The Howler (4 page)

I pushed open the door. A bell attached to the other side rang as the door swung open. Kicking snow off my boots, I stepped into a dimly lit hallway.

Vanessa bumped up behind me. “It’s dark in here,” she whispered. “Do you think they’re open?”

I took a few steps into the front room. A small desk, cluttered with papers, stood against one wall. Two long rows of dark display cases faced the desk.

“Anyone here?” I called.

“Let’s go,” Vanessa whispered. “This place is creeping me out. I don’t think it’s a real store.”

I stared at the tall display cases. What did they hold? It was too dark to see.

“Okay. They must be closed,” I said, I turned to go.

Then I heard someone cough. A back door opened, spilling yellow light into the room.

A man stepped out. He was very short. Very thin and weary-looking. Sort of stooped over, as if he didn’t have the strength to stand up straight.

He had shiny white hair pulled behind his head in a long ponytail. As he came closer, I could see the square-shaped eyeglasses resting low on his long, slender nose.

Even in the dim light, I could see how pale he was. He smiled a thin smile, his gray eyes moving from Vanessa to me. He walked slowly, with a slight limp. He seemed so fragile.

“Come in,” he said. I expected a tiny, frail voice. But his voice was booming and deep. “Welcome to the Little House of Spirits.”

“Are—are you open?” I stammered.

His smile grew wider, making his pale cheeks crease up into thousands of tiny lines. “I’m always open. The spirits never rest. And neither do I.”

He leaned back against the desk and tugged at his long white ponytail. “Are you looking for ghost traps?”

I stared at him. “Uh…what?”

“You want to get rid of ghosts? I have a very popular product called Ghost-Proof. It comes in a spray can.”

“No,” I replied. “My house isn’t haunted.”

He nodded. “Most people come here for traps or alarms. They have unwanted ghosts to chase away.” He squinted at me over the square glasses. “Did your parents send you? Were they embarrassed to come here themselves?”

“No,” I said. “My parents don’t believe in ghosts.”

He pulled himself up straight. “And you want to prove to them that ghosts really do exist?”

“No,” I said. I glanced at Vanessa. She looked really uncomfortable. She signaled with her eyes toward the door.

I turned back to the strange little man. “I’m trying to find a ghost,” I blurted out.

“Ah-ha!” he declared. He rubbed his thin hands together. “You want to find a ghost who lives in your house?”

“I don’t even know if he’s a ghost or not,” I said. “It’s…it’s hard to explain.”

The man nodded. “The spirit world is not easy,” he said softly. “The spirits move in ways we cannot imagine. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just pick up the phone…”

He lifted the phone off his desk and raised it to his ear.

“…just pick up the phone, and call a certain number, and be in touch…in touch with the dead?”

I felt a chill run down my back. The phone he held—could it really reach ghosts? Something about the way he spoke made me believe that he really was in touch with spirits.

Or was I just getting carried away again?

“Sometimes ghosts don’t speak at all,” the man said. He kept the phone at his ear. His glasses gleamed in the light. The glare made it look as if his eyes were on fire.

“Sometimes they howl,” he said, grinning at Vanessa and me. “Sometimes they howl out all the pain that is inside them.”

I started to say something. But he tilted back his head and opened his mouth in a high, shrill howl.

“Let’s go,” Vanessa whispered, edging to the door. “I mean it, Spencer.”

The little man laughed. “Sorry. Sometimes I just feel like howling. Does it ever happen to you?”

“Not really,” I replied.

He set down the phone. Then he rubbed his hands together again. His hands were so flat and thin, they reminded me of butterfly wings.

“So what exactly are you looking for?” he asked. “A detector, right? You want to detect if ghosts are there or not.”

“Well—” I started.

“No. We have to go,” Vanessa interrupted. “We’re late. We really can’t spend any more time.”

“I guess I have to go,” I said. “Uh…maybe I’ll come back some other time.” Vanessa was already at the door. I took a few steps after her.

“I know what you need,” the man said. “I have one here for you. It’s exactly what you need.”

I stopped and turned back to him. I knew I couldn’t leave. I knew I had to see what he was talking about.

“Exactly what you need,” he repeated in that deep voice. A tiny, frail man with such a deep,
powerful voice. He curled his pointer finger, drawing me back, pulling me back to him.

“Spencer—don’t!” Vanessa warned.

But I had to know. “What is it?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. He moved to the dark display case and pulled something off a bottom shelf. Then he brought it into the light and held it up to me between his hands.

It was a square gray box with a yellow dial, a round speaker, and a red button on the front. It looked a lot like an ordinary radio.

“It’s called the Howler,” the man said.

I stepped up close and ran my hand over the dial. “What does it do?”

“It doesn’t do anything,” Vanessa chimed in from the front door. “Let’s go. Don’t waste any more of your money. You promised you wouldn’t—remember?”

I gazed at the yellow dial. The round black speaker. I ran my hand over the top of the smooth gray case. “The Howler?” I repeated. “Why is it called that? What does it mean?”

“It’s a kind of detector,” the man replied, peering at me over his glasses. “It breaks down electrical sound waves. It detects the howls of ghosts.”

“Whoa.” I jerked my hand away from it.

“Spennn-cer!” Vanessa called.

“Does it summon ghosts?” I asked. “Does it—can it call to them?”

The man shook his head. “No. It doesn’t summon ghosts. It only picks up their howls if they are already nearby.”

He tilted the box up to me. “Then—see this red button? If you hear a ghost howling, you press this red button. And you speak into this black circle here. And you can talk to the ghost.”

“The ghost will
hear
you?” I asked. “And he will answer back?”

“Only if he wants to answer,” the man said. He lowered his face to mine and spoke in a whisper, “Sometimes the ghost is in such pain, he can only howl. He cannot speak.”

“Can you
see
the ghost?” I asked.

The man shook his head. “The machine picks up only sound waves. Sound waves from the other side.”

I swallowed. My heart was racing. I turned to Vanessa. “This is what I’ve been looking for,” I said. “Do you believe it?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I don’t.”

I ignored her. I knew I had to have the Howler. “How much is it?” I asked.

The man glanced down at the box in his hands, then back up to me. “How much would you like to pay?”

“Well…I have thirty dollars left over from Christmas presents,” I told him.

He shut his eyes for a moment. “Okay,” he said.
“Thirty dollars. I’ll let you have this one cheap, since it’s a floor model.”

I pulled my wallet from my pants pocket. “Okay! I’ll buy it,” I said.

“Spencer…” Vanessa was still trying to stop me. “Remember the specter detector?”

The man snickered. “Do you have one of those? You didn’t expect it to work, did you? That’s just a toy. It’s a kiddie thing.”

I handed him my thirty dollars. He gently placed the Howler into my hands.

“Will this one work?” I asked.

The man’s grin grew very wide. Once again, his face crinkled with a thousand tiny lines, and his eyeglasses appeared to light up.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “It will work. It will work very well. But take one warning from someone who knows…. Ghosts are no longer entirely human. You may wish it
didn’t
work.”

I crept up the stairs to my room, keeping the Howler half hidden under the front of my coat. I could hear music coming from Nick’s room. I didn’t want him to see the Howler and start making fun of me before I even had a chance to try it out.

I set the little box down on my bed. Then I closed my bedroom door.

I moved my CD player and all my CDs off the little table next to my closet. Then I carefully set the Howler down and plugged it in.

Vanessa refused to come home with me to test it out. She kept warning me that this one wouldn’t work either. “You just threw away your last thirty dollars,” she said.

“Maybe you’re right,” I sighed. “But I want to believe. I really
want
to believe.”

“Scott is right to tease you,” she said.

That hurt. Wow, that hurt!

But here I was, up in my room, feeling really
excited. Nervous. About to test my new purchase.

I shut everything else out of my mind and pulled my desk chair in front of the table. Then I leaned over the Howler and gently wrapped my fingers around the power switch. I clicked it on.

The dial lit up instantly. It gave off a dim yellow glow.

I brought my face close to the speaker and listened.

Nothing. Silence.

I searched for a volume control, but I couldn’t find one.

I stared at the dial. The yellow glow appeared to grow brighter.

I heard a buzz. A crackling sound, like static on the radio.

I pressed my ear to the speaker and listened for ghostly howls.

Nothing.

“Come on, ghosts,” I said out loud. “Where are you?”

Give it a chance, I told myself.

I heard another crackle of static. The yellow dial flickered. Then silence.

How long did I sit there, staring at the yellow dial? Five minutes? Ten?

After a while, I stood up. I paced around the room. Then I crossed to the window and gazed down toward Scott’s house.

He was just getting home. I saw him pause at his back door and look up at my window.

I ducked back so he wouldn’t see me. I didn’t want him barging in and giving me a hard time about the Howler. That’s the last thing I wanted!

I turned back to the Howler, glowing and silent on my little table.

I sat back down in front of it. Leaned my elbows on the table. And stared into the dial.

Come on, I urged silently. Let me hear something. Just one tiny ghost sound.

I nearly fell off the chair when I heard a ghostly whisper.

“
Spennnn-cerrrrr
.”

A spirit! A ghost! I could hear it! So close! It sounded so close!

“
Spennnn-cerrrrr
.”

And then it grabbed me from behind.

And spun me around.

“Nick!” I cried. “You jerk! Let go of me!”

He giggled and gave me a hard shove that sent me sprawling over the table. Then he tossed my backpack to the floor and took its place on my bed.

“What’s up, wimpface?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” I sneered. “Would you please get out of my room? I’m kind of busy.”

He spit his bubble gum toward the wastebasket in the corner—and missed. The gum bounced off the wall, onto my carpet.

“Hey, pick it up,” I said.

He grinned at me. “Pick
what
up?” He jumped to his feet and came up behind me. “What’s that thing? Another stupid ghost toy?”

“No, it’s not a toy,” I replied. But I was immediately sorry. I should have told Nick it was a toy, I thought. Then he’d go away and leave me alone.

Now I was going to have to explain.

He picked it up off the table. “Is it a radio?”

“Kind of,” I said. “It’s called the Howler. It uses radio waves or something. It picks up the howls of ghosts.”

He snickered. “Yeah, sure.” He raised the Howler to his ear.

“Careful—you’ll unplug it,” I warned.

Nick narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you becoming some kind of
Star Trek
freak? Is that what this is about?”

“No way,” I said. “I just—”

He pressed his mouth against the dial. “Beam me up, Scotty!” he shouted into it. “Beam me up. This is Spock!”

He laughed really hard, as if he’d just made a really funny joke. Then he dropped the Howler to the table.

“Careful!” I screamed. “You’ll break it.”

He started to the door. “You’re pitiful,” he said. “It’s not even funny, you’re so totally pitiful. You really think you can buy some kind of stupid little radio and be able to hear ghosts howling.”

“Just leave me alone!” I cried.

“Pitiful,” he repeated. And he walked out of my room.

Pitiful. The word repeated in my ear.

Maybe he’s right, I thought, staring at the silent gray box. Maybe I
am
pitiful.

Or maybe not.

Late that night, I was awakened by a strange sound.

I sat up in bed and listened.

The room was hot. The furnace had been on full blast. I was sweating, and my pajamas clung to my skin.

Pale, silvery moonlight poured into my room from the window. I blinked myself awake. Stretched my arms over my head. Turned toward the yellow glow of the Howler across my room.

What was that sound? What had awakened me?

Owooooooooooooo
.

A howl. So faint. So soft.

And then another.
Ooooooooowoooooo
.

Howls of pain. Ghostly howls…coming from the Howler.

I kicked the blankets off and struggled to my feet. My heart started to pound.

I reached for the lamp on my bed table and nearly knocked it over. Finally, I clicked on the light.

Oooooooooooowoo
.

The howl sounded fainter now. Distant.

The yellow dial glowed.

I straightened my pajama pants and dove to the little table. I dropped into the chair, trembling with excitement.

And fear.

I grabbed the sides of the little box and listened.

Another howl, so sad, so far away.

My hands were suddenly cold and wet. I pressed them tighter against the sides of the Howler.

Was I really listening to a ghost? Was I really picking up sound from the spirit world?

This is what I had wanted. This is what I had dreamed about.

But now that it was actually happening, I was
terrified
.

My teeth started to chatter. I couldn’t stop my body from shivering.

Ghosts are dead people, I thought. Dead people.

I heard another long, low howl pour out of the box.

Was I really listening to the cry of a dead person?

I stared at the box between my hands. At the yellow dial. At the red button beneath it. The red button…

In my excitement, I had completely forgotten. If I pushed the red button, I could talk to the ghost. I could communicate with it.

My hand trembled as I pressed the red button and held it down. I leaned closer to the box. “Hello,” I called. My voice came out in a choked whisper.

“Hello?” I tried again.

Silence now. I waited, my heart thudding.

“Can anyone hear me?” I asked, holding the red button down.

Silence. A long, empty silence.

And then I heard a whispered voice. So soft, so far away, I could barely hear it. “
Please…
”

I let out a startled cry.

A voice from beyond!

“It’s happening! It’s real!”

I felt like leaping out of the chair and jumping up and down.

But instead, I pressed the red button and leaned
closer to the Howler. “I can hear you!” I cried. “It’s working. I can hear you!”

I stared at the little round speaker and listened.

Silence. Only for a few seconds, but it seemed endless.

And then another whisper. “
Please…help
.”

Help? How? Where was this ghost? Was he buried somewhere? Was he buried in a coffin deep in the ground?

I wanted to ask a million questions. But I was gasping for breath now. My heart pounded so hard, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.

“
Please help me…
.” the voice whispered.

“Where are you?” I finally managed to choke out. “Who are you? How can I help?”

Silence.

I stood up. Then I sat back down. I tried to force my legs to stop shaking.

Behind me, the radiator rattled, sending more heat into the room. I knew my room was toasty warm. But I felt so cold. So cold down to my bones.

“Can you hear me?” I said into the box. “Who are you? Please answer. Who are you?”

Silence.

And then the whisper came again. “Help me….”

“Who are you?” I demanded. “Where are you?”

“
Buried…
”

The word made me gasp.

Hugging myself to stop from shaking, I pressed
my ear to the speaker. And listened for more.

But once again the Howler was silent.

I pressed the red button. “How can I help you?” I asked. “What can I do? Who are you? Please—tell me.”

Silence.

And then: “
Find me. Please—find me….
”