by R. L. Stine
“I don’t like to pretend,” I insisted. “I’m too old to pretend.”
I heard the flapping sound overhead again. It had to be a bat. With a shudder, I let my eyes follow the dark tracks. They rolled out straight for a while before beginning their steep climb.
“When do you think the ghost will come out?” Ashley asked, leaning over the safety bar.
“There’s no ghost,” I muttered for the hundredth time. “This is one bet I’m going to win.”
“We’ll see,” Ashley replied. “You sure you don’t want to sit down?”
I started to reply, but stopped when I heard the loud clanking sound.
The clanking grew louder. The tracks groaned.
“Hey!” Ashley cried out.
I gaped, frozen with horror as the roller coaster cars started to move!
“Help me!” Ashley called from the front of the first car. “James—help!”
9
“Oh, no!”
I uttered a choked cry as I stared at the cars clanking over the tracks.
The cars were starting to pick up speed. In a few seconds they would make it past the platform.
And so would Ashley.
I saw that she had climbed to her feet and was struggling to climb out.
“James—help!”
Forgetting my fear, I started to run after her, my sneakers slapping the concrete platform.
The empty cars clattered noisily as they bounced over the tracks.
Could I get to her in time?
A few feet from the platform edge, I reached out with both hands.
She grabbed them.
I tugged—and pulled her from the car as it rolled out of sight.
We staggered back over the platform, breathing hard.
I could hear the empty cars making their climb up the steep first hill of the tracks.
“Are you okay?” I asked Ashley.
Her hair was wild around her face. She tugged it back with both hands. “I—I couldn’t get out,” she stammered. “My foot was caught and—”
We both could hear the empty cars rolling above us on the dark tracks. The sound of the clattering wheels echoed eerily off the empty platform.
“Why did the cars start moving?” Ashley asked. “There’s no one around. This is so creepy, James.”
I looked for the usual excited gleam in her eye. But this time I saw only fear.
Hearing another sound, a loud thunk, we turned back to the far end of the platform.
And there, through the shadowy light, dancing in the billowing curtain of fog, we saw a figure bent over the controls.
The ghost?
10
Ashley grabbed my arm. Her hand was as cold as ice.
Staring across the long, mist-covered platform, we saw him. Even in the dim light we could make him out clearly, his white beard, his long white hair hanging down over his shirt collar.
He wore big, old-fashioned-looking overalls over a black, long-sleeved sweater. His hands were on the control levers. His head was lowered in concentration.
He hadn’t seen us.
Could he see us? I suddenly wondered.
I’ve read a lot of science-fiction stories. If he were a ghost from another dimension, I knew he might not be able to see us or communicate with us.
He might live in a totally different world.
But then, how did he get the roller coaster cars to run? I asked myself.
Ashley was still gripping my arm. I had to pull her hand away. She was squeezing so hard, she was hurting me.
“I—I think I just won my bet,” she stammered, staring straight at the white-bearded ghost.
“Let’s get out of here!” I whispered.
I turned to start down the ramp. But Ashley didn’t follow.
I glanced back to see her frozen in place, her hands tensed into tight fists, her eyes wide with fright.
“Ashley—come on!” I called in a loud whisper.
And then I saw the ghost raise his eyes from the controls.
He saw Ashley first. Then me.
He stood up quickly, dropping his hands from the levers. He slid out from behind the control box and took a step toward us.
“Come here!” he boomed.
11
I swallowed hard. “Ashley—let’s go!” I cried.
She didn’t move. She stared straight ahead at the white-haired ghost as if she were hypnotized or something.
“Come here,” he repeated in his deep, booming voice. “Both of you.” The command echoed off the platform walls.
I hesitated at the top of the ramp. I wanted to run, but knew I couldn’t leave Ashley alone.
“Ashley, please!” I pleaded.
But I saw her begin to move toward the ghost.
“Come over here,” the ghost commanded again, waving both hands.
I took a deep breath and followed Ashley. A loud clatter startled us both. It took me a short while to see that it was the empty roller-coaster cars returning from their trip.
“How did you kids get in here?” the ghost asked. His body shimmered in the fog as if he were part of the mist.
As I edged closer, I could see his steel-gray eyes, almost silver. They peered at us sharply beneath heavy white eyebrows.
He was an old man, but powerfully built. He stood straight and tall like a much younger person. He had a broad chest beneath the overall bib, and big, strong-looking hands.
He was solid. Too solid to be a ghost, I told myself.
Ashley and I were only a few feet from him now. A gust of wind made his long white hair flutter. The wind whistled eerily down the dark tracks.
“We—we accidentally got locked in the park,” Ashley told him.
He stared at her suspiciously. Then he turned his strange gray eyes on me. “What’s your name, son?”
“James Dickson,” I replied quickly. I pointed to Ashley. “She’s my cousin. Ashley Franks.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the old man said. “I’m P. D. Walters.” He stretched out his hand to shake with each of us.
His hand was warm and dry. It didn’t feel like a ghost hand.
I was beginning to think that maybe Ashley hadn’t won the bet after all.
“What does the P.D. stand for?” Ashley asked, studying the old man’s face.
“Pretty Dumb!” he joked. He let out a bellowing laugh that made his massive chest heave up and down. “At least, that’s what most folks say.”
Then, suddenly, all the humor left his face. His gray eyes lost their sparkle, grew dull and thoughtful. He rubbed the heavy white beard. “You kids are going to get caught,” he murmured.
Was it a threat or a warning? I couldn’t tell.
“What do you do here?” Ashley asked, ignoring his comment.
“Test the cars,” he replied, pointing to the train of empty roller coaster cars.
“At night?” Ashley asked.
P.D. nodded. “At night.”
“You mean you work here?” I blurted out. My voice sounded strange. Tight and shrill.
“You might say that,” P.D. answered.
“Have you ever seen a ghost here?” Ashley demanded suddenly.
P.D. let out another bellowing laugh. Then he made his way back behind the controls.
He didn’t answer Ashley’s question, I realized.
“So you work here every night?” Ashley asked, stepping up in front of the control panel.
“Just about,” P.D. told her. He rested his hands on the two long metal levers that stuck up from the electronic box.
He cleared his throat, then raised his eyes to hers. “I’ve been coming here for over sixty years,” he said. Something in his voice sounded sad to me.
Then I remembered something. “Whoa! Wait a minute,” I said. “Kings Island hasn’t been here for sixty years.”
“I know,” P.D. replied softly. His eyes dimmed. He frowned. “It’s sort of a long, sad story.”
“Tell us!” Ashley insisted eagerly.
&n
bsp; P.D. leaned his bulky weight against the platform wall. He motioned for us to come closer. Ashley and I stepped up to the control box.
He scratched his white beard slowly, staring first at Ashley, then at me, as if trying to decide whether to tell his story or not.
He cleared his throat again, a low rumble that started deep in his chest. “Before Kings Island, there was another park on this same spot,” P.D. began. “It was called Firelight Park. That’s because the park was lit by thousands of burning torches.”
“Wow!” Ashley exclaimed. “That must have been beautiful!”
P.D. nodded solemnly. His eyes watered over. His expression remained sad. “It was beautiful,” he said softly. “When I was younger, much much younger, I thought it was the most beautiful spot on earth.”
“And it was right here where we’re standing?” I asked, shoving my hands deep into my jeans pockets.
The old man nodded. “Many years ago.” The wind ruffled his hair. He gripped the control levers. “When I was young, I spent as much time as I could at Firelight Park. I loved the lights, the exciting rides, the carnival shows. I liked being part of the crowds, the happy crowds.”
He sighed, a sad sigh. Then he shut his eyes and remained silent for a moment.
The fog seemed to circle around him in the dim light. His white hair and beard shimmered like wisps of cloud around his solemn, wrinkled face.
“Nothing beautiful lasts,” he murmured softly, opening his gray eyes. “One horrible night it was all gone.”
Ashley and I stared at him. His eyes became as dull as the fog. His broad shoulders slumped forward.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Tornado,” P.D. muttered. “Came without warning. A violent tornado. It swept over the park. It toppled the torches, the thousands of torches. In minutes the entire park was ablaze.”
He shook his head sadly, his eyes focused far away, remembering.
“People died,” he continued. “Hundreds of people died that night. In minutes the park was gone. Gone forever.”
I swallowed hard. “Were you there?” I asked. “Were you there the night of the tornado?”
P.D. nodded. “Oh, yes,” he replied, sighing. “I was there. June 15, 1931. It isn’t a date I shall ever forget.”
Ashley and I exchanged glances. I was suddenly cold all over.
I tried to imagine another amusement park, in another time, over sixty years ago, on this very spot. A park filled with the light of thousands of flickering torches.
I tried to imagine how it could disappear forever in one swoop of a tornado.
But it was too frightening to think about.
P.D.’s voice broke through the chill air. “Now I work here at night,” he said quietly, “testing The Beast.”
Suddenly his expression changed. A thin smile formed on his lips, and his gray eyes lit up.
He pointed to the empty roller coaster cars. “Want a ride?”
“Huh?” Ashley and I hesitated.
“Maybe we should get going,” I said.
“But it would be awesome!” Ashley exclaimed. “Riding The Beast at night through the fog. The only ones on the entire ride!”
“Go ahead. Climb in,” P.D. urged. He raised his hands on the long control levers. “Go ahead. I’ll give you a good ride.”
“Ashley, I don’t think we should,” I pleaded. “I really think—”
I stopped when I saw the beams of yellow light moving toward us.
Flashlights. Flickering over the pavement, approaching the ramp. At least four or five of them.
Security guards.
“They—they’ve found us!” I stammered. “We’re caught!”
P.D. pointed to the front car. “Quick! Jump in!” he cried. “Hurry!”
12
Ashley and I took off for the empty car.
I could see the flashlights darting closer. The yellow fog lights cut through the thick fog like lasers. Behind the lights I could see the shadowy figures of the guards.
I reached the cars first and dived into the front seat. With a breathless cry, Ashley scrambled in behind me.
“Hey, stop—” I heard a guard shout.
“Stop them!” another guard cried.
As the safety bar slammed down, I heard the pounding footsteps of the guards as they moved toward us.
But then the footsteps were drowned out by the clatter of wheels as our car pulled away.
We bumped along the track. Ashley and I bounced hard, gripping the safety bar with both hands.
Bright lights invaded my eyes, blinding me for a moment.
“There they are!” I heard a guard shout.
“Stop them! Stop the ride!” another guard cried.
The bright lights rolled over Ashley and me, and then disappeared.
“Whoa!” I shouted as the car tilted up, tossing me back against the seat.
“We’re climbing!” Ashley cried. “This is so cool!”
Up, up we climbed through the darkness. I waited for my eyes to adjust. The yellow glare of the guards’ flashlights lingered in my eyes.
The car creaked as it climbed, pressing us back against the seats. Gazing up, I saw nothing but fog blanketing the sky.
“We got away!” Ashley shouted happily. “James—we got away! This is totally awesome!”
We may have gotten away, but only for a few minutes. When the ride ended, the guards would be waiting for us on the platform.
I started to remind Ashley of this fact. But before I could get a word out, we reached the top of the steep hill—and the car went roaring straight down over the dark tracks.
“YAAAAIIIIIII!"”
We both were screaming our heads off now.
It was the most amazing feeling. Plunging through the darkness. All alone. Just the two of us.
The car swung sharply and tilted hard, tossing us together. Then we bounced hard up a sharp incline. The car then straightened out and picked up speed.
I gripped the safety bar and stared out at the dark trees as they flashed by. Limbs poked out of the fog like bony black arms. Clouds of fog floated over the tracks.
The wind rushed at my face, cool and wet.
We both screamed as we plunged into a low tunnel. When we shot out, the fog appeared thicker. Heavier.
It seemed to wrap itself around us. Move with us.
We were part of the fog, swirling, floating, spinning around the tracks.
Ashley became a dim shadow beside me. We were both dim shadows now. Shadows inside of shadows. Plunging through the wind, through the heavy, wet wind, through the pulsing, throbbing darkness.
The ride would end soon, I knew.
But I didn’t know what awaited us. I couldn’t know the terror at the end of the tracks.
13
The car slowed, then rolled to a stop.
Ashley and I sat without moving for a moment, breathing hard, waiting for the dizziness to fade.
I turned to the platform, expecting to see the bright flashlights and the dark figures behind the lights.
But the platform lay dark and empty.
“Hey—they’re gone,” I whispered.
“The guards? They’re not here?” Ashley asked breathlessly.
We stood up and climbed out of the car. Ashley was pushing back her thick hair with both hands. My legs felt kind of wobbly, but my head was clear.
I gazed down the long, dark platform—and realized that the fog had disappeared.
“Hey!” I cried out, startled. “Ashley, look!” I pointed up to a sky full of twinkling stars.
“Huh?” She didn’t catch on at first.
“How did the fog lift so fast?” I demanded. “A few seconds ago it was so thick, we couldn’t see!”
Ashley shook her head. “I don’t get it. Where’s P.D.?”
I was so startled that no guards were waiting for us, so surprised to stare up into a clear sky that I had forgotten all about him.
I turned toward the control p
anel at the front of the platform. “P.D.?”
No one there. The control box stood in darkness.
Ashley and I gazed up and down the platform. We were the only ones there.
“Weird,” she muttered.
I suddenly heard music. Very faint. Floating over the soft night air.
Ashley heard it, too. “It sounds like someone playing an organ,” she said.
“The park is closed,” I reminded her. “Who would be playing music now?”
“Let’s check it out,” she said.
We made our way off the platform and through the exit area. As we walked, the music grew louder.
Over the music I could suddenly hear voices. Laughter. Kids shouting.
“What’s going on?” I cried.
We made our way through a narrow gap in a wooden fence—and stepped into a bright, crowded scene.
Flickering torches on tall poles marked both sides of a wide boardwalk. I saw a row of low game booths, brightly painted signs, food stands, long lines of people.
But it all looked different. It all was totally changed. The park. The people. Everything.
“James—” Ashley cried, grabbing the sleeve of my T-shirt. “This isn’t Kings Island. It’s weird. Where are we?”
She gripped my sleeve tighter as we both gaped in amazement.
“Where are we, James?” Ashley repeated shrilly. “Where are we?”
14
Our mouths open in surprise, we walked side by side, following the twin rows of torches. Past the game booths stood an old-fashioned carousel with pink and white horses spinning gracefully.
A high white building stood across from it. The sign over the wide entrance proclaimed ANGLUND’S WILD ANIMAL SHOW.
“Everyone is dressed so weird!” Ashley exclaimed.
I had to agree with her. I didn’t see anyone in jeans. Everyone was too dressed up for an amusement park. Most of the men wore dark hats. A lot of them were in sports jackets and ties. Their pants were baggy, pleated in front.
Two boys ran past in long brown shorts and striped T-shirts. They had heavy leather shoes on their feet. No sneakers.
The women and girls all wore dresses or skirts. The dresses were solid colors or flower prints and had big shoulders. Most of the skirts came down nearly to the women’s ankles.
