It's All Downhill from Here

by P. J. Night

  One by one, the girls opened each door they came to. The first room looked like an art gallery. Huge framed paintings lined the walls. Most of the art depicted beautiful landscapes shown during various seasons.

  “These might be worth something,” Sophie said. “And they just left them here.”

  “Maybe the cousins who were fighting over the place don’t know they’re here,” Sophie said. “That Walcott lady said that no one has been in the house since Wharton died.”

  The next room contained a grand piano, many music stands still holding sheet music, and a violin, which rested in a corner. Fancy wooden folding chairs were set up as if for a concert.

  “Back in the old days, people invited their friends over and played music, just for fun,” Sophie said.

  “Life without iPods, huh,” Maggie added, trying to keep her mood up, despite her feelings of dread. They stepped from the room and closed the door.

  The two friends continued down the hall. Maggie felt grim again almost instantly.

  “We still haven’t found whatever it was that made that crashing noise,” she pointed out to Sophie.

  “Uh, I think we just did,” Sophie replied, opening the next door along the hallway and peeking in.

  Stepping into the room, they discovered framed photographs hung on the wall and placed on shelves. Sophie pointed to a rectangular shape on the wall, at the top of which hung an empty picture hook. Glancing down, she spotted a framed photo lying on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass.

  “There,” she said. “Where that photograph had obviously been hanging for a long time. That’s what fell and crashed.”

  Maggie hurried over and picked up the photo from the floor. She carefully turned it over. Additional shards of what had been the protective glass tumbled down and shattered.

  Maggie and Sophie stared at the black-and-white photograph of two men standing outside in a winter wonderland. The men bore some resemblance to each other. They each had an arm around the other’s shoulder. One was much older than the other.

  The older one was dressed in a thick sweater and a cap that nearly coverd his eyes. The other was wearing a ski outfit complete with gloves and goggles and clutched a pair of skis, which stood upright in his hand. It was hard to tell who either was with their caps and goggles on, but Maggie couldn’t help but wonder if she’d seen these faces before. She also didn’t feel much like thinking about it, not after everything that had been happening.

  “Old Man Wharton’s ghost must have knocked this off the wall!” Maggie concluded. “And I don’t think it’s coincidence that of all the pictures in this room, he chose the one that had a skier in it. He’s trying to send us a message. Just like Ms. Walcott said. He’s upset that my parents are going to turn his home into a ski resort!”

  Sophie shivered. “He’s not some random spirit that people catch a glimpse of, or a ghost who makes the temperature in a room drop suddenly. Old Man Wharton is walking around knocking pictures off the wall. And specific pictures about a specific subject, too.”

  “I don’t need to explore anymore, Soph,” Maggie said anxiously. “I think we should just hang out until my parents get back. Then of course we’ve got to find a way to prove to them that the ghost is real. If we show them this smashed photo, they’ll just think I did it.”

  The two friends headed back to the kitchen for a little lunch, then hunkered down in the living room, spending the rest of the afternoon munching on snacks, flipping through magazines, and chatting about school—the one they both currently attended back in the suburbs.

  As the afternoon wore on and the light grew dimmer, Maggie thought about her brother.

  “Hey, Simon told us he’d be back before sunset,” she said, peering out the window. “The sun’s going to drop behind that mountain in a few minutes, so where is he?”

  Sophie put down her magazine and joined her friend at the window. The last reddish-orange rays of sunshine spilled out onto the pristine whiteness, sending off a lustrous glow.

  “I don’t like this, Soph,” Maggie said after a few seconds. “I didn’t like it when he left this morning, and I really don’t like it now.”

  “Let’s give him a few more minutes,” Sophie said, trying to sound as reassuring as she could. “He probably just wanted to go on one more run. You know Simon and his skiing.”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie grumbled. “I have a—”

  “I know, a bad feeling about this. Just sit down for a few minutes. Staring out the window isn’t going to make him appear.”

  Maggie fell into a chair and picked up the magazine she had been reading. About ten seconds passed before she dropped the magazine onto the table, got up, and looked out the window again.

  Still no sign of Simon.

  Returning to her chair, Maggie had barely sat down and picked up the magazine when she popped back up. This time when she looked out the window, she saw that the snow had taken on a blue tinge as the last rays of sunlight vanished behind the mountain.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said. “I know it.”

  “What should we do?” Sophie asked.

  “I don’t know. My parents are due back any moment, and if Simon isn’t here when they get home, he’s going to be in big trouble. We have to go find him, Soph.”

  Maggie slid on her snow boots and slipped into her down jacket.

  “Well, I’m not going to let you go out there alone,” Sophie said as she began to bundle herself up.

  Maggie grabbed two flashlights and threw them into a backpack. The two stepped out into the cold indigo twilight and trudged off in the direction they had seen Simon go earlier. They soon reached the base of the mountain and began the arduous climb to the top.

  Snow crept in over the tops of Maggie’s boots, and she felt her toes get cold and wet. The climb grew more difficult with each step. The air got colder and the light faded.

  “Simon!” Maggie shouted in a strained voice. Her breath was visible in the frosty air.

  “Simon!” Sophie joined in, yelling at the top of her lungs.

  The only answer they received was the hollow echo of their own voices bouncing off the mountain.

  “Simon!” Maggie shouted again. This time she got an answer, but not the one she was hoping for.

  A-OOOOOOOO! came a fierce howling that sliced through the still, late-afternoon air.

  “What is that? What is that?” Maggie cried, panic flooding her entire being.

  “Coyotes,” Sophie replied in a surprisingly calm voice.

  “Coyotes!” Maggie screamed. “What are they doing here?”

  “They live here.”

  “How do you know what a coyote sounds like? You’ve lived in the suburbs your whole life, just like me.”

  “My uncle has a cabin in the woods a couple hours north of here, remember?” Sophie explained.

  “Oh yeah. I forgot about that,” Maggie replied.

  A-OOOOOOOO! The howling came again, louder this time.

  “And we spent a week up there last summer. The main entertainment was sitting on the front porch at night, listening to the coyotes howl,” Sophie said.

  A-OOOOOOOO!

  “Simon! Where are you?” Maggie shrieked, doing her best to continue forcing one foot in front of the other as she made her way up the mountain.

  The light was almost gone. Maggie and Sophie were having trouble seeing where they were going.

  “Turn on the flashlights,” Maggie said.

  Snow started falling.

  “Great,” Sophie groaned as her light blazed on. Thick snowflakes shimmered in the beam, picking up in intensity with each strenuous step they took.

  “It’s really dark,” Sophie said, whipping her flashlight back and forth. It sliced through the falling snow, illuminating only the fact that being able to see was growing more difficult by the second.

  “Are we lost?” Sophie asked, sounding scared for the first time. “What if we get lost in the dark and freeze to death in the sno
w? What if we fall and break our legs and the coyotes come and—”

  “Soph! Stop! Look. We’re just about at the top of the mountain. Come on!”

  Tapping into some unknown reserve of energy, Maggie picked up her pace, pushing on. A few minutes later, she paused near the top of the mountain.

  “Almost there, Soph!” she cried.

  Turning back she saw no sign of Sophie.

  “Sophie! Where are you?” she called out, her flashlight not much help in the driving snow.

  “Right here,” Sophie wheezed, staggering through the snow until she reached Maggie. “You moved too fast. I’m wiped out. Now what?”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie said, squinting to see better, trying to get her bearings.

  “Are we even going to find our way back to the house?” Sophie asked, her voice trembling as much from fear as from the cold. “Are we going to—”

  “There!” Maggie cried, pointing her flashlight down at the ground. “Footprints!”

  “Simon!” Sophie yelled.

  Leading the way, with Sophie straggling along behind her, Maggie tried to follow the footprints. They led right to the top of the mountain.

  “He was here!” Maggie cried. “Simon! Where are you?”

  “Look, Mags!” Sophie shouted, pointing just ahead. “The footprints change to ski tracks right there. He must have climbed up to this point, then skied down the other side of the mountain.”

  Maggie forced herself to move even faster. Now Sophie was right at her side. Together they rounded the top of the mountain and began to follow the ski tracks down.

  The fresh coating of snow made it harder to follow the tracks. It also hid the fact that the slope of the mountain dropped off sharply and suddenly.

  Both girls lost their footing at the same moment and started tumbling down the mountain.

  “Ahhh!” they both screamed, but their cries of terror were muffled by the pummeling they were receiving as they rolled down the mountain, completely out of control.

  “I can’t stop!” Maggie cried, growing dizzy as she spun head over heels again and again, bouncing, skidding, and sliding downhill faster than she’d thought she could go.

  Maggie finally reached the bottom and rolled to a stop. Sophie crashed into her and the two were still for a moment, catching their breath as the snow fell down on them.

  “You okay?” Sophie finally asked.

  “I think so,” Maggie replied, struggling to stand up.

  “My flashlight!” Sophie cried. “It’s gone! I must have lost it as I fell.”

  Maggie looked down. Somehow, her flashlight was still in her hand. She flicked the switch a few times, but it remained dark. The sun was now completely gone. Pitch-black darkness had enveloped them like a thick, impenetrable blanket.

  “Come on, come on, come on!” Maggie yelled at the flashlight. She whacked it with the heel of her hand, and the light popped on.

  Sweeping the light along the ground, Maggie gasped in horror. There in the narrow pool of light lay Simon’s broken skis. Simon himself was nowhere to be seen.

  Chapter 10

  “Simon!” Maggie screamed, her throat aching from all the shouting, the cold, and the overwhelming exhaustion that had begun to overtake her. “Where is he? These are his skis, but they’re all busted up. Simon!”

  “There must have been an accident,” Sophie said, peering through the darkness, then feeling foolish for thinking she might be able to see anything.

  “Okay, but where is he?” Maggie asked. “Why would he just leave his skis?”

  “Maybe he tried to walk back to the house,” Sophie suggested. “He could be anywhere.”

  Maggie aimed her flashlight back up the mountain, hoping to see footprints leading up and toward the house. She saw none. Turning back around, she spotted something.

  “Look!” Maggie called out. Her flashlight lit up a clearly visible set of footprints leading not back up the mountain, but farther away on this side, into a grove of tall pines. “That way. He went that way.”

  Being extremely careful not to obliterate the footprints, Maggie and Sophie hurried along beside them, following the prints into the wooded area.

  In the pine grove the footprints were even more visible, as the thick trees caught much of the newly fallen snow in their branches, and less snow reached the ground.

  “My parents are totally gonna freak out when they get home and find all three of us gone,” Maggie said, her mind jumping to the second most pressing situation at hand.

  “Let’s just find Simon and deal with one thing at a time,” Sophie said, trying to help her friend calm down.

  “And what if Simon is really hurt? Or worse?” Maggie said. “This is all so bad, so very, very bad. If we find him, and he’s all right, I’m gonna kill him for making us come out here and worry so much!”

  Rounding a bend, the footprints turned onto a narrow path between trees. As they walked single file now, with Maggie in the lead lighting the way, the night seemed to grow darker and more threatening with each step they took. Then she spotted something in the distance.

  “Look, Soph, it’s some kind of building! Hurry!”

  The snow was piled high in the narrow path between the trees. Stepping over fallen branches, sinking into mounds of drifted snow, the girls approached the small structure.

  “It’s a shed,” Maggie said as her flashlight reflected in a window. “Out here in the middle of the woods. What’s it doing here?”

  Tromping the last few yards, the girls reached the structure. They peered into the window to discover stacks of books scattered everywhere. Maggie spied an old wooden desk buried under mounds of paper. Worn-out chairs and ancient reading lamps filled the cramped, obviously neglected room.

  “It looks like an office or a study,” Maggie said. “But one that hasn’t been used in years.”

  “Maybe it was a secret getaway, or—” Sophie started.

  “Simon!” Maggie suddenly shrieked. “It’s Simon!”

  Sophie stared into the shed and saw Maggie’s brother lying on the floor in the corner.

  Kicking up snow in spraying curtains of white, Maggie ran around to the front door of the shed, only to discover that it was padlocked.

  “Someone locked him inside!” Maggie cried, yanking on the thick metal lock.

  “Maggie, he’s not moving!” Sophie called, still peering through the window.

  Desperately looking around, Maggie spotted an old pile of firewood covered in snow. She grabbed the biggest piece she could find and dragged it back to the door.

  “Help me,” she said, getting as good a grip as possible on the snow-covered chunk of wood.

  Sophie wrapped her arm around the log to take some of the weight from Maggie. Together they lifted the wood above their heads.

  “Ready? One, two, three!”

  With all the strength they could muster, the girls slammed the log down onto the padlock. The wood hit the bottom of the lock, sending it spinning around, but not damaging it in any way. The log flew from their hands and landed with a dull thud in the snow.

  “Again,” Maggie cried, panting from the effort. “This time we have to hit the top of the lock where it’s thinnest.”

  Kneeling down in the snow, Maggie hoisted the log up with both hands. Sophie got a grip too, and once again they lifted the wood high into the air.

  “One, two, three . . . GO!”

  Aiming for the thin loop at the top of the lock, the girls hit their target and smashed the lock open. They let the log fall, then Maggie yanked off the broken lock and threw open the door.

  Rushing inside, she dropped to the floor beside her brother.

  “Simon,” she whispered softly into his ear.

  He didn’t stir.

  “Simon,” she repeated, shaking him gently. “Please answer me.”

  “Urrrrgh,” Simon groaned, rolling awkwardly onto his side.

  Maggie helped him up into a sitting position. He blinked a few times, t
hen rubbed his head and winced.

  “What happened to you?” Maggie asked.

  Simon moaned again.

  “Give him a second, Mags,” Sophie interjected.

  “I don’t know,” Simon said in a weak, raspy voice. “I hadn’t been outside for more than fifteen minutes, when I felt something push me. Maybe it was the wind, but it felt like someone knocked me down. I looked back right before I fell, and I think I saw a man standing there. But that was probably just my imagination. That’s the last thing I remember. Next thing I know, you’re waking me up here in this . . . this . . . where am I, anyway?’

  “I have no idea what this is, but the important thing is that we found you,” Maggie said, helping her brother to his feet.

  “What time is it?” Simon said, looking around in a panic. “Mom and Dad? Are they home? Do they know I went skiing even when they said not to?”

  “I don’t know,” Maggie replied. “They weren’t home when we left, but . . .” She trailed off.

  “So we’d better get home, like, now!” Sophie finished.

  The three kids hurried from the shed. Just before she stepped outside, Maggie spotted an old scrapbook sitting on a small table. For some reason, she snatched it up and slipped it into her backpack.

  Outside the shed, they were immediately assaulted by the wind and biting snow.

  “We only have one flashlight,” Maggie said. “Follow me.”

  She guided the others through the pine grove, out to the base of the mountain.

  “Are you going to be able to climb?” Sophie asked Simon.

  “Do I have any other choice? Unless you guys want to carry me.”

  The three began the long, arduous trudge up the mountain, guided only by Maggie’s single flashlight beam. Simon stumbled into the snow a few times, and the girls helped him up, but he pushed himself forward.

  Maggie thought about how close she had just come to losing her only brother.

  “Can you remember anything else about what happened?” she asked as they reached the top of the mountain and paused. A soft glow poured from the windows of the house.

  “I’m not sure,” Simon said as the trio hurried down the steep slope. “If someone did push me, who could it have been?”