Gritting my teeth, I started back up the stairs. My plan was to check in on Sally, stay and guard her for the rest of the night.
I got up just one step.
Without warning something heavy flew over my head and crashed into the wall. As if that was a signal, the house erupted like a volcano, objects flying everywhere.
I covered my head with my arms and crouched low. I heard the lamp slide off the hall table and fly up. A second later the table followed, smashing the lamp in midair. A chair hurtled in from the dining table and crashed against the banister just above my head.
Vases and figurines flew off the shelf upstairs and collided with candlesticks and lamps from downstairs.
I peeked out from under my arms and saw a toy boat hurl itself at a silver serving tray from the dining room. Wham-smash! They were both destroyed.
I watched in horror as one of the heavy living room chairs rolled slowly toward me. It flipped end over end, smashed into the sofa, which shot up as if weightless, and then wedged itself in the doorway.
But how could I see what was going on? A moment ago it had been totally dark. Wait—there was a ghostly shimmering light over everything. I raised my head a fraction to try to find the source of the light. A heavy book zeroed in on my head. I ducked and the book slammed into the mirror behind me, exploding in a tinkly shower of glass.
I had to get out of here.
Cautiously I looked up again. The light seemed to be coming from upstairs. A soup ladle whizzed past my ear. I flinched away but not before I saw something move in the shadows at the top of the stairs.
My eyes searched the gloom beyond the light. There was something—someone—up there.
Two figures appeared in the ghostly light. One was tall, shrouded, and menacing—the thing that had come for me in my room. The other shape looked small and helpless, like a child. The weird, shimmery light swirled around their feet like glowing fog.
Suddenly the smaller shape broke away and tried to run toward me. But the tall thing grabbed it and held it back.
“Jason,” cried the child. “Jason, help me! Help me!”
It was Sally, and the tall thing had her in its skeleton hands.
26
The sound of my sister’s frightened cry made me leap up. I had to help her, no matter what.
The weird light flickered and beckoned me up the stairs. The two figures at the top struggled. I had to go to my sister. I had to save her!
But the thing had fooled me before with Sally’s voice. Maybe it wasn’t really her.
I hesitated and Sally cried out again, in pain this time. She twisted away but the skeleton thing had tight hold of her. “Jason!”
Sally’s voice pierced my heart. I knew it was really Sally this time. I could feel it.
I gulped back my fear. The storm of flying objects was subsiding. A candlestick dropped abruptly to the floor and rolled lifelessly into a corner.
The evil that awaited me at the top of the stairs was far worse than a bunch of flying objects. I wanted to crawl into a corner and scream for my parents. Let them handle this, or make it go away. But would they ever hear me?
Now or never, Jason. Just do it.
I clenched my jaw and bolted up the stairs to Sally.
The ghostly light blazed brighter as I ran into it. But where was Sally? I whirled one way, then the other, reaching out. Both figures had disappeared.
And something was very wrong.
The hallway was different. The doors weren’t where they should be. Sally’s room was gone.
And the hall stretched without end into blackness.
I ran to the nearest door and turned the handle. Locked. I ran to the next and the next and the next. All locked. I ran back, banging on the doors and calling for Sally.
Chest heaving, I slumped against the wall, defeated. I didn’t know what to do next. How would I ever find my little sister? How could I help if I couldn’t get to her?
A sound jerked me to attention again. A pattering sound from the farthest, blackest part of the hall. It was coming closer. Footsteps, I realized.
A child’s footsteps, running toward me, and coming faster.
“Sally?”
I stepped out into the center of the hall. I could hear a child’s frightened breathing. The little footsteps pounded as hard as they could go.
Behind them came heavier steps. The child was being chased!
My breath quickened. Something terrible was about to happen! I started forward, seeking the sound of the frightened child, determined to help. I took a step and something slammed into me, knocking me over. But there was nothing there, nothing to see.
Now the invisible footsteps were flying past me, heading for the stairs.
The ghostly light blazed brighter again and a voice came out of it, screeching with evil. “Give me that thing! It’s mine, all mine! Give it to me now! Right now or else I’ll—”
A child screamed in terror. It hit me like a punch in the gut. The terrified scream increased, then trailed off. The scream of a child falling, falling a long way down.
Falling forever into the darkness.
The eerie light slowly faded. Silence fell over the house like a shroud. A terrible, terrible silence.
27
My whole body was trembling. I knew the falling child wasn’t Sally but my dread was deeper than ever. Something terrible had happened here, and it made the whole house into a twisted, haunted place.
I rose on shaky legs. I was almost standing when the floor tilted sharply. My feet flew out from under me and my fingers scrabbled at the smooth floorboards, trying to get a grip.
But there was nothing to hold on to. Nothing to stop my downhill slide. I pressed my heels and hands into the floor but that only made me slide faster.
The whole house was tilting! It was aiming me at the dark end of the hallway. As I got closer, sliding faster and faster, I saw a door at the end of the hall.
It looked like an ordinary door but it was closed, and I was hurtling straight for it, going faster every second with no way to stop.
No way to stop.
I tensed my body and closed my eyes and a heartbeat later I crashed right through the door and came to a skidding stop in the middle of the room.
I got up slowly, aching all over, and looked around. I’d never seen this room before. It was small and bare with no windows.
Behind me the door slammed shut. I whirled around. The door had disappeared. Just four pale, seamless walls, barely visible in the dark.
I was trapped, with no way to escape.
But wait! As I stared in horror at the smooth walls, a sliver of light appeared through a crack in the corner. A way out!
I didn’t care if it was a trap. I had to get out. I ran my fingers along the crack, feeling carefully for the outline of a door. It had to be there! Nothing. I felt along the floor but everything was smooth.
Was it my imagination or was the light along the crack starting to dim? “No,” I cried out, and beat my fists against the wall.
I heard a click, felt something give way, and jumped back just as a section of the wall fell forward.
On the other side of the wall was a narrow winding stairway, glowing with faint, cold light. Stairs to nowhere.
As much as I wanted to escape this room, I was never going to climb those stairs. No way. There was something terrible waiting for me up there, I just knew it.
A cold wind sprang up behind me, pushing me toward the stairs. I dug in my heels but the wind was strong and relentless. It pushed me inch by inch toward the opening.
I twisted to get away but the force of the wind turned me back. I was shivering with cold and terror. I braced my hands against the wall on either side of the opening and held on.
The wind was strong, but not strong enough to blow me up the stairs.
I’d beaten it.
Then I heard a faint cry, carried on the wind. “Jason!”
It was Sally. With a sinking sensation, I real
ized the cry was coming from the top of the stairway.
“Jason, help me, I’m scared,” wailed Sally. “Jason, please.”
I had to go. I was her only chance.
28
As I stepped over the threshold my feet felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. It was as if I was wading through an ocean of my own fear.
“Jason.”
Sally’s voice was very faint, getting smaller. I had to hurry. The stairs felt funny under my feet—sort of slippery and spongy. It was hard to get traction.
There was nothing to hold on to but the walls on either side. And the stairs were so steep and narrow.
My foot slipped. I started to go down and caught myself on the stairs with my hands.
I jerked back as if I’d been burned. The surface of the steps felt soft and cold and clammy—like dead human skin!
The stairway was alive.
I forced myself up the last few stairs, gasping for breath. The small door at the top was open. The door was so low I had to stoop to get inside.
I was in the attic. But not a part I’d ever seen before.
Something told me this room didn’t really exist. Not anymore. It was as the attic had been years before. It was as if I’d stepped back in time.
It was the room of a small child. There was a painted wooden rocking horse, a small iron bed, and a rocking chair. The room smelled stale, as if the air was a hundred years old. A cold creepiness tickled up my spine.
Then the rocking chair began to rock. It was facing the other way and I couldn’t see who—or what—was in the chair.
It rocked to and fro, to and fro.
“Come to me,” said a faint unrecognizable voice from the shadowy depths of the chair. “Come to me, Jason. Come to me or die!”
29
More than anything I wanted to run out of that strange little room and never look back. I didn’t want to know what was in that rocking chair. I didn’t care, all I wanted to do was get out of there.
But I couldn’t leave Sally.
The house kept trying to trick me, trying to scare me. It didn’t want me to find my little sister. It wanted her all to itself.
Something told me that if I ran down the stairs the house would let me back into my own room. I could sleep safe in my own bed. But I’d have to leave my sister behind.
I couldn’t do that.
I opened my eyes. The little chair was still rocking there in the dark, in the shadows.
I had to know. Dread seeped into my veins as I crept toward the chair.
It kept rocking, creeeek, creeeek, creeeeeek.
I stretched out my hand, hestitated, then spun the chair around.
“Sally!”
It was my little sister. She was slumped in the chair, her blond curls covering her face.
I knelt on the floor and touched her shoulder. “Sally!”
She stirred, raised her head. I held my breath. Was she all right?
Sally opened her eyes, yawned, and smiled at me. I hugged her.
“Sally, how did you get here?”
She snuggled in my arms. “I don’t know,” she said, puzzlement in her voice. “I went to sleep and when I woked up I was in that little bed. It’s Bobby’s bed.”
“You don’t remember getting up here?”
Sally shook her head. “Bobby wants me to do something. But I didn’t know what to do so I just got up and rocked in the chair. I knew you would come and save me.”
I looked around and held Sally tighter. “What about Bobby? Is he here?”
Sally pushed away from me and looked around. “No. I don’t think he is. He’s in trouble.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” I asked.
“He wants us to save him,” Sally said, looking at me with her big blue eyes.
“Save him from what?”
“I don’t know.” Sally clutched my arm with her little hand. “Something terrible.”
Behind me the floorboards creaked heavily. Something had come into the room. I thrust Sally behind me and turned around to face it.
The grandfather clock was standing in the doorway.
How did it get all the way up here?
The clock struck the hour. The sound echoed in the small, low-ceilinged room. Three times it struck.
When the echo died out, a metallic, mechanical voice began to speak from inside the clock.
“TICK TICK TICK,” it said. “YOUR TIME IS UP!”
Sally clung to me, hiding her face in my pajama top.
The clock began to creep toward us across the floor, shuffling and rocking.
Coming to get us.
I backed up until I was against the wall with no place to go.
The big clock loomed over us, then tipped forward. It started to topple.
Its weight would crush us like bugs!
30
I crouched over Sally, waiting for the clock to smash us to pieces. Suddenly I felt a cold breeze—there was a crack in the floor, right under us!
I felt around and found a metal ring set into the floor—the handle of a trapdoor! I had no idea where it went, but it didn’t matter. If we stayed here we’d be roadkill.
So I twisted the handle on the trapdoor and it opened. Sally and I fell through the hole and the clock landed with a crash across the opening, just missing us.
As we fell I hugged Sally tight, bracing for impact. To my surprise we landed on something soft and bounced.
I opened my eyes and looked around. We were on Sally’s own bed, in Sally’s own room.
Above us the trapdoor slammed closed. Then it vanished and the ceiling was smooth again.
A howl of rage came from the attic above. There was a furious pounding on the ceiling and we were showered with plaster and dust.
Sally whimpered in fear and I held her until the noise stopped.
Around us the house quieted.
I stayed huddled on the bed, thinking. Trying to concentrate. Something had saved us from the evil clock. Was it Bobby? But Sally said it was Bobby who took her to the attic in the first place. Just as it was Bobby who put her in the tree—and then saved her from falling. So maybe Bobby had somehow saved us from the evil clock. Maybe he was trying to help, somehow, and wanted us to help him in return.
But what about the skeleton in black that stalked me and wandered the house searching for something? Who was that? What did it want? Why was it threatening us?
Whatever it was, its presence seemed to bring out the demon in Bobby.
I sighed and peeled Sally off me. She was still pretty scared. “I think we’re safe now, Sally,” I said. “But we have to get out of this house. At least until morning.”
“I want Mommy,” said Sally. “I want my mommy.”
OK,” I said. “We’ll wake up Mommy. But first let’s get a sweater on you in case we have to go outside.”
My heart finally began to slow to normal as the house stayed quiet. Maybe Sally and I had just gotten caught in the middle of a struggle between Bobby and the skeleton thing. Maybe they had finished their battle in the attic and it was over, for tonight, at least.
I wanted desperately to believe it was over but I was still as jumpy as a cat. I got up from the bed and moved very quietly to Sally’s dresser to get her a sweater. When the shadow of a branch crossed the window I almost leaped out of my skin.
I took the sweater back to Sally and helped her put it on. “All right. Let’s go wake up Mom and Dad,” I said, gathering up Sally and reaching behind me for the door handle while keeping an eye on the window.
My searching hand met nothing but smooth wall. I spun around. The door was gone. I stared in sinking disbelief.
Behind me came strange, gleeful laughter. I stiffened, afraid to turn.
There was something in the room with us! The laughter came from everywhere. It had a speeded-up, unreal sound, like cartoon laughter from the television. Sally began to wail and I turned slowly around. My jaw dropped when I saw what it was.
All of Sally’s toys had come to life. They were looking at us and laughing. Laughing like evil, evil creatures.
The wooden pull-toy duck in the corner was flapping its bill. The clown puppet’s mouth was a round red “O” as it screamed an insane laugh. The jack-in-the-box sprang up and bounced with a tinny tee-hee-hee. Three dolls put their heads together and giggled like mad demons. Even Sally’s crayons danced with mean-spirited glee.
Only Winky the rabbit lay quietly on her pillow, looking sad.
Sally hid her face in my shoulder. “Make them stop,” she whimpered. “Jason, please make them stop.”
I put her down gently on her bed, then began grabbing the toys and throwing them into her closet. Each toy hiccupped when it hit the wall and fell to the floor laughing crazily. I wanted to get them all, make them all shut up. I scrambled on hands and knees, grabbing every last one of the nasty things and tossing them all into the closet.
I was surprised how good it made me feel to be throwing things rather than having them thrown at me. Take that, you stupid toys! I shut the closet door with a sigh, then whirled at a choking sound behind me.
I’d missed one of the toys.
The clown puppet had come to life. It had grown long, rubber fingers and wrapped them tight around her neck. It was strangling Sally.
My sister’s eyes rolled as she struggled. Her small arms pushed at the clown but it held on, grinning with evil.
She tried to scream but the clown had squeezed off her air.
31
I dove for Sally. I yanked at the clown but the toy dragged Sally after it.
I wedged my fingers under the rubber clown fingers and pried at them. Sally’s neck felt so small and fragile, I was afraid of hurting her myself.
I had to get her free or she’d die.
The clown squeezed harder. It grinned an evil smile at me. I was frantic. I forced myself to calm down and concentrate all my strength on my fingers.
Finally I broke the puppet’s grip and smashed it against the wall. As it hit the wall all the laughter abruptly stopped.
The Haunting Page 8