by R. L. Stine
My hand trembled as I opened the bag and peered inside. At first, I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. Some kind of fluffy material? I reached into the bag and pulled out a chunk of it.
It was copper-colored, sort of orange-red. Very soft. A clump of hair. Yes. Yes …
I finally realized what I was holding.
I dug my fingers into the bag and pulled out a bigger sample.
Hair. The bag was filled with coppery red hair.
I squeezed a clump of it. Let it sift through my fingers.
Then I dropped the bag and jumped to my feet as I realized what I was holding.
Pepper’s hair. The bag was packed full with Pepper’s hair.
29.
Shadyside General Hospital is located on the River Road, a few miles past my dad’s snowmobile store. After school, I reached Pepper’s mother on the phone, and she told me that Pepper was there being treated for trauma. She’d probably have to stay overnight.
I had a million questions, but I didn’t ask them. I said I was on my way and clicked off the phone. I hurried home to get Mom’s car.
It had been snowing all day, the temperature was about fifteen, and the roads in my neighborhood hadn’t been cleared yet. Icy slick. But I was eager to get to the hospital and see how Pepper was doing.
It took me awhile to scrape ice off the windshield and back window. I was backing down the driveway, tires crunching over the fresh snow, when I saw someone trotting toward my house, waving both arms in the air.
I braked. The car slid back a few inches before stopping. Gabe knocked on my window with his gloved hand. I rolled the window down. He was breathing hard from running, his breath puffing up in front of him.
“I’m going to the hospital,” I said.
He nodded. His blue wool ski cap was pulled down almost over his eyes. His face was red from the cold. “I heard about Pepper. I’ll come with you.”
He ran around to the other side of the car, tossed his backpack onto the backseat, and climbed in next to me. “I heard she was attacked.”
The car crunched down the drive and into the street. “I’m pretty sure it was that psycho Angel,” I said. I started to turn onto Park Drive. The car slid sideways, tilting hard to the right. I kept tapping the brake, moving the wheel till I got it back in control.
“This is going to be a thrill ride,” Gabe said, adjusting his seatbelt.
“Maybe the plows have already cleared the River Road,” I said, slowing for a red light.
“Did you talk to Pepper?”
I shook my head. “No. Her mom. She said Pepper wasn’t badly hurt. But she’s very upset. I think she’s still a little bit in shock.”
“What does that mean?” Gabe rubbed his window with a gloved hand. “In shock. I always wondered what that means.”
“I think it means your brain just can’t adjust to what’s happening to you,” I said.
Gabe’s expression turned serious. “So did the guy drag Pepper off somewhere and cut off her hair? Did he knock her out first?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I didn’t want to stay on the phone with her mom. I wanted to get over there.”
Gabe shook his head. “Now we have no choice. We really have to tell the police about Angel.”
Huge snowflakes bombarded the windshield as the snow began to come down again. It was four in the afternoon but nearly as dark as night. The headlights reflected off a curtain of blowing snow.
I sighed. “Guess you’re right, Gabe.”
We passed my dad’s store and started the curving climb up the River Road with its sharp turns and steep cliffs on the right. Being back here reminded me of our Saturday snowmobile party that had ended so badly. Once again, I felt the crash of my snowmobile into Angel, and once again I saw his dark overcoat and his startled expression as he went flying into the air from the impact.
“You killed me, Michael.”
Headlights of oncoming cars filled the windshield with yellow light, making it even harder to see. Snow swirled around the car, the wind howling. I felt as if we were driving inside a tornado.
Gabe was saying something about Macbeth, but I was concentrating too hard on my driving and worrying about Pepper, and his words seemed like background music. I wasn’t even trying to listen. I leaned forward as much as I could, squinting into the snow-blown windshield, gripping the wheel tightly in both hands.
And then I felt the bump from behind. My car jumped. Jumped then skidded a few feet.
Gabe’s eyes went wide. “Someone hit us.”
The road curved sharply. The headlights swept over the low guardrail.
“They must’ve slid,” I said. “An accident.”
“Are you going to stop?” Gabe asked.
Another hard thud sent the car sliding into the oncoming lane. My heart skipped a beat. I swung the wheel, swerved back. And another hard bump sent us shooting forward.
“It’s not an accident!” Gabe cried.
I peered into the rearview mirror, trying to see the driver of the car behind us. But my back window was clogged with snow. I couldn’t see a thing.
“Pull over!” Gabe cried. “Pull over. He’s trying to kill us!”
“There’s no place to pull over,” I said, my voice trembling in fright. “No shoulder.”
Bummmp.
A hard push from behind sent us skidding toward the guardrail and the cliff beyond it.
“No way! I don’t believe this!” I cried angrily. I swung the wheel to the left, swung it hard, and the car slid back into the lane.
Gabe had his eyes shut, his hands clamped tightly together in his lap. “This isn’t happening,” he muttered. “Is it that crazy fool—?”
He didn’t finish his question.
I gripped the wheel, slowed almost to a crawl, my foot poised over the brake. But being careful didn’t help.
The next hard butt from the car behind sent us sliding fast. The guardrail loomed up from out of the darkness. The headlights swept over the low metal rail, and then the car slammed into it hard, with a shrill squeal of metal against metal.
We hit on Gabe’s side. I saw him bounce in his seat. Saw his head jerk back. He uttered a startled groan.
And then the car scraped against the metal guardrail, sliding out of control, seeming to pick up speed. A grinding roar filled my ears. Like a scream. A scream of metal against metal. I spun the wheel. Spun it.
Too late.
Through the snow-smeared windshield, I saw the guardrail split and give way. The car slid through the opening. Sailed out. Sailed … as if taking off into the night sky.
The grinding roar stopped. Silence. For a moment, we were surrounded by nothing but a thick clotted blackness.
And then Gabe and I opened our mouths in screams of horror as the car nosed down, and we plunged off the cliffside, and dropped … dropped tumbling … somersaulting … to the rocky shore below … dropped into a darkness I had never seen or felt before.
30.
I woke up in the hospital. I felt groggy, the light shimmering on and off in my eyes. But I knew where I was instantly. I saw the tube in my arm and the clear bag of liquid on a pole beside my bed, and the beeping monitor against the wall. I knew where I was, and I was awake, but I wasn’t sure I was ready … ready to talk to people … to face the world again.
How did I get here? How long have I been here? Am I okay? Is Gabe okay? Do my parents know?
The questions pressed down on my mind like heavy weights. Too many questions.… Too much horror.… Too much …
I sank back into the warm soft sheets and closed my eyes. After a while, I heard my parents’ voices, soft murmurs nearby. One of them said, “I think Michael’s waking up. I saw his eyes open.” The other one whispered, “Thank God.”
I felt a wave of happiness, knowing my parents were there with me. Happiness and relief. I was alive and my parents were with me.
I opened my eyes and cleared my throat. “Mom? Dad?”
As t
heir faces appeared above me, it all flashed back in my memory. I remembered the terrifying feeling of flight as the car crashed through the guardrail and sailed into the sky. And I remembered our screams as we came tumbling down, remembered the jolts and the bangs, the rattle of metal, the crash of shattering glass, the shocks of pain, the total surprise of it all.
Mom and Dad leaned over the bed. Their eyes were red, their faces tired. Their cheeks were stained with tear tracks.
I blinked a few times. I tried to speak. But no sound came out. I was so glad to see them, I wanted to laugh and cry and shout at the same time.
It took a few seconds for them both to come into clear focus. I finally found my voice. “What did I break?” I asked. The question popped out of my mouth from out of nowhere. It startled even me.
Mom put her hands on the sides of my head. “You’re okay, Michael. You didn’t break anything. You’re okay. And now you’re awake. Awake, thank God.”
I nodded. My head felt as heavy as a rock, but I had no trouble moving it up and down. My arms moved, and I could move my legs.
“You didn’t break anything,” Dad said. He had tears in his eyes. He made no effort to wipe them away. “The doctor said it was some kind of miracle. You seem to be unbreakable.”
“You’ll probably feel achy for a while,” Mom said. “Your muscles are all strained and twisted. Physical therapy will take care of that. And you have a few bruises, Michael. But you didn’t break any bones or anything.”
She patted the covers on top of my chest. In the bright hospital light, I saw tears glistening on her cheeks, too. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay,” she repeated in a trembling voice.
“You’re a lucky guy,” Dad said. “The car was totaled. Do you remember how it happened?”
I nodded again. “I remember,” I said. “But … I … I’m so sleepy. My head … I feel like I’m in a thick fog.”
Mom patted my chest again. “It’s okay. There will be plenty of time to talk.”
“Yes. We’ll talk later,” Dad said. He took a few steps back from the bed.
“Can we get you something?” Mom said. “Are you hungry? Do you have an appetite?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. I shut my eyes. I started to fade into darkness again. But then I suddenly remembered. “Hey,” I said. “Hey. You didn’t tell me. Where is Gabe? How is he doing?”
The both took sharp intakes of breath. Mom went pale. They exchanged glances. “Uh…” Mom opened her mouth to speak but stopped.
“I’m sorry, Michael,” Dad said, avoiding my gaze. “Gabe didn’t make it. He … he was crushed to death inside the car.”
31.
Gabe.
The next two days in the hospital were so strange. I would sleep and wake up not sure why I was feeling so sad … and then I would remember Gabe. Gabe, my best friend … where is he?
Then I would remember. Gabe is dead. I said it over and over, but it didn’t seem possible. How do you ever get over losing your best friend? At first, I just felt so sorry for Gabe … and for myself. But after a while, my sadness turned to anger. I wanted to get Angel. I wanted to make him pay. I wanted to kill him.
I knew it was time to come clean. Time to tell the police everything. Time to make sure Angel didn’t hurt or kill anyone else.
The day I was released from Shadyside General, Pepper and I had an appointment with the police. Our parents were there, too. We all met at Pepper’s house.
“The police will be here any minute,” Pepper’s dad said, tugging at the sleeves of his gray sweats. He works at home, doing some kind of research for the Engineering Department at the community college, and I’ve never seen him dressed in anything but gray sweats.
He has a thick head with straight white hair, narrow blue eyes, his cheeks turn red a lot, and he can have a sharp sense of humor. He’s normally relaxed and joking around, but this afternoon, he was quiet and his eyes kept darting around, tense and alert.
I sat between Mom and Dad on the Davis’s long black leather den couch. Pepper’s dad stood at the window, peering out through the curtains.
Pepper sat on the edge of an ottoman across from us, her hands clasped in her lap. She wore a soft blue floppy cap that covered her head. She said she didn’t want anyone to see the cuts and bruises on her scalp. And the patches of hair that Angel hadn’t cut, patches and clumps of red hair that now looked so ugly and sad.
She kept staring at me, her expression angry. “We’re going to tell everything today. Yes, Michael?” she said.
“I had the feeling for quite awhile you’ve been keeping something from us,” Mom said to me. “I don’t know why. Just a feeling I had.”
Dad’s gaze went from Pepper to me. “I take it you both have a good idea why these things happened to you?”
“Here come the police,” Mr. Davis said. He pushed back the window curtains and hurried to the front door. A few seconds later, he led two dark-uniformed officers into the den.
Officer Gonzalez was a tall, slim young woman with straight black hair tied behind her head in a long ponytail, dark serious eyes, and a no-nonsense expression. Her eyes took in the whole room as she entered.
She was nearly a foot taller than her partner, Officer Nova. He removed his cap, revealing a nest of curly gray hair. He had a round chubby face and a carefully trimmed black-and-gray mustache and goatee. He carried a small iPad in one hand and began typing on it as soon as we all introduced ourselves.
The two cops adjusted their gun holsters as they sat on the small couch across from us. Nova’s belly strained the fabric of his shirt. He cleared his throat. “Who wants to start?”
“Tell us what you think is going on,” Gonzalez said. “Take your time. Don’t leave out any details. Officer Nova and I will decide what’s important.”
Pepper and I exchanged glances. So far, I’d managed not to tell my parents much of anything. They begged me to talk to them, but I never felt strong enough.…
I knew Dad would have a fit when he learned about the snowmobile accident. I wanted to put off telling him about it as long as I could. Now my hands were icy and wet and my heart was thumping like crazy in my chest. No more stalling.
“I think Michael should start,” Pepper said. I thought I detected a little bitterness in her voice. Like what happened to her was all my fault.
And to tell the truth, I felt she was right.
I let out a long sigh. Then I began to tell them everything that had happened, starting with the snowmobile party that Saturday afternoon.
A hush fell over the room as I talked. For some reason, I grew more nervous as I went on. My throat tightened, my mouth felt dry as a desert, and I had to stop to get a sip of water.
My dad uttered a short cry of surprise when I described the snowmobile accident. “Michael, you should have told me,” he interrupted. “You should have come to me. I would have gone with you to the police and maybe none of this would have happened.” He seemed sad, not angry.
“I am so sorry, Dad,” I murmured. “I know you’re right. But … we didn’t want to get into trouble, and … and … well, we just didn’t know how much trouble there would be.”
“Please continue, Michael,” Gonzalez said, motioning with one hand. Nova kept typing on his iPad. “You’re doing a good job.”
“No more interruptions till he finishes,” Nova said, gazing at my dad.
“Sorry,” Dad muttered. “I just don’t like surprises like that.”
“There are more surprises,” I said. I took another sip of water and began again. I told how we left Angel in the snow because we thought he was dead, and then how we returned to find him gone.
“So he wasn’t dead?” Nova asked, looking up from his iPad. “Or was he dead and now he’s a zombie?”
Gonzalez frowned at her partner.
“Just asking,” Nova said with a shrug.
“He started calling and making threats,” I continued. “He said I killed him. I killed him and now
he was going to pay us all back.”
Nova stopped talking. “That’s what he said? Did he sound like he was joking? Did he really think he was dead?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “He kept saying I killed him. And … I saw him in the graveyard. My class was there. It was a real foggy day. I mean, you couldn’t see very far at all. But I saw him in the graveyard, and it looked like he was climbing up from a grave.”
Nova grunted. He muttered something under his breath. He turned to Pepper, who hadn’t said a word the whole time. “Did you see this guy Angel in the graveyard? Were you there that morning?”
Pepper nodded. The big cap flopped forward over her forehead. “I was there but I didn’t see him.”
Everyone turned back to me. Beside me, Dad stared straight ahead, his face locked in an angry expression. I don’t think he believed he was hearing this story. I had let him down. I had kept everything from him. And now he stared at the den wall, not looking at anyone.
“So this guy Angel is coming after us one by one,” I said. “He called and warned me. He told me what he planned to do.”
Gonzalez shook her head. “Michael, you’re a smart boy, aren’t you? Why did you keep this a secret? I can’t believe you didn’t call the police department. Or even tell your parents. You made a terrible mistake in judgment.”
“I know,” I said in a whisper. I lowered my head. I thought about Gabe. Would he still be alive if we had gone to the police when Angel’s threats began?
Nova’s eyes burned into mine. “You should have called us. Are you so afraid of your father that you couldn’t tell him about hitting that guy?” He turned a suspicious eye on my dad.
“N-no,” I stammered. “No. That wasn’t it. I … just didn’t want to get in trouble. We all thought—”
“Do you have this guy Angel’s phone number on your phone?” Gonzalez interrupted.
I shook my head. “It came up ‘Blocked.’ There was no number.”
“We may need to take your phone to the police lab,” she said. “So he warned you he was coming?”
“Yes. He wouldn’t listen to me. He wouldn’t let me apologize or anything. He just kept saying I’d killed him and now he was going to get us. So … first he knocked out Lizzy at school. Then he attacked Pepper and cut off her hair. Then … then … he bumped me off the River Road. He tried to kill me.”