Mikey's gaze just flitted from floating tool to tool in bewildered disbelieving horror. The Taunting Ginger (Mikey couldn't even remember the name he'd given them) had talked about genre-savviness, and this made no sense from a genre-savvy perspective. You didn't just go from one horror movie to another. Not like this.

Not unless . . . the movie was playing a trick on you.

Mikey wanted to yell his conclusion to Raph, but there was a chance that if he was right, that could get them in more trouble than they were actually in, so he pressed his mouth shut, groaning as if he were trying to contain his own terror, which . . . he sort of still was.

These could, after all, be legit ghosts coming back to haunt the scientists. If any place had the means to be haunted, it had to be this house of horrors.