Katie didn’t move. It was like she was frozen to the spot.
The hatchet whipped through the air, aiming for the place between her eyes.
It was too late. I couldn’t save her.
From a long way off I heard Sally scream.
31
There was nothing anyone could do—she was doomed!
Then, just as the flying hatchet was about to bury itself in Katie’s head, it veered sharply to the side.
Now it was headed straight for me—moving with the speed of a bullet!
No time to dodge out of the way.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the gleaming blade as it came closer and closer, tumbling end over end.
Then suddenly it vanished.
I felt the whisper of the whirling blade as it passed before my eyes, but it never touched me. It had disappeared into thin air!
I shook my head, dazed—and saw the hatchet buried to the hilt in the ground an inch from my foot.
Sally came running and threw her arms around me, sobbing. “Leave the tree alone!” she cried. “Don’t touch the cherry tree!”
“We won’t; don’t worry,” I said, my voice shaking from the close call.
Katie was still vibrating with fear. When she got her voice back she said, “Bad idea. I was wrong, I admit it.”
“Bobby says don’t hurt the tree!”
“We won’t. Tell him we won’t, okay?”
Sally looked up at Katie. “You have to promise,” she said.
“Okay,” said Katie, raising her voice. “I promise we won’t touch your precious tree!”
With Sally urging us on, we left the backyard and returned to the front porch. When Katie’s nerves had calmed, she made a pitcher of lemonade and brought the tray out to the porch.
“Whew!” she said, taking a seat. “That was a close call.”
I sipped the lemonade and said, “He could have killed us.”
Katie nodded. “Could have, but he didn’t. The ghost was trying to give us a message. He wants us to save him, right?”
I nodded. “Except we don’t know how.”
“I’ve got another idea,” said Katie. “You’re gonna love it.”
“Your last idea wasn’t so hot,” I pointed out.
“This is better,” she said. “Much better.”
She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out the old photograph. “See this? Bobby and his mother, right?”
“I guess so,” I said.
“He showed it to us for a reason,” said Katie. “I think I know why. I’ll tell you my theory, but first we have to go down into the cellar.”
That made me spill the lemonade.
“No way,” I said.
Katie made a face and put her hands on her hips. “What are you afraid of?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing much,” I said. “Just dying.”
32
Outside it was a bright summer day. You’d never know it down here, in the dark.
In the cellar shadows drank up all the light.
I couldn’t believe I was down here again.
My skin crawled with dread but Katie didn’t seem to sense anything strange.
“This place could do with a good cleaning,” she said as we reached the bottom of the stairs. “I bet it wouldn’t take more than a day to clear out all this junk. Put a couple more lights in and your dad could turn it into a really nice workroom.”
“We’re not staying that long,” I said.
“Now where’s that box?” she said, pawing through the piles of old junk. “I saw a box of old clothes down here somewhere.”
While she was searching I swept my flashlight beam behind the stairs to make sure nothing was lurking.
“I know this will work,” Katie was saying. “Why else would Bobby have showed us that picture? If his mother wasn’t in Europe she could have saved him from falling, right? So he wants me to dress up as his mother and save him. It’s perfectly logical.”
This was her big plan, her new idea, and I thought it was totally crazed.
“It’s just not logical,” I argued. “When we hear him falling at night it’s inside the house, not out in the tree.”
That stopped her. For about a second.
“Well,” she said. “Maybe one of us should stay out under the tree while the other—”
“No!” I interrupted. “We have to stay together. Upstairs. Where we heard him fall.”
Katie cocked her head, considering, then nodded. “Okay,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Let’s get started.”
As she headed for the boxes a long cobweb snagged at her thick red hair but Katie just brushed it away impatiently.
I followed. Something moved at the edge of my vision but when I looked nothing was there. The muscles under my skin began to jump with tension.
How did I let myself get talked into this?
Some Looney Tunes baby-sitter wants to play dress-up and talks me into going back down into a haunted cellar—I had to be as crazy as she was.
“Look! This is it! The very same hat,” cried Katie, pulling the picture out of her pocket to compare.
She was right. The wide-brimmed hat she’d found was the same one the woman had worn in the old photograph.
Katie clapped the dusty old hat on her head and continued rooting around in the boxes.
Meanwhile I jumped at every little creak and rustle.
“Hold that beam steady, will you?” complained Katie. “I can’t see when you keep bobbing it around like that.”
I concentrated on keeping the flashlight beam steady.
The longer we stayed down here the tighter my nerves stretched. Katie was having the time of her life—she was so sure that her plan would work, nothing could convince her otherwise.
Finally she found a long dark dress that she thought matched the one in the picture. She held it up to see if it would fit.
“Great. Let’s get out of here,” I said.
A soft, cackling sound came from the dark corner.
“What was that?” said Katie, freezing.
“What did it sound like to you?” I asked as casually as I could.
Katie shrugged. “Pipes gurgling, I guess. Wait! Something moved,” she said, and pointed into a dark corner.
I picked up an old shoe and threw it where she pointed.
A terrified mouse scuttled out from under some junk and disappeared.
But it wasn’t a mouse I’d heard.
That evil laugh could only belong to the witch. And if she was laughing, then we were in trouble.
33
It was almost midnight in the house on Cherry Street.
The haunting hour.
We were waiting in Katie’s room. Sally was sleeping in Katie’s bed, where we could keep an eye on her.
Katie sat across from me in a rocking chair, wearing the long black dress and the wide-brimmed hat and a pair of antique shoes.
It gave me a creepy feeling to look at her. She looked exactly like the woman in the photograph. More like a grown-up than a baby-sitter.
I sort of hoped the ghost wouldn’t come tonight. Then maybe Katie would change her mind. I couldn’t put it into words, but I thought Katie dressing up as Bobby’s mother was a really bad idea.
“Jason?”
I’d almost fallen asleep. “Did you hear something?” I asked.
Katie shook her head. “I’m just a little worried,” she said. “What if I’m doing the wrong thing?”
“If you feel that way, let’s call it off,” I suggested eagerly.
But just then the broken grandfather clock began to chime. Bobby was coming.
We’d run out of time.
The haunting began like always. Footsteps in the hall.
The small steps of a frightened little boy.
“We’ve got to try,” Katie whispered, gathering her courage. “We’ve got to save him.”
She took a deep breath, straightened the hat on her head, and opened the do
or.
As she stepped out into the hallway the lights went out.
The walls began to glow with a faint, ghostly light.
“Give it to me, it’s miiiiinnnnnnne!” A raspy voice echoed from the darkness.
It was too dark to make out Katie’s face, but I saw her shiver.
I wanted to run out in the hall and pull her back into the room but it was too late.
The footsteps were already running toward us.
“Mine!” screamed the terrible voice. “It’s mine, all mine!”
Katie hurried to the end of the hallway. The long black dress made rustling noises.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was the woman from the photograph.
Katie stood with her arms outstretched at the spot where we heard Bobby go over the banister, night after night.
She became a ghostly shadow in the darkness.
The child’s footsteps came faster, faster than any little kid could run.
“Help!” screamed a child’s voice. “Help me pleeeeeeeeease!”
And then came the heavy tread of the pursuer, boom-boom-boom.
It all seemed to take so long. It was like time stood still. As if the scared little boy was running and running and not getting anywhere.
But now he was close. Almost here.
I tensed. In another few seconds it would all be over.
Closer, closer.
Suddenly a piercing scream shattered the air. It was like no scream I’d ever heard before.
It was a scream of pure terror, much worse than the desperate cry we always heard when the child went over the banister.
The sound pierced my heart like a knife.
I felt something brush past me like the wind. It almost knocked me off my feet as it hurtled toward Katie.
She crouched with outstretched arms, wanting to save a ghost she couldn’t see.
Then something smashed into her!
The force of the blow threw her up off her feet, against the banister rail.
For an instant she seemed to hang in the air. Then she fell.
I ran to the railing, bracing myself for the sound of her body hitting the floor.
Cackling laughter filled the air.
34
I leaned over the railing, expecting to see Katie falling to the floor.
The witch-thing stared up at me, inches from my face.
A white claw grabbed at me but I jumped back.
“Jason! Help!”
It was Katie’s voice. What I’d thought was the witch-thing was Katie, dangling over the stair banister, high above the floor. Her long dress had caught on the top of the banister.
As all this shot through my fevered brain, I heard the dress rip.
I sprang forward and grabbed her just as the old material gave way.
With the last of my strength I pulled her back over the banister and we both collapsed on the floor.
“What happened?” said Katie, dazed and shivering.
Before I could answer there was a CRACK! of lightning. In the flash I could see Katie’s terror-stricken face.
Thunder rolled over the house, shaking it to the core.
We huddled on the floor as a violent wind battered the house. Somewhere downstairs a window broke.
The wind shrieked—suddenly every window in the house shattered with a huge explosive crash.
The wind invaded the house, howling from every direction, gathering force as it rushed up toward us.
“Sally!” I shouted. “We’ve got to get to my sister!”
The wind tore the sound out of my mouth, but Katie nodded. She understood.
Gripping one another, we pushed down the hall, fighting the wind every step of the way.
We managed to get back to the bedroom.
Inside, Sally was clinging to the bedpost with one hand, her hair streaming out behind her. With her other arm she clutched Winky.
“Hang on!” I screamed.
Poor Sally was crying and frightened but didn’t seem hurt. Our feet crunched broken glass as we ran to her.
As I gathered her up she cried, “Bobby’s scared!”
I felt a leap of hope. “Is there anything we can do to help?” I asked.
“No,” Sally said, sniffling. “The witch-thing is too strong. She’s come back to get him.” She buried her head on my shoulder and sobbed.
“We’ve got to get out of this house!” shouted Katie.
Sure, if the house would let us go.
We kept to the wall in the hallway, pressing our backs against it as we inched along, the wind batting us around like cat toys.
When we reached the stairway we threw ourselves against the banister and held on.
Slowly we pulled our way down the stairs, gripping the railing.
I could see the front door! We were almost there.
At the bottom of the stairs we held tight to one another and inched across the hallway. Under the roar of the wind I heard the echo of evil laughter.
I refused to listen. We were going to make it.
We reached the front door and Katie grasped the doorknob.
She turned the knob and pulled.
The door opened.
Outside it was a beautiful starlit night without even a puff of breeze.
As I lifted my foot to cross the threshold, I felt the house sigh.
And then we were hurtling backwards, sucked up the stairs.
The house had breathed us in again!
The front door banged shut—SLAM.
The wind was too powerful to resist.
Our feet never touched the floor.
The brim of Katie’s hat flapped in my face and her dress flew up to blind us. Sputtering, I pushed it off my face, fighting off the smell of the grave.
As we were blown upstairs the attic door opened with a BANG! so hard the doorknob smashed through the wall.
The wind dragged us up the stairs and tossed us into the attic.
It was Bobby’s attic. In the corner was the child’s rocking chair. No other furniture, not even the toy chest.
The wind stopped abruptly.
As we started to breathe again the attic door slammed shut behind us. We were locked inside.
What did the ghost want with us? Why had the house dragged us back inside?
Before I could figure anything out there was another sharp CRACK! of lightning that made us jump.
Katie screamed.
In the flare of light we saw a tall, hooded figure raising a sledgehammer, ready to strike.
35
We were trapped!
I shoved Sally behind me and pressed against the wall. I could hear the creature coming closer but it was too dark to see clearly.
Somehow, though, I was sure that darkness was no problem for this creature, the witch-thing that finally had us cornered.
There was nothing up here to use as a weapon.
“Get away!” I shouted. “Leave us alone!”
I kicked out with my foot but knew it was no use, I couldn’t even see where I was aiming.
Then suddenly a dim, cool light sprang up behind us. It was like the soft, bluish light that came from my closet mirror.
Now I could see clearly—and what I saw was the witch-thing standing right directly in front of me! The evil red eyes glowed inside the black hood.
Then it smiled, revealing hideous teeth.
The sledgehammer came down—SMASH!
I dodged out of the way and the hammer crashed into the floor right where I’d been, putting a jagged hole in the floor.
“Die, Jason! Diiiiiiieeeeee!”
The creature threw back its head and howled with rage. The hood fell back and for the first time I could really see its horrible face.
It looked a thousand years old, a wrinkled white mass like crumpled paper.
The face of an ancient witch with tiny, glittery eyes. Not a skeleton at all. Worse. Much worse.
She shrieked again and fixed me with those evil eyes. I fel
t like a bug pinned to the wall.
Raising the sledgehammer, she lunged at me.
There was no room to get out of the way.
I ducked and she came at me again.
I slipped. I was sprawled on the floor with the witch-thing looming over me.
There were no second chances.
She threw back her head and let out a shriek of triumph. I felt her foul, garbage breath and saw her stumps of rotted teeth.
“I’ve got you now, you wretched boy!”
She swung the sledgehammer right at my head.
36
I rolled sideways and the hammer missed by inches.
The witch-thing just laughed that evil laugh.
“Leave him alone!” Katie screamed. In her oldtimey get-up she almost looked like a ghost herself.
“Don’t touch my brother!” shouted Sally.
But the witch-thing ignored them and raised the hammer again, ready to squash me like a bug.
I was finished.
And then what would happen to Sally? Or Katie? They’d never get out of this alive.
I had to fight even if it was no use.
I tensed my shoulders. When the witch-thing swung at me, I would try to catch the hammer.
I got ready, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach.
The creature’s glittering eyes bored right through me. She raised the hammer higher, poised to strike.
And suddenly the rocking chair rocketed up out of the corner into the air!
It slammed the old witch in the head, almost knocking her off her feet!
She howled and smashed the chair to bits with her hammer.
Instantly the pieces came together and in seconds the chair rebuilt itself.
The witch-thing hissed with fury and began slugging the walls with her hammer, screaming, “Give me the jewel, you nasty little boy! It’s mine, give it to me!”
Splinters flew, and larger pieces, too. The witch-thing was so busy raging, it was like she’d forgotten all about us.
It was someone else she was screaming at. Bobby?
“What jewel?” Katie whispered hoarsely. “What’s she talking about?”
“I don’t know,” I said, flinching as spit flew from the creature’s ugly mouth. “But you better duck!”
Our voices had reminded the witch-thing of our presence.
Teeth bared in a snarl, she threw the hammer.
The Horror Page 7