken by yellin' an' disagreein' all the time," Bon said. "I'm tired of it too. Have been for a while but, as you know I'm not keen on lettin' the world know I'm a soft guy."

"Who're you tryin' to impress, the band? None of us give a shit, we're all a little soft on the inside. We're all afraid of somethin', an' to be honest..." Phil looked around as if expecting the paper boy to actually show up and overhear. "Losin' the band is one of mine." Bon smiled.

"I think you an' I share the same boat on that one," he said.

"Well, every boat needs two rowers. What do ya' say we keep the boat goin' the right direction, hmm?" Bon stared at the hand Phil stuck out for him to shake. Before taking it, he took his cigarette and crushed it in his fingers, and placed it under his boot.

"Friends," Bon said shaking Phil's hand. "An' listen. When things get too serious, or the band gets too uptight, don't shy away from pushin' me into the water, or lettin' me smack you over the head with my oar."

"No worries, as long as there's no leaks in the boat. We'll gang up on Angus like old times. You comin' in?"

"I'll be in in a minute, I need the fresh air." Phil nodded and left Bon to sit on the steps.

It was quiet. A bird here and there would sing while one or two cars drove down the street. His gloves made him itch and he ended up taking them off and stuffing them back in his pocket. He felt at peace for the first time that week, the tranquility of the morning being only one factor. The events of that afternoon were unsettling, the fire being the icing on the cake. But something about the words that were uttered, or the actions that followed, was only something those men could understand. They shared many things in the past: women, beers, hotel rooms, and laughs above all. But an adventure like this one wasn't likely to happen again. Bon was okay with that, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything, and instead savored the peace in his mind resulting from it.

After seven and a half minutes he stood up and stretched, trying pointlessly to hold in a yawn. A distant rumbling noise buried the song of the birds. It came closer up the street and Bon craned his neck to see. The garbage truck rolled to the curb in front of their house, picking up the cans they set out the night before, and rolling to the next house. Clanging of all kinds of objects rang throughout the back of the truck and Bon smiled. None of them would ever worry about a visitor taking over their attic again. Bon looked to the sky as a warm sunshine hit his face, the star coming out from behind the trees to warm up the morning. "Well," he said sticking his hand in his pocket, one on the doorknob, and scraping his shoe against the step to free the cigarette. "I'll be damned."