by R. L. Stine
What if something has happened to them?
That’s what I started to say. But I caught myself just in time. I didn’t want to scare Josh any more than he was already.
Besides, he’d probably thought of that, too.
“Should we call the police?” he asked, as we walked back to the living room and peered out the front window into the darkness.
“I don’t know,” I said, pressing my hot forehead against the cool glass. “I just don’t know what to do. I want them to be home. I want them here so we can all leave.”
“What’s your hurry?” a girl’s voice said from behind me.
Josh and I both cried out and spun around.
Karen Somerset was standing in the center of the room, her arms crossed over her chest.
“But—you’re dead!” I blurted out.
She smiled, a sad smile, a bitter smile.
And then two more kids stepped in from the hallway. One of them clicked off the lights. “Too bright in here,” he said. They moved next to Karen.
And another kid, Jerry Franklin—another dead kid—appeared by the fireplace. And I saw the girl with short black hair, the one I had seen on the stairs, move beside me by the curtains.
They were all smiling, their eyes glowing dully in the dim light, all moving in on Josh and me.
“What do you want!” I screamed in a voice I didn’t even recognize. “What are you going to do?”
“We used to live in your house,” Karen said softly.
“Huh?” I cried.
“We used to live in your house,” George said.
“And now, guess what?” Jerry added. “Now we’re dead in your house!”
The others started to laugh, crackling, dry laughs, as they all closed in on Josh and me.
15
“They’re going to kill us!” Josh cried.
I watched them move forward in silence. Josh and I had backed up to the window. I looked around the dark room for an escape route.
But there was nowhere to run.
“Karen—you seemed so nice,” I said. The words just tumbled out. I hadn’t thought before I said them.
Her eyes glowed a little brighter. “I was nice,” she said in a glum monotone, “until I moved here.”
“We were all nice,” George Carpenter said in the same low monotone. “But now we’re dead.”
“Let us go!” Josh cried, raising his hands in front of him as if to shield himself. “Please—let us go.”
They laughed again, the dry, hoarse laughter. Dead laughter.
“Don’t be scared, Amanda,” Karen said. “Soon you’ll be with us. That’s why they invited you to this house.”
“Huh? I don’t understand,” I cried, my voice shaking.
“This is the Dead House. This is where everyone lives when they first arrive in Dark Falls. When they’re still alive.”
This seemed to strike the others as funny. They all snickered and laughed.
“But our great-uncle—” Josh started.
Karen shook her head, her eyes glowing with amusement. “No. Sorry, Josh. No great-uncle. It was just a trick to bring you here. Once every year, someone new has to move here. Other years, it was us. We lived in this house—until we died. This year, it’s your turn.”
“We need new blood,” Jerry Franklin said, his eyes glowing red in the dim light. “Once a year, you see, we need new blood.”
Moving forward in silence, they hovered over Josh and me.
I took a deep breath. A last breath, perhaps. And shut my eyes.
And then I heard the knock on the door.
A loud knock, repeated several times.
I opened my eyes. The ghostly kids all vanished.
The air smelled sour.
Josh and I stared at each other, dazed, as the loud knocking started again.
“It’s Mom and Dad!” Josh cried.
We both ran to the door. Josh stumbled over the coffee table in the dark, so I got to the door first.
“Mom! Dad!” I cried, pulling open the door. “Where have you been?”
I reached out my arms to hug them both—and stopped with my arms in the air. My mouth dropped open and I uttered a silent cry.
“Mr. Dawes!” Josh exclaimed, coming up beside me. “We thought—”
“Oh, Mr. Dawes, I’m so glad to see you!” I cried happily, pushing open the screen door for him.
“Kids—you’re okay?” he asked, eyeing us both, his handsome face tight with worry. “Oh, thank God!” he cried. “I got here in time!”
“Mr. Dawes—” I started, feeling so relieved, I had tears in my eyes. “I—”
He grabbed my arm. “There’s no time to talk,” he said, looking behind him to the street. I could see his car in the driveway. The engine was running. Only the parking lights were on. “I’ve got to get you kids out of here while there’s still time.”
Josh and I started to follow him, then hesitated.
What if Mr. Dawes was one of them?
“Hurry,” Mr. Dawes urged, holding open the screen door, gazing nervously out into the darkness. “I think we’re in terrible danger.”
“But—” I started, staring into his frightened eyes, trying to decide if we could trust him.
“I was at the party with your parents,” Mr. Dawes said. “All of a sudden, they formed a circle. Everyone. Around your parents and me. They—they started to close in on us.”
Just like when the kids started to close in on Josh and me, I thought.
“We broke through them and ran,” Mr. Dawes said, glancing to the driveway behind him. “Somehow the three of us got away. Hurry. We’ve all got to get away from here—now!”
“Josh, let’s go,” I urged. Then I turned to Mr. Dawes. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
“Come on. I’ll show you. They’re safe for now. But I don’t know for how long.”
We followed him out of the house and down the driveway to his car. The clouds had parted. A sliver of moon shone low in a pale, early morning sky.
“There’s something wrong with this whole town,” Mr. Dawes said, holding the front passenger door open for me as Josh climbed into the back.
I slumped gratefully into the seat, and he slammed the door shut. “I know,” I said, as he slid behind the wheel. “Josh and I. We both—”
“We’ve got to get as far away as we can before they catch up with us,” Mr. Dawes said, backing down the drive quickly, the tires sliding and squealing as he pulled onto the street.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Thank goodness you came. My house—it’s filled with kids. Dead kids and—”
“So you’ve seen them,” Mr. Dawes said softly, his eyes wide with fear. He pushed down harder on the gas pedal.
As I looked out into the purple darkness, a low, orange sun began to show over the green treetops. “Where are our parents?” I asked anxiously.
“There’s a kind of outdoor theater next to the cemetery,” Mr. Dawes said, staring straight ahead through the windshield, his eyes narrow, his expression tense. “It’s built right into the ground, and it’s hidden by a big tree. I left them there. I told them not to move. I think they’ll be safe. I don’t think anyone’ll think to look there.”
“We’ve seen it,” Josh said. A bright light suddenly flashed on in the backseat.
“What’s that?” Mr. Dawes asked, looking into the rearview mirror.
“My flashlight,” Josh answered, clicking it off. “I brought it just in case. But the sun will be up soon. I probably won’t need it.”
Mr. Dawes hit the brake and pulled the car to the side of the road. We were at the edge of the cemetery. I climbed quickly out of the car, eager to see my parents.
The sky was still dark, streaked with violet now. The sun was a dark orange balloon just barely poking over the trees. Across the street, beyond the jagged rows of gravestones, I could see the dark outline of the leaning tree that hid the mysterious amphitheater.
“Hurry,” Mr. Dawes urged, closing his
car door quietly. “I’m sure your parents are desperate to see you.”
We headed across the street, half-walking, half-jogging, Josh swinging the flashlight in one hand.
Suddenly, at the edge of the cemetery grass, Josh stopped. “Petey!” he cried.
I followed his gaze, and saw our white terrier walking slowly along a slope of gravestones.
“Petey!” Josh yelled again, and began running to the dog.
My heart sank. I hadn’t had a chance to tell Josh what Ray had revealed to me about Petey. “No—Josh!” I called.
Mr. Dawes looked very alarmed. “We don’t have time. We have to hurry,” he said to me. Then he began shouting for Josh to come back.
“I’ll go get him,” I said, and took off, running as fast as I could along the rows of graves, calling to my brother. “Josh! Josh, wait up! Don’t! Don’t go after him! Josh—Petey is dead!”
Josh had been gaining on the dog, which was ambling along, sniffing the ground, not looking up, not paying any attention to Josh. Then suddenly, Josh tripped over a low grave marker.
He cried out as he fell, and the flashlight flew out of his hand and clattered against a gravestone.
I quickly caught up with him. “Josh—are you okay?”
He was lying on his stomach, staring straight ahead.
“Josh—answer me. Are you okay?”
I grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to pull him up, but he kept staring straight ahead, his mouth open, his eyes wide.
“Josh?”
“Look,” he said finally.
I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Josh wasn’t knocked out or something.
“Look,” he repeated, and pointed to the gravestone he had tripped over.
I turned and squinted at the grave. I read the inscription, silently mouthing the words as I read:
COMPTON DAWES. R.I.P. 1950-1980.
My head began to spin. I felt dizzy. I steadied myself, holding onto Josh.
COMPTON DAWES.
It wasn’t his father or his grandfather. He had told us he was the only Compton in his family.
So Mr. Dawes was dead, too.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
Dead as everyone else.
He was one of them. One of the dead ones.
Josh and I stared at each other in the purple darkness. Surrounded. Surrounded by the dead.
Now what? I asked myself.
Now what?
16
“Get up, Josh,” I said, my voice a choked whisper. “We’ve got to get away from here.”
But we were too late.
A hand grabbed me firmly by the shoulder.
I spun around to see Mr. Dawes, his eyes narrowing as he read the inscription on his own gravestone.
“Mr. Dawes—you, too!” I cried, so disappointed, so confused, so… scared.
“Me, too,” he said, almost sadly. “All of us.” His eyes burned into mine. “This was a normal town once. And we were normal people. Most of us worked in the plastics factory on the outskirts of town. Then there was an accident. Something escaped from the factory. A yellow gas. It floated over the town. So fast we didn’t see it… didn’t realize. And then, it was too late, and Dark Falls wasn’t a normal town anymore. We were all dead, Amanda. Dead and buried. But we couldn’t rest. We couldn’t sleep. Dark Falls was a town of living dead.”
“What—what are you going to do to us?” I managed to ask. My knees were trembling so hard, I could barely stand. A dead man was squeezing my shoulder. A dead man was staring hard into my eyes.
Standing this close, I could smell his sour breath. I turned my head, but the smell already choked my nostrils.
“Where are Mom and Dad?” Josh asked, climbing to his feet and standing rigidly across from us, glaring accusingly at Mr. Dawes.
“Safe and sound,” Mr. Dawes said with a faint smile. “Come with me. It’s time for you to join them.”
I tried to pull away from him, but his hand was locked on my shoulder. “Let go!” I shouted.
His smile grew wider. “Amanda, it doesn’t hurt to die,” he said softly, almost soothingly. “Come with me.”
“No!” Josh shouted. And with sudden quickness, he dived to the ground and picked up his flashlight.
“Yes!” I cried. “Shine it on him, Josh!” The light could save us. The light could defeat Mr. Dawes, as it had Ray. The light could destroy him. “Quick—shine it on him!” I pleaded.
Josh fumbled with the flashlight, then pointed it toward Mr. Dawes’ startled face, and clicked it on.
Nothing.
No light.
“It—it’s broken,” Josh said. “I guess when it hit the gravestone….”
My heart pounding, I looked back at Mr. Dawes. The smile on his face was a smile of victory.
17
“Nice try,” Mr. Dawes said to Josh. The smile faded quickly from his face.
Close up, he didn’t look so young and handsome. His skin, I could see, was dry and peeling and hung loosely beneath his eyes.
“Let’s go, kids,” he said, giving me a shove. He glanced up at the brightening sky. The sun was raising itself over the treetops.
Josh hesitated.
“I said let’s go,” Mr. Dawes snapped impatiently. He loosened his grip on my shoulder and took a menacing step toward Josh.
Josh glanced down at the worthless flashlight. Then he pulled his arm back and heaved the flashlight at Mr. Dawes’ head.
The flashlight hit its target with a sickening crack. It hit Mr. Dawes in the center of his forehead, splitting a large hole in the skin.
Mr. Dawes uttered a low cry. His eyes widened in surprise. Dazed, he reached a hand up to the hole where a few inches of gray skull poked through.
“Run, Josh!” I cried.
But there was no need to tell him that. He was already zigzagging through the rows of graves, his head ducked low. I followed him, running as fast as I could.
Glancing back, I saw Mr. Dawes stagger after us, still holding his ripped forehead. He took several steps, then abruptly stopped, staring up at the sky.
It’s too bright for him, I realized. He has to stay in the shade.
Josh had ducked down behind a tall marble monument, old and slightly tilted, cracked down the middle. I slid down beside him, gasping for breath.
Leaning on the cool marble, we both peered around the sides of the monument. Mr. Dawes, a scowl on his face, was heading back toward the amphitheater, keeping in the shadows of the trees.
“He—he’s not chasing us,” Josh whispered, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath and stifle his fear. “He’s going back.”
“The sun is too bright for him,” I said, holding onto the side of the monument. “He must be going to get Mom and Dad.”
“That stupid flashlight,” Josh cried.
“Never mind that,” I said, watching Mr. Dawes until he disappeared behind the big leaning tree. “What are we going to do now? I don’t know—”
“Shhh. Look!” Josh poked me hard on the shoulder, and pointed. “Who’s that?”
I followed his stare and saw several dark figures hurrying through the rows of tombstones. They seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere.
Did they rise out of the graves?
Walking quickly, seeming to float over the green, sloping ground, they headed into the shadows. All were walking in silence, their eyes straight ahead. They didn’t stop to greet one another. They strode purposefully toward the hidden amphitheater, as if they were being drawn there, as if they were puppets being pulled by hidden strings.
“Whoa. Look at them all!” Josh whispered, ducking his head back behind the marble monument.
The dark, moving forms made all the shadows ripple. It looked as if the trees, the gravestones, the entire cemetery had come to life, had started toward the hidden seats of the amphitheater.
“There goes Karen,” I whispered, pointing. “And George. And all the rest of them.”
The kids f
rom our house were moving quickly in twos and threes, following the other shadows, as silent and businesslike as everyone else.
Everyone was here except Ray, I thought.
Because we killed Ray.
We killed someone who was already dead.
“Do you think Mom and Dad are really down in that weird theater?” Josh asked, interrupting my morbid thoughts, his eyes on the moving shadows.
“Come on,” I said, taking Josh’s hand and pulling him away from the monument. “We’ve got to find out.”
We watched the last of the dark figures float past the enormous leaning tree. The shadows stopped moving. The cemetery was still and silent. A solitary crow floated, high above in the clear blue, cloudless sky.
Slowly, Josh and I edged our way toward the amphitheater, ducking behind gravestones, keeping low to the ground.
It was a struggle to move. I felt as if I weighed five hundred pounds. The weight of my fear, I guess.
I was desperate to see if Mom and Dad were there.
But at the same time, I didn’t want to see.
I didn’t want to see them being held prisoner by Mr. Dawes and the others.
I didn’t want to see them… killed.
The thought made me stop. I reached out an arm and halted Josh.
We were standing behind the leaning tree, hidden by its enormous clump of upraised roots. Beyond the tree, down in the theater below, I could hear the low murmur of voices.
“Are Mom and Dad there?” Josh whispered. He started to poke his head around the side of the bent tree trunk, but I cautiously pulled him back.
“Be careful,” I whispered. “Don’t let them see you. They’re practically right beneath us.”
“But I’ve got to know if Mom and Dad are really here,” he whispered, his eyes frightened, pleading.
“Me, too,” I agreed.
We both leaned over the massive trunk. The bark felt smooth under my hands as I gazed into the deep shadows cast by the tree.
And then I saw them.
Mom and Dad. They were tied up, back-to-back, standing in the center of the floor at the bottom of the amphitheater in front of everyone.
They looked so uncomfortable, so terrified. Their arms were tied tightly down at their sides. Dad’s face was bright red. Mom’s hair was all messed up, hanging wildly down over her forehead, her head bowed.