Wanted

by R. L. Stine

  No one noticed. Everyone was too happy and excited to notice me.

  They were all talking at once and laughing and joking. Dad was in the best mood. His pumpkin-farm idea had worked out for him big-time.

  I was the only quiet person at the table. I was the only one there who knew of the horror right beyond our backyard.

  A few hours after dinner, I went outside to wait for Haywood. It was a cool, breezy night. The full moon floated low in the sky.

  I paced back and forth along the back of the house. My hands were cold and sweaty. I kept them jammed into my jeans pockets as I walked. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  Where was he? Where?

  And then I saw the vines. Several vines lifting themselves out of the field. Creeping like snakes over the grass toward the house.

  The moonlight was so bright, I could see every line and groove and track on the thick vines as they slithered toward me.

  They curled over one another, tangling and untangling. And sliding quickly forward. Gleaming in the bright moonlight.

  Where is Haywood? I need him. Where IS he?

  Gaping in horror at the approaching vines, I saw something move in the dirt. In the dirt where the backyard ended and the pumpkin field began, I saw something rise up.

  Was it some kind of small animal? No.

  A hand. Squinting into the moonlight, I realized I was staring at a human hand. Poking up from the dirt.

  I could see it so clearly. I watched the fingers move, as if testing themselves. Then the dirt parted and the hand rose higher into the night air.

  I saw a slender arm. A coat sleeve. And then a second hand shot up from under the ground. Two arms.

  And a head. A head rose up from the dirt. Then … shoulders.

  The hands pushed down on the grass. And a figure climbed out from under the ground…. Under the ground!

  From a grave?

  Someone climbing out from a grave?

  I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

  I watched him rub dirt off his face. Then he brushed off the front of his coat. The legs of his jeans.

  He staggered forward. Stepped into a pool of light. And I recognized him.

  Haywood.

  My body quivered with horror. I stared at the figure in the moonlight until my eyes blurred.

  Was Haywood dead? Was he one of the corpses buried under the pumpkin field?

  I hate zombie movies. I think they’re really dumb. But here I was, living in one.

  And suddenly I remembered. I remembered asking Haywood where he lived. When I asked, he pointed to the pumpkin field. He said he lived there with his dad and a lot of other people.

  And now here he came, brushing off the dirt from his grave and walking across the backyard, past the slithering vines. Walking toward the house because I had invited him. I had begged him to come tonight. To help me.

  But he wasn’t coming to help me. What was he planning?

  I tried to hide. Too late to run. I pressed myself into the darkness of the back wall. I held my breath. My heart beat so hard, my chest ached.

  “Devin? I can see you,” Haywood said. “Are you hiding there? I’ve come to help you.”

  I didn’t move from the wall. “No, th-thanks,” I stuttered. “I don’t need your help anymore. Thanks anyway.”

  “Yes, you do,” he said. “You need my help.”

  “NO!” I uttered. Actually, I screamed the word. I couldn’t hide my panic.

  “I came to help you,” he repeated. “Because you’re my friend. I know all about this farm, Devin. I know how to keep people safe.”

  He stepped into the shadows. I hugged myself to stop trembling. “I … I’m going inside now,” I said. “I’m tired from carrying all those pumpkins today.”

  “Let me come in with you,” he whispered. “I have some things to tell you. Important things, Devin.”

  “No. Really. I’m too tired. Maybe tomorrow?”

  I couldn’t see his face. The shadows at the back of the house were too deep.

  “It’s Halloween night,” he said. “There are things I need to tell you. To keep you safe on this farm.”

  My brain was spinning. How could I escape him?

  I’d seen him climb up from under the ground. I knew he had to be some kind of zombie.

  He moved closer. I heard him chuckle. “Devin, you look so frightened.”

  “Huh? Me? No way,” I protested. But my trembling voice gave me away.

  “Why are you shaking?” he demanded.

  “It’s … cold out here,” I said.

  His next words sent a shock wave down my whole body. “It’s colder in the grave, Devin.”

  He grabbed my wrist — and jerked me forward.

  I nearly fell over.

  His hand tightened around my wrist. It felt like a cold metal clamp.

  I tried to pull free. But he was incredibly strong.

  “Colder in the grave,” he repeated.

  “Let go of me! Wh-what do you want?” My voice came out high and shrill.

  “I want you to come with me,” he said softly. His bone-hard fingers dug into the skin on my wrist. “I want you to come see my grave.”

  “No! Let go! Let go!”

  Panic shot through my body. I twisted and squirmed. “Let go!”

  But I wasn’t strong enough to break his hold.

  He turned and started to pull me across the wet grass. I struggled against him, but he was just too powerful.

  “Stop!” I cried. “I don’t want to see your grave! Let me go!”

  He turned. His eyes were glassy. Empty. Like doll’s eyes. “It doesn’t hurt,” he said in a whisper.

  “Doesn’t hurt? What doesn’t hurt?” I cried.

  “It doesn’t hurt to die, Devin. You’ll see.”

  “No! Please!”

  He began pulling me again, forcing me over the grass toward the field. Gripping me with his steel-like hand. Pulling with horrifying strength.

  He’s going to pull me into his grave.

  I twisted back toward the house. I tried to shout for my parents. But the windows were all shut against the cold. The lights were all out. Everyone was asleep.

  No way they could hear my feeble cries.

  Haywood pulled me over the vines, which were twisting together, curling, uncurling. As I passed by, they reached up as if to grab me. But he tugged me out of their reach.

  I’m doomed.

  I realized no one could save me. And he was too strong for me to save myself.

  I opened my mouth to shout again. But there was no one around. No one who could help me.

  And then my eyes fell on a dark figure at the edge of the field. And I realized I had one tiny hope left.

  “Zeus!” I shouted. “Zeus — you’re the Grave-Master. You can help me!”

  The cat tilted his head at my words. His green eyes caught the moonlight and appeared to glow.

  “Zeus! I know who you really are! I know you are in control of everyone here. Zeus — please. Help me. Stop Haywood. Stop him!”

  The cat lowered his head. He took a step toward us. Then another.

  Haywood turned to face him.

  “Yes!” I cried. “Come stop him! You are the Grave-Master! You can do it! Help me! Help me, Zeus.”

  The cat took another step toward us into the leafy field. He raised his head, and his eyes glowed brightly at Haywood.

  “Get him, Zeus!” I screamed.

  I held my breath as the cat eyed Haywood.

  The fat pumpkin leaves rustled all around us, shifting and bending in the cold October wind. Even the moonlight felt cold on my face as I stared … stared waiting for the cat to make his move.

  Haywood tightened his grip on my arm.

  The cat tilted his head and meowed. A soft mew.

  Haywood tossed back his head and laughed. He reached down with his free hand and tickled the cat under his chin.

  Zeus mewed again.

  Haywood grinned at me. “He
’s just a cat, Devin. That’s all.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You mean —?”

  “I mean, I tricked you,” Haywood said. “To throw you off the track. I made you think the cat was the Grave-Master, and you believed it — didn’t you. So sorry. I can see how disappointed you are. But Zeus is just a cat. A big, lazy cat.”

  “Noooo,” I moaned as Haywood began to pull me again. I tried to dig my shoes into the soft ground. But he was inhumanly strong. I couldn’t hold back.

  My mind was spinning. But I was so frightened, my thoughts made no sense at all.

  “So … you are the Grave-Master?” I asked him.

  He laughed again. “Wrong,” he said. “You are wrong about everything, Devin.”

  He pulled me to a hole in the field. A perfect rectangle dug between the leafy vines.

  I peered down. Dark inside. Too dark to see how deep it was.

  But I recognized it. It was a grave. It was going to be my grave.

  Suddenly, a few feet from the open grave, the dirt began to move. Chunks of dirt flew up from the ground. A hand poked up. The hand fumbled until it found a thick vine.

  I stared in horror as the fingers wrapped around the vine. I knew what was happening. Another corpse was rising up from its grave.

  “Want to meet the Grave-Master?” Haywood said, watching the ground along with me. “Here is the Grave-Master.”

  We both stared in silence as a second hand appeared. Both hands tugged on the vine till a head poked up from the dirt.

  Mrs. Barnes.

  Dirt slid and tumbled out of her way as she pulled herself up. After a few seconds, the big woman stood grinning at me. She brushed dirt chunks from her long braids. She held something in one hand.

  A pumpkin.

  “Well, well. Here we are,” she said. “Do you know what night it is, Devin? It’s the Night of the Jack-o’-lantern.”

  She raised the pumpkin higher — and it lit up. Orange flames blazed inside it. And I could see big triangle eyes and a jagged mouth cut in a cruel scowl.

  Mrs. Barnes shoved the fiery jack-o’-lantern close to my face.

  “It’s the Night of the Jack-o’-lantern, Devin. The jack-o’-lantern laughs at death. Are you ready to laugh at death?”

  “No — please!” I cried, trying to back away. But Haywood held me tightly in place.

  “Watch the jack-o’-lantern’s grin as you go down below,” Mrs. Barnes said, still smiling at me. Her round cheeks were smeared with dirt. She pulled a worm out of her nose and tossed it to the ground.

  “But — why me?” I cried in a high, frightened voice. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s easy to explain. My boy Haywood needs a friend,” Mrs. Barnes said. “It gets lonely under this field. As lonely as death. Haywood needs someone his own age to spend the long days with.”

  I stared at her. “Me? A friend?”

  “The vines,” I said, “attacking my room. The pumpkins … the whispers … It only happened to me. No one else in my family.”

  “That’s because I chose you,” Mrs. Barnes said. “You are Haywood’s age. I mean, Haywood was twelve when he died one hundred and twenty years ago. I chose you to be his friend.”

  “But — but I don’t understand —” I didn’t know what I was saying. I just thought if I could keep her talking, maybe …

  “Time to go down,” Mrs. Barnes said. She raised the scowling jack-o’-lantern above her head. Then she signaled to Haywood with a nod.

  Haywood pushed me to the edge of the grave.

  My shoes slipped on the soft dirt. I stared down into the deep black hole.

  “Do you want to jump?” Haywood whispered in my ear. “Or do you want me to push you?”

  He grabbed my shoulders from behind. My shoes slid closer to the deep black hole of the grave. One push … one push, and I was gone.

  I felt his fingers tighten on my shoulders. Ready to shove me down into my grave.

  A wild scream rang over the field.

  At first, I thought it was my scream. It took a few seconds to realize it was from someone else.

  I felt Haywood’s hands loosen on my shoulders. I stumbled back. We both turned. All three of us stared at the roaring figure running across the field at us.

  As this person ran into the moonlight, I saw a bright green costume. A Halloween costume? The hideous scream — like a furious wild beast — roared out from an ugly mask.

  The mask was green and creased and rutted. It had huge, sharp fangs poking out of its open mouth. The ears were long and pointed and standing straight up. The eyes were red and wild.

  The ground-shaking roar was so angry and loud, I wanted to cover my ears.

  I saw the shock on the faces of Haywood and his mother. They froze like silvery statues in the moonlight. The jack-o’-lantern slid from her hands and rolled across the ground.

  The bellowing creature ran up to us. Spread its arms wide. Thick gobs of drool fell from the open snout.

  Turned to me. Those red eyes turned to me. Making my whole body shake.

  “It’s meeeeee!” she cried in a raspy animal growl. “It’s meee … Luuuuu-Annnn!”

  No. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be my friend Lu-Ann.

  This was a wild animal. A dangerous creature. A monster.

  “It’s Luuuu-Annnnn!” it repeated.

  “No — you can’t be! You can’t be!” I cried.

  And then it twirled around to face Haywood and Mrs. Barnes. And screamed at them in a bellowing voice that made the trees shake and the ground tremble.

  “GOOOOO AWAAAAAY!”

  The masked creature dove toward them with a terrifying roar. It flung itself on Haywood, tackled him around the waist. The two of them crashed heavily to the dirt.

  Eyes wide with shock, Mrs. Barnes stumbled back.

  Grunting and groaning, Haywood and the creature wrestled over the ground. The monster let out another roar that shook the trees. Haywood ripped at its face, trying to pull off the mask. But I could see clearly it wasn’t a mask. The hideous fanged face was its face!

  I stood frozen across from Mrs. Barnes, watching helplessly as the battle grew louder and more intense. The monster poked its fingers into Haywood’s eyes. Haywood let out a shriek of pain and twisted his face away.

  He tugged at the monster’s ears. Sent a hard punch into its belly.

  Gobs of green drool splatted from the creature’s mouth as it rolled on top of Haywood, pounding him with punches, gouging at his eyes.

  My mind spun as I watched the horrifying battle. If the creature won, would it fight me, too? I knew that if Haywood won, he would toss me into his grave. But if the monster won …

  They were both on their feet now, pulling and pushing, struggling to overpower the other, moving closer to the open grave. Closer …

  And then with a burst of power, Haywood lifted the monster off its feet. He wrapped his arms around its waist and hoisted it high over his head. Then with a loud groan, he turned and held the creature over the grave.

  The creature thrashed and kicked. But Haywood was too strong. He raised it higher — and started to heave the monster into the grave.

  What if it really is Lu-Ann?

  I stared at the horrible face.

  How could it be Lu-Ann? But what if it is?

  I shot forward. Lowered my shoulder and plowed hard into Haywood’s middle.

  He uttered a gasp — and staggered back.

  The monster slid from his hands. It screamed as it started to topple into the grave.

  I turned and grabbed it. Wrapped my hands around its middle — and swung it to safety on the ground.

  With a roar of anger, Haywood came charging at me. I dodged to the side — and he ran into the open grave. I heard him screaming all the way down. He seemed to fall for a long time.

  “Evil!” Mrs. Barnes screamed at the monster. “Evil!” Then she leaped into the grave and disappeared after her son.

  Gasping for breath, I waited for
them to return. But the grave remained silent and dark.

  I turned to the creature. It stood with its hands on the waist of the green costume, breathing noisily, gobs of drool sliding from its fanged jaws. Its red eyes locked on me. “You … saved … my life.” A raw whisper.

  And then its face appeared to loosen. Its whole head sagged. The red eyes faded. The rows of pointed teeth drooped. As I gaped in amazement, it reached up both hands — and tugged off its head.

  A mask after all.

  “Lu-Ann!” I shrieked. “It can’t be!”

  She didn’t answer. She stared openmouthed at the hideous mask in her hands. “It came off.” Her voice still a whisper. She shook her head as if she didn’t believe it.

  “Devin, you … you saved my life,” she stammered. “An act of kindness. You thought I was a monster, didn’t you? But you saved my life, anyway. An act of unbelievable kindness.”

  I moved closer to her. “Lu-Ann, I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”

  She crinkled the mask between her hands. “It took an act of kindness to remove the mask. That’s what Marcus’s dad said. An act of kindness. But not from me. Don’t you see, Devin? It had to be an act of kindness from someone else!”

  “Lu-Ann, I still don’t understand.”

  “Beauty and the Beast, Devin. Beauty and the Beast. I was the Beast.”

  “I’ve always known you were a beast,” I said. I was starting to feel a little more normal.

  She laughed. Then she tossed the mask across the field and began dancing up and down. “I’m free! I’m okay! I’m free! I’m me again! Devin, I’m me!”

  Lu-Ann pumped her fists above her head. Then she dove forward and hugged me.

  “The mask stuck to my face. It turned me evil. I ran and ran,” she said. “I didn’t know where to go. And then I remembered your farm was here.”

  “You’re okay,” I said. “Me, too. We’re both okay.”

  She tossed back her head and laughed again. “Happy Halloween, Devin.”

  “Happy Halloween,” I said. “By the way, how was Polly’s party?”

  Polly stared down the attic stairs at the line of kids. “Okay, everyone. Keep to the right,” she called. “Have your money ready.”