Fright Christmas (6 page)

T
he creature squeezed my shoulder hard and another chill surged through my veins.

“Who—who are you?” I asked again, my teeth chattering.

“I am called the Iceman,” he declared.

I tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip.

Snow fell harder. Icy flakes stung my face.

The frigid wind stormed through the store.

“I'm f-freezing!” My teeth chattered. “Make it stop!”

A gruesome smile twisted the Iceman's lips. “You get used to it,” he said, “after a while.”

“But you're a ghost!” I exclaimed.

“You'll get used to that too!” he rasped.

I gulped back a huge lump in my throat.

Was I going to freeze to death—and turn into a ghost too?

No way, I shuddered, shaking my head.

I felt something strange clinging to my hair.

I reached up and touched it.

A long icicle.

Oh, no!

“What are you doing to me?” I cried.

“Nothing yet,” he replied in a low voice. “Now—look up.”

I glanced up—and saw the sky! The stars and moon were fading. The sun was beginning to rise.

When I glanced back down, Dalby's had disappeared.

Totally vanished.

We were standing outside!

Yes! I had finally escaped Dalby's!

“Where are we?” I asked with excitement.

“Don't you recognize Fear Street?” the Iceman groaned.

I spun around and saw my own house. We stood on the sidewalk, right out front. A Christmas wreath hung on our front door. A wave of happiness and relief washed over me.

“Is it Christmas morning already?” I asked eagerly. “Everything is okay now, isn't it?”

The Iceman shook his head again. “For you, it is your darkest hour,” he announced.

“But it's Christmas! And I'm home!” I exclaimed.

The Iceman glanced at our picket gate. A sharp gust of wind blew it open. He pointed an icy finger at me.

“Go!” he commanded.

I walked up our path.

The Iceman floated behind me.

I still felt really cold. Chilled to the bone.

I hugged my body and rubbed my arms.

I'll warm up when I get inside, I told myself.

I reached the front door and peeked through the living room window. Sure enough, Mom, Dad, and Kristi sat around the fireplace. Decorated for Christmas, our tree stood off to the side, twinkling with bright, colorful lights.

I sighed.

It was Christmas—and I was home.

I reached for the bell on the front door.

The Iceman's frozen fingers brushed my hand aside. “Why disturb them?” he asked.

“We keep the door locked,” I explained. “And I don't have a key.”

“You're a smart boy, Kenny,” the Iceman declared. “Haven't you figured out that we don't need a key?”

“Huh?”

He didn't wait to explain. He took a step—and his foot went right through the door!

“Come on, Kenny!”

“I can't!” I said.

The Iceman's frozen hand locked around my wrist. He jerked me forward.

Oh, no! I closed my eyes, ready to smack into the door.

But I didn't.

My body floated right through it!

I gazed down and checked myself out. How did this happen?

“But
I'm
not a ghost!” I exclaimed as I stood in our front hall.

“Not yet,” the Iceman replied with a shrug. He gestured to the living room.

Mom, Dad, and Kristi sat beside the fire. I expected to see them opening their presents. But I spotted the gifts piled neatly under the tree. Still wrapped.

Weird.

“He's gone,” Kristi sobbed. “He's gone and he's never coming back!”

“Sometimes these things happen,” Mom comforted her. She patted Kristi tenderly on the shoulder.

“But it's not fair!” Kristi cried. “I miss him so much!”

My father rose and picked up the biggest box under the tree. “Here, honey,” he urged Kristi. “Open it. It will cheer you up!”

“Nothing is going to cheer me up,” Kristi replied tearfully. “Not till he's home, safe and sound.”

I saw Mom and Dad exchange sad looks.

I didn't have to ask why. They missed me!

I couldn't stand seeing them so miserable.

I pulled away from the Iceman and ran toward them. “I'm home, Mom and Dad!” I yelled. “I'm home, Kristi! Everything is okay. We can all celebrate Christmas together.”

But no one looked up.

Didn't they see me?

“I'm right here,” I shouted. “Please don't cry anymore. I'm back!”

But Kristi kept crying.

Mom and Dad looked grim.

I turned back to the Iceman. “What's wrong with them?” I asked.

The Iceman shrugged. “They can't see you,
Kenny,” he grumbled. “They can't hear you either.”

“Why not?” I asked. “What's wrong?”

The doorbell rang. My dad went to answer it.

Timmy Smathers stood on the front steps.

Oh, great! What did that geek want now?

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Frobisher!” he exclaimed.

“I'm afraid it's not very merry for us,” my father announced gloomily. “Not this year.”

Pushing back the hood on his parka, Timmy stepped into the hall. I noticed a leash in his hand. As Timmy tugged on it, a dog bounded to the middle of the living room!

Rags! Our cocker spaniel.

Why did Timmy have Rags?

“Woof! Woof!” Rags barked, and jumped around, wagging his tail.

“Rags!” Kristi squealed. “You did come back. You're home! You're home—safe and sound!”

She kneeled down and Rags jumped into her arms. He licked her all over the face. Mom stepped over and patted Rags on the head.

“I guess things really do work out for the best, don't they?” Mom sighed happily.

“Well, it wouldn't be Christmas without Rags!” Dad declared.

I bit back a startled cry.

They hadn't missed me!

All those tears had been for Rags! Our dog!

“Thank you, Timmy.” Dad clapped Timmy on the back. “Thanks for finding Rags and bringing him home. Now we can really have a Merry Christmas!”

“Please, Timmy. Why don't you stay and have something to eat with us?” Mom suggested.

Timmy glanced at the dining room table, all set for Christmas dinner.

“Gee, your dinner looks delicious. And we ate ours really early,” he replied. “Just looking at that delicious food—makes me feel hungry all over again.

“Then it's settled!” Mom exclaimed. “You'll stay for dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Timmy asked. “I mean, do you have enough?

“Sure, Timmy! You can take Kenny's portion,” Dad said cheerfully.

“You can't do that, Dad!” I burst out. “What about me? What am I going to eat?”

But I'd forgotten.

Dad couldn't see me. Or hear a word I said.

“Kenny's never on time for dinner anyway,” he explained to Timmy. “Even on Christmas!”

“I don't believe it!” I groaned. “You're giving Timmy my Christmas dinner!”

I felt the Iceman's frozen fingers clawing my arm. Another awful chill made me shiver.

“Look,” he said, pointing at the Christmas tree.

Mom pulled a big box from under the tree. “Merry Christmas!” she said, handing the present to Timmy. “From the whole Frobisher family.”

Timmy read the little card underneath the red bow. “But it says, ‘For Kenny.'”

Smiling, Mom ripped the tag off the box and tossed it into the fire. “Oh, that's nothing,” she exclaimed. “Kenny never likes anything we give him. He always complains about our presents.”

“But that's not true!” I cried.

I felt my heart sink.

It
was
true.

“Come, Kenny,” the Iceman ordered. “We must go.”

“But how can they do this? We're supposed to have Christmas together! It's not the same without me.”

“You are right.” His icy blue lips smiled cruelly. “It is
better
without you, Kenny. Much better.”

I guess that was true too.

As I looked back, my family opened the rest of their presents. I'd never seen them so happy.

The Iceman grasped my wrist.

I didn't try to pull away. I knew it was hopeless—my family didn't miss me. They didn't even like me!

The Iceman tugged me through the front door again. Outside, a heavy snow began to fall. A blast of icy wind sliced right through me, and I shivered.

The Iceman glided ahead of me.

“I have to talk to you!” I shouted.

But he didn't stop. He floated farther ahead. I walked faster. I had to catch up to him!

The snowflakes whirled around me, stinging my face and my hands. The snow fell thick and fast. I could barely see more than a few feet ahead now.

I'd lost sight of the Iceman completely.

I didn't know which way to go.

I was totally blinded by the whirling, swirling snow.

The wind whipped at my head, my chest, my legs. It blew me back . . . sideways . . . in a circle.

I struggled to walk.

Was I moving forward? I couldn't tell!

I'm lost!

My heartbeat quickened.

I'm frozen and lost.

The Iceman said I would end up like him. A frozen ghost.

Was that what was happening to me?

I spun around, searching frantically for the Iceman.

The winds howled around me. I stumbled in the snow. Fell to the icy ground.

I forced myself to get up. To keep going.

“Iceman! Where are you?” I screamed. “Don't leave me out here alone!”

I
staggered forward in the icy blizzard.

My feet felt frozen—like two blocks of ice. My hands tingled. I had no feeling in my fingers—none at all.

“Iceman!” I cried. “Iceman! Where are you?”

A strong gust of wind knocked me down. I fell headfirst into a snowbank.

I had to find the Iceman!

I wiped the snow from my face and stared into the storm. Then, on my hands and knees, I crawled through the blizzard.

I crawled and crawled—until I spotted a clearing ahead. A patch where it didn't seem to be snowing!

With my head down, I crawled some more, pushing against the wind.

I crawled until I felt something soft under my hands. Something warm and dry!

I wiped the snow from my cheeks, from my eyelashes. Only it wasn't snow. It was—feathers!

I gazed up.

I was back in Dalby's!

Back in the bedding department—crouched on my hands and knees in the bed!

What is going on?

The bedding department looked as if it had been struck by a blizzard. The curtains, towels, quilts, and bath mats were scattered everywhere—all coated with a white blanket of feathers and foam.

Everything—buried under what looked like a heavy snowfall.

I shuddered.

I knew now that I definitely wasn't dreaming.

Everything that happened was real. Even the ghosts—both of them—were
real ghosts.

I have to get out of here, fast. Before the third ghost comes.

I swung my feet to the floor—and I started to yawn.

My eyelids drooped.

“No!” I cried. “Not now! Not again!”

I slapped my face.
“Wake up!”
I yelled.

It wasn't working.

I yawned again—and curled up on the bed.

My cheek touched the cool, smooth pillow. “I can't let myself—” I mumbled as my eyes closed.

Then I drifted off to sleep.

WHAM!

I woke with a start and jerked up in the bed.

Bright lights flashed before my eyes!

Red! Yellow! Green!

On and off! On and off!

Crazy music blared.

“Deck your grave with boughs of hemlock!” a high voice shrieked. “Fa-la-la-la-la!”

I checked my wristwatch.

Twelve—midnight!

My heart hammered in my chest.

The third ghost had arrived!