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"Oh! Oh, good! Good, right ahahaha well. I'm not sure if there's um. Much more we can learn here, do you? Could probably head back soon, right? I'm relieved, honestly, I kept imagining um. S-something er. More murderous. If you know what I mean." He grinned, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "Definitely a nice quiet mission for a change, huh?" At least the bugs hadn't tried to eat them.

The cellar.

Jerry was not fond of cellars. They were filled with darkness and horrible things and noises and shadows and, knowing what they knew about this place, probably a lot more bugs. Anything they might find there... his face went green. "I... suppose... if... if we wanted to be thorough... b-but... um. Um. We... we probably are alright skipping the basement. I don't think... I mean... I hope no one would er... that is..." He pretended to be busy studying the bottled bugs before regathering his resolve and a freshly optimistic expression, "We found out plenty, I think! Home again, home again, then?"

"Murphy's law. If we don't check, something important will have been there." Jordan ducked under the caution tape again and headed down the porch steps, starting a wide circle around the farmhouse. At the back, he found what he was looking for - a pair of metal doors set into the ground. "Ugh," he grumbled, mostly to himself. "Was kind of hoping this wouldn't be here."

The padlock looping a short chain around the doorhandles proved to be unlocked; someone had been careless, or just hadn't cared. Jordan pulled the chain off, wincing at the rattle, and hauled the doors open; then he flicked his flashlight back on and shined it down the wooden steps. The beam illuminated a dank, squarish room with a concrete floor and sagging wooden shelves.

He glanced back at Jerry and Harrison. "No satanic rituals," he said; then he cautiously put his foot on the first step, testing its stability. Once he was sure it wasn't going to break under him, he descended the stairs, keeping a careful hand on the railing. Once at the bottom, he looked back up. "You guys don't have to come down here if you don't want."

Nothing was obviously out of place in the cellar. Lifting the corner of a tarp thrown haphazardly into a corner revealed more termites, wriggling sluggishly in the cellar's chill; prying a corner off a shelf likewise showed evidence of the insects. "Bugs," he called back up the stairs, "nothing new."

Jerry hovered just outside the door down into the deep, darkness, his heart in his throat. They had flashlights. There wasn't any screams of horror. He clung to his own light, the beam trembling a bit as he pulled the flask out once again, giving a fresh swig before tucking it away again. With a deep breath, he made his way slowly down the rickety, termite-chewed steps, his voice tight as he called out, "S-see anything?"

He didn't like this. They had found enough, they didn't have to go LOOKING for trouble, did they? God, it was creepy. He hated cellars. Hated them a lot. But... but look at him. Actually willingly going into the dark, creepy room of his own accord. That was progress, right? With only minor hyperventilating and no fainting. Even so, his hand instinctively went to the whistle hanging from his neck, just in case.

"Way ahead of you," Harrison said, heading for the ladder and trying to think of nice things, like oceans and sand and not bugs falling down into his clothes, of finding them in his room later, of sleeping while they laid eggs in his bed and walls, of the great, squirmy, wet mass in the sofa upstairs...

He climbed the ladder pretty fast.

Jordan started up the stairs, then paused at the lack of any apparent response from Jerry. He looked back. There was a distant look on Jerry's face, and he was swaying and humming.

"Aw, hell," Jordan sighed, and turned around to grab Jerry's shoulder and start guiding him up the stairs. "Jerry, snap out of it. Roar, help me out here, would you? Either get his attention or steer; we're getting out of here and falling down the steps would be counterproductive."

"Went well, let's go home," He squeaked, at least somewhat aware of where he was, at least. Jerry floated up the stairs after the other two, but didn't seem to stop his mental escape until they were in the cool night air again. He drew in a sharp breath, blinking the glazed-look off of his face before finally snapping back, "That... was.. ahaha.. um.... pretty gross."