She ignored his comment and changed the subject. “Haunted History? You like ghost stories?”
Lucas saw his book peeking out from the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat. “Huh? Oh, yeah, sort of. What about you?”
Bess smiled, then pointed dead ahead. “There’s the house.”
The forest cleared and was replaced with what Lucas could only describe as a ramshackle mansion. It was somehow majestic and decrepit at the same time. The front porch stretched fourteen windows across and two stories high. Above the windows were several of those towerlike things that stick up from the top of castles. Lucas couldn’t remember the name for them, but he’d seen things like them before in video games and YouTube videos about haunted houses. At the center of the porch, there was a giant front door with an intricately carved pattern of a tree with branches spiraling in every direction. The middle of the tree, though, parted to make way for a stained-glass window. There was a light on inside the house that made the window in the door glow, and Lucas could swear it looked like a wolf glaring at whoever dared enter. Whatever this massive house was, it was definitely not home sweet home.
What had his parents gotten him into?
Without warning, Bess opened the door and stepped outside, pulling Lucas and the basketball with her. The night was completely silent except for the sound of the car’s engine and the sound of Bess’s footsteps kicking up dirt as she walked.
“I’ll let you move in now,” said Bess as she started back toward the forest. She stopped by Lucas first but didn’t say anything.
“What is it?” asked Lucas.
“You doing anything tomorrow?”
“Um.” He paused, trying to find any reason to be busy. “Maybe, with the moving in and apparently making a map of my new house.”
“I’ll come by, then,” Bess said, not taking the hint. Then she motioned to his chest and added, “You’ve got a scar.”
Lucas’s hand went up to the scar that peeked out of his shirt by his throat. “I know” was all he could think to say.
“I’ve got one, too.” She twisted her leg around to show a similar scar on her calf. Four white stripes stood out against her dark skin.
“Oh,” said Lucas.
“Maybe I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow,” Bess said. “And you can tell me about yours. Not often you meet a kid with a scar like that.”
Then she bolted into the darkening woods, leaving Lucas behind with his family, his scar, a giant, creepy house, and oddly enough, her basketball, which sat in the dirt at his feet. He really was a long way from home.
Lucas started a list when he first became sick. His parents took him from doctor to doctor, searching for the answer to what was wrong with him. He called it the Last Thing list. It wasn’t like a bucket list; it was more of an anti-bucket list. By now, there were so many “last things” that Lucas didn’t want to do, but he was always ready to add more to the list:
The last thing I want to do is get back in the car.
The last thing I want to do is find our new house.
The last thing I want to do is unpack my stuff because then it means I actually live here.
The last thing I want to do is hear my parents arguing about the new house.
The last thing I want to do is find a room in this giant place.
The last thing I want to do is hang out with that weirdo Bess tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that, times infinity.
He held his breath, and the night seemed to hold its breath, too. Facing the house, time felt like it had stopped, and the silence made him feel like he had walked into a creepy painting. To break the spell, he exhaled, and the night seemed to breathe again, too. Sounds of nature erupted around him. The hot wind rustled through the trees, and a burst of clicking noises hissed like a million rattlesnakes hidden in the dark forest. The clicks swelled in waves, pitching up, then down, and made Lucas’s skin crawl as sweat trickled down the back of his neck.
Add that noise to the Last Thing list, too, he thought. That noise wasn’t the sound of the city. He was in a new world here, but he was still the same old Lucas. He’d survived lots of things on the Last Thing list, because things on the list needed to be done. Even if he didn’t want to do them.
The last thing I want to do is get another CAT scan.
The last thing I want to do is give another blood sample.
The last thing I want to do is see how the nurses look at me during my checkups.
The last thing I want to do is move.
His dad helped him make up his mind on which new Last Thing to scratch off the list first. “Get in the car, Lucas. This isn’t our house. The home I visited was much smaller. I think our little navigator might have been confused. This place looks like no one has lived here for a long time.”
“Yes, sir.” Lucas picked up the basketball and got in the back seat again. The night buzzed around him. “What’s that crazy clicking sound outside?”
“Cicadas,” said Mom. “They’re a type of insect.”
Slowly, Lucas realized that this place was nothing like the city. The buildings he was used to were replaced by giant trees. The crowds of people were replaced by giant trees. And the sound of traffic was replaced by the now deafening sound of bugs whirring deep within the forest of giant trees. Even inside the car, it was like they were drilling into his mind, the noise was so loud and persistent.
His dad drove around the mysterious house, and as the tires scrunched against the dirt, lights started to come on both inside and outside.
“Are you sure no one lives here?” Lucas asked before his mom shushed him.
“That’s odd. The lights are linked to motion sensors,” Dad said, pointing to the eaves of the house. Tucked under the roof were small but noticeable cameras. “Whatever this place is, someone was really protective. Those are top-of-the-line, infrared laser–based cameras along the roof. They work by trimming the beam thin and wide to—”
“I don’t care how they work, Kyle,” Mom interrupted. “Why in the world would anyone need them?”
“Bears, maybe?” he suggested. “Do they have bears out here?”
His mom sighed and pushed playfully against his dad’s shoulder. “All right, you. Let’s just get to the house so we can finally sleep.”
Lucas was tired, but he hadn’t thought about sleep until his mother mentioned it. He closed his eyes and felt himself relax. When he opened his eyes again, there was still more of the mysterious house. It jutted into—and out of—the yard. Lucas thought it actually looked like twelve completely different homes connected to each other. Like patchwork, or like Frankenstein’s monster. And the house wasn’t the only larger-than-life part of the property: They drove past an honest-to-goodness hedge maze! Lucas made a mental note to walk back that way in the morning to test it out. Maybe he could lose Bess in there forever.
Finally, after another few minutes of driving, they found a house next door. As they drove toward it, the lights from the larger house turned off. Lucas peered through the rear window. It was as if the mansion behind them had disappeared.
The neighboring house was small, like a cottage. Seeing the air conditioners sticking out of the two top windows made Lucas smile. He’d had an air conditioner in his old room and loved falling asleep to its hum. The cottage was made of wooden slats and, other than the air conditioners, looked like it was one huff-and-puff away from falling over. The roof sagged like it was hunching its old shoulders. In the moonlight, Lucas could make a face out of the house—the two top windows were its eyes and the faded red door was its mouth.
“So this is the place?” Lucas asked.
“This is the place,” his dad said proudly, noticing the look of horror on his wife’s face. “It’s a fixer-upper! Actually, it looks much better on the inside. A fresh coat of paint, some elbow grease, and we’ll get this house in tip-top shape.”
“But not tonight, right?” asked Lucas.
Lucas’s mom tried to smile, b
ut there was no heart behind it. “No, honey, not tonight.”
Lucas nodded. “Good, I’m zonked.” Sure, the mansion and the cottage shack were creepy, but he wasn’t about to sleep in the car after a long drive.
“It’s settled, then, the Trainers have arrived!” His dad parked the car outside the house and popped the trunk. “Help me with the bags, Lucas.”
Lucas joined his dad to carry the luggage into the house. The car was packed full with suitcases and a few boxes that his mother wouldn’t trust the movers with. Inside were old photo albums, jewelry, and what his mom called the good silver, but just looked like regular knives, spoons, and forks to him.
A walkway made of tiny pebbles led through some small bushes up to the front door. Lucas listened to the sound of his dad’s crunching footsteps and the rolling suitcase behind him, though it wasn’t easy to drown out the clicking hum of the cicadas. They really were everywhere. But at that moment, as if someone flicked an off switch, the noises around them stopped.
“Kyle, pick it up,” said Mom. Her voice sounded extra loud in the new silence. “You’re ruining the landscaping and scaring away the cicadas.”
“Don’t worry about the rocks, I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Dad said. “I’ll sweep them back in place tomorrow. Just be happy those cicadas turned in for the night. I didn’t think those bugs would ever shut up.”
Lucas moved forward in the darkness, following the path between a row of shadowy bushes. Below the bushes, the walkway was impossible to see, so he stepped carefully and wondered if there were snakes in Hounds Hollow. If there were, they might live in the bushes and come out at night. Maybe he should add stepping on snakes to the Last Thing list.
The clouds were merciful and let just enough moonlight through to show the cottage and the forest around them. Past the trees, though, there was still a curtain of darkness. The city had never been this dark. Lucas could even see stars in the sky. Stars! Suddenly Lucas’s imagination got the best of him.
Peering deeper into the woods, he saw something move. Maybe there really were bears in the woods here. Lucas had only pictured bears living in zoos, but that seemed silly now. Of course bears lived in the wild. Without fences or barrier pits. And that was more than a little terrifying.
A rustle of branches sounded out behind them and the whole family jumped. His father was the first to laugh. “Well, we are definitely not in the city anymore.”
Lucas realized just how quiet things were in the great outdoors. There weren’t any cars or taxis. There weren’t any people talking on cell phones. There certainly wasn’t a whistling guy who collected cans here, either. In that moment, Lucas realized how much he missed his home. He craved the great indoors. Even the droning noise of the cicadas would be better than the quiet that sat around them right now, because with the noise gone, Lucas couldn’t help but think that something else was out there.
Lucas turned to his father, who was trying to find the right key, lifting each one on the key chain close to his face and squinting. “Dad,” he whispered. “I … I need to go, like, now.”
“Hold on,” his father said, more to himself than to Lucas. “It’s got to be one of these.”
“Dad, for real,” Lucas urged.
“Go in the bushes, Luke. There’s no one around—”
“No,” Lucas interrupted. “Just hurry—please.”
“Aha!” His dad waved his hand in the air in success, but fumbled finding the keyhole. There was a series of clicking taps, followed by the key entering and the lock unbolting with a loud thwack that made Lucas flinch.
The chipped red paint on the front door flaked off when it was opened. Lucas’s dad reached his arm inside and patted the wall, searching for the front light. When it finally clicked on, a dirty bulb over the front door flickered on to a murky brown color. It wasn’t bright, but the dull glow startled something in the forest. The branches on a tree close to them were shaking slightly, as if a creature had just skittered away. Then a muffled howl erupted in the mysterious distance. It was long and lonesome, wailing up, then slowly down until the animal was finished.
A shiver ran up Lucas’s spine with the howl, then trickled back down like melting ice. He’d heard that howl before—in his nightmares. Lucas held his breath and closed his eyes. It couldn’t be his nightmare; he was with his parents. He was safe with his parents, right? Time seemed to stand still, until the cicada song rattled back to life and started again.
“Bathroom!” Lucas squeaked as he darted past his dad into the house.
Lucas took only four steps before he slammed into something soft and leathery. He thrashed quickly, trying to stand back up, but something held on to his leg. The harder he pulled, the tighter the grip bit into his leg. It was all he could do to not scream for help. His parents were right behind him anyway. Then the lights came on and Lucas froze.
“You’re not going to pee on the sofa, are you?” asked Dad.
Lucas opened his eyes. He’d knocked himself head over heels on the back of the sofa and tangled his foot in a blanket. His chest began to tighten, too, as he wheezed, “No jokes, okay?”
“No jokes, bud. We promise.” His dad pointed to the left. “Bathroom’s over there. But watch out for the closet. I hear it’s hungry.”
“Stop it,” Mom scolded.
Lucas untwisted the blanket and quickly walked to the bathroom. The house was bigger than his old apartment, but not by much. The kitchen, living room, and dining room were all in one open space, and included a fireplace that had seen better days. He heard the wind wheeze through the chimney stack, and for a moment, Lucas felt like the house was breathing around him.
“Keep it together, Lucas,” he whispered to himself as he stepped into the bathroom. In the darkness, he felt around for a switch on the walls before he ran into a thread dangling in the middle of the small room. Lucas swatted at it like he’d walked into a spiderweb, and then he realized that the string was attached to the light. He turned the light on with a click and saw his reflection in the mirror. Startled, Lucas jumped back and slammed the door shut accidentally.
“Sorry,” he apologized to no one. Then he pulled out his inhaler and took a deep breath. He felt his lungs fill again and began to relax.
Leaning closer to the mirror, Lucas tried to give himself a pep talk. “Stop it, right now. You’re a city kid; you’re tougher than the country. There are no crazy bears out there—just a weird neighbor, and you’ve known a lot of weird neighbors. And that sound in the woods, it’s just a stray or something. It’s not your nightmare … it’s not your stupid nightmare.”
The collar on his shirt was stretched out, revealing the scar on his chest. No wonder Bess had noticed it. That scar was the star of the freak show known as Lucas Trainer. Even after living with the scar all these years, it still shocked Lucas every time he looked in the mirror.
As he went to touch the scar, a tiny flash of light blinked from his chest. It was the key he wore on his necklace. It must have fallen out of his shirt when he tripped over the couch. Lucas tucked it back in, then turned on the faucet to splash water on his face. It felt so cold and wonderful that he rubbed some on the back of his neck to break the heat. Refreshed, he summoned the courage to go back out there and get on with the rest of his life.
Lucas turned off the water and opened the door. In the hallway, a shadow slipped out of the darkness. It was an old woman in a white nightgown, with frost-gray hair that fell around her head like a wild, glowing haze. Her face was wrinkled with dark freckles and her eyes were a cold shade of green. As he stood face-to-face with this stranger, Lucas thought he might be imagining things again. Had his daydreams followed him all the way to Hounds Hollow?
Slowly, the old lady pointed her finger toward him and cleared her throat. “You!”
Lucas stumbled backward, surprised that the old lady was actually real and not just a figment of his imagination. He caught himself against the sink and screamed, “DAD! MOM!”
His p
arents ran over and screamed, too. The woman whipped her head at them like a cat hissing, but kept pointing at Lucas. “Is this your son?”
“Y-yes,” Mom said with a slight nod.
“Well, he forgot to flush. I don’t like no-flushers. Don’t like ’em one bit.”
“Who … ?” Dad struggled to find the right words. “Who are you, and what are you doing in our house?”
The old woman sneered. “Your house? This here is my house.”
“Impossible,” Mom said, though she seemed unsure. “Unless … this isn’t Silas Sweetwater’s house?”
Suddenly it seemed entirely possible to Lucas that his parents had broken in to someone else’s house.
“Oh.” The old woman frowned. “So you’re the fancy-schmancy new owners from the city. I should’ve known from your no-flusher son.” She glared at Lucas like he was a rotting piece of meat. “I don’t care how they use the bathroom where you’re from. In Hounds Hollow, we flush.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Lucas said. “But I didn’t even use the toilet.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “That’s what they all say.”
“What? That doesn’t even make any sense,” Lucas said.
“Eartha Dobbs.” The woman walked into the kitchen, grabbed a fresh pot of coffee, and poured two cups.
“Excuse me?” Dad asked.
“My name,” Eartha said as she set the coffee mugs on the counter. “You wanted to know who I am. I’m Eartha Dobbs. I work for Silas—well, worked—for Silas. Near thirty years now.”
“That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in our house.” Dad pulled out his cell phone and held it up like a police badge announcing the seriousness of his presence.
“First, you’re not gonna get any reception out here,” Eartha explained. “That phone is worthless. Second, I told you, this is my house.”
“No, this is the house that the estate lawyer showed me,” Dad argued.
“You think a fool lawyer’s gonna mistake a groundskeeper’s cottage with a mansion?” Eartha waddled over to the refrigerator. “Well, maybe. Maybe they would make that mistake. Never did like lawyers. You like cream in your coffee?”
The Haunting of Hounds Hollow Page 3