by Bill Myers
Melissa threw Jeremiah a look.
The little guy shrugged. “Guess they’re a bit too powerful.”
“Turn them down!” Sean yelled. “Turn them down!”
Once again Melissa signed to Doc, thinking she was telling her to turn down the power (or to add a large Coke to the Big Mac order).
And once again Doc cranked up the power . . . which increased the electrical hum and the light and—
“Duck!” Sean shouted. He dodged his head to the left and to the right.
“What?” Melissa shouted.
“The asteroids! They’re everywhere! Look out!”
“We’ve got him in the asteroid belt!” Jeremiah shouted. “That’s out past Mars. Cut power! Cut power!”
“LOOK OUT!” Sean shouted, bobbing and weaving. “There’s a huge one, dead ahead. It’s coming straight for-”
That’s just about the time the power pack blew.
The good news was Sean no longer saw a thing.
The bad news was no one else could see, either. Not only had the power pack blown, but it had managed to fill the entire lab with smoke.
Once again Doc’s invention had worked in a way that was better than she’d expected . . . but as usual, not in a way she’d intended.
*
“Sean,” Melissa called as she peddled her bike harder to catch up. “Sean, where are you going? This isn’t the way home. Sean?”
Sean knew he should answer her, but he also knew if he did, Melissa wouldn’t follow. And right now he wanted as much company as possible. Especially where he was going . . . especially at this time of night.
“Sean!” At last Melissa pulled beside him and Slobs. “Where are you going?”
They took one last corner and finally slowed to a stop. Fortunately, she had her answer. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one she wanted.
“The church?!” she cried. “You took us to the backside of the church?!”
“Yeah.” He gave a sheepish grin. “I thought we should check it out one last time. You know, before we go in and explore it tomorrow.”
“Explore it? You’re out of your mind!”
“What about the treasure and all that money? What about the mystery? What—”
“What about living?” Melissa interrupted.
“Come on,” Sean scorned. “It’s just some old church. Besides, you know what Dad says about there being no such thing as ghosts.”
“I also know what he says about trespassing and being out too late and sticking our noses where they don’t belong and—”
“All right, all right, I get the point,” Sean interrupted.
“But just think what we could buy with all that—”
WOOOOoooooo . . .
He stopped. An eerie wail came from deep inside the church. It lasted only a second before it was gone. Sean wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him. He threw a glance at Slobs. The fur on her neck stood straight up. He looked to Melissa. Her eyes were as big as saucers. So much for ears playing tricks.
Sean swallowed.
Melissa swallowed.
Slobs swallowed.
And then the sound returned. This time louder . . . and longer:
WOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo . . .
“Let’s get out of here,” Melissa whispered.
Taking her cue, Slobs turned and started to run.
“Slobs,” Sean whispered. “Slobs, come back!”
But Slobs was in no mood to stick around. She continued racing for home as fast as her legs could carry her.
“She obviously knows something we don’t,” Melissa whispered.
Sean was just about to answer when something caught his attention. A light. A flickering. It was inside, moving across one of the stained-glass windows. “Misty. . .” he whispered.
She followed his gaze.
WOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo . . .
“Let’s get out of here,” she repeated.
Sean said nothing.
“Sean, let’s go!”
But her brother had other things on his mind. Without a word, he lowered his bike and crouched low. The he darted for the bushes beside the back steps.
“Sean? Sean, are you crazy?!”
But Sean wasn’t crazy. Curious? Yes. Scared? You bet. But there was something stronger driving him— something more powerful than his fear or his curiosity. It was . . . the treasure. The thought of all that money. Actually, it was the thought of what he could buy with all that money.
“Sean . . . Sean . . .”
He really wasn’t worried about going inside alone. He knew his sister would follow. She’d hate it, of course. But not as much as she’d hate standing outside all by herself in the dark. He waited the usual 3.2 seconds and, sure enough, just like clockwork, Melissa dropped her bike and raced to join him.
He smiled. Little sisters—they could be so easy to manipulate.
When she arrived, she gave him a powerful slug in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
Little sisters— they could be so painful when you rile them.
WOooo . . .
“The howling,” she whispered, “it’s getting fainter.”
Sean craned his neck to look around the side of the building. “And the light. It’s moving off.”
“Good,” Melissa sighed in relief.
“Not good,” Sean said. “Whatever it is, it’s getting away. Come on!” He scrambled out of the bushes and raced up the back steps.
Of course, Melissa gave the required, “Sean . . . Sean . . . no way am I going up there.” And of course, in 3.2 seconds she was by his side.
Cautiously, they eased toward the back door. The very door that the faint wailings were coming from. The very door that Sean now pushed against. “Sean . . .” The very door that he secretly hoped was locked.
Creeeeaaak . . .
The very door that wasn’t.
“Sean . . .” Melissa whispered for the hundredth time. And for the hundredth time, he ignored her. He pushed open the door a little wider. It creaked a little more loudly. There was nothing inside, nothing but deep black darkness.
WOooo . . .
And wailing.
They both gulped. Then Sean saw the light again. Way in the distance. Only this time it was reflecting against a wall.
He motioned for Melissa to follow. “C’mon.”
“No way,” she whispered defiantly. “I’m not going in there.”
He glanced at her. The look in her eyes said she meant business. And deep inside he knew she was right. But he also knew that he couldn’t back down. Not now. It was in the Official Big Brother’s Handbook:
Never Let Little Sisters Think They’re Right. . .
Even When They Are
Besides, there was that treasure . . .
Sean took a deep breath to steady himself. He paused a moment to say a silent prayer, and then he stepped into the darkness.
WOOOoooooo . . .
Was it his imagination or had the wailing grown louder?
He took another step.
WOOOOOOOooooooooooooo . . .
The only way he could keep going was to think about the money. Who knows, maybe Melissa could get him a real nice hospital room with it.
He took another step.
WOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooo . . .
Or a real nice coffin.
He continued toward the light, inching his way through the darkness. It was important that he not hurry, that he make no sound. All he had to do was sneak up on it, ever so quietly, ever so silently, and—
K-RASH! K-RASH!
BANG, BANG
RATTLE, RATTLE
“SEAN!” Melissa screamed.
Normally Sean would have answered, but at that particular moment he was too busy fighting for his life.
First, there was the giant metal monster that had leaped under his feet, trying to make him fall. (Most people would think it was a mop bucket, but Sean’s thinker hadn’t thought that far.)
Next, the
creature tried to make him slip and fall by spewing out its toxic waste across the floor. (Most people would realize it was soap and water from the bucket, but Sean’s realizer hadn’t realized that far.)
And finally, there was the giant sticklike ghost with its stringy hair dripping deadly venom. (Hey, no one ever accused Sean of lacking imagination.) The creature threw him to the floor with even more K-RASHING, BANGING, and RATTLING.
For the briefest moment, Sean thought he was a gonner. But after rolling back and forth for several seconds (not to mention forth and back for several more), he finally got on top of the thing and wrapped his hands around its thin wooden neck in a deadly choke hold.
He would have killed that monster, too, if the lights hadn’t suddenly blazed on and he saw that he was holding a mop . . . the one that he’d pulled from the knocked-over bucket. . . that had spilled its watery suds all across the floor.
That was good news. Unfortunately, there was some bad . . .
“Misty,” he whispered harshly as he scrambled to his feet, “turn off that light!”
“I-I. . . didn’t turn it on,” she stuttered.
“Well, if you didn’t turn it on, who did?”
“I deed,” a craggy voice cackled from behind him.
Sean spun around. He wanted to scream and gasp and leap out of his skin, all at the same time. But it’s hard doing any of those things when you’re paralyzed with fear.
3
warnings
THURSDAY, 20:52 PST
A ragged old man with a glowing kerosene lamp stood in the doorway. He leered at them and chuckled. “Zo, you vant zee treazure, too, do you, matey?” His accent was so thick you could have cut it with a knife . . . or a pirate’s sword.
Sean continued to stare, his mouth hanging open.
Melissa wanted to answer, but she was too busy imitating her brother.
The grizzly old man broke into a near-toothless grin. “Veil, zee more zee merrier, zat’s vat I alvayz zay. Yez zer, zee more zee merrier.” He threw in another cackle (just in case there was any portion of Melissa’s skin not covered in goose bumps). Then he turned and hobbled back into the church, motioning for them to follow.
The last thing in the world Melissa wanted to do was follow. Unfortunately, she knew it was the first thing Sean wanted.
“C’mon,” he whispered.
(See what I mean?)
Melissa hesitated. She had lots of things planned for her life, and dying was not one of them.
“Will you c’mon!” Sean scowled and waved for her to follow.
Reluctantly, Melissa obeyed. But not before uttering the words that had become her trademark on nearly every case: “All right, but if we die, you’re going to live to regret it.”
They followed the old man down the hall and into the deserted sanctuary. It was pretty dark and spooky, with more than the usual amount of creaky boards, sticky cobwebs, and scurrying critter feet.
They continued through the sanctuary until they arrived at the front of the building. Then the old man turned and started to climb up the steep steps to the belfry.
Sean swallowed hard. He took a deep breath, and with a heavy sigh began to climb. Melissa did the same, but with a much heavier sigh.
They had nearly reached the top when Sean figured it might be a good idea to ask a question or two. “Where exactly are you taking us?” he asked. “Is this where you live . . . up here in the belfry? Are you the one responsible for all those flickering lights that people—”
Suddenly he came to stop. For as he stepped into the small room at the top of the stairs, he saw their old buddy Spalding.
“Oh no,” Spalding groaned. “It’s the Hunter brats.”
But Spalding wasn’t Sean’s only surprise. For sitting beside Spalding on a broken-down sofa were his two sidekicks—KC, a rough-and-tumble tomboy (despite her tiny 4’6” height), and Bear, who was as big as KC was small, and as dumb as . . . well, let’s just say he wouldn’t be winning any scholarships to Harvard . . . or to Sesame Street, for that matter.
“What are you guys doing here?” Sean asked.
Spalding scorned, “I assume our purposes are identical. We are here to retrieve the pirate’s treasure before Father destroys the premises.”
Melissa cleared her throat, but before she could say anything, the old man broke into another cackling laugh.
“Ah, zee treazure, zee treazure. Zer iz treazure here, all right. Yez, zer iz.”
Everyone grew silent, waiting for more. They weren’t disappointed.
“But you muzt be very carevul. You muzt bevare ov . . . ’’He threw a nervous glance in both directions and then continued. “You muzt bevare ov . . . ZEEG REEED.”
“Who?” Spalding asked.
“He iz not a who . . . he iz an it.” The old man lowered his voice. “ZEEG REEED. He iz a ferociouz beazt whoz appetite iz never quenched. He vaits in zee shadows, zearching for hiz next victim to devour.”
Suddenly the room grew very cold. No one said a word. Finally Melissa found her voice. “Who . . . who are you?” she ventured. “Are you a friend of this ZEEG REEED?”
The old-timer let out another cackling laugh. “ZEEG REEED iz nobody’z vriend.” With that, he turned to a beat-up suitcase on the floor, one that he’d been packing.
“But. . . who are you?” Melissa repeated.
He gave no answer as he resumed stuffing ragged clothes and odds and ends into the suitcase.
“He’s just some homeless bum,” KC sneered. Her voice had the delicate sound of sandpaper rubbing over broken glass.
Spalding nodded in agreement. “I advised him to vacate the premises before Father’s purchase of the church tomorrow and its subsequent demolition.”
“Zat’s right,” the old man cackled. “I am geetting out vhile zee getting iz good. And I vould advize you to do zee zame. Geet out vile you ztill can.” He slammed the suitcase shut and clutched it to his chest.
His eyes wildly scanned the belfry one last time until he suddenly broke out laughing. “But you von’t. You vill ztay and zeek zee treasure . . . until you—” he pointed a crooked finger at each of them—”until you are all deztroyed, until each and every one of you is devoured by ZEEG REEED.” After another cackling laugh, he turned and headed for the steps. “ZEEG REEED, ZEEG REEED . . .” he called as he moved down the stairs. “Bevare of ZEEG REEED!”
And then, just like that, he was gone.
FRIDAY, 08:00 PST
The following morning it was Sean’s turn to fix breakfast, which meant charcoal-burnt toast topped with chunks of frozen butter, along with cold cereal in dirty bowls. His speciality.
“So,” Dad said, staring at a mound of Fruity Flakes piled before him. “At least you know the light in the belfry was from a homeless person living there.”
Melissa nodded. “But we’re still not sure where all that wailing and moaning comes from.” She tried to slip Slobs her burnt toast under the table, but the dog was too smart to fall for it.
“And there’s still that treasure,” Sean added as he sat down to join them. “I mean, that’s the main reason we’re going back today, because of the treasure.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Dad said skeptically.
“Think of all that money we could be getting,” Sean insisted.
“That’s exactly what I am think—”
“We could become millionaires overnight. We could get Bloodhounds, Inc. all sorts of cool stuff. Buy whatever we want for the house, a couple big screen TVs for my room. Shoot, we might even take you out for dinner sometime.”
“As long as it’s Senior Discount Night,” Melissa teased.
Dad gave her a look, then grinned.
“But we can’t do any of that stuff if you won’t let us find the treasure,” Sean said.
Dad took a deep breath and looked out the window. Melissa knew these types of decisions were hard for him to make. Ever since they’d lost their mother to cancer a few months ago,
he didn’t like for any of them to take chances.
But Sean, in his usual insensitivity, didn’t notice. Instead, he’d begun his world famous begging routine. “Please,” he whined. “Just think what we could do with all that money, with all that wonderful, cold, hard cash.”
“Easy, Sean,” Melissa said, “you’re drooling worse than Slobs.”
“Hey, it doesn’t hurt to want stuff.”
“Maybe it does,” Dad said as he finally looked back to him.
“What do you mean?”
Dad shrugged. “The love of riches can be a pretty dangerous thing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being rich, is there?” Melissa asked.
“I didn’t say being rich was wrong,” Dad answered. “But the love for riches, that’s what can be dangerous. In fact, it was Jesus himself who said, ‘Be on your guard against all kinds of greed.’ “
“Jesus said that?” Melissa asked.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Sean said.
“It does if you realize that greed can do weird things to you.”
“How so?” Melissa questioned.
“I’ve seen it make good folks bad and loving people hateful. I’ve actually seen it ruin lives.”
“Really?” Melissa asked.
Dad nodded. “The Bible says that real riches, life’s real treasures, lie in being friends with God. But I’ve seen the love for money take people’s eyes off God until getting rich became the only thing that was important to them.”
“You don’t have to worry about that happening to us,” Sean said.
Melissa turned to him with a smirk. “Is that why you practically got us killed last night?”
“What?”
“You said yourself that the treasure was the only reason we went to the church last night.”
“That was only part of it,” Sean argued.
Melissa gave him a look.
