The Howling Ghost (8 page)

The skeleton did not vanish. They could still see it, but through the haze of the old lady ghost. And all of a sudden the skeleton didn't look so scary. Because the ghost that stirred in its place was a thousand times worse. It glared at them with strange violet eyes that flashed cold fire. It raised both its arms, and its wrinkled hands were like claws. The razor-sharp nails that bent from the twisted fingertips made Cindy squeal. She had obviously seen those hands before.

“That's the ghost that stole my brother!” she yelled.

“I'm not surprised.” Adam gulped. He put an arm around Cindy and carefully pulled her back, away from the ghost, which had climbed to its feet. For a moment the thing searched the attic. But then its angry eyes settled back on them, and it took a step in their direction. Cindy shook in Adam's arms, and he was not feeling exactly strong himself.

“What do you think it wants,” Cindy said, gasping.

“One of us,” Adam whispered. “Maybe both.”

Just then they heard the cries of a young boy.

The sound came from even farther above them.

The attic had an attic.

“Neil!” Cindy cried. “That's my brother.” She let go of Adam and strode toward the ghost, anger in her step. “You old ugly ghost!” she swore at the thing. “You give me back my brother!”

“You might not want to insult it,” Adam suggested. “Try saying please.”

But Cindy was too furious. Overhead, her brother continued to shout, pounding on the ceiling. It was only then that Adam noticed a ladder pinned to the ceiling. Obviously, it could be used to reach the second attic. If he could get to it. Between him and the ladder stood the ghost, and the thing didn't look in the best of moods. Cindy raised a finger and shook it in the ghost's face.

“You had no right to take him,” Cindy said. “He never did anything to you.” Cindy paused and shouted at the ceiling. “We're coming, Neil!”

“Try getting around to its other side,” Adam whispered loudly.

Cindy glanced over her shoulder. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Adam said. “I'll explain later. Keep it distracted.”

Cindy nodded and turned back to the ghost, which
still looked angry, but unsure of what to do with them. Cindy moved to Adam's right. The ghost followed her. Adam began to move to the left.

“Just let Neil go and I won't file criminal charges,” Cindy told the ghost. “We can forget the whole thing, pretend it never happened.”

The ghost fixed its attention on Cindy. It even moved as she moved. Adam was able to use the opportunity to jump up and grab one end of the ladder. It folded down smoothly, barely creaking. Adam felt a wave of triumph. If he could get up into the second attic and grab Neil, they could be out of here and home in time for dinner. He pushed one end of the ladder to the floor and started up the steps. There was another trapdoor above with a metal catch. He'd have no trouble opening it.

Adam almost made it. Another couple of steps and he'd have reached Neil. But the ghost was not blind.

Adam felt a strong hard hand grip his ankle.

He glanced down, not really wanting to see what had a hold of him.

The ghost glared up at him. Fire burned in its violet eyes as it growled. The other hand wrapped around his other ankle. Then he was falling. The ghost had pulled his feet out from under him.

Adam hit the floor hard. Pain flared through his
right side, and he had trouble drawing in a breath. Before he could recover, the ghost was on him. It was awfully strong for an old woman, especially one that had been dead thirty years.

It grabbed him by the arms and lifted him right off the floor. For a moment Adam stared directly into its face. He could still see through it, but it seemed with each passing second the ghost was becoming more solid. It actually had bad breath. It gloated over him and then threw its head back, opening its mouth wide. The howling again shook the attic.

“Maybe we could discuss this,” Adam said. “Work out some kind of trade.”

The ghost was not in the mood to talk. It carried Adam to the wall, and with one stiff kick it broke a hole in the wall. Adam felt the cold air pour in. The ghost gave another kick and a large section of the wall collapsed. The ghost pushed Adam through the opening. Far below him—one hundred feet at least—he saw the waves crashing against jagged boulders. The wind tossed his hair. The ghost was slowly loosening its hold on him. This was it, he thought, he was going to die. No way could he survive such a fall.

“Adam!” Cindy cried.

The ghost dropped him.

M
eanwhile Sally and Watch were very busy themselves. When the searchlight first came on, they both stumbled around half blind, doing exactly what Watch himself had warned them not to do. This time Sally almost stepped into the trapdoor opening and fell. But Watch bumped into her at that moment. They decided to close the trapdoor.

“What's happening?” Sally repeated. “What's that howling sound?”

“I think the ghost has woken up,” Watch said, holding a hand up like a visor to block out the light.

They heard shouts above, but couldn't understand what was being said. “We have to rescue Adam!” Sally cried.

“What about Cindy?” Watch asked.

“We can save her as well,” Sally said. “Quick, go up on the desk and the chair.”

“No.” Watch stopped her. “It's obvious the ghost is up there. They must be trapped. If we go up, we'll just get trapped.”

“You're a coward,” Sally said. “We can't just leave them.”

“I'm not saying we should leave them,” Watch said. “But I think this is a powerful ghost. It was able to grab Neil all the way at the far end of the jetty. We have to strike at the heart of its power.”

“What's that?” Sally asked.

Watch pointed to the blindingly bright light. “This. Every time the ghost appears, the searchlight comes on.”

“You're right!” Sally exclaimed. “Let's bust the bulbs.”

It sounded simple enough. The problem was that when Watch lifted the chair to smash the searchlight, he couldn't get near it. The chair struck the beam of light as if it were striking a forcefield. The wood shattered in his hands and splinters went flying
everywhere. Watch staggered back and would have fallen if Sally hadn't grabbed him.

“I think the searchlight is haunted as well,” Sally said.

Watch straightened up and nodded. “But I still think we can disable it. Remember Adam said there were cans of kerosene in the storage room downstairs? I didn't have a chance to look, but I think this light is powered by a generator inside the lighthouse. Maybe in that very storage room. The generator probably runs on kerosene. The wiring from it must come straight up under the floor. I know for a fact the old city wiring is not giving this thing any juice. The wires are too worn out.”

“What are you going to do?” Sally asked.

“I want to run downstairs and wreck the generator. I hope that'll turn off the searchlight, and shut up the ghost.”

“That's great,” Sally said. “But what am I supposed to do?”

Watch glanced up at the ceiling. There was so much noise up there; it didn't sound like Adam and Cindy were having an easy time with the ghost.

“Maybe there's something you can do to slow the ghost down until I get to the generator,” he said.

“Tell me!” Sally demanded.

“I've been thinking about that article we read in the library. It listed the caretaker's name as Evelyn Maey. And we know her son's name was Rick.”

“So?”

“You know the staff at
The Daily Disaster.
They always mess up the facts a little. What if they accidentally left off the letter
k.
What if their last name was really Makey.”

Sally blinked. “Like in Cindy Makey?”

“Yes. When we were getting the scuba equipment, Cindy told me her father's name was Frederick, but her mother just called him Fred. But what if her father's
mother
had called him Rick?”

Wonder dawned on Sally's face. “Are you saying that Cindy's father might have been the boy who washed out to sea thirty years ago?”

“Yes. Notice where Cindy lives now. In her father's house, which is right next to the lighthouse.”

“That's right! Cindy must be the granddaughter of the ghost! Watch, you're a genius!”

“I've known that since I was four years old.”

“Wait a second,” Sally said. “The paper said the boy, Rick, was never found.”

“And Cindy said her father was raised an orphan. The guy probably washed out to sea and didn't wash
up again until he was halfway to San Francisco. It's no surprise he never made it back home.”

“And Mrs. Makey died without knowing her son was alive,” Sally said, nodding to herself. “That's what's made her such a bitter old ghost.”

“That and living here, I think,” Watch said.

Sally had one last doubt. “But Frederick must have come back to Spooksville as an adult to claim his mother's house. He must have known where it was.”

“Maybe the memory of Spooksville only came back to him as he got older,” Watch said.

Sally nodded. “Maybe his foster parents were nicer than that old bag upstairs. He probably didn't want to come home.”

“Spooksville's a hard town to come home to,” Watch agreed.

They heard a big thump above them.

It sounded like a body had hit the floor.

“You get to the generator,” Sally said to Watch. “I'll deal with the ghost.”

Watch hurried down the stairs. Sally searched for another entrance to the attic. Outside, beyond the windows through which the searchlight normally shone, was a wooden balcony. Sally had noticed it earlier, from the outside, but had forgotten about it in
all the excitement. She wondered if she could climb up onto the rails of the balcony and enter the attic from there. It was worth a try, she decided.

Grabbing the chair, Sally smashed it against the windows. All the glass let go at once, and she was able to step outside onto the balcony without scratching herself. It was only then that she saw a doorway leading to the balcony. She hadn't needed to break the windows, after all.
Oh, well,
she thought. Cindy could pay for the damage.

Sally was out on the balcony studying the guard to see if it could support her weight when plaster and wood started raining down on her and she heard the wall above her being punched through. Turning, she was surprised to see Adam fly through the hole in the lighthouse and sail over the side.

Sally reached out and miraculously caught one of his arms. Adam hung over the side of the balcony, his feet dangling one hundred feet above the rocks.

“Adam!” she screamed, straining to hang on. “What are you doing?”

He looked up at her, his eyes wide as saucers.

“I thought I was about to die.” He gasped. “Pull me up. Quick.”

“I'm trying! You're so heavy.”

“It's my high density, I know.”

Somehow, Sally managed to pull Adam up far enough so he could place a foot on the floor of the balcony. From there he had no trouble climbing over the railing. Adam took a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings. During that time, Sally explained Watch's theory about Cindy's being related to the ghost. Actually, Sally took credit for making the connection. The news intrigued Adam. Sally also told him what Watch was up to. Adam nodded toward the hole in the lighthouse wall. The same hole the ghost had just thrown him out.

“We have to get back up inside there,” he said. “The ghost will try to kill Cindy next.”

“Cindy's a strong girl. She can take care of herself.”

“Sally!”

“I was just kidding. Did you see any sign of Neil?”

“Yeah. He's in an attic above the attic. But help me balance on this railing. We don't have time to talk.”

Sally steadied Adam as he climbed onto the railing. From there he had no trouble reaching the hole. The only problem was that Sally wasn't able to follow him. She had no one to help her balance on the railing.

“You'll have to talk to the ghost yourself,” she called to Adam as he disappeared through the hole.
She stayed where she was, however, half expecting Adam to come flying out of the hole again. He was such a dynamic young man.

Inside the attic, Adam was met with a terrifying sight. The ghost had a hold of Cindy and was trying to drag her up the ladder to the second attic, probably to lock her inside with her brother. But Cindy was fighting back hard. She had a handful of the ghost's hair in her hand, and she was yanking on it, which the ghost obviously didn't like. Now the howling became bitter with pain and anger. Adam had to shout over it to be heard.

“Mrs. Makey!” he yelled. “You're holding Cindy Makey, your granddaughter!”

The ghost stopped and glanced over at him. So did Cindy.

“I'm not related to this ugly creature,” Cindy swore.

Adam stepped forward. “What was your father's name?”

“I told you,” Cindy said. “Frederick Makey. Why?”

Adam came even closer and spoke to the ghost. “What was the name of your son, Mrs. Makey?”

The ghost let go of Cindy and froze, staring at Adam. The fire in its eyes seemed to dim, and suddenly its face didn't look so scary. The light
around it softened and took on a warmer yellow glow. The howling stopped as Adam spoke gently.

“Your son's name was Frederick Makey,” he answered for the ghost. “The ghost of the ship that sank out on the reef did not steal your son. We have his skeleton below and you can talk to it if you like. He crashed his ship because he was drunk. Not because your light was off. It seems Rick just got washed out to sea. He must have washed ashore far from here, and was unable to get back home. But we know he didn't die that night thirty years ago because he later got married and had a family.” Adam paused. “Honestly, Mrs. Makey, Cindy's your granddaughter.”