The Second Evil (17 page)

Corky shut her eyes. When she opened them, the steam had vanished. The room was clear.

Silence.

She stared down into the tub.

The green ooze was gone.

The water had drained out too.

Kimmy uttered a low cry.

With a sob of relief, Corky loosened her grip on Kimmy's head.

“Hey!” Kimmy cried. In her old voice, not the frightening, raspy voice of the evil spirit.

“Hey!” Bent over the empty tub, Kimmy shook her head, beads of water rolling off her black curls.

Reluctantly, Corky let go of Kimmy's head and backed away from the tub, her arm throbbing under the heavy cast, her entire body aching.

Kimmy turned around slowly, her dark eyes wide with confusion. She pushed herself up from the tub and stood breathing hard, her chest heaving. She stared at Corky as if she didn't recognize her.

“Corky?” she cried uncertainly, squinting, her mouth dropping open. Her eyes darted around the small room. “Where am I? What am I doing here?”

Despite her weariness, Corky let out a whoop of joy. “Kimmy, is it
you?”

The question seemed to confuse Kimmy even more.

Corky offered her a hand. “Kimmy, I don't
believe
it!” She helped pull Kimmy to her feet.

Kimmy gripped the sink to steady herself. “But how …? I mean, I don't understand.” She suddenly reached up and grabbed her hair with both hands. “I—I'm wet. I don't—”

“Take it easy,” Corky said softly. “Let's get out of here. Let's go downstairs, and—”

“But how did I get here?” Kimmy demanded. “I was in the Fear Street cemetery. You were struggling. Wrestling with Jennifer over that open grave.”

“That's the last thing you remember?” Corky exclaimed. “Kimmy, that was months ago!”

“Huh?” Still gripping her hair tightly in both hands, Kimmy gaped at Corky. “Months? What do you
mean?”

Corky started to reply, but a loud pounding on the bathroom door made her stop.

“Corky, are you okay?” her mother called in. “What's going on in there?”

Corky pulled open the door.

“Mom, it's okay.”

Mrs. Corcoran gasped in shock. “Kimmy, what are you doing here?”

“I—I don't know,” Kimmy told her, still dazed.

“Kimmy's okay,” Corky told her mother. “She's okay. Let's get her downstairs.”

“But she's all
wet!”
Mrs. Corcoran cried in confusion. “And so are you!”

Corky managed to calm her mother. They helped Kimmy down the stairs and onto the living-room couch. Mrs. Corcoran went into the kitchen to call Kimmy's parents to come and get her.

When her mother was out of the room, Corky moved next to Kimmy on the couch and whispered to her. “The evil. It's gone.”

Kimmy started to say something, but Corky put a hand on her arm to silence her.

“Just listen to me. The evil is gone. I drowned it. Really, I drowned it. I saw it disappear this time. Maybe now the nightmare is over. Maybe it really is gone for good.”

A few hours later Corky lay awake in bed, watching the shadows play across her ceiling. Her ribs ached. Her arm throbbed and itched under the cast. She shifted her weight uncomfortably.

Poor Kimmy, she thought. She was so dazed, so confused. I don't think she'll ever believe the truth.

Corky tried to turn onto her side, but a stab of pain shot across her chest. She rolled onto her back again, tugging the covers with her good hand.

Is the evil spirit really gone forever? she wondered, closing her eyes. Will my life finally return to normal?

Yes.

She answered her own question. Yes. Yes. Yes.

Happily repeating the word over and over, she fell into a fitful sleep.

The next morning she slept late. The clock radio on her night table said 11:55 when she pulled herself out of bed, yawned, and stretched her one good hand.

She stood up, feeling stronger. A little unsteady. But definitely stronger.

She looked out the window. Bright blue skies.

A sunny day, she thought, smiling.

At last! A sunny day.

The days will all be sunny from now on, she thought cheerfully. She smiled at herself in her dresser mirror.

I'm starving, she realized, pushing her hair back from her face before rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Still in her long cotton nightshirt, she padded down to the kitchen, humming to herself. “Hey, anybody home?”

No reply.

She started to open the refrigerator, but stopped when she saw the morning mail on the kitchen counter. Shuffling through the stack of bills and mail-order catalogs, she pulled out an envelope addressed to her.

It was hand-printed in light blue ink. There was no return address.

Curious, Corky struggled to tear open the envelope
with her good hand. She pulled out a folded sheet of paper. It appeared to be a note.

“Who is it from?” she wondered aloud.

And then she gasped in horror as she unfolded it and read the brief message:

IT CAN'T BE DROWNED.

THE NIGHTMARES NEVER END … WHEN YOU VISIT FEAR STREET®

Next …
CHEERLEADERS: THE THIRD EVIL

IT CAN'T BE DROWNED! Corky Corcoran and the Shadyside High cheerleaders know the evil spirit is still with them. But where? And in whom? A visit to cheerleader camp is a terrifying experience for Corky, Kimmy, Debra, and Ronnie. Corky knows she
must
destroy the spirit for good, before any more of her close friends die. But this cheerleading season may be her last, as Corky battles for her life against a spirit more evil than anyone ever imagined!

“Where do you get your ideas?”

That's the question that R. L. Stine is asked most often. “I don't know where my ideas come from,” he says. “But I do know that I have a lot more scary stories in my mind that I can't wait to write.”

So far, he has written nearly three dozen mysteries and thrillers for young people, all of them bestsellers.

Bob grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Today he lives in an apartment near Central Park in New York City with his wife, Jane, and fourteen-year-old son, Matt.