“We’ll have to put it all back together!” Amy said. “And it was so much hard work in the first place!”
Chris groaned. “We haven’t got a choice. Let’s get back to work.”
Just then a low growl came from the edge of the woods. They whirled to stare. There, standing in the path they had made, was a huge black dog. His lips were pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. He took a step toward them.
10
“DON’T MOVE!” CHRIS MURMURED. The dog took one step and stopped. The stiff hair on its neck bristled as it growled low in its throat.
Carefully, slowly, while keeping his eyes on the dog, Chris bent and picked up a pine branch that was about three feet long with brittle clusters of needles at one end. It was splattered with small lumps of pitch. “Hold this,” Chris said to Amy.
From his pocket he pulled the tinder box and opened it. The dog raised his head and moved a step closer to them. It stared into Chris’s eyes.
Chris held the flint and steel under the dried needles on the branch and quickly struck them together. Sparks flew, the needles and pitch caught, and fire suddenly blazed, turning the branch into a torch.
Chris dropped the flint and steel and grabbed the branch. He ran toward the dog, holding the branch ahead of him. “Get out of here, Shadow!” he shouted. “Go away!”
Like an echo, far up the hill, a cry came. “Shadow! Come!”
Instantly the dog disappeared.
Amy plopped down. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. My legs won’t hold me up.”
“While you’re down there, will you pick up the flint and steel for me?” Chris asked.
“Thanks for the sympathy,” Amy said.
“I was scared, too,” Chris said. He stuck the unlit end of the torch in the sand. The blaze had lasted only a few seconds, but the end of the branch continued to burn.
Amy put the flint and steel in the tinder box and handed it to Chris. “Shadow was going to attack us.”
Chris looked toward the woods where Shadow had appeared. “I don’t think ghosts can attack people.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, ghosts don’t have bodies. They’re just—just—whatever ghosts are made out of.”
Amy dusted off the seat of her jeans. “That doesn’t sound like a good scientific explanation.”
“Trust me,” Chris said. “Shadow can’t attack you. He’ll just appear or disappear, but he can’t do anything physical.”
Amy spread her arms wide. “Then how about this mess? He was able to do this to the wood we’d collected for our bonfire.”
Chris thought a minute. Then he said, “Maybe Amos did it.”
“Amos told us he couldn’t go to the island with us. It couldn’t have been Amos. And besides,” Amy said, “Amos is a ghost, too.”
“Why would Shadow do it? He’d want to get rid of us.”
“It’s pretty obvious,” Amy said, “that whoever did it doesn’t want us to leave.”
“So we have to find out why,” Chris said.
“I just want to get off this island. I don’t want to find out.”
“Finding out may be our only answer to getting off the island.”
“How are we going to do that?”
Chris glanced at Amy. “You aren’t going to like my idea, but I think we ought to go to the Hanovers’ house and look around again.”
“You’re right. I don’t like it. I hate it.” Amy shook her head. “The house was a mess of broken stuff. The only thing we found that was important was this journal. Besides, to get to the house we have to go back through that creepy woods.”
“It isn’t a very big woods.”
“I won’t do it,” Amy said.
“Maybe we can go around it,” Chris offered. “Let’s walk along the water’s edge and see if there’s some sort of break in the woods.”
Amy scowled. “I guess I’ll agree to that. But you have to promise we won’t go into the woods.”
“You can call it,” Chris said. “We won’t go into the woods unless you say so.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
Chris glanced at the small bundle in Amy’s hand. “Why don’t you leave that journal here?”
“Something might happen to it.”
“It’s wrapped in that oiled paper. Even if it rains it will be protected. Why don’t you wedge it in a branch of a tree?”
“Because,” Amy said firmly, “I want to take it with me.” She looked at the sky. “The clouds are so yucky and dark, it looks like it’s going to rain again any minute.” She tucked the wrapped journal under the belt on her jeans. “Okay,” she said, “I’m ready to go.”
Chris picked up the torch.
“Your torch is still burning,” Amy said. “That’s great! We can take it with us.”
“The pitch will keep the wood burning,” Chris said. “But pine burns fast. The torch won’t last much longer. It’s not worth taking.” He turned it and stuck it upside down in the sand, snuffing out the glow.
Chris walked along the shore in a southeasterly direction. Amy was right on his heels. At times a lone pine grew right at the water’s edge, and they had to climb and scramble over and around it. The shoreline was rocky, and twice Amy stumbled.
Chris jumped from a rock to a patch of flat land that created a small cove. He heard a splash and Amy’s shout.
“That does it!” she said. “Now I’ve scraped my elbow on that rock!” She sat down on the ground, pulled a tissue out of her pocket, and wadded it against her elbow.
Chris bent to examine the wound. “I’m sorry, Amy,” he said. “Is it bleeding very much?”
“No,” Amy said, “but it stings. How far do we have to go?”
Chris leaned back against the embankment, which was as high as his shoulders. He was sorry Amy had hurt her elbow, but he was glad for a chance to rest a moment. “Not too far,” he said.
“I don’t mind being here by the water,” she said, as she twisted to examine her elbow. “But I don’t like the woods. I get the feeling there are things in the woods—like bugs and whatever else lives in the woods—rats? Skunks?” Amy looked up at Chris and the edge of the woods beyond him. She dropped the tissue she’d been holding, and her mouth opened wide.
“Oh!” she whispered. “Chris, don’t move!”
“What—” he started to ask, but Amy slowly got to her feet.
“Don’t talk! Don’t make a sound!” she said. “There’s a snake up there on the ground near your head. I don’t know if he’s poisonous or not. He’s awfully close to you. If you move he might strike.”
She quickly bent and picked up a stone, then edged toward Chris, a step at a time. “When I say go, drop as fast as you can,” she murmured.
Chris tensed and watched his sister move into position. She slowly raised the stone. “Go!” she shouted.
He threw himself on the ground and heard a plop as the stone landed.
“Did you get him?” Chris yelled. He scrambled away from the bank and got to his feet.
“No,” Amy said, “but I scared him. He slithered off into the woods.” She made a face. “Yuck! I hate snakes! What would they be doing on this island? What do snakes eat?”
“Rats,” Chris said, then wished he hadn’t.
Amy gave a yelp. “I knew there were rats on this island!” She shuddered. “I don’t think Aunt Jennie is going to want to use this place for her guests.”
“Rats and snakes can be exterminated,” Chris said. “They’re no problem.”
“What about the ghosts? Are you going to figure out a way to exterminate them, too?” For a moment Amy looked as though she was going to cry. “I want to go back to the inn.”
“We will,” Chris said. “But for now we have to go just a little farther.”
“How much farther can we go? We must be almost at the opposite side of the island by this time.”
“Not quite.”
Amy looked up at the woods. “All I
can see are trees. And it’s steep. We’re at the back of that hill.”
“Want to climb it?”
“No! That snake’s in there! And so are his relatives and friends!”
Chris climbed on a boulder at the other side of the little cove and looked ahead. “It’s that or go back,” he said. “We can’t make it along the shore anymore. There’s a steep, straight drop from the woods down to the water. At the bottom of the cliff are jagged rocks.”
“If we go back,” Amy said, “we might find Shadow there again. But if we go through the woods we don’t know what we’ll find.”
“We’ll find the house,” Chris said. He tried to sound positive and reassuring.
“Are you sure you’ll know the way?”
“The island isn’t that big, Amy. We can’t get lost. If we head into the woods here and go west, we’ll come to the house.”
“Which way is west?”
“Amy! Trust me.”
“Shadow won’t be expecting us to come from this direction, will he?” Amy asked.
“That’s what I told you.”
Amy managed to scramble up the bank at the edge of the woods. Clods of dirt slid from under her feet. “It’s slippery,” she said. “Be careful when you climb up here. That bank feels as though it’s going to collapse.” She picked up a small branch and flourished it in the air. “This is for hitting snakes and rats and…and…other things with,” she said.
Chris fell the first time he tried to climb the bank. Finally he reached as far as he could across the top, dug in with his fingers, and finally managed to make it to the top.
“Find a stick for yourself first,” Amy said.
With the number of small branches that had fallen, it took Chris only a minute to find one just the right size.
“It’s getting darker,” Amy said.
“Because you’re in the woods.”
“I’m hungry, Chris. What time do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. Don’t think about food. It won’t help.”
Chris wished that he had a wristwatch. His stomach rumbled, and he also wished he had thought of bringing something to eat.
The trees seemed to close around them, and Chris got the uncomfortable feeling that they were being wrapped in a damp, musty blanket.
“I don’t like this,” Amy murmured. “Chris, something’s all wrong!”
“Don’t get panicky,” Chris said. “Don’t let your imagination get out of hand.”
“Chris!” Amy’s words came in short gasps. “Something’s following us! It’s behind us!”
Chris could feel the back of his neck begin to prickle, but he tried to remain calm. “We’ll be all right as long as we stick together,” he said. He stopped and turned around.
But they weren’t together. Amy was running as fast as she could away from Chris and up the hill.
11
AMY CRASHED THROUGH THE underbrush, not caring about the noise she was making. Chris stumbled after her. The ground was slick with damp needles, and running was difficult.
“Amy!” he yelled. “Wait!”
One moment she was ahead of him. The next moment she had disappeared.
“Amy?”
He came to a rise and stopped. Below him the ground sloped steeply downward, ending in cliffs high above the water. To his left was a bank of rough limestone rocks.
“Amy?” he called again. “Where are you?”
Surely she hadn’t fallen down that slope! He would have heard her call out, and the carpet of moss and pine needles that blanketed the slope would have been disturbed. She hadn’t run back past him. But how could she have gone farther? Chris heard his own heart pounding again. What if something terrible had happened to Amy?
He edged closer to the jagged limestone bank and saw that the ground was level in front of the rocks for a width of about two feet and a distance of about twenty feet. He couldn’t go down the steep slope, but on his left was the wall of limestone. Had Amy, in some mysterious way, managed to climb the rocks?
Chris edged along the level strip, facing the steep drop, his back to the rough bank. He had traveled about ten feet when suddenly someone grabbed his arm and pulled.
He was yanked off balance, staggering against the rock, which seemed to open up and swallow him.
“Hey!” he shouted.
“Be quiet, Chris! Don’t make so much noise!” Amy said.
She let him go, and he saw they were standing inside a narrow opening to a cave. From what he could see, the cave was deep. The light from outside illuminated part of a high, wide room. One side was littered with dirt and clumps of grasses and pine boughs, as though it had caved in. A trickle of water ran down the other side and disappeared into the floor of the cave.
Amy frowned at him. “It’s no good hiding here if you’re going to make so much noise.”
“If you didn’t want me to make any noise, you shouldn’t have grabbed me like that! What did you do that for?” Chris snapped.
“Because you were going right past the opening to the cave, that’s why!”
“I was scared to death, anyway. Why did you run away?”
“I didn’t run away. I just did what you told me to do.”
“I told you we’d be all right as long as we stayed together.”
Amy backed up against the rough rock wall and stared at Chris. “No you didn’t. You told me to run to the cave as fast as I could.”
“I couldn’t have.”
“But you did. I heard you clearly.”
Chris held Amy’s shoulders and looked at her carefully. “Are you trying to kid me? Because if you are, it isn’t funny.”
“I’m not kidding,” she said. Her eyes opened wider. “Chris! Are you telling me that you weren’t the one who said it?”
Chris shook his head. “How would I know there was a cave here to run to?”
“Oh. Well, because—uh—I guess you wouldn’t.” Amy gave a shiver and looked toward the entrance of the cave. “Then who said it?”
“What did the voice sound like?”
“I don’t know. It was just—a voice.”
“A man’s voice?”
Amy shrugged. “No.” She slid to the floor of the cave and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Chris, I just don’t know.”
Chris glanced around the cave. “Someone wanted us to come into the cave. I wonder why.”
“It’s cold in here.” Amy shivered.
“Where’s your sweater?”
“Back on the beach, I think.”
Chris glanced at the slide at one side of the cave. “Look at that,” he said. “There are some good, dry pine branches with lots of pitch in them. Why don’t we light one?”
“Good idea!” Amy scrambled to her feet. “It will make us feel warmer, at least.”
Chris had already picked out three of the limbs. He put one aside, took the tinder box from his pocket, and squatted next to the branch. He worked until sparks flew out and one end of the branch flared up.
He stood, picking up the branch carefully, holding it aloft. The roof, with its jagged stalactites, glittered in the light. The floor was uneven, pockmarked with small holes. Here and there a stalagmite grew under a steady drip from the roof of the cave. As he moved with the light, the wall seemed to move, too, leaping into brightness or shadow.
“Amy,” Chris said, “the cave goes way back here.”
“Don’t leave me,” Amy said.
“I’m not. Don’t you want to explore a little, as long as we’re here?”
Back in the shadows Chris saw something shine, then wriggle away in the darkness. Another snake? Chris didn’t want to know, and he hoped Amy hadn’t seen it.
“Not yet,” Amy said. “For one thing, we don’t know why we’re supposed to be here. And for another, I think it’s time to read some of Amelia’s journal.”
Chris walked back to where Amy was seated on a rock near the entrance, the journal unwrapped and open on her lap.
&nb
sp; “Another voice telling you what to do?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Just something I want to do.”
“We can’t stay here, Amy.”
“I know. But I have the feeling there’s an answer for us in this journal. I only want a few minutes to look. Okay?”
“Well,” Chris agreed grudgingly, “I’d rather look for answers in the cave.”
“Ten minutes,” Amy said. “That’s all I want.”
“You know I haven’t got a watch.”
“Then I’ll tell you when ten minutes is up.”
“You haven’t got a watch, either.”
“But I’ll know,” Amy said. “Now, hold the light over this way a little, so I can read.”
Chris held the limb close to Amy, but not close enough so that a drop of pitch might hurt her. Now and then a bubble of the pitch sizzled as the wood burned, and occasionally a spark flew from the branch. Chris was glad he knew so much about surviving in the wilderness. He never thought his knowledge would come in so useful. “Are you starting at the beginning?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “At the part where Amelia came to Missouri to marry Joshua Hanover.” She paused. “Amelia didn’t spell very well, and her handwriting is kind of spidery with curls on the letters. It’s hard to read.”
“Then why don’t you give it up and come with me to see what’s in the rest of the cave?”
Amy held up a hand to hush him. “Listen to this, Chris. She’s writing here about the property. ‘The pasture is wide and thick with grasses, which makes good grazing for the horse. The river beyond the house and woods is a valuable source of fish, and the woods provide fuel for the stove and fireplace. All is plentiful and good.
“ ‘I have discovered a quiet place, unknown to Joshua and Shadow. It is here I sometimes come when I have a few free minutes during the afternoon, when work is not too pressing. It is here I come when I want to think my own thoughts and to write them in this little book. It is my cave. My very own place. I am secure here.’ ”
Amy rested the book on her lap. “This cave must be the one Amelia wrote about,” she said.
Chris found he was eager to hear more. “What else does she say about the cave?”
Haunted Island Page 6