Ghouls Gone Wild (9 page)

Mr. Grimmus stood pressed against the wall, frozen in wide-eyed horror. Mom and Dad hadn't moved. They stared at the meat monster as it squished and plopped toward them. They were so stunned, their faces were totally blank.

And then I saw Tara hand the spell book to Nicky. She stepped forward, her eyes on the meat creature.

“Go back,” she ordered it. “Go back. I created you. And now I'm ordering you to go back!”

“Aaaagggggh.”
Colin retched up more of his dinner.

Mr. Grimmus’ face looked green too. He covered his mouth with his handkerchief.

The meat monster waved its arms and staggered forward.

“Go back!
Back!”
Tara shouted.

“It—it isn't stopping!” I cried.

I tried to jump out of the way, but I was too slow. The disgusting rotten meat creature leaped at me and wrapped its foul body around me.

“Ohhhh.” The putrid odor swept over me. I
staggered back, fighting hard, struggling to punch it, to shove it off me, to heave it away.

But the horrible meat clung to me. The cold, chunky arms pressed around my waist. The creature smothered my face. Covered me in spoiled meat.

Still twisting and squirming, I sank to my knees. “Can't…breathe …,” I choked out.

I knew I didn't have much time. Holding my breath against the overpowering stink, I dove forward and knocked the meat monster to the floor.

As it tightened its clammy hold around my waist, I dug my hands into it—and began frantically pulling out chunk after chunk of the disgusting green meat.

Gasping for breath, I tore at its head. Ripped off one arm and flung it into the kitchen. Dug my hands in and grabbed away a big glob.

Too late.

Too late.

I had no breath left.

It rolled over. Rolled on top of me and covered my face.

I lay on the floor. Gasping…gasping…My chest about to explode, I was too weak to move. Too weak to fight.

S
PREADING ITSELF OVER ME
, pressing down on my face, the meat creature gurgled and slurped.

“Max—get up!” I heard Dad shouting. He sounded so far away.

And then I heard another sound. A light thud of footsteps.

I heard a growl. More footsteps.

I turned and peered out from under the meat creature—and saw a big, furry animal bound heavily into the room.

Buster!

How did Buster get into the house?

Buster barged into the kitchen. He raised his snout and sniffed the air hard. He lowered his head and saw the meat monster.

Buster's mouth dropped open, and he bared his teeth.

My heart pounding, I froze.

And watched Buster attack.

He leaped onto the meat creature and attacked it—
devoured
it.

Buster snarled and dug his teeth in, chewed, and swallowed big hunks of the spoiled meat, swallowed them
whole.

He downed the whole rotten thing in seconds, just the way he had gobbled up my steak!

Then he sat on his haunches, breathing hard, licking his chops, his big tail scraping the floor. He had bits of spoiled meat stuck to his snout. He licked furiously, enjoying every morsel.

Still flat on my back, I slowly raised my head. “Hunh? Hunnh?” I tried to clear my throat. I had chunks of rotten meat in my hair and smeared on my cheeks and chin.

Blinking hard, I saw Nicky and Tara. Tara gripped the spell book in her hands. “Sorry about that!” she called.

“How could you
do
this to me?” I cried.

Dad reached down and pulled me to my feet. “Who are you talking to?” he asked.

“Uh…Buster,” I said. “I just wondered how he felt after eating twenty pounds of rotten meat.”

Actually, Buster felt just fine. He was still licking his snout, wagging his tail happily. He kept looking up at the freezer. Waiting for more meat to fall out, I guess.

I stood up and followed Dad back to the dining room. Mr. Grimmus pressed his handkerchief over his nose. With his free hand, he was buttoning his vest.

“Thanks for a most…unusual dinner,” he said to Mom. He started brushing himself off frantically with the handkerchief. He mopped his forehead. Then he wiped his jacket, his vest.

He hurried to the front door. “Oh, the smell,” he muttered to himself. “It's like I stepped in cattle plop with both feet. I'll never get it off me!”

“Mr. Grimmus—are you leaving?” Dad cried in alarm. He hurried after him.

“Of
course
I'm leaving!” Mr. Grimmus cried. “Meat coming to life? Do you really think I'm going to hire someone whose house smells like dead cattle and has meat coming to life in the kitchen?”

“But—but—but—the job?” Dad sputtered.

Mr. Grimmus turned at the front door. “Let me put it in the nicest way possible,” he said. “Don't ever cross my path again. And don't ever come to Texas!”

He slammed the door behind him.

Dad slumped back into the dining room. Colin was still sitting at the table. “Hey, Dad,” he said. “Does this mean I don't get my own gym?”

L
ATER IN MY ROOM
, Nicky, Tara, and I celebrated with big glasses of Coke and a bowl of tortilla chips. I made sure that my door was closed so our party wouldn't be interrupted.

“I'm not moving to Texas!” I cried, pumping my fists in the air.

I couldn't control myself. I climbed onto my bed and started leaping up and down for joy. “No Texas! No Texas! Yaaaaay!”

Tara grinned at me. “You're stuck with us, Max,” she said.

I jumped up and down some more. My bed is an excellent trampoline. “You're my best friends,” I said. “I didn't really want to leave you.”

Nicky climbed onto my bed and tried jumping up and down too. But he kept floating too high. His head was shooting right through the ceiling.

Finally, we stopped. We slapped high fives and low fives all around.

“That spell book really works,” Nicky said to Tara.

She grinned. “Did you like my meat spell, Max?” she asked. “Am I a great magician? Bringing meat to life?”

I stared at her. “Great magician? Are you kidding me? That meat thing almost
killed
me!”

Tara's grin grew wider. “I guess we owe Buster one. I had no idea the meat creature I made would become so
attached
to you!”

Nicky and I laughed at Tara's joke. But it wasn't funny. It had really been a close call.

“That spell book is dangerous,” I said.

“Well, the sour milk spell worked really well,” Nicky said. And then he covered his mouth. “Oops!”

I grabbed at the front of his shirt. “Sour milk spell? You mean…you two did that?”

Tara frowned at her brother. “Nicky, you blabbermouth. You weren't supposed to tell him.”

My mouth dropped open. “You two did the milk bottle thing? And you dropped the pie on Mr. Marvin's head?”

They stared back at me and didn't answer.

“There
were
no ghouls in this house, were there!” I said. “It was you all along.”

Again, they didn't answer. But their smiles gave them away.

“We had to do it, Max,” Tara said finally. “We knew you'd be angry at us. But we didn't want you to leave.”

I stared at them with my mouth open. “Well, that was a dirty trick. But…I'm home to stay,” I said.

We partied some more. Then Nicky and Tara said good night and vanished.

I heard a noise outside. A car? Was Mr. Grim-mus back?

I stepped over to the window and peered down at the driveway. No. No car.

I was about to turn away—when I saw a flash of black behind our tall evergreen hedge. I let out a gasp when the boy in black came into view.

What was he doing out there?

I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I had to find out who he was and what he wanted.

I flew down the stairs, half sliding down the banister. I grabbed the knob to the front door—but changed my mind.

I'll sneak up on him, I decided.

I trotted to the kitchen and went out the back door. Then I crept around the side of the house, pressing myself against the wall, keeping out of sight.

I stopped at the corner of the house and squinted into the front yard.

Yes. He hadn't moved. He was hunched behind the hedge, gazing up at my bedroom window.

“Don't move!” I shouted. I darted away from
the house, running straight to the hedge. “Don't move!”

To my surprise, the boy didn't run.

Breathing hard, I stopped across from him, on the other side of the hedge. I stared hard at his face. He had smooth skin, like a boy. But his dark eyes seemed very old.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “Why are you watching me?”

His face wrinkled as his expression turned to one of surprise. “Don't you know?” he asked. He had an old man's voice, hoarse and dry.

“Know?” I cried. “Know
what?”

“Don't you understand?” he asked in his strange, raspy whisper. “They're going to
kill
you! They're going to
kill
you!”

TO BE CONTINUED