A Gust of Ghosts

by Suzanne Harper

  It did sound awfully lonely to be a ghost in the Shady Rest Cemetery....

  Then her gaze moved on to the ghosts, who were exchanging shifty glances, barely suppressing little smiles, and generally giving the impression of being up to something.

  Chance saw her looking at him. Immediately he became wistful.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad not having visitors, except that things have gone to ruin,” Chance said, with a slight vibrato of emotion in his voice. “If only someone would fix this place up....”

  “Hey, we could do that!” Henry said. “Look, we have all the equipment right here.”

  Peggy Sue widened her eyes. “Could you really?” she said. “That would be so sweet of you.”

  “Wait a minute,” Franny said. “I didn’t think we were really going to do work here.”

  “I thought those rakes and things were just props,” said Will. “You know, to make our cover story more believable.”

  Poppy bit her lip. The ghosts had looked so forlorn just a moment ago, and they looked so hopeful now....

  “If you would just tidy up the place a bit,” Chance said, “we promise we will give you all the evidence you need. You can film us, tape us, take photos of us—we guarantee total access.”

  “And exclusive rights to our images,” Peggy Sue added. “You’ll be the only people we’ll ever grant interviews to, we promise.”

  It was exactly what Poppy had hoped for. In fact, the ghosts’ proposal matched her secret daydreams so perfectly that she couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy.

  Isn’t this how all fairy tales start? asked a small, sensible voice in the back of her head. With a bargain that seems too good to be true?

  But then the image of Mr. Farley flashed into her mind. She could almost hear him saying, in his thin, colorless way, “I suggest that you find something to show her by this time next week. Otherwise, I can’t guarantee that your grant will be safe.”

  She looked Chance square in the eye. “It’s a deal,” she said.

  Chapter FOURTEEN

  The sun had already set when Poppy, Will, Henry, Franny, and Rolly arrived home. They had spent the rest of the afternoon working hard while Rolly played imaginary fetch and Tombstone Tag with Bingo. They had picked up broken branches, cut back overgrown bushes, and raked up twigs and leaves. By the time they finished, they were hot, sweaty, and tired, but satisfied with a job well done.

  As they staggered across the lawn, they saw Mrs. Malone in the driveway, standing by the car.

  “There you are,” she called as she lifted the equipment case into the trunk. “Your father and I were wondering when you’d get home.”

  Franny ran up the porch steps, shouting back over her shoulder, “Dibs on the bathroom!”

  “All right, dear, but don’t take too long,” said Mrs. Malone. “Your father and I are going to drive to Bastrop with Mrs. Rivera, and we’re putting you in charge while we’re gone.”

  “I’ll just be a minute,” Franny called out as the door slammed shut behind her.

  “More like an hour, but let’s not be picky,” Will muttered. “What’s in Bastrop?”

  Mrs. Malone opened the cooler that was sitting in the backseat and began counting the soft drinks. “We’re not sure. Mrs. Rivera was working on an ancient burial ground when she says she started to feel dizzy. According to her, that was followed by a violent wind that smelled of sulphur, then the ground opened up at her feet. We’re heading out there now to investigate. Your father thinks that she may have stumbled upon a portal to another dimension, although it sounds more like an overactive imagination to me—”

  “Uh-huh,” said Will. “Does this mean we have to make our own dinner?”

  “You can order pizza, dear. I put some money on the kitchen counter,” said Mrs. Malone. “I know you’re all very responsible, but I don’t want you using the oven. Oh, and Henry is going to come over and stay with you. If we’re not back by bedtime, just put him in the guest room, but remember to make up the bed with clean sheets from the hall closet—Rolly, where are you going?”

  “I have to give Bingo some water,” said Rolly, following Bingo around the corner of the house. “He’s thirsty.”

  “Who in the world is Bingo?” asked Mrs. Malone, turning back to the cooler and frowning at its contents. “I wonder if eight sandwiches will be enough—”

  “Bingo is my dog,” said Rolly in a tone that made it clear he thought his mother was being particularly dim.

  “Oh, Rolly, you didn’t!” said Mrs. Malone, straightening up and turning to frown at him. “I don’t know what your father will say—”

  “He probably won’t even see him,” said Rolly, picking up a stick and disappearing around the corner of the house.

  “He’s just pretending he has a dog named Bingo,” Poppy said quickly. “You know, because Dad won’t let him have a real dog. It’s kind of like an invisible friend.”

  Mrs. Malone’s brow cleared. “Of course. Well, that’s an extremely creative way to deal with frustration and disappointment, I must say—”

  “Lucille!” Mr. Malone bounded down the porch steps. “Are you ready to go? We need to pick up Mirabella and get out to the burial ground before the light fades.”

  “Yes, Emerson, I know.” Mrs. Malone slid into the car seat.

  “Be good, kids,” Mr. Malone called as he backed out of the driveway. “Go to bed early! Don’t open the door to any doppelgangers!”

  “I can’t believe we actually met ghosts in the graveyard.” Henry took a large, happy bite from a gooey pizza slice. “I can’t believe that my aunt and your parents were actually right.”

  Poppy neatly cut a bite of pizza with her knife and fork. “I guess it makes sense that ghosts exist,” she said. “Think about all the people who have said they’ve seen one.”

  “I think you’re all way too calm about this,” said Franny as she reached for another slice. “It’s amazing that we got out of that place alive!”

  Will rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. They weren’t evil ghosts. They weren’t even cranky. At the most, they were annoying. And they talked a lot.”

  It was cozy sitting in the kitchen, Poppy decided, and nice to have Henry with them. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how very dark the night looked through the kitchen windows. She stared at the panes of glass, which reflected the five of them sitting around the table. Rolly was methodically dismantling his pizza by pulling off every piece of pepperoni and feeding them to Bingo, who sat at his feet; Franny was piling uneaten crusts on the side of her plate; and Will was seeing how far he could make a strand of cheese stretch before it broke. Henry looked right at home, as if he’d been having dinner at their house for years....

  Then she remembered Mr. Farley. The feeling of happiness vanished, and the pizza she had eaten seemed to turn into a heavy lump in her stomach.

  Don’t start feeling too much at home, she reminded herself. It will only make things worse when we have to move. Again.

  She turned back to the kitchen but, just as she did so, she saw a flicker out of the corner of her eye. Quickly, she looked back at the window. Was there something moving outside in the darkness?

  Poppy forced herself to stare at the glass but saw nothing except their reflections floating against the dark night beyond the window.

  We almost look like ghosts ourselves....

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thump from overhead.

  Everyone stopped talking. Will even stopped chewing. Their eyes went to the ceiling.

  For one long, breathless moment, nothing happened.

  Then they heard the sound of slow, heavy footsteps walking down the second floor hallway.

  “What was that?” Franny whispered.

  “Nothing,” said Poppy. “Just the sound of the house settling.”

  The footsteps walked back the other way.

  “I think it’s a person,” said Rolly. He sounded interested, but not scared. “Maybe it’s a bu
rglar.”

  Poppy was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone in the house.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “How could a burglar get in without us seeing him?”

  “Maybe he broke in before we got home,” Rolly said. “Maybe he’s been hiding upstairs. Maybe he was just waiting until we were home alone before he came out. Now if we had a dog—”

  Bingo cocked his head and gave Rolly a hurt look.

  “Be quiet, can’t you?” Franny said, forgetting to whisper. “Will, go upstairs and see what’s making that noise.”

  “You’re the one in charge,” Will pointed out. “I think you should go upstairs. After all”—he gave her an evil smile—“you’re the oldest.”

  Franny bit her lip. Then she tossed her head. “All right, I will,” she said, standing up. “But someone needs to come with me.”

  Poppy glanced at Will and Henry. Neither of them looked too eager to serve as backup, but they also clearly didn’t want to look like cowards.

  Will slowly pushed back his chair. “Fine,” he said. “But you’re going first.”

  Henry picked up a cast-iron pan from the stove. “I’ll bring this,” he said. “Just in case.”

  As they tiptoed into the living room, Poppy took Rolly’s hand. “Come on,” she whispered.

  He pulled his hand back and gave her a scornful look. “I’m not a baby,” he said.

  Together they brought up the rear.

  Franny had only gone halfway across the living room when she stopped so suddenly that Will bumped into her.

  “Watch it!” she hissed.

  “You were the one who stopped,” he said, forgetting to whisper.

  “Shh! Look.” She pointed to the rocker that sat by the front window.

  It was moving all by itself.

  Poppy felt a shiver race down her backbone. She swallowed hard. “It’s a draft,” she said. “That’s all.”

  With a long, low creaking sound, the closet door swung open.

  Franny made a little whimpering sound, and even Will took a step back, treading on Henry’s toes.

  Henry was too unnerved by the closet door to protest. “It looks like there might be something inside the closet,” he whispered.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Poppy said, more loudly than she meant to. “I told you, it’s just a draft. The air came through that crack in the window, making the rocker move, then flowed across the room—”

  “And then opened the closet door,” Will whispered. “Funny kind of draft.”

  “I don’t like this,” Franny whispered. “I think we should—”

  The lights went out.

  Franny shrieked.

  The lights came back on.

  She shrieked again.

  “Stop yelling,” said Poppy, trying to sound calm. “You’re going to scare Rolly.”

  “I’m okay,” Rolly said. He had taken a seat on the floor and was petting Bingo, who was lying on the rug and looking up at him adoringly. “Franny can keep yelling if she wants to.”

  “No, she can’t,” Poppy said, shooting her sister a warning look. “It’s not helpful.”

  Franny opened her mouth as if to yell again. Henry said quickly, “Don’t worry. The lights flicker at our house when the power grid gets overloaded. It happens a lot during the summer, when everyone’s got their air conditioners on—”

  “Don’t talk to me about air conditioners!” said Franny. “And don’t try to make me feel better. There’s something going on, I can tell—”

  “Shh!” Will held up his hand for silence. “Listen....”

  Overhead, the footsteps had started again.

  “I don’t think that’s a draft,” Will whispered.

  Poppy stared up at the landing, where a hall light cast strange shadows on the walls. The footsteps were getting closer and closer....

  The telephone rang, making them all jump.

  “Well, come on,” Franny snapped. “Somebody answer it!”

  Poppy squared up her shoulders, then grabbed the receiver before it could ring again.

  “Hello?” she said.

  For one awful moment, she heard nothing except the sound of someone breathing.

  “Hello? Hello? Who is this?” Poppy asked, trying to sound calm.

  Then her mother’s voice said cheerfully, “Hello, dear! I’m just calling to make sure everything’s all right.”

  Poppy slumped against the wall in relief. “We’re fine, Mom.”

  Franny and Will let out the breaths they’d been holding. Henry sat down suddenly on the arm of the couch, as if his knees had suddenly given way.

  “Yes, we just finished eating … Of course we’ll wash the dishes … No, we’re doing fine … Have you found the vortex yet? … Oh well, if it was easy to find, it wouldn’t be a mystery, would it? … Okay, thanks for calling … See you later....”

  As soon as she hung up, Franny turned on her furiously. “What is wrong with you?” she cried. “Why didn’t you tell them to come home right away?”

  “Why?” Poppy asked. “Because a rocking chair moved a little bit and we heard the house settling?”

  “You were just as scared as the rest of us,” Franny said. “Admit it.”

  “No, I wasn’t scared,” insisted Poppy. “Because there’s nothing to be scared of! You’re just letting your imagination run away with you—”

  Suddenly a bone-chilling moan echoed through the house, followed by a series of strangled yelps and the sound of heavy footsteps walking down the upstairs hallway toward the stairs.

  “I suppose that was my imagination, too!” Franny cried, grabbing Will and pulling him in front of her.

  “What are you doing?” asked Will.

  “Making sure that whatever’s up there gets you first,” she said. “It might give me a few seconds to run away.”

  “Thanks a lot, Franny,” said Will, wrenching out of her grasp. “It’s good to know that you would sacrifice your own brother to save yourself.”

  The footsteps came closer.

  “Um, maybe we should all run,” Henry suggested, edging toward the front door. “That way we wouldn’t have to worry about who gets killed first.”

  Poppy’s heart was thumping, but she didn’t turn her gaze away from the shadowy landing above them. “Wait,” she said. “Look. Up there.”

  The shadows were thickening and swirling about like a thundercloud.

  Rolly put his head on one side and stared unblinkingly at the dark foggy shape. “That’s what the Phantom in the Crypt-O-Mania video game looks like,” he said. “The one that likes to eat up all the people.”

  Will forgot the ghostly presence manifesting on the stairs long enough to say, “No, it’s more like the Spectre of Doom. You don’t battle him until you get to level twelve—”

  “Forget your video games, for heaven’s sake!” Franny said. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all going to die!”

  As the rest of them watched, the shadows gradually formed into a figure of a man. He began to walk down the stairs, getting one step closer, then two, then three....

  Will squeezed his eyes shut, Franny put her hands over her face, and Henry took hold of the doorknob, ready to fling open the front door so that they could all escape. Only Rolly and Poppy kept watching as the figure descended three more steps until it stood next to a wall sconce. The light fell across his horrible, staring face and his mouth that was stretching open, ready to emit another guttural moan.

  “What are you doing here?” demanded Poppy, her hands on her hips.

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  “Ah, well you might ask!” Chance Carrington smiled as he floated down a few steps to stand halfway down the stairs. “We’ve come to stay with you, dear children.” He paused and looked around. “What a lovely home,” he said with a sigh. “This will do quite nicely.”

  “Quite nicely for what?” Will asked suspiciously.

  Chance stretched out his arms and beamed at them all. “For our
new home, of course. Ah, it’s good to be back among the living!”

  This was greeted with several seconds of silence.

  “You mean you’re … haunting us?” asked Franny.

  “Oh, that word,” said Chance, making a slight face. “It’s so, so …”

  “Distasteful.” Agnes’s tall, thin figure flickered into view near the bookcase. She gave them a stern look over the top of her spectacles. “Unpleasant. Offensive. And, worst of all, technically inaccurate. Ghosts are said to ‘haunt’ a place where they used to live or, perhaps, where they died. However, we were able to follow you—”

  “Agnes!” Bertha’s round figure suddenly appeared at the foot of the stairs, glaring at Agnes. “That’s enough.”

  “Oh, of course, you’re quite right,” Agnes said, blushing. She turned to the bookshelves, peering at the titles to cover her confusion. “Hmm, I’m glad to see you have Dickens … oh, and Shakespeare … excellent....”

  Poppy sighed. “I suppose your friends are going to be here any minute?”

  “Naturally,” Chance said, lifting his chin haughtily. “One must always travel with one’s entire cast....”

  One by one, the other ghosts had materialized. Buddy sat on the bottom step of the stairs with his guitar, Peggy Sue found an uncomfortable-looking perch on top of the grandfather clock in the living room, and Travis had straddled the banister at the top of the stairs.

  “This is so great,” Henry said, his eyes filled with glee. “Nothing like this has ever happened on our block. I bet nothing like this has ever happened in the whole state of Texas.”

  “It’s not great,” Franny said. “For heaven’s sake, don’t you know what happens when ghosts take over your house? You can’t invite friends over because of all the groans from the attic, you have to wear a sweater all the time because you keep walking into cold spots, no one gets a good night’s sleep, thanks to all the mysterious laughter echoing off the walls—it’s horrible!”

  “Nonsense,” said Chance. “You will scarcely know we are here.’”

  Franny crossed her arms. “Really,” she said in her most sarcastic voice. “What about all that stomping around upstairs and those weird noises that sounded like a cat trapped inside a bagpipe? Was that an example of scarcely knowing you’re here?”