by R. L. Stine
“We got my blood test results this morning. I don’t need a rabies shot,” I said. “He did give me antibiotics.” And then I gasped. “Oh, no. Dad picked up the pills. But he forgot to give them to me.”
Dr. Carpenter put her arm around my shoulder. “Don’t worry. The wound doesn’t look infected. But it is a little swollen. I think I should give you an injection to stop the swelling.”
I had forgotten that Dr. Carpenter was a medical doctor as well as a vet. “Okay, but I guess I should check with my dad first,” I said.
“Tell you what,” Dr. Carpenter said. “I’ll call your dad right now and ask his permission. Okay?”
“Well … yeah,” I replied. “Thank you, Dr. Carpenter.”
She disappeared for a few minutes, leaving me in the waiting room. When she returned, she had a smile on her face. “He apologized for forgetting the pills, Laura. He said it would be a good idea to give you the injection right away.”
“Okay. Great,” I said. I was trying to sound brave. I hate shots!
She led the way into the lab. Then she pulled some bottles from a cabinet and prepared the injection.
“How … how did my dad sound when you spoke to him?” I asked her.
“Fine.” She glanced up at me. “Well, maybe a little tired. Why? Is he not feeling well?”
“No. No. He’s okay. Sort of,” I said.
“Is he still upset about leaving the animal hospital?” she asked.
“I—I don’t think that’s it,” I said.
“What is it, Laura? What’s troubling you?” Dr. Carpenter sat down on a stool beside me.
“I have a feeling something happened here before Dad left. Something bad.” I let out a deep breath.
“Something bad?” Dr. Carpenter asked. “What would make you think that?”
I didn’t want to tell her about Georgie. If I told her that Dad refused to come here, she’d feel terrible.
But I didn’t have a choice.
“Georgie was attacked the other night and Dad took him to Walker Falls. He wouldn’t come here,” I said in a rush.
Dr. Carpenter didn’t say anything. She just nodded.
“Do you know why he wouldn’t come here?” I asked.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she stood up, rubbed alcohol on my arm with a wad of cotton, and raised the needle.
“OUCH!” I tried not to scream as the needle punctured my skin. But I couldn’t hold it in.
Dr. Carpenter frowned. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She dabbed cotton on it. “It should help the swelling.”
Then she gave me a green pill, an antibiotic, to take. She placed the rest of the pills in a small plastic bottle and handed it to me. “Be sure to take a pill every morning.”
I clutched the vial in my hand. “But—what were you going to say about my dad?” I asked.
She sighed. “Laura, if your dad doesn’t want to talk about what happened, it’s not my place to tell you. I think he has to be the one.”
She straightened her lab coat. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? I’ll check your stitches, and we can talk some more then.”
“Okay,” I said. I started to the door. “Thanks.”
“Laura—” Dr. Carpenter called after me. “Maybe you should stay out of the woods for a while.”
I stared at her. She was saying the same thing as Dad!
No way, I thought. No way am I staying out of the woods.
I had too many questions.
And no answers.
The next afternoon I sat in my backyard doing my homework. I leaned against a tree, reading my English textbook. I never mind homework if I can sit outside and do it.
“Hey! What’s up?” Joe walked across the grass toward me.
“Hi!” I dropped my book onto the grass and smiled. Joe was wearing black jeans and a gray T-shirt, and he looked really cute!
“How’s your dog?” he asked.
“Still in the hospital,” I said, standing up. “The vet operated on him last night. We won’t know for a while if he can keep the leg or not.”
Joe’s eyes bulged with surprise. “Huh? Your dog is in the hospital?”
“Isn’t that why you asked?” I said.
He shook his head. “The last time I saw you, your dog nearly attacked you. Remember?”
“Oh, right.” So much had happened since then. I told Joe about the horrible attack on Georgie.
Joe gasped. “You mean … they might cut the leg off?” He twisted a knot of his long hair between his fingers. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “That’s such bad news.”
“I know,” I said. “But here’s some good news.” I took a deep breath. “I’m throwing a birthday party on Saturday for my friend Ellen. Can you come?”
There. I finally said it.
Joe hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Cool.”
Wait till I tell Ellen he’s coming to the party! I thought. This is awesome!
“Why don’t you get your camera?” he said. “Let’s take a walk to the pond.”
“Great!” A few seconds later Joe and I were heading to the pond.
At first I felt nervous walking in the woods. But we didn’t see anything unusual, and it was really nice spending time with Joe.
We sat by the pond and talked and talked. I didn’t see any animals to photograph, but I really wasn’t paying attention. Before I knew it, it was close to dinnertime.
“See you Saturday.” Joe stood up and started away, then turned back. “Hope your dog comes home soon.”
“Thanks,” I said. I watched him walk away, pushing tall weeds out of his path.
I should have asked him where he lives, I thought. I’ll have to remember for next time.
Then I had an idea. I’ll follow him home, I decided.
I turned and trotted along the path. I could hear Joe’s crunching footsteps a little up ahead.
I slowed to a walk. I didn’t want him to catch me following him. That would be so not cool.
The path curved and Joe came into view. He was walking rapidly, tapping a long stick he had picked up on the tree trunks he passed.
The path led beneath leafy old trees that bent low over the ground. The thick leaves blocked the afternoon sunlight and made the woods as dark as evening.
I kept far behind Joe, squinting into the dim light. He was jogging now, moving quickly through the deepening shadows.
I came out at the end of the trees, but I had lost him.
I gazed down the path. No sign of him. I turned and swept my eyes along the grassy clearing to my right. No. No Joe.
A rock wall stood to my left. It was as tall as me. Had he climbed over it? Where had he gone?
“I give up,” I muttered. I turned and started back toward the pond. But I stopped just short of the trees when I spotted something in the clearing.
I took a few steps closer. And realized it was some kind of shack. A small, homemade hut, no bigger than a camping tent.
“Hey—is anyone in there?” I called.
No reply.
I made my way through the tall grass and stepped up to it. The walls were constructed of evergreen branches clumped together and tied with rope and bits of string. Sticks and fat leaves had been used to fill in holes the branches didn’t cover.
“Anyone in there?” I called, softer this time.
Silence.
I leaned forward and poked my head through the opening in the leafy wall. It was dark inside, but circles of sunshine washed in from the top.
My eyes stopped on one of the circles of light—and I froze. And stared.
Stared at two hairy, leathery fingers on the hut floor.
And beside them … beside them … a small pile of bones … animal bones. Most of them had been picked clean. But some still had chunks of meat and fur clinging to them.
And in the corner … piled up in the corner, I saw animal heads. Even in the dim light, I could see them so clearly. Piled on top of each other. Rabbit heads
, squirrel heads, a couple of raccoon heads, eyes staring blankly, glassily at me.
“NOOOO!” I screamed without realizing it.
What kind of creature lives here? What kind of beast builds its own hut and keeps dead animals inside it?
The whole shack trembled as I pulled my head out. I spun away. The animal bones, the heads, the milky eyes lingered in my mind.
I spun away and ran. Ran across the clearing. I was halfway to the trees when I heard the roar behind me.
The roar of an engine.
I swung around—and saw the camouflaged Jeep racing across the clearing toward me, the trailer bouncing hard behind it.
“STOP!” I screamed, waving my hands.
But the Jeep picked up speed.
“STOP!” I turned and started to run.
The engine roared. The Jeep plowed over small trees and weeds as it sped after me. Behind it the trailer rocked from side to side, so hard I thought it might flip over.
They want to run me down! I realized. They’re not going to stop!
I leaped over a boulder and kept running. But the Jeep was catching up. I crossed the path, lowered my head, and ran.
I didn’t remember the stone wall until it was too late.
No time to climb it. No time to run to the side.
I was trapped. Trapped against the wall.
I spun around and watched the Jeep race toward me.
I’m going to be crushed, I realized. I shut my eyes, gritted my teeth, and tensed all my muscles.
And heard the scrape of tires as the Jeep went into a wild spin.
I opened my eyes to see that it had stopped inches in front of me. I stared as the driver stuck his head out the window.
He stuck his head out—and I recognized him. And gasped. “Oh, noooo. You! It’s YOU!”
I didn’t believe it. How could this be?
“Dad!” I cried. “Wh-what are you doing in there?”
I ran up to the side of the Jeep. “Dad? What are you doing here?” I cried.
His glasses glinted in the afternoon sunlight. I couldn’t see his eyes. He scowled at me. His face was bright red.
“Get in,” he growled.
“Dad—answer my question,” I said.
“Get in,” he repeated angrily. “I told you to stay out of the woods.”
I stared at him. His expression was so cold, so angry, I barely recognized him.
“I’m taking you home,” he said. “Get in the Jeep—now.”
“N-not until you explain,” I insisted. “What have you got in the trailer? What are you doing here, Dad?”
He uttered another growl. Then he shoved open the Jeep door and jumped out.
He grabbed my arm and started to pull me. “Get in, Laura. I don’t have time for this.”
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” I cried. I tried to pull free.
He tightened his grip. And dragged me around to the other side of the Jeep.
He has totally changed, I thought. He isn’t the same person. He has turned into some kind of monster!
He forced me into the passenger seat and slammed the door.
My whole body trembled. I hugged myself to stop the shaking.
How can this be? I thought. I’m terrified. Terrified of my own father….
The week passed slowly. I didn’t feel very well. I felt tired and weak, as if I had the flu. The wound on my neck ached and throbbed.
Dad didn’t mention sending me off to Mom again. My stomach felt twisted in knots as I waited for him to say something about it. But he never brought it up.
I was really looking forward to Ellen’s birthday party, and I spent the week planning it. I wanted it to be a lot of fun—for Ellen and for me, too. I needed something to cheer me up.
I woke up Saturday, the day of the party, and ran to the window. Yes! The weather was going to be great. It was a sunny, warm day. The air smelled fresh and sweet. The green trees of the woods glowed like emeralds. It was the perfect day for a party.
Blue is Ellen’s favorite color. So after breakfast I ran outside and covered the backyard with blue streamers and dozens of blue balloons. I hauled our picnic table to the center of the lawn and covered it with a blue tablecloth.
I even had blue icing on Ellen’s birthday cake!
When Ellen arrived, she couldn’t believe the backyard. “It’s awesome, Laura. Awesome!” she declared. She gave me a hug, then hurried off to talk to two boys who had just arrived.
Up to the last minute Ellen had kept adding people to the guest list, then changing her mind and cutting them off.
Finally I just invited everyone from our class.
I cranked up the portable CD player and brought out trays of pizza. About twenty kids had shown up. They were laughing and kidding around and eating.
Ellen, surrounded by boys, flashed me a thumbs-up. I could see she was enjoying the party.
Where is Joe? I wondered. I kept waiting for him to arrive. I was dying for Ellen to meet him.
I checked to make sure there were enough Cokes. Then I brushed some flies away from the birthday cake.
When I looked up from the food table, I saw Dad crossing the lawn, making his way into the shed. His expression was glum. He kept his head down and didn’t seem to notice the kids or the party.
“Dad—do you want some pizza?” I called.
He waved his hand, signaling no. Then he disappeared into the shed, quickly closing the door behind him.
I turned back to the party. I didn’t want to think about Dad now.
Yes, he had given me permission to have the party in the backyard. “Just make sure no one goes into the woods,” he said sternly. “I mean it, Laura. No one.”
I sighed, remembering my birthday parties when I was little. We always had a scavenger hunt in the woods. Dad always set them up. He would hide things up in trees and under rocks, and sometimes even floating in the stream.
Dad was a lot of fun in those days, I thought.
I gazed sadly at the shed. Then, shaking away my unhappy thoughts, I turned back to the party.
“Time to cut the cake, everyone!” I shouted over the music. “Hey—who wants birthday cake?”
A few kids wandered toward the food table. Some girls were dancing in the middle of the yard. A bunch of guys were tossing a Frisbee around.
“Hey, Ellen—come cut your cake!” I shouted. I searched the yard for her. “Has anyone seen Ellen?” I asked.
A few kids looked around, trying to help me find her.
“She went off with Stevie,” a boy called.
“Huh? Where?” I asked.
The boy pointed to the trees. “I saw them heading into the woods.”
“Oh, no,” I moaned. If Dad found out that kids went into the woods, he would stop the party!
I had to bring them back—fast.
I took off running across the backyard. “I’ll be right back!” I called. I made my way onto the path and started to shout as I entered the woods. “Ellen? Hey, Ellen? Stevie?”
No reply.
I followed the path through a growth of tall weeds, over a fallen log. “Ellen? Stevie? Where are you guys?”
I walked all the way to the pond, then turned around.
How could she do this to me? I asked myself angrily. Doesn’t she know how much trouble she’s getting me into?
I wandered in circles, calling out their names. I became angrier and angrier as I walked.
“Stevie? Ellen?” I called. My eyes searched the trees. “Are you here?”
No reply.
A bird cawed. An ugly, raw sound, as if it had something stuck in its throat.
“Hey—if you’re hiding, it isn’t funny!” I yelled.
I heard footsteps. Fast, running footsteps through the trees behind me.
I spun around. “Ellen? Stevie? Is that you?”
“Hunnh hunnh.” Animal grunts. Very close by.
I froze. My breath caught in my throat.
“Hunnnnh.” A long, lo
w grunt.
And then a high, shrill squeal. A horrible, frightening cry—like an animal in pain.
I ran toward the sound.
My heart pounding, I raced from tree to tree, searching frantically, frightened of what I’d find.
In front of me I saw a clump of evergreen shrubs shaking. A flash of red through the greenery. Then I heard a long, loud ripping sound. It reminded me of a Velcro shoe being torn open.
My heart skipped a beat as I moved closer to the shrubs.
I heard a moan, soft and weak.
And then I stopped when I heard the chewing. The crack of bone breaking.
Loud chewing … chewing … chewing …
I couldn’t stand it anymore.
I had to see what was on the other side of the shrub.
With a pounding heart, I moved around the bushes, looked down at the ground—and opened my mouth in an endless scream.
A deer was sprawled on its side in the tall grass. Its head had been torn off. The head sat straight up a few feet from the body. One eye stared blankly at me. The other eye had been yanked out.
The body had been clawed apart. Pale white bones and bright red meat poked out through the torn fur. A swarm of flies already buzzed around the opening.
“It … it’s half-eaten,” I choked out.
I stared in horror at the deer. Most of the insides had been ripped out and devoured. The fur sagged loosely, like an empty bag.
“Oh, sick,” I moaned, finally turning away. “Sick.”
What kind of animal did this? There were no bears in these woods. So what was big enough and strong enough—and hungry enough—to do this?
And what if the deer hadn’t come along? I thought.
I was so close to it. Would the animal have found me instead? Would it have ripped me apart and devoured me?
My whole body twisted in a violent shudder. I spun away from the dead deer. And realized that Ellen and Stevie were still out here. I had to find them. I had to make sure they were okay.
I circled back around the evergreen shrubs and found a path that curved towards the pond.
I started to follow the path when I heard the sound of footsteps again. With a frightened cry, I whirled around—and saw a man coming toward me, running fast. Eyeglasses glinted in the light.
“Dad!” I shouted. “Dad—what are you—”