I was scared but not as scared as I’d been other nights. I didn’t know why all of a sudden Mom and Dad could see him, too, but it was great having them with us.
Somehow it seemed like this time everything might work out all right. If we didn’t make any mistakes.
“Wait, Carol,” said Dad as we got near the attic door. “Let me go first.”
The three of us stopped and Dad went ahead.
When the harsh light fell on him it took all the color out of his skin so he looked gray. It was weird and unsettling to see him like that, but he waved to let us know he was okay.
Mom gasped. “You stay here,” she said, hurrying after Dad.
But of course we didn’t. Sally and I had seen worse things than light that made you look dead.
At the bottom of the stairs we looked up. The light made us squint, but we could see Bobby clearly. He was standing on the stairs, hugging his teddy bear and shouting defiantly.
“That’s my mommy’s ruby. Grandma gave it to her and you can’t have it!”
“Give it to me, you little brat!” The unexpected voice cut right through us.
The voice was young but I recognized it anyway. It was the old witch—the way she sounded when she was the nanny. A voice trapped in the past!
Her voice gave me shivers, it was so cold and nasty. I was glad we couldn’t see her.
“No,” cried Bobby, clutching his teddy bear to his chest.
Then he screamed in fear and ran down the stairs.
It happened so fast we couldn’t get out of the way.
But the terrified child ran right through us. He didn’t even know we were there.
BONNNNG!
The grandfather clock struck!
38
Suddenly it came to me! I knew what I had to do!
“Hurry!” I shouted, scooping up Sally.
“Jason!” cried Mom. “What are you doing?”
“Come on!” I yelled over my shoulder. “No time to explain.”
I raced down the hallway and hurried downstairs to the first floor, moving a little slower with Sally in my arms.
BONNNNG!
The clock struck again, louder than I’d ever heard it before. The sound echoed, bouncing off the walls and floors, making the whole house shake.
Suddenly there was a sharp CRACK! of lightning and I saw Mom and Dad frozen on the stairs. Thunder rolled over the house and a terrible wind rushed the house from all sides.
I pushed Sally under the stairs, afraid the windows might blow in again.
Mom and Dad came running down the stairs to join us. “Jason, what are you doing?” yelled Mom over the noise of the wind.
BONNNNG!
I shook my head, shushing her with my hand. I strained my ears. With the crash of the thunder, the howling wind, and the rattling windows I was afraid I wouldn’t hear in time.
The clock struck again. The floor shook under our feet.
Then a grating voice pierced the air. “Give it to me!” shrieked the nanny. “It’s mine, all mine!”
“No,” screamed the little boy, sounding more terrified than defiant.
And then came the running footsteps. Footsteps hurtling down the hall as fast as they could go. Little steps, then big ones crashing after.
Lightning flashed through the house and thunder, shaking the walls. But the sound of the chase above our heads was more terrible.
“Oh, Jason, please help,” cried Sally, hiding her face in her blanket. “Nobody ever tried to save poor Bobby. He’s all alone!”
Suddenly there was a tug on my arm.
I was nearly jerked off my feet.
39
“Come on, Jason!” shouted Dad. “Carol, grab Sally! We’ve got to get out of here before this whole house comes crashing down on our heads!”
“No, Dad, wait!” I cried. But he was pulling me toward the door. If we left now it would never end, I knew it. Bobby would be stuck here forever—and part of us with him!
Besides, I wasn’t at all sure Bobby would let us leave. Not all of us, anyway.
Not Sally.
“We’ll discuss it outside,” Dad insisted, keeping his grip on my arm.
Sally struggled to get away from Mom, then broke free just as we reached the front door.
Sally raced back to the stairs. “Bobby!” she cried. “I’ll help!”
Trailing her blanket, she started up the stairs.
Horrified, I shook off Dad’s hand and went after her.
Seeing me, she went faster. Above us Bobby’s footsteps pounded. His thumping heart vibrated against the walls of the house.
I reached for Sally. She twisted to avoid me and tripped on the end of her blanket. I grabbed her with one hand and raced back down the stairs.
The walls wheezed in and out with each of Bobby’s sobbing breaths. Floorboards cracked under the heavy tread of the nanny who was chasing him to his death.
“We’ve got to save Bobby,” I shouted. “It’s the only way!”
Mom and Dad stared at me white-faced.
“How can we?” cried Mom. “The poor little boy is already dead. We can’t change that.”
There was no time to explain.
The running footsteps were right overhead. A floorboard crunched as the nanny reached out to grab Bobby.
“Quick,” I yelled. “Grab the blanket!”
40
Somehow they knew what I meant.
Between us we shook out Sally’s blanket and each of us held an end, so it was like a safety net.
All around us the house creaked and groaned. Plaster fell from the ceiling in huge chunks. Pictures dropped off the walls. Lamps crashed to the floor.
But none of us moved. We stood our ground.
Bobby screamed. There was a sharp CRACK! as his small body crashed through the banister rail.
Then a piercing scream of terror as the body we couldn’t see hurtled through the air headed right for us.
THUMP!
Something heavy but invisible landed square on the blanket.
The clock began to strike crazily but we held on for dear life.
I don’t know how long we stood there, rooted to the spot. But all at once we became aware of the silence.
The storm was over. And Bobby was really gone.
Slowly we lowered the blanket to the floor.
I stiffened. Mom gasped. There was a small lump under the blanket when we put it down.
Quickly I lifted the blanket and looked underneath. With a shout of surprise I whipped the blanket away.
There was an old teddy bear lying on the floor. A brown teddy bear with a raggedy, mended ear.
Sally let out a cry of delight and swept the mangy bear into her arms. She looked at me with a big smile.
“We did it,” she said. “We saved Bobby!”
Then something over my shoulder made her eyes go wide.
“Look!” cried Sally. “Look!”
My stomach churned as I whipped around.
And then a huge feeling of happiness, like a wave, washed right through me.
The living room mirror was glowing. Bobby looked out from the center of it, a smile of happiness on his face, his eyes lit up with joy. He was waving at us.
Behind him, deep in the light, were two figures running toward him. As they came closer we could see one was a man, one a woman, and both were dressed in outdated clothes.
For a second my heart lurched with doubt—could there be more people chasing poor little Bobby?
Then their faces came into view. They were the happiest faces I’d ever seen. Tears of joy streamed from the woman’s eyes as she fell to her knees and embraced Bobby. The man hugged them both, laughing for joy—although we couldn’t hear him.
“They must be Bobby’s mom and dad,” whispered my mother in awe, her own voice breaking.
The three ghostly images turned away from us. The parents each took one of Bobby’s hands and they all began to walk away into the light.
; Once or twice Bobby twisted around to smile at us again.
I had to blink hard to keep from crying myself.
As they disappeared into the light, the glow followed, fading away. But as the last of the light winked out we saw words burned into the surface of the mirror.
The words said:
THANK YOU AND GOOD-BYE.
Filled with peace, we stared into the mirror, all of us linking hands, unwilling to move and break the wonderful spell.
Then the phone jangled. We all jumped.
“Who on earth—” muttered Mom, heading for the door.
My nose wrinkled. A horrible stink was rushing into the room. The hairs on my neck prickled with dread.
The nightmare was starting all over again.
41
“What’s that smell?” asked Dad, cocking his head and looking worried.
“It’s the w—”
“Gasoline!” Dad exclaimed. “I smell gasoline.”
Just then Mom came running in. Even in the dark I could see her face had gone ghostly white. I knew what she was going to say.
“That was the hospital,” she told Dad in a stricken voice. “Miss Everett has escaped. Hours ago, they think. She may be on her way back here.”
“HAAAHAHAHAHAHEEEHEEEHAAAA!”
For a few seconds we were rooted to the spot as the old lady’s insane laughter stunned us, seeming to come from all directions at once.
Her evil voice came out of the darkness, gleefully taunting us, “I told you I’d be back!”
I whipped my head around but I couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from.
Dad sniffed and then I smelled it, too: smoke!
“Quick,” said Dad. “We’ve got to get out of here, now! Stay together.”
He spread out his arms and shepherded us all through the dark toward the front door. The smell of burning wood grew stronger and Sally began to cough and choke on the rising smoke, hugging the mangy teddy bear to her chest.
It was hotter in the front hall. Dad stopped us. “Stay here until I get the front door open,” he said, sounding strangely frightened.
Smoky sweat dripped into my eyes and stung.
Dad reached for the front doorknob. As he touched it, he let out a cry of pain, and at the same moment a tongue of flame darted from underneath the door and licked at his shoe.
There was a weird, quiet WHOOOSH! as if all the air was sucked out of the room, and suddenly the door exploded in flames, slamming us backward with a blast of fierce heat.
“Dave!” screamed Mom, darting right into the fire.
“Get back!” shouted Dad. “Head for the back door!”
But we couldn’t move. He pushed Mom away and fell out of the fire, rolling on the floor. Flames were shooting up his arm. Mom whipped off her bathrobe and beat at the flames until they were out.
“Dave, are you all right?” cried Mom.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Get going!”
Although his voice sounded strangled from the pain in his arm, he pushed us along the hallway. Behind us hot, orange light flickered, lighting our way.
Sally whimpered but none of us spoke. Dad’s raspy breathing sounded as loud as the angry snap of the flames, as if he’d run a mile.
Nobody saw the wire the old witch had strung across the hall. I fell over it first, landing hard on my elbow with Sally tumbling on top of me. Mom caught her foot and twisted sideways to keep from toppling onto me and Sally. She landed with a piercing cry.
Dad ripped the wire out of the wall as Sally and I scrambled to our feet. But Mom was taking a long time getting up.
“My ankle,” she whispered to Dad. “I think it’s broken.”
“All right,” he said. “Grab hold of my shoulder and I’ll lift you. Kids,” he said sharply to me and Sally, “keep moving. Wait for us outside by the cherry tree. Move! Now!”
I grabbed Sally’s hand and ran for the back door. It seemed a long ways away without Mom and Dad beside us. But there was no fire in the kitchen and the smoke smell seemed fainter.
I was afraid to touch the doorknob but I had to. Behind me I could hear Dad helping Mom along the hallway. I held my breath and reached for the doorknob. It was cool and turned easily.
Outside the night air was sweet and fresh. Sally and I breathed deep and waited for Mom and Dad.
“Come on, kids, get away from the house,” said Dad as he came out, half-carrying Mom. “It might go up at any second.”
He started down the slope ahead of us toward the cherry tree, Mom hopping and hobbling beside him.
“Let’s go, Sally,” I said, and reached for her hand.
But my fingers closed on air.
I spun around.
No Sally! She was gone!
Then I heard soft, vicious laughter from inside the house. “You thought you’d escape me,” whispered the evil old witch, sounding right beside my ear. “But you won’t get away. None of you will get away!”
42
I darted back into the house, shouting over my shoulder for Dad. The witch stood in the kitchen doorway, Sally clutched tight against her. Behind them was the flickering glow of the fire at the front of the house.
“Daddy!” cried Sally. “Mommy!”
“You’re all going to die,” crooned the witch, backing slowly down the hall. Smoke drifted around her, making Sally cough.
In her white hospital gown, the evil old woman looked like a ghost. But the ghosts were gone, I thought, shaking so hard with fear I could barely move. There would be no Bobby to come to save us now.
“You thought you could steal my teddy bear,” she hissed. Her wispy hair stood out from her head in patches and her fat white tongue roamed around her scrabby lips like a slug.
The witch took another step back. “For years I searched and waited and searched. And you thought you could just come here and take it from me!”
She grabbed at the teddy bear in Sally’s arms but Sally clung tight and wouldn’t let go.
“I’ll teach you,” growled the witch. “I’ll get you just like I got that other brat.”
“Bobby will save me,” said Sally, hugging the moth-eaten teddy bear. She squirmed but the witch grinned, showing her blackened teeth, and clutched Sally tighter.
The air was thick and hard to breathe. “Let her go and you can have the teddy bear,” I said, moving deeper into the house toward them.
She just laughed and plucked something out of her pocket. It was only when she flicked the end of the wooden match against her fingernail that I realized what it was.
And only then—too late—did I smell the gasoline all around me.
I dove, launching myself down the hall, and flinched from the tiny flame of the match as it sailed over my head.
WHOOOOOSH!
There was a soft, deadly sound as all the air rushed away. I felt myself being sucked backward. I felt the white heat before I heard the explosion of fire.
“Jason!” screamed Sally from far away.
I couldn’t breathe. My throat burned and my lungs felt full of needles. On hands and knees I crawled down the hall, feeling the fire leap higher behind me.
“Sally! Jason!” It was Dad, trying to get in. But the back door was a sheet of flame, the kitchen was full of fire.
We were trapped. There was no way out.
The old witch threw back her head and howled with glee.
Sally kicked with both feet and her heel connected with the old lady’s knee. The witch let out a yelp and Sally punched her in the stomach.
For an instant her claws relaxed their grip. Sally squirmed and was free.
“Go, Sally,” I yelled and started after her.
The witch leaped in front of me, her eyes fiercer than the fire. She’s only an old lady, I reminded myself as I kept going. Then she snatched up something from off the floor—a gasoline can.
That stopped me.
“Your little sister won’t be so pretty as a crispy critter, will she?” taunted the witch,
swinging the can so that gasoline spattered the floor between us. “She’ll never escape me. I’ll make a torch from her pretty blond hair. A blazing torch!”
The witch swung the gasoline can again. This was it! I lashed out with my foot and caught the can squarely, knocking it out of her hand.
Shoving her with all my might, I pushed past and raced after Sally, calling her name.
Flames licked the wall. The front door was no longer visible as the fire leaped high, nibbling at the ceiling. The smoke was so thick I could barely see my hand in front of my face.
“Sally!” I called.
“Jason!” Her voice sounded distant and I couldn’t see her.
Beside me the grandfather clock made a sighing noise. Startled, I whipped around just as the old clock was engulfed in flames. The face still watched me but all its old menace was gone. Now it just looked surprised as it melted away.
As the clock wobbled and crashed to the floor the smoke parted and I finally caught sight of Sally.
She was surrounded by a ring of fire.
I called her name again but it was like she didn’t hear me. She looked around wildly, her face white and her eyes big.
Then suddenly she ran right into the flames.
“Sally!”
I hurled myself through the fire after her, holding my arms over my head.
But she was gone. Choking on the smoke, I dodged a falling beam and fell.
As I looked up I saw Sally. She was on the stairs to the second floor, running up and still clutching that stupid teddy bear.
I called out in horror, knowing she couldn’t hear me. The upstairs hall wasn’t yet burning but I could see the glow of fire from the bedrooms. It was only a matter of minutes before the whole second floor went up in flames.
Scrambling to my feet, I rushed the stairs. Behind me somewhere deep in the house I heard my father calling.
I felt a leap of hope. “Dad!” I yelled. “Sally’s upstairs!”
My eyes searched the smoke for a glimpse of him. But suddenly something huge shot out of the dark and bowled me off my feet.
There was a shriek of triumph and the witch shot past me and scuttled toward the stairway. I lunged after her, grabbing for the hem of her ghostly gown.
The Final Nightmare Page 8
