AN:

Hi all,
I just wanted to thank you all for the kind reviews. I'm so glad to see you are enjoying the story, and coming up with your own theories. We are almost halfway through the story. Most of the questions will be answered as we go along, and a whole lot more new questions and puzzles might pop up in the end...

Research

"Joe," Laura Hardy exclaimed as she saw him walking through the kitchen a little after six in the evening. "You worried me, young man!"

"I'm sorry, mom," Joe said sheepishly. He could very well hear the concern laced in her strict tone. "I went for a walk and sort of ended up in the cemetery," he replied honestly. "I lost track of time."

"Oh, honey," she said sadly, hugging him tight for a long moment before releasing him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am," he said, giving her a small smile. He could see Frank starting to lay out plates and cutlery for dinner, in his periphery, leaving Joe to fill in their mother. "Frank found me and we went to see Chet, helped out in the barn a bit before heading back."

"Right in time for dinner too," she smiled back and herded him towards the table Frank just finished setting up. The meal was a quiet affair, with just the three of them, talking about their school, friends and plans for Halloween. Their dad was out of town on a case and their aunt was also away, staying with a friend of hers for a few days.

They both retired to Frank's room after the dinner. Joe collapsed sideways on his brother's bed as Frank turned on his computer and sat heavily on the chair by his table.

"Alright," Frank said, turning his chair fully towards Joe while his machine woke up. "Let's hear the rest of it,"

"What do you mean?" Joe stared at the ceiling and tried to dodge the question. He had too much tumbling around in his mind to give his brother a concrete answer.

"Joe, come on, that's not going to work on me, kiddo," Frank let out a chuckle, shaking his head before turning serious. "Unless you really don't want to talk to me–"

"No, Frank, I… urgh!" Joe squeezed his eyes shut, willing for his scattering thoughts to settle. "What do you wanna know?"

"What happened back in the van when we were on our way to Prito's?"

Joe thought back to that exact moment when that impulse came over him. "It was a weird feeling that came out of nowhere and hit me like a ton of bricks," he said slowly.

"Did you know what we were walking into?" His brother fired the next question.

"Frank, no," Joe sat up quickly, turning to face him directly. "I would never have led us into danger like that," then he ducked his head, avoiding Frank's raised eyebrow and the pointed look. "I mean, an unknown and unexpected danger," he elaborated in a mumble, shrugging. "Something told me that we had to get to Chet's as fast as possible. That's all."

"So, that freak twister," Frank turned back towards his computer and started to type rapidly on the search engine. "What do you think that was?"

"This is fun, you know," Joe grinned. "I feel like the tables have turned. I'm usually the one with all the questions."

"I know!" Frank agreed, throwing a mock glare over his shoulder before turning towards the page that had a lot of links and images on tornadoes and hurricanes. "It's driving me crazy. Now, stop deflecting and tell me."

"I don't have a clue," Joe admitted with a sigh. "Although, I know that was why we were there, to stop it, or to save Chet and his dad, probably both."

"Was it the same feeling that made you pull that stunt by ducking into the middle of it?" Frank asked, very nonchalantly, opening up the pages he just pulled up. Frank had been worried, and he still was, Joe felt terrible for scaring him like that.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said, shuffling to the edge of the bed so he could see the screen as well. "There was something in it. I don't know if you saw that–"

Frank looked at him with a frown. "A black, eel-like thing? Yes, but only when you touched it."

"It was something bad, Frank," Joe felt a shudder run down his spine as he recalled the terrible feeling that had gone through his skin when he had touched it. "It didn't belong. It had to go."

"And you thought catching it by the tail was the way to get it done?"

"I wasn't really thinking," he shrugged, grinning when he saw Frank's exasperated head shake. "And I really wasn't ready for the pain," he admitted quietly. "It hurt like I just stuck my hand in something boiling and freezing at the same time."

"The twister died the moment you did it," Frank said softly with a troubled expression on his face. "Then you passed out. Your hand was a mess. It was bleeding and had these weird black vein-like things all over the skin of your palm and forearm. Then it all kinda vanished before our eyes."

"I don't know what it was, Frank."

"Well, there's something definitely strange at work here," Frank said, turning back to his research. Joe recognized Frank's investigator-mode immediately. "Some weird phenomenon–"

"You mean supernatural ghost stuff like Chet and his parents said?" Joe asked, half hoping that wasn't the case. He wasn't even sure whether he believed in spirits or hauntings. He'd never had a reason to question that before. "I got goosebumps just listening to them."

"So did I," Frank muttered, pinning Joe with worried brown eyes. "And, you're somehow connected to all of it, with these strange dreams and sudden feelings. I don't like it, Joe, you could get seriously hurt," then he shook his head and amended himself. "You did get hurt."

"It's okay," Joe said. "I mean, I healed, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Frank said, not really convinced. "But we don't know how or why that happened either. Or whether you'd heal the next time something like that happens."

"I wish I knew," Joe muttered before focusing on the computer screen. "So what do you have over there?"

"I was checking the weather report for Bayport," Frank pointed at one of the tabs he had opened. "Look, throughout the entire week, it's just cloudy, with humidity ranging between fifty to seventy percent, and mostly just scattered rain and drizzle. There are no thunderstorms or tornado warnings anywhere near Bayport, New York or New Jersey. Besides, the wind speeds, temperature and other weather conditions just weren't right for something like the twister that trapped us in that barn. According to this, that thing should have been an F5–"

"What's an F5?"

"The Fujita scale for tornadoes is from zero, that's the weakest category, only damaging trees and such," Frank explained as he read through the information quickly. "F5 is the strongest, such as twisters capable of ripping apart buildings,"

"Huh," Joe said. "The damned thing shouldn't have been trapped inside the barn at all, it should have flattened that old pile of planks on its way out the moment it came in."

"I agree," Frank nodded. "Which proves that it wasn't a normal twister at all."

"What are you going to look for now? Ghosts capable of creating freaky tornadoes?"

"Well, there is some stuff about freaky tornadoes," Frank shrugged. "Like the Tri-State tornado back in 1925 that went through parts of Missouri, Illinois, and Indiana for a few days before dying down, killing a lot of people," he summarised as he read. "Then there's another type that turns into twins by splitting into two. Those are apparently some of the rarest but worst ones."

"I can imagine," Joe said, thinking about how much worse it could have been if they had to deal with two of those things instead of just one.

"Then there are ones that form over oceans and migrate to land, making it rain fish and weird stuff like that."

"What about the angry ghosts?"

"Poltergeists," Frank read out aloud. "Those are the ones that usually make strange noises and throw stuff all over the place, making messes all around. Then there are the ones that meddle with temperature when they appear–"

"Meddle as in dropping it to freezing levels?" Joe inquired.

"Yeah, and then there's the one that looks like clouds or orbs," Frank frowned as he kept reading. "And, of course, the spirits that actually have the power to manifest with their original shapes, with significant scents like perfumes. Sometimes they can even speak, if this article is accurate."

"Creepy," Joe mumbled, lying back down on Frank's bed again. "Also, what we saw back there and what Chet and his mom and dad described were a combination of all of that, and there's nothing about the ones that look like slippery, slimy eels."

"Not really. The closest would be the ectoplasm, the ones that appear like grey mist, or would look like black goo on photos,"

"Nah," Joe shook his head. "The one I touched was definitely different."

"I don't think the internet lore is the most reliable source for this topic, brother," Frank said distractedly.

"So what's our next move?" Joe asked, watching Frank methodically shutting down his information pages. He cajoled when Frank continued to stay silent. "Come on, I know that look. You wanna treat this like a case and solve it, so Chet's family can be safe."

"Not just them," Frank finally murmured. "But yeah, and I think we need to have a chat with Father Hendricks next, to see what he has to say about all this."