"Janice, where are you?" "Up here," she called. She looked at the window. Sunlight pressed through the cracks in the boards, sending dusty rays to the floor. "I've got to give you credit," he called as she heard him rush up the stairs. "I never thought you would make it." He appeared in the doorway and shined his flashlight in. "Oh no . . . what . . . ? What happened?" Janice shrugged. "Your hair! It's white!" "Is it?" Frowning, she pulled strands down her face and looked at them. "I guess I can dye it," she muttered. "What happened?" he asked again. "It came. Get the key for my cuffs, would you?" She pointed toward the window sill. He rushed across the room, grabbed the key, and crouched beside her. "The ghost came?" he asked. His voice was hushed with fear. "Not a ghost. Something else." "What?" "I don't know." "Did it hurt you?" She shook her head.
