PAGE 3

"Of course I want to go back," Lori said. "Whatever that thing on the Zamboni was, I'm sure we won't see it again."

Many did not share Lori's confidence. The arena was only about one-quarter full at the end of the first period. Three minutes into the intermission, the Zamboni appeared again, and once again the ashen, mangled ghost of Tim Figgins was at the wheel.

The players, officials, and the sparse crowd again scrambled for the exits--except Jeff and Lori.

"We're smart enough to be on JEOPARDY!, and we're smart enough to know there's no way that's actually a ghost," Lori said. "Let's go after him. If someone doesn't put a stop to this, we may never be able to enjoy a full hockey game again."

They hopped over the wall and ran across the ice as quick as they safely could, and entered the tunnel. Approaching from the other direction was a security guard--the only other person who had remained in the arena.

"We're chasing the ghost!" Lori called out.

"Me too!" said the guard. "I heard the Zamboni driving this way."

They raced down a side corridor, and there was the Zamboni--blocking their way. The hallway was too narrow to get around it. They heard footfalls and laughter beyond them, and then the sound of elevator doors closing.

"The ghost is heading up a level. We can't let it get away!" shouted Jeff.

"Don't worry, I know a shortcut," said Lori.

"Me too," said the guard.

"Me too," said Jeff.

TO USE YOUR SHORTCUT, GO TO PAGE 5

TO USE THE SECURITY GUARD'S SHORTCUT, GO TO PAGE 6

TO USE JEFF'S SHORTCUT, GO TO PAGE 7