Phantom of the Haunted Church

by Bill Myers

  Spalding let out a loud groan.

  “Wait a minute,” Melissa said. “What about ZEEG REEED? If those were just clothes and old books, why was this monster protecting it and trying to kill us?”

  “Monzter?” the old man asked, frowning. “Zere vas no monzter.”

  “Of course there was,” Sean argued. “He chased us through the tunnel. In fact, he nearly caught us a couple times.”

  “And you warned us about him,” KC added. “You kept saying it would eat us up, that it would destroy us.”

  “And zo it nearly did,” the old man nodded.

  “But you just said it doesn’t exist!” Sean exclaimed.

  “I zaid it iz not a monzter.”

  “What is it, then?” Sean asked. “Where did it come from?”

  “Vhy, it comez vrom your heartz, of courze.”

  “Our hearts?” Melissa asked.

  The old-timer nodded. “Of courze. GREEED hidez in all our heartz. It—”

  “Wait a minute,” Sean interrupted, “did you say ‘greed’?”

  “Yez. ZEEG REEED—it iz a terrible zing zat livez inzide each—”

  “ZEEG REEED?” Spalding repeated. “I don’t understand.”

  But Melissa did. “Hold it a minute. Maybe he doesn’t mean ‘ZEEG REEED.

  The others looked at her, waiting for more.

  She continued. “I think he might mean ‘ZEE GREEED.’ “ She began to nod. “Of course it’s not ‘ZEEG REEED’—it’s ‘ZEE GREEED.’ That’s what he’s been saying. ‘Beware of ZEE GREEED’—THE GREED.”

  “Exactly,” the old man insisted. “Bevare of ZEE GREEED. Bevare of ZEE GREEED . . . ”

  Now it was Sean’s turn to nod. He remembered all too well the warning the old man had given them earlier. “It will eat you up,” he quoted softly. “It will devour you. Beware of the greed.”

  “Exactly,” the old-timer insisted. “Bevare of ZEEG REEED, bevare of ZEEG REEED.”

  Sean and Melissa shared looks. All this time they’d been running from some monster they thought had been chasing them. And all this time it was only imaginary.

  Just something in their minds. It wasn’t anything harmful or dangerous.

  Then again, maybe it was. Maybe it was more dangerous than they knew. After all, their greed nearly had devoured them. It nearly had killed them. Maybe ZEEG REEED was far more dangerous than any of them had imagined.

  Well, any of them except Bear.

  “So,” Bear glanced around nervously, “do you think he got out of the tunnel before it caved in? Will he still be coming after us?”

  Everyone snickered. Somehow Bear still hadn’t gotten it.

  Sean smiled and slapped him on the back. “I don’t think we have to worry about him for a while.”

  A wave of relief crossed Bear’s face.

  “But it’s important we stay on our guard,” Melissa added. “If we’re not careful, he can always come back.”

  FRIDAY, 16:29 PST

  “Okay,” Sean said as he stood in front of the radio station’s van. “I’ll go on the air first and tell them about the tunnel and stuff, and then you can—”

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Melissa protested. “Why do you get to go on first?”

  “‘Cause I’m the one with this cool Hawaiian shirt.”

  Melissa cocked her head and looked at him. “Haven’t we already had this argument?”

  Sean nodded. “That’s right, and I won, remember?”

  Melissa let out a long, low sigh as she glanced at the church below them. Because of yesterday’s catastrophe, they weren’t allowed anywhere near the auction. Instead, they had been stuck high atop the hill to report the news story from a safe distance away.

  Down below were the mayor, Spalding’s father, Mrs. Potts, and the usual crowd. Twenty-four hours had passed since the last time everyone had gathered there. And in twenty-four hours, nothing much had changed. Well, nothing except Middelton acquiring a brand-new coastline, the complete destruction of a secret underground cavern, a few hundred scratches and bruises on Sean’s and Melissa’s bodies, and, of course, a deeper understanding of the dangers of greed. Other than that, everything was pretty much the same.

  “Okay,” Herbie whispered. The station’s engineer stood near the back of the van, eating a hot dog with one hand and holding a headset to his ear with the other. “You’re on in 3, 2, l--”

  Sean cleared his throat and began. “Good afternoon. This is Sean Hunter reporting live for radio station KRZY. In just a few moments, the leaders of our beloved city will be auctioning off this beautiful old church that you see below me.”

  “It’s radio,” Melissa whispered, “they can’t see the church.”

  But Sean was acting too much like a hotshot to be bothered by details. He continued. “A church that has been part of this city’s heritage for hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of years.”

  Melissa rolled her eyes so hard she practically sprained them. The city was less than two hundred years old. How could the church have been there for thousands?

  “‘And why?’ you’re asking yourself. Well, I’ll tell you why. So they can tear it down and build a parking lot for a new bank. And if you ask me, which you haven’t, but I’ll tell you anyway. . .”

  It was about this time that Melissa knew she’d never get the microphone. Sean was on a roll and would be hogging the glory for the rest of the newscast.

  He continued. “The reason is greed. That’s right— plain, simple greed.” He stuck his hand into his pocket and continued more casually. “Now, this particular reporter has had vast experience with greed, and I’ll be happy to share with you some of my incredible insights . . . ”

  Melissa blew the hair out of her eyes. Her brother may have had experience with greed, but he had a lot to learn about humility. She watched as he casually leaned against the van. Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem—except that the van was parked up on the hill. Even that wouldn’t have been so bad if Herbie had remembered to set the emergency brake.

  But, of course, he hadn’t. So Sean’s extra weight gave it all the excuse it needed.

  The van started moving. Sean jumped back. He desperately motioned to Melissa to do something. She did. She desperately motioned to Herbie to do something. Unfortunately, ole Herb was too busy keeping Slobs away from his hot dog to see or do anything.

  So the van continued its merry way, quickly picking up speed as Sean and Melissa stood, staring at it in amazement.

  But they weren’t the only ones to see it. Eventually Mrs. Potts glanced up from the crowd and saw the van rolling directly toward them. Immediately she did what she did best. Immediately she put into practice that little something she’d learned since becoming neighbors with Sean and Melissa.

  She screamed for her life!

  Once she’d started screaming, she began the running (something else she’d picked up from the brother and sister team).

  Others looked up. And realizing that it wouldn’t hurt to follow her example, they, too, began screaming and running for their lives. Soon everyone, including the mayor, had joined in the fun and games.

  Sean and Melissa exchanged glances. But it wasn’t over—not yet.

  The first to go was the lectern the mayor had been speaking from. The van crashed into it, exploding it into a thousand pieces. Next came the chairs. Same crash, same flying pieces. And last, but not least, was the newly installed fire hydrant. It flew nowhere . . . but its water shot up, spraying everywhere.

  Yes sir, it was just like old times: drenched people shouting and shaking their fists, Mrs. Potts dropping to her knees in sobbing hysteria, and Slobs barking and baying at all the commotion.

  Sean and Melissa shook their heads in wonder. What a strange comfort it was to know that as much as some things change, other things will always remain the same . . .

  Be sure to Read All the Bloodhounds, Inc. Books!

  The Ghost of KRZY

  The Mystery of the Invisible Knig
ht

  Phantom of the Haunted Church

  Invasion of the UFOs

  Fangs for the Memories

  The Case of the Missing Minds

  The Secret of the Ghostly Hot Rod

  I Want My Mummy!

  The Curse of the Horrible Hair Day

  The Scam of the Screwball Wizards

  The Mystery of the Melodies from Mars

  Room with a Boo

  A note from Bill Myers

  Folks ask me why, when I write more thought-provoking novels for adults like, The Face of God, Eli, or The God Hater, do I also write for kids. There are a couple reasons . . .

  For starters, my adult projects do little if any preaching. They are mostly to explore God. I set out with my reader to investigate some aspect of His greatness. And, often, I’m amazed and astonished at what we find. I’ve tried writing more mainstream, but seriously, it is so boring. Why would I want to write some steamy romance or cliché car chase, when I can explore the most complex and fascinating Being in the universe?

  But my kid and teen projects are a little different. Like Proverbs, they’re more instructional. I’ve found the stories that have stayed with me the longest and have had the greatest impact upon my life have been the ones I’ve heard as a child. As exciting and glamorous as it is to write books and movies for adults, if I’m serious about impacting lives with truths that will stick, then I think of children. If I’m serious about my love for people, helping them lay down a solid foundation they can build upon the rest of their lives, then it’s children.

  There’s another reason . . . I like to have fun. Friends say there is an innocence and playfulness about me. That may be true. But those who know me best actually complain I think too much. (That’s one of the reasons my wife does most of the driving. If it were up to me, we’d never get to where we’re going because I’m so lost in thought). Maybe both are accurate . . . I do love to think and maybe the playfulness releases the steam so I don’t blow up.

  And finally, since I’m in a confessional mood, a quick note about comedy. Even as a teen I found comedy was a great way to make points and avoid fights. If you can get the bully to laugh at you, he may forget why he wants to pulverize you. “Hey, the dude’s an idiot, how can I take him seriously?” And he can’t. At least not me, the person. But whatever truth I’ve managed to pass on to him usually does stay. Kinda like the court jester in the old days. They’d point out the king’s ignorance but wouldn’t get busted because, “Hey, I’m just a fool, remember?”

  It’s the same with comedy. Hopefully, underneath all the silliness, there is an eternal truth quietly humming, barely noticeable, that won’t go away . . . even after the story is forgotten.

  Anyway, that’s some of the method to my madness. Whether it’s comedy, drama, out-of-the-box characters, or wild imaginings, my purpose is always the same – appear to entertain, to gladden the heart, to challenge the mind . . . but if you scratch a little deeper, past the surface, hopefully there’s some eternal food for the soul.

  OTHER BOOKS BY BILL MYERS

  NOVELS

  Child’s Play

  The Judas Gospel

  The God Hater

  The Voice

  Angel of Wrath

  The Wager

  Soul Tracker

  The Presence

  The Seeing

  The Face of God

  When the Last Leaf Falls

  Eli

  Blood of Heaven

  Threshold

  Fire of Heaven

  Harbingers – supernatural suspense series

  NON-FICTION

  The Jesus Experience—Journey Deeper into the Heart of God

  Supernatural Love

  Supernatural War

  KID’S BOOKS

  Baseball for Breakfast (picture book)

  The Bug Parables (picture book series)

  Bloodstone Chronicles (fantasy series)

  McGee and Me (book/video series)

  The Incredible Worlds of Wally McDoogle (comedy series)

  Bloodhounds, Inc. (mystery series)

  The Elijah Project (supernatural suspense series)

  Secret Agent Dingledorf and His Trusty Dog Splat (comedy series)

  TJ and the Time Stumblers (comedy series)

  Truth Seekers (action adventure series)

  TEEN BOOKS

  Forbidden Doors (supernatural suspense)

  Dark Power Collection

  Invisible Terror Collection

  Deadly Loyalty Collection

  Ancient Forces Collection

  TEEN BIBLE DEVOTIONALS

  The Gospel of Luke

  The Gospel of John

  The Letter of James

  For a complete list of Bill’s books, sample chapters, and newsletter signup go to www.Billmyers.com Or check out his Facebook page: www.facebook.com/billmyersauthor .