The Horror (7 page)

When I opened the door to the attic stairway, shadows seemed to spill out, dimming the hallway.

“This is a really bad idea,” I said. But I started up the stairway. My Nikes made squeaky noises on the bare wooden steps.

It was hard making myself go up those stairs. It was as if lead diving weights had been attached to my feet, holding me back.

“Uuurrrggg
.”

The strange sound went right through me.

I turned around to run back down the stairs and bumped into Lucy. I could tell she was just as scared as me.

“What do we do?” she whispered.

The seconds ticked away like blood dripping. I braced for another cry, but the attic stayed quiet.

“Come on,” I said, leading the way. “We're acting like boneheads.”

I trooped up to the top of the stairs before I could change my mind and barged right through the door into the attic.

Suddenly I was blind. I couldn't see.

I was choking on dust and the sunlight was blasting in like a laser beam. Behind me Lucy was coughing and choking.

The moaning noise came again, louder.

By now it sounded almost familiar. It wasn't coming through the walls, it was right in the room with us. Only we couldn't see because of all the dust in the air.

“Jason, help me. Help me please
.”

I knew that voice. It wasn't the ghost, it was Katie.

“Over here,” she said, sounding weak. “I'm trapped.”

I kept squinting and after a while I could see through the dust. A big wooden beam had come crashing down from inside the roof, smashing into the plaster walls.

And under the beam was Katie.

All I could see at first was a pink sandal sticking out from under the beam. It looked really bad. Then I saw her toes wiggle.

“Give me a hand,” I said to Lucy.

We both grabbed the end of the beam and managed to shift it over, away from where Katie was trapped.

“Are you okay?”

Katie crawled out from under the wrecked plaster. At first I thought her red hair had turned white—then I realized it was all the plaster dust.

We helped Katie to her feet. She heaved a huge sigh. “Thanks, guys. It feels so good to breathe again. It was awful to hear you calling me and not be able to answer.”

“What happened?” I asked. “Are you sure you're okay?”

Katie winced a little and limped away from the wreckage. “Just bruised, I think. I'll tell you about it downstairs. I don't want to spend another second up here.”

Lucy and I helped her down the stairs from the attic. She looked pretty weird with all that white stuff in her hair, but for some reason I didn't feel like laughing. That beam that had fallen on her was big and heavy.

She was lucky to be alive.

23

The first thing Katie did when we got downstairs was wash her face in the sink and then get a big glass of water. She drank the whole glassful, sighed, and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

“Something very weird happened,” she said. “I saw this little boy on the stairs. He had very pale skin and he was about Sally's age. And he was dressed in old-fashioned clothes.”

“The ghost!” I exclaimed. “You really saw him?”

Katie frowned, then slowly nodded. “He beckoned to me,” she said. “He looked so sad, I wanted to help him. So I followed him down the hall to the attic stairway. It was like he disappeared through the door, but that may have been my eyes playing tricks on me.”

“What happened next?” I asked.

“The door opened. Someone called my name from up in the attic. At first I thought it was you, playing tricks again. But it wasn't your voice. Anyhow, I went up into the attic. There was nobody there. At least not that I could see. Then I heard a noise behind me—like someone was standing there out of sight. I whirled around and that's when the roof came crashing down on me.”

“It wasn't the whole roof,” I said. “Just one beam and part of the ceiling.”

“Well, it sure felt like the whole roof. I couldn't move. I tried shouting for you but you didn't hear me.”

I said, “We were down at the lake. And Sally was sound asleep. It's a good thing we came back when we did.”

Katie nodded and took another drink of water. “It sure is,” she said. “But that's not all. When I was pinned under the beam someone came into the room. I could hear the footsteps. And then whoever it was started laughing.”

“Laughing?” I said.

“It was horrible,” Katie said with a shudder. “Horrible laughter. Cackling, like some old witch.”

I jumped up from the table. “That was her! The old witch ghost!”

Katie gave me a strange look. “There was something else,” she said. “She smelled terrible.”

“What do you mean, terrible?” I asked.

Katie looked at both of us. She took a deep breath and said, “She smelled like she was … dead.”

24

That night I went to bed with the lights on. Taking no chances. I didn't even bother with pajamas, I just got under the covers with my clothes on.

No way was I going to fall asleep. Bad things happened when you fell asleep in this house.

So I sat up in bed and read a pretty cool sci-fi story, figuring that would keep me awake. And I ate peanut butter crackers, because the crumbs in the sheets would help keep me awake, too.

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have. Because the next thing I knew the grandfather clock was chiming and I woke up with a start. Every muscle in my body was tense.

And the lights were out. I'd left them on, but now it was pitch black.

The clock.

BONGGGGGG. BONGGGGG. BONGGGGG
.

In the daytime it was broken. It only came to life at night, when something terrible was about to happen.

I lay rigid as a board, waiting. Waiting.

There wasn't long to wait. It was the same thing I'd heard before.

First a child crying, sounding scared and angry. Calling his mother.

“Mom-meeeeeeeeeeee
.” A child's voice echoing from the grave.

Then the patter of tiny running footsteps. A child running down the hallway outside my door.

And chasing him, heavier footsteps.
Thump-thump-thump
.

I heard the child panting, out of breath.

But still he came running, closer and closer.

It sounded like the panting was in my room. I could hear his frightened breath tearing from his chest—right beside my ear.

I bolted up in bed.

There was no one there. The room was dark and still.

Out in the hall the footsteps kept coming.

They ended in a sharp scream—
aaahhhhhhhhhh!
—as the boy went hurtling over the banister.

And there came the sickening thud of a small body hitting the floor.

My heart was pounding.

I lay down and pulled the covers over my head. The crying would start again soon but I wouldn't get up.

No way. I was staying right here in my bed.

Listening to the little boy's ghost was horrible but it no longer scared me. There was nothing I could do to make it stop. To make it better.

I closed my eyes tight.

Out in the hall a door opened.

“Who's there?” called out a quavery voice.

Oh, no. It was Katie.

But that meant she could hear the ghost! Unlike Mom and Dad who never woke up no matter what happened.

I didn't know if it was good or bad that she could hear it, too.

“Sally? Is that you?” she called out. “Are you all right?”

I wanted to yell at her to go back to bed.

Nothing good ever came of getting up in the night.

“Sally?” Katie's voice was drifting away.

Oh, no! She was going downstairs.

I had to stop her. I whipped off the blankets and started for the door.

I had my hand on the doorknob when I heard the first scream.

25

The hallway was pitch-dark, as usual. The lights never worked on nights the old clock chimed.

Another scream pierced the air.

I hurried toward the stairs, feeling my way along.

A strange light glowed from downstairs. Then something smashed into a wall and glass tinkled over the floor.

Katie cried out and a second later there was the crash of something big falling.

Another shattering sound, another scream.

Furniture turned over and smashed. More glass broke. It was like the living room was turning itself upside down.

I saw a vase lift itself off the shelf of knick-knacks and hurtle down toward Katie at the bottom of the stairs.

“Get down, Katie!” I shouted.

Always before I had been the target. It was weird seeing it from this angle.

Peering around the banister, I could dimly see Katie cowering, dodging, trying to cover her head.

A figurine left the shelf behind me, then a silver tray, and a blue glass candy dish.

I gasped in surprise. From here I could see that none of this artillery was aimed directly at Katie. All the objects were shooting over her head toward something behind her.

“Katie! Keep your head down!” I called out. “Lie flat on the floor!”

Instantly she threw herself down.

And then I could see something behind her—a tall figure, hooded and draped in black. Around the thing the air seemed denser, as if no light could penetrate.

Oddly, this weird effect made the thing more horrible and easier to see at the same time. It was edged in black against the darkness.

It raised one arm. The arm was impossibly long, stretching sticklike to the ceiling.

A bright glint of metal caught my eyes. I gasped out loud.

Was the thing made of steel?

It moved and metal gleamed again.

A silver candlestick! It was holding a heavy candlestick over its head—that was what made the arm appear so long.

The black thing raised its other arm to grasp the candlestick with two hands.

It glided toward Katie, who was lying face down on the floor. It reared back with the candlestick, poised to bash in her skull.

I tried to shout a warning but it was too late. Much too late.

26

The scream tore out of my throat.

Katie's head jerked.

The candlestick flashed in the dim light.

And the bronze baby shoe suddenly flew off the shelf beside me.

The heavy bronze baby shoe struck the shrouded creature with a solid THUNK!

The creature squealed in pain. The candlestick dropped to the floor and the creature vanished into the shadows.

Instantly everything was still.

“Katie? Are you all right?” I asked, running down to her.

“I've never been so terrified,” she said, hoarse from screaming. “I thought I was going to be killed.”

“We better get upstairs,” I said, helping her up. “It might come back.”

“What might come back?” she said.

“The thing in the shadows.”

Katie didn't say anthing more until we got back to her bedroom door. Then she folded her arms and stared down at me, looking very stern—her baby-sitter look. “What thing in the shadows, Jason? What are you talking about?”

“The old witch ghost,” I explained. “That's what Bobby was throwing all the stuff at. He was trying to protect you from the old witch.”

Katie shook her head. “Whaaat? I've swallowed a lot, Jason, but that's going too far.”

“Look,” I said. “I know you don't want to believe me, but there are two ghosts haunting this house. They're fighting over something—I don't know what.”

Katie gave me a long look. “Maybe it was you who was throwing all those things.”

“You know it wasn't me,” I said. “You heard the clock chime and the ghosts running through the hall. That's what woke you up, right?”

“I guess so,” she said.

“That's what happened to you up in the attic. The two ghosts were fighting and you got in the way.”

Katie rubbed her head. “Maybe. I don't really believe in ghosts, Jason, but just for the sake of argument, let's say you're right. What do you suggest?”

I thought about it. “I suggest you go back to bed, lock your door, and don't come out, no matter what.”

27

“I won't sleep now,” said Katie. “I'll just grab a blanket and sit up in Sally's room.”

That was my plan, too. But no way I could tell Katie I didn't trust her to watch out for Sally. So I went back to bed, pulled the covers over my head, and tried to sleep.

But it was no use. Questions bombarded me from every side.

Why had the haunting become focused on Katie?

Was Bobby an evil spirit trying to take over my little sister Sally and keep her with him forever? Or was he the spirit of a confused and unhappy little boy who had scary temper tantrums? Both, probably.

Why did the old witch want to attack Katie? Why did Bobby, who violently disliked Katie, save her? Was it Bobby who saved her?

These questions bounced around in my mind like crazy rubber balls.

The room began to get light. I'd had no sleep and night was over, the sun was coming up. Maybe it was just as well.

But the light was funny. Too blue to be sunlight.

The mirror!

I pulled the covers off my head and, sure enough, my closet mirror was glowing.

The mist formed and out of it came an image: the attic stairs, shrouded in fog.

I felt a tug. The bedclothes began to slip off me.

Yikes! I grabbed the blanket with both hands.

I absolutely positively wasn't going into the attic by myself in the middle of the night. No way, no how.

In the mirror the attic door opened wider. Sparkles danced in the inky blackness. The sparkles grew thicker and gleamier, like a curtain of fairy dust. The curtain parted. A small boy appeared in the doorway, sparkles swirling around him like stars. He was pale and sad, with huge, beseeching eyes.