Myke’s shadow was short, as it was only three o’clock in the afternoon. He and Sam got in his 1993 Chevrolet Lumina and he tossed his girlfriend’s copy of the Princess Bride in the backseat, on top of all his science supplies.

“Careful, that’s breakable!” she said.

“Yes, dear,” he said, rolling his eyes. His phone rang, and the number was from a Chicago area code. “Uh oh,” he muttered under his breath. This was probably the girl he had some bad history with.

Sam glared at him. She recognized the number too. “Go ahead. Pick it up.”

His breath caught as he answered the call. Before he could even say “hello,” her voice screamed in his ear, “Help me, I’m at 1988 Bay Road!” as a man shouted in the background angrily. Then the line went dead.

Sam and Myke stared at each other, their mouths open. “Maybe it was a prank call?” she said.

“I… I don’t think so…” he said.