I wanted to run back up the stairs but I didn’t know which way to turn. My feet were sinking into the dirt floor. I could feel the dirt creep up and swim around my ankles, holding me. My breath was shallow and painful.
“Jessie!” I cried inside my head. A sudden urgency to find her rushed through me but I was helpless. I couldn’t move. The dark was swallowing me.
I bumped into something bony. Jerking my hand to push it away, I touched something cold and damp. It moved. I felt its slimy skin seeking my hand. I wanted to scream but my jaw was locked shut.
The bony skeleton brushed against me.
Then Frasier suddenly cried out and light leaped up around me like tongues of fire.
The clammy thing grabbed my hand.
16
“I found it,” shouted Frasier excitedly. “I know where they took Jessie!”
Cold, dim light filled the basement with swaying, flickering shadows. I jerked, knocking the clammy grip from my hand and stumbling backward into the skeleton.
CRR—AACK!
The brittle thing snapped. I whipped around to look behind me. It was no skeleton—only a rickety old wooden chair. But where was the slimy thing I’d felt? Had it been a tentacle, creeping out of the old stone wall?
I looked at the wall but it was solid with no cracks. Then, under the chair I saw something that made my heart stop.
Quickly I bent and picked it up. Damp and slimy with basement mud, it was one of Jessie’s sneakers! It must have been lying on the chair where I’d brushed against it.
“Nick!” called Frasier impatiently. “Are you coming or what?”
I looked over at him. He was standing under a bare lightbulb hanging from the rafters by a cord. The bulb swung, making shadows leap out at us from the walls.
“Lucky I bumped into this,” he said, indicating the lightbulb. “Or I never would have found the tunnel.”
I hurried over. Shovels leaned against the stone wall. More stones were stacked along the edge of the wall. Piles of dirt were humped all around us, piled almost as high as the low ceiling.
And behind Frasier, part of the wall was gone. In its place was the opening to a tunnel. The light from the bulb didn’t shine into the tunnel at all.
We stooped over and peered in. Frasier pointed his flashlight beam inside but all we could see was dirt and darkness. We heard dirt sift down from the tunnel ceiling.
“Think it’s safe?” asked Frasier doubtfully.
Without answering, I stepped inside the tunnel.
Instantly I could feel the walls and floor and ceiling pressing down. Tons and tons of dirt, ready to cave in and smother me. I knew how it would feel as the dirt rose up around me and rained down on my head, trapping me. Dirt would pack into my nostrils and fill my throat—
Suddenly another picture entered my mind, clearer than anything. A body, lying rigid in the darkness. Jessie!
“Maybe we should go back for another flashlight,” Frasier suggested. His voice sounded far away.
“No time,” I said hoarsely. “Jessie’s in danger.”
I started down the tunnel, my twin sister’s feelings pulling me along. Her fears tumbled around in my head. Confusion. She didn’t know what was happening to her.
We had to crouch as we went, the tunnel was so low. Frasier’s flashlight hardly lit more than a few inches ahead. Dirt sifted down onto our heads, dribbled down inside our shirts.
I felt the weight of the earth surrounding us.
The flashlight began to flicker again. It went out. The darkness here was even worse than the basement. Dark probed and pushed at us. It wrapped us in hungry arms that tightened around our throats, cutting off air.
When the light came back on my heartbeat was thundering in my ears.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” said Frasier. “We’re not very well prepared.”
But I could feel Jessie in my mind. She was so afraid. And she felt so terribly alone. I felt her clinging to one thought, one thought that was keeping her sane. Nick will come, she told herself. Nick will help me.
And I would. Or die trying.
“Jessie’s down here,” I told Frasier. “I can feel it.”
“You know where we’re headed, don’t you?” he asked in a quaking voice.
I nodded but of course he couldn’t see in the dark. “Harley Hills,” I said. “We’re headed straight for Harley Hills.”
17
After a while our necks and shoulders were so strained from bending, we almost forgot to be scared. Almost.
Every time the flashlight flickered out, panic grabbed us. The dark was like a living thing, its hungry breath cold on our necks. But we were safe, as long as the light held out.
Frasier would bang the flashlight on his knee and the weak beam would shine again and the dark would shrink back from us.
“Is it my imagination,” asked Frasier, “or are we going deeper?”
“I don’t know,” I said, my voice sounding hollow. But it seemed to me that the earth pressed harder on us. My heart felt squeezed. A growing dread was stealing over me, almost drowning out the feel of Jessie in my mind.
“Hear that?” asked Frasier.
“What?” I listened and then I heard it, too. A deep steady hum, like the lowest note of a church organ. It pulled at the dread in me, coiling it tight around my lungs so that I could hardly breathe.
It was the hum we’d followed into the aliens’ cave, the hum that came loudest from the heart of the cave. When we caused the rockslide the low hum had stopped. But now it was back.
“We must be close,” I said, struggling to get the words out of my closing throat.
Frasier’s light winked out again and then—SMACK! I ran into something hard and solid. I sprang back, biting down on a scream. Blood thundered in my ears. “The light,” I begged. “Get the light on.”
Frasier shook the flashlight and banged it against his leg. Finally a small flickering beam played across the thing in front of me.
“A wall!” I exclaimed.
Cautiously we moved forward. “It looks like rock has been melted across the tunnel,” said Frasier. “We’ll never get through that. But it doesn’t make sense. Why build a tunnel just to block it up here?”
“I think it’s a door,” I told him. “But we don’t have the key. Or the mind power to melt it.”
We felt the whole length and width of it but it was smooth and glassy. There were no handholds or cracks anywhere.
“What do we do now?” Frasier asked.
“Something wants to keep us out,” I said, scraping my fingers frantically along the rock. “Maybe that means we have a chance. Jessie is on the other side of that wall. I can feel her. We’ve got to get to her.”
“Any ideas how?” asked Frasier.
“We’ll have to go back. Try to get in from the other side,” I said, my heart sinking. But I knew it was the only way. “From the Harley Hills side.”
The trip back was horrible. With every step I felt Jessie slipping away. But at least the flashlight didn’t die until we were back in the basement—and no one was waiting for us at the end of the tunnel.
No one stopped us as we sneaked out of the house and got our bikes.
We rode through streets that were totally silent and still. Dawn was beginning to break but we didn’t hear a single bird.
We rode bent over the handlebars, concentrating on going as fast as we could. We left town behind and the trees closed in over the road. There was no sign of dawn here and we had to slow a little in the dark.
POP! PSSSSSHHHH.
“Uh-oh,” said Frasier, his voice dropping off behind me. “Flat tire.”
I slowed and turned back, wishing it wasn’t so dark along this stretch. Even though there wasn’t a puff of wind, the trees seemed to bend toward us, reaching out with scaly fingerlike twigs.
“Not to worry,” said Frasier, kneeling by the bike. “Prepared as always, I have a repair kit.”
As he worked,
I closed my eyes, trying to feel Jessie. Since we’d left the tunnel, I’d lost all sense of her. With my eyes shut, I sent my mind out toward Harley Hills, calling for my twin.
But it was no use. She was sealed away from me in the earth and I no longer knew what was happening to her.
I opened my eyes and started to tell Frasier to hurry but the words choked in my throat. The trees really were closer. One branch had dipped down until it was inches from Frasier’s head. It was moving strangely.
Oblivious, Frasier was bent over his tire, humming cheerfully as he started to pump it up. Then my eye caught something worse. The woods! Blindly, my hand reached out and grabbed Frasier’s shoulder.
“Hey, stop fooling around,” said Frasier. “I almost have this tire pumped up.”
The branch tipped lower. I wanted to scream out a warning but I couldn’t get my throat to work. A leaf brushed Frasier’s cheek and he batted at it in annoyance. “Quit it, man,” he said.
I pulled at him. Frasier stumbled against me and the branch dipped down where his head had been. “Hey, doofus, what’s with you?” he complained.
“They’re surrounding us,” I croaked.
“Huh? Who?” Finally he looked up. “Wha—?!”
The woods were alive with small glowing red eyes. Thousands of them. Millions! All of them staring at us.
Birds lined the tree branches. The branch near Frasier’s head rustled. Startled, he looked up. A bird flapped its black wings as it leaned toward him, pecking with its sharp beak.
“Blah!” Frasier jumped away.
All around us, on both sides of the road, the glowing eyes of the animals began to move closer. And closer.
18
Frasier leaped on his bike, his eyes bugging out. “Let’s get out of here!” he yelled, jarring me out of my trance.
I jumped on my bike and screamed after him. But as we pedaled furiously the animals exploded out of the woods into the road. They were after us!
Birds swirled over our heads like black boiling clouds. Squirrels, raccoons, chipmunks, and groundhogs raced after us. Their eyes blazed angrily and they snapped their jaws at our heels.
Huge owls with round fiery eyes swooped at us from out of the trees. I ducked and swerved, and a fat groundhog leaped at my ankle. It bared its two huge front teeth. As it sank its fangs into my ankle, I kicked out.
The groundhog went flying but the bike skidded and tipped dangerously. I started to lose control. My mind filled with a vision of me lying in the road, being overrun by this horde of demonized creatures.
Desperate, I put out my foot and pushed off the road, righting myself. Still wobbly, I pedaled harder but the animals surrounded me, nipping at my wheels.
A growling squirrel leaped straight at me. I swung my arm to bat it away but the thing clung to my shirt, its beady glowing eyes fixed on my face.
Panic shot through me like a geyser. I flapped my arm, finally shaking off the squirrel. At that moment a cloud of birds, squawking with fury, swarmed around my head. I couldn’t see the road. I couldn’t see Frasier.
The birds veered off as another giant owl dove at me. I hunched down over the handlebars and gritted my teeth. Its wings brushed me hard. The bike tipped. The owl slammed me with its other wing.
I struggled furiously to keep my balance but the bike skidded on a patch of sand. My wheels spun out. This time I was really going over. As my hands tore free of the handlebars, I saw the owl swooping down.
I couldn’t let it get me! I had to save Jessie! Airborne, I grabbed the handlebars and jerked up. The bike sailed. I landed hard, bounced, but the bike didn’t fall.
For an instant I felt elated. I could never do that trick in a million tries. Probably I could never do it again.
I pedaled faster, catching up with Frasier, who was swinging his bicycle pump at the owls and dive-bombing birds. “Faster,” breathed Frasier, his face red and his glasses half off. “I think we’re going to make it.”
He was right. We had outdistanced the ground animals and were getting near the edge of the woods. The birds’ attacks already seemed less savage. And finally the last owl hooted in our ears and curled away back into the trees.
Just a little farther and we’d be at the turn into Harley Hills. Nothing lived there. Except the aliens.
We were nearly there when Frasier screamed, “NO!”
I looked past him. My heart slammed against my ribs. The road ahead was completely blocked with porcupines. I’d hardly ever seen a porcupine but here there must have been hundreds.
They had their backs pointed toward us but looked over their shoulders, staring at us with tiny red eyes glowing like red-hot barbecue coals.
“Why aren’t they facing us?” I asked as we slowed our bikes, looking for a way around. My stomach felt like it was filled with lead.
“They’re pointed for quill shooting,” said Frasier.
My stomach sank even farther.
“One porcupine couldn’t do that much damage,” Frasier mused. “But a hundred of them could make us look like pincushions.”
“Any suggestions?” I asked hopefully.
“There’s no way around,” said Frasier. “We’ll have to ride straight at them and hope they don’t want to get run over. At least they can’t run very fast.”
“All right,” I said. “Let’s stick close together.”
We stood on the pedals and rode at the porcupines as hard as we could. It didn’t look like they were going to move. Then finally there was a rippling motion.
Frasier’s plan, such as it was, was working! The porcupines were waddling out of the way.
But suddenly, “OW!” Something long and sharp hit my shoulder and bounced off. And then the air was filled with deadly porcupine needles.
19
HSSSSSSSSS. HSSSSSS.
First one bike tire, then another, took a direct hit. I felt a sharp pain in my leg. The bicycle was getting harder to pedal. Frasier’s tires were flat, too, porcupine quills sticking out all over them.
“Abandon bikes!” yelled Frasier, vaulting over the front of his handlebars.
My stomach shriveled at the thought of being on foot in the midst of these dart-shooting animals but I knew Frasier was right. I could hardly pedal my bike with its ruined tires. But we could outrun the porcupines.
I jumped off and dropped the bike. Two porcupines scuttled out from under it, shooting quills. One stuck in my arm and I ripped it out as I hurtled over the animals’ backs.
Another quill shot past my ear and then I was on clear road. Even as a quill pierced my leg I felt hope that we might make it. I caught up to Frasier and started to pass him. He wasn’t moving very fast, I realized.
I grabbed his arm and pulled him along. “Hurry up,” I yelled as another volley of quills fell just a few feet behind us.
“Ow. I’m hurt,” groaned Frasier.
I pulled him around the turn that led up into the hills and pressed on, ignoring Frasier’s moans until I was sure the porcupines were no longer following.
Frasier sank down on a flat rock. “I’ve got to get to a hospital,” he said, stretching out his leg. His face was scrunched up in pain and his glasses were hanging off one ear. “Look at my knee.”
Three porcupine quills stuck out of his knee. I worked two more out of my leg, wincing at the pain of the barb. “Just pull them out, Frase,” I said. “We’ve got to get going.”
“What if they’re poisoned? I don’t know anything about porcupine quills,” he wailed. “What if I’m allergic? I need a doctor.”
“Frasier, to get to a hospital we’d have to go back through the woods,” I reminded him. “On foot. It’s not a good idea. I pulled mine out. You can do it.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “You do it for me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and I got all three out as gently as I could. “Thanks, Nick,” Frasier said, sniffling a little. “That wasn’t so bad.”
As he rubbed his knee, I looked around. “Oh, n
o,” I breathed, the feeling of dread beginning to grow in me again. “It’s getting lighter.”
“Duh, no kidding,” said Frasier, sounding more like his normal self. “That’s what generally happens when the sun comes up. It gets lighter.”
“It’s not the sun,” I said. “The sun is over there.” Without taking my eyes off the other glow, I pointed east, at a patch of lighter sky where the sun was rising.
Frasier, looking concerned at last, stood and looked north with me. A faint pinkish-yellow glow was growing slowly against the dark sky. The glow was coming from Harley Hill.
20
“Fire?” asked Frasier in a hollow voice.
I shook my head. “Too steady.” And too familiar. But I didn’t have to say it. We both knew what the glow was.
“How could it be?” asked Frasier, following me as I began to hurry up into the hills. “We just buried them in ten tons of rock. They can’t have dug out already.”
“Maybe they melted it all,” I said gruffly, climbing as fast as I could.
Nothing stirred as we scrambled over rocks and pulled ourselves up boulders. There were no birds, no squirrels, not even a reptile. Nothing moved but I had the awful sense we were being watched.
The only sound was that low hum that seemed to vibrate right through the ground under our feet. The glow grew brighter as we climbed.
Then we reached a ledge that looked out on the tallest of the Harley Hills, the source of the strange glow. Frasier gasped and clutched my arm. My blood turned to ice in my veins.
“They look like ants,” breathed Frasier, crouching down beside me.
Hundreds of human adults—all the adults in town, it looked like—were swarming over the rockslide we’d caused. They were picking up the rocks and carrying them away, opening up the cave entrance we’d been so thrilled about burying.
“There’s Mom and Dad,” I cried, getting a hollow feeling like the aliens had just scooped out all my insides.
Horrified, I watched my parents bend over a large rock and lift it between them. As they stepped away, a beam of pinkish-yellow light shot out of the ground.
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