by Gary Paulsen
OTHER YEARLING BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY:
MR. TUCKET, Gary Paulsen
CALL ME FRANCIS TUCKET, Gary Paulsen
THE WINTER ROOM, Gary Paulsen
THE HAYMEADOW, Gary Paulsen
THE COOKCAMP, Gary Paulsen
THE VOYAGE OF THE FROG, Gary Paulsen
THE BOY WHO OWNED THE SCHOOL, Gary Paulsen
THE RIVER, Gary Paulsen
THE MONUMENT, Gary Paulsen
HOW TO EAT FRIED WORMS, Thomas Rockwell
YEARLING BOOKS are designed especially to entertain and enlighten young people. Patricia Reilly Giff, consultant to this series, received her bachelor’s degree from Marymount College and a master’s degree in history from St. John’s University. She holds a Professional Diploma in Reading and a Doctorate of Humane Letters from Hofstra University. She was a teacher and reading consultant for many years, and is the author of numerous books for young readers.
For a complete listing of all Yearling titles,
write to Dell Readers Service,
P.O. Box 1045, South Holland, IL 60473.
Published by
Bantam Doubleday Dell Books for Young Readers
a division of
Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc.
1540 Broadway
New York, New York 10036
Copyright © 1997 by Gary Paulsen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.
The trademarks Yearling® and Dell® are registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries.
eISBN: 978-0-307-80404-4
v3.1
Contents
Cover
Other Yearling Books
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
• 1
Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper and his best friend for life, Amos Binder, were cleaning Mrs. Weatherby’s garage. Actually Dunc was cleaning. Amos was stretched out on a broken lawn chair reading his favorite comic, The Adventures of Lightning Man.
Dunc had finished labeling all Mr. Weatherby’s power tools and was arranging them in alphabetical order on a corkboard. He put the last one in place. “We could probably get this done a lot faster if you would help,” he said.
Amos kept reading. The look on his face was serious. “I can’t believe it. The worst possible thing has just happened.”
“After all,” Dunc went on, “it was you who crashed through Mrs. Weatherby’s picket fence and ruined her prize begonias.”
Amos frowned and snapped the book shut. “He quit.”
“What are you talking about? Who quit?”
“Lightning Man. He’s getting out of the superhero business for good.”
Dunc took a long look at him. “Sometimes I worry about you.”
Amos sighed. “He says he’s hanging up the old tights for good. He’s taking his wonder dog, Hercules, to a small town somewhere and disappearing from crime fighting forever.”
“Amos, Lightning Man isn’t real. He’s a comic-book character. Besides, they always put stuff like that at the end of the book so you’ll buy the next one to see what happened.”
Amos brightened. “You think?”
“I’m sure of it. Now about this mess …”
“Oh yeah. Thanks for helping me. Mrs. Weatherby was really mad about her flowers. I decided cleaning her garage was the least I could do.”
“Considering she was about to call the police on you, I’d say you made the right choice.” Dunc picked up a piece of trash. “You never did explain what you were doing in her yard that day.”
“I wasn’t supposed to be in her yard. My mom sent me to the store for a loaf of bread. I took the long way because my uncle Alfred was visiting. You remember him, the one who picks his toes through his socks?”
Dunc nodded.
“I had just turned the corner when I saw Wendy Van Gilder.”
“You ran through Mrs. Weatherby’s fence because of Wendy Van Gilder?”
“Sort of. Everything was fine until Wendy started waving at me. At least I think she was waving. There’s an outside chance she was swatting a fly. Anyway, since she’s Melissa Hansen’s newest best friend, I figured Melissa sent her over to give me a message, you know maybe ask me to go to the mall with her or something.”
Dunc knew all about Amos’s crush on Melissa Hansen. She was Amos’s one and only true love. He adored the ground she walked on. Unfortunately for Amos, Melissa paid as much attention to him as she did to the ground she walked on. Actually, she probably paid more attention to the ground.
“Anyway,” Amos continued, “I had to look cool because I knew she’d report everything to Melissa. So I turned to show her my best profile, smiled, and waved back. The only problem was, when I let go of the handlebars, my bike turned and crashed through the fence.”
“Was that when you ruined the prize begonias?”
“Not yet. I came off my bike on the other side of the fence and landed in the roses. Man, those thorns were sharp.” Amos winced, thinking about it. “My bike kept going. It bounced off the porch and did a back flip into the begonias. Took the heads off every single one of those suckers. Luckily, it didn’t do any permanent damage to my bike.”
“Did Wendy give you a message from Melissa?”
“She didn’t get a chance. By the time Mrs. Weatherby finally quit chasing me around the yard with her broom, Wendy had already left.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah. But I’m hoping Wendy will go ahead and tell Melissa about my smile and everything.” Amos sighed dreamily. “Melissa will probably call me later.”
Dunc looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. I promised my dad I’d deliver some real-estate papers for him to the old Grogan place. We’ll have to finish up here tomorrow.”
“Since when is anybody living in that scary old place?”
Dunc shrugged. “The guy’s name is Professor Brainard. He just moved in a few days ago. My dad hasn’t actually met him yet. He makes most of his deals over the phone. The professor’s buying up a lot of real estate around town and everybody is wondering what he’s up to.”
Amos picked up his bike. “Are you sure we have to go out there?”
Dunc reached for his backpack and pulled out a large manila envelope. “Yup. That’s the address. Why?”
“Danny Johnson told Brian Watson that he and Benny Rodriguez saw some weird things going on out there a couple of weeks ago.”
“What kind of things?”
“Brian said they told him they saw colored lights and smoke coming from inside the house and then stuff started flying around in front of the windows.”
Dunc slid on his backpack. “Brian Watson also said he once played quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys. Come on.”
Amos sighed. “Okay. But if anything happens …”
“Nothing’s going to happen, Amos. Trust me.”
• 2
Dunc rode his bike through the ancient wrought-iron gate and down the long tree-lined gravel road to the old Grogan mansion. He stopped in front of the fenced-in yard and waited for Amos to catch up.
Amos pedaled up and leaned his bike against the iron bars of the fence. Vines had woven in and out of the bars like large green snakes
, and weeds had completely overrun the yard and flower gardens.
Two hideous gargoyles with long forked tongues jutted out from the wall at the second story. Amos shuddered. “Who in their right mind would want to live in a place like this?”
Dunc shrugged. “Maybe they’re planning on fixing it up.” He pulled the brown envelope out of his backpack and started down the walk.
Before he could take two steps the front door swung open and a pudgy little man stepped out. He was dressed in a suit, which he had barely managed to button around his middle.
“It’s Mayor Dudley,” Dunc whispered.
The little man walked past them without a word. He stared straight ahead and continued until he reached his car. Then he got in and drove away.
“That was strange.” Dunc frowned. “The mayor is usually a lot friendlier than that.”
“I guess he had something on his mind. Come on, let’s get your dad’s papers delivered so we can get out of here.”
There wasn’t a doorbell so Dunc raised the large brass knocker and let it fall. Almost immediately the massive wooden door creaked opened. A black cat brushed past their legs and a large man with a bored expression on his long face looked down at them through half-closed eyes. “What you want?”
“Are you Professor Brainard?” Dunc asked.
“I’m Moose, his, uh, assistant. What you want him for?”
“I have something for the professor. Is he home?”
“I’ll give it to him.” The man thrust a muscular arm toward the envelope.
Dunc took a step back. “My dad said to deliver it to him personally.”
The man studied them a few seconds and then opened the door. “Okay. You can come in.” The door slammed shut behind them. “Don’t touch nothin’ while I find out if the professor wants to see you.” He left.
Amos stuck his elbow in Dunc’s ribs. “What’s all this stuff about personal delivery? I thought we just wanted to deliver the papers and get out of here.”
Dunc looked around the large musty-smelling room. Sheets were draped over the furniture and crates marked PRIVATE were stacked around the room. “I wanted to get a look inside the house. Something about this place is beginning to bother me. I can’t quite put my finger on it—”
“You can stop right there. I know what you’re doing because it’s what you always do. It’s what you live for. You think you’re going to find some big mystery in this creepy place, don’t you?” Amos started for the door. “Well, you can count me out. I don’t want anything to do with it.”
“Leaving so soon?” A deep voice boomed from the upstairs landing.
Amos turned to see a tall man with a streak of white running through his dark hair, standing in the shadows at the top of the stairs. “I am Professor Brainard. You boys asked to see me?”
Dunc moved closer to the staircase. When he did, the man stepped farther back into the shadows. Dunc held out the envelope. “My dad works for the real-estate company you called yesterday. He asked me to bring these papers by.”
“How kind of you. You may put them on the table as you leave.” The man stared into Dunc’s eyes for a few moments and then turned on his heel and moved down the hall. The black, satin-lined cape he was wearing twirled around him as he disappeared into the darkness.
Dunc stood motionless.
“I think that means he wants us to go now,” Amos said. He walked across the room and pulled on Dunc’s sleeve.
Dunc still didn’t move. He stared at the spot where the man had been standing.
“Are you okay?” Amos snapped his fingers in front of Dunc’s face. “Hey. Wake up.”
Dunc stumbled backward a few steps. “Wha— What happened?”
“Nothing. The professor told you to leave the papers on the table and get out. Then you went all weird on me.”
Dunc shook his head. “The strangest feeling came over me just now.”
Amos pushed him toward the door. “We’re getting out of here while we still can.” He grabbed the envelope from Dunc’s hand and tossed it onto the hall table.
A life-sized painting of a man hung just above the table. Amos looked up at the man’s face. One side was normal but the other side was blue and twisted. Strange piercing eyes glared down at him.
Amos ran for the door.
• 3
A raindrop hit Amos on the nose. Overhead, thunderclouds were gathering and the wind whipped around him.
Dunc pedaled up beside Amos. “We’ll never make it back before the storm hits. Let’s take cover in the old junkyard at the end of the road.”
Amos nodded and followed Dunc down the dirt road to a high chain-link fence that surrounded mountains of old cars and other rusty junk.
Dunc stopped in front of the gate. It had a chain fixed securely around it. “Wouldn’t you know it?” He looked around. There were no other buildings in sight and the raindrops were falling faster. “I guess we’ll just have to climb over.”
Thunder echoed nearby. The boys dropped their bikes and started climbing.
Dunc cleared the barbed wire at the top and easily dropped to the other side. Amos wasn’t as lucky. Just as he was poised to jump, the left leg of his pants snagged on the wire. He went down headfirst and then swung back, mashing his face into the fence.
The rain started pouring down. Dunc looked longingly at the shelter under one of the abandoned cars. Then he quickly climbed back up the fence and released Amos’s pants leg. Amos fell on his face in a mud puddle.
“Thanks a lot.” He sat up and glared at Dunc. “You could have at least given me some warning before you let go.” Suddenly Amos’s eyes widened. He pointed behind Dunc and tried to scream. The sound got stuck in his throat and came out a squeak.
A mammoth dog the size of a horse was sweeping down on them, snarling and dripping white slobber. Dunc and Amos backed up against the fence. Every time they tried to move, the dog charged and snapped at them.
“Looks like another one of your great ideas bites the dust,” Amos said. He pressed as close to the fence as he could. The dog growled and stepped closer, showing sharp white teeth. “I don’t suppose you have some brilliant plan to get us out of this?”
Dunc eyed the dog. “Actually I was thinking that one of us could act as a decoy while the other one went for help.”
“Let me guess who you had in mind for the decoy.”
“Down, boy! Sit!” called a harsh voice. The dog dropped like an obedient puppy. A figure emerged through the sheets of rain, carrying a flashlight. Water dripped off the man’s hat while he patted the dog. “Now, is that any way to treat guests, Herc?” The big dog ducked his head and covered his face with one paw.
The man turned to the boys and smiled. “Come on up to my house and dry off.”
• 4
The boys were standing next to a wood-stove, shivering and dripping water on the linoleum floor of a run-down old house. A large puddle was forming beneath them.
The dog sat on the other side of the room. He cocked his big head to one side, studying every move they made.
Amos leaned close to Dunc. “I think that dog understands everything we say.”
Dunc held his hands out over the stove. “How could he? He’s just a dog.”
“Every time that old guy speaks, the dog acts like he understood.”
“Herc is a little smarter than your average dog,” the man said, appearing with towels and a tray, holding two cups of steaming cocoa. He handed each boy a towel and set the tray on a pile of yellow newspapers. “He’s getting old, though.” The man cupped his hand and whispered, “I think he has a touch of arthritis.”
The dog gave a low growl. “I’m not too sure he agrees with you,” Amos said. He rubbed his hair dry and picked up one of the cups. “Ummm. This tastes good. Thanks for inviting us in, Mr.…”
“Ah … Smith. John Smith.”
Dunc picked up the other cup. “Have you been in the junk business long, Mr. Smith?”
“No.”
The elderly man abruptly turned and walked out of the room. In a few minutes he came back with a mop. He handed it to Amos. “Would you get that puddle for me, son? I’ve got a touch of the arthritis myself.” He moved his shoulder in a circle. “It really flares up on rainy days like this.”
Mr. Smith shuffled to an easy chair with most of its stuffing hanging out and lowered himself into it gingerly. “What are you boys doing way out here anyway?”
Dunc gulped down a mouthful of hot chocolate. “My dad asked me to deliver some real-estate papers to the old Grogan mansion. We were just coming from there when we got caught in this storm.”
At the mention of the name Grogan, Mr. Smith sat up straight. “Did you by any chance talk to the new owner?”
Dunc nodded. “Strange man. He acts sort of suspicious. Like maybe he’s hiding something.”
“Was there anyone else at the mansion?”
“Only his assistant. Oh yeah, we passed the mayor as we were going in.”
Mr. Smith rubbed his chin nervously. Without saying a word he stood up and left the room again. The big dog jumped up and followed.
“Wonder what got into him?” Amos asked.
“Who knows? This whole day has been weird from the start.” Dunc pulled back the window curtain. “Looks like the rain stopped. I’ll go tell Mr. Smith we’re leaving. You take care of the mop and wet towels.”
Amos gathered everything up and went down the hall to find the bathroom. He opened the first door. It was a bedroom just large enough for a cot and dresser. The second door was the bathroom. Amos hung the towels over the shower rod and set the mop in the tub. As he started back for the living-room, something red hanging on the back of the bathroom door caught his eye. It couldn’t be, he thought, blinking hard. But there it was, big as life.
The official uniform of Lightning Man.
• 5
Amos dropped his bike on Dunc’s lawn. “I’m telling you it’s him.”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Mr. Smith is … well, he’s a senior citizen. And besides, Lightning Man isn’t real.”