Haunted Island (10 page)

Authors: Joan Lowery Nixon

“Okay!” Amy said, clapping her hands over her ears. “I believe you!”

She jerked up the heavy lid of the chest and propped it against the wall. Inside the chest were some cloths and towels and exactly what Amy was looking for—some neatly folded clothing.

She held up a brown cotton dress. “It’s kind of fragile, but I think it will hold together.” She slipped it over her head and turned her back to Chris. “Will you button it up for me?”

“It fits you,” Chris said. “Amelia must have been awfully short and skinny.”

“Thanks a lot,” Amy said. She twirled around. “I wish I had a mirror.”

Chris pulled some things from the chest, examined them, and shook his head. “There’s nothing in here that would fit me,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter,” Amy said. “This dress might be enough to get Joshua’s attention.”

“We’ll go outside,” Chris said. “Maybe it will help if we call him.”

Together they moved toward the door, but it suddenly slammed in their faces with a crash.

Chris pulled and tugged at the knob, but the door didn’t budge.

“Amy,” he said. “We’re locked in!”

A
MY WAS ALREADY CLIMBING
on top of the chest. “Then we’ll go out this way,” she said. She gingerly picked the slivers of glass from the window frame, dropping them on the floor. “Give me a boost,” she said.

Chris climbed on the chest, too, keeping his weight on the frame of the chest, hoping the top wouldn’t cave in. He boosted Amy up to the window. “Can you make it?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. She squiggled around so that she could go through the window feet first. “It’s not much of a drop to the ground.”

Her fingers let go of their hold on the frame, and he heard her land with a thud on the other side.

“Are you okay?” he called.

“Yes. Hurry!” she said.

Chris easily hoisted himself up and through the small window, jumping down to the ground.

“Hurry!” Amy whispered.

“What’s the rush?”

“Haven’t you noticed?” she said. “The light’s getting dimmer. I think pretty soon it will be dark.”

Chris studied the sky. “We’ve got about an hour,” he said.

“Or less,” Amy said. “Hurry! I’m getting even more scared! We can’t stay on this island after dark!”

Chris stepped away from the house. “Where to?” he asked. “Back to the graves?”

Amy shuddered. “I guess so. I don’t know where else to try to find Joshua. Do you?”

Chris took Amy’s hand and pulled her with him out into the pasture. “Let’s try something else. Let’s call him! I bet sometimes Amelia did that, when she wanted him to come for dinner or needed him for something.”

They yelled together at the top of their lungs, “Joshua Hanover!”

Then they listened. Not a sound could be heard on the island. Amy’s fingers tightened in Chris’s hand. “It’s getting dark fast,” she said.

“Faster than I thought it would,” Chris said. “But we’ve still got about half an hour.”

“And then what happens?” Amy asked. “Don’t ghosts have more power at night?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Chris said. “I never believed in ghosts until we came to this island.”

“Let’s yell again,” Amy said.

“You yell, and I’ll be quiet,” Chris said. “Maybe he’ll think you’re Amelia.”

Amy did, calling Joshua’s name over and over again.

Chris grabbed her shoulder. “There he is!” he whispered.

From up on the hill strode the long, scarecrow figure of Joshua Hanover, Shadow beside him. Even in the dim light of evening they could see the tormented expression on his face.

“I don’t think he likes it that I’m wearing Amelia’s clothes,” Amy said.

“But we did get his attention,” Chris said. He pulled out the gold chain.

Shadow ran toward Chris, snapping and barking.

“You’re not going to win this time,” Chris yelled at Shadow. He took a few steps toward Shadow, who didn’t have time to back up, and walked right through him. Shadow vanished.

Joshua stopped in front of them. Chris held out the gold chain to him.

But Joshua didn’t react as Chris thought he would. He stopped and gave a loud, agonizing cry. Again, he raised his fists high in the air, squeezed his eyes shut, and wailed, “Amelia!”

Amy, tears on her cheeks, cried out, “I’m not Amelia, Mr. Hanover! I’m Amy Holt, and I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“Come with us. Please!” Chris said to Joshua.

Joshua opened his eyes. “Betrayed,” he whispered to Amy. Then he turned toward Chris. He growled almost as Shadow had growled and came toward Chris with his hands outstretched, as though he was going to grab him and not the chain.

“Run!” Amy yelled at Chris. “Run toward the cave!”

The forest was so dark now it was hard to make their way through it, but Chris and Amy scrambled as fast as they could go. A few times Chris turned and saw that Joshua was following them. An evil smirk had replaced the anger. What did he plan to do to them?

They reached the edge of the slope and the path to the cave. The smoldering torch was a bright spot that marked their way. “Now what?” Amy asked. She leaned against a tree, panting for breath.

“Get behind the tree,” Chris said. “I’m going to lure Joshua into the cave.”

“He doesn’t understand what we’re doing,” Amy said. “I don’t think he knows that the chain belongs to Amelia.”

“But when he sees the journal and the money, he’ll know,” Chris said.

“Did you see his face? We didn’t mean to hurt him, but we did, and now he wants to hurt us.”

“We haven’t got a choice,” Chris said. “It’s the only thing left to do. Hurry up. Hide!”

Chris turned to see that Joshua was standing only a few feet from them. “Joshua,” he said. “Come with me.” Again he held out the gold chain.

For the first time Joshua seemed to see the chain. He looked puzzled. He took a step toward Chris.

“Look out,” Amy whispered. “Shadow’s guarding the cave!”

Chris picked up the torch. He slowly backed onto the level strip in front of the limestone bank. He edged his way toward the entrance of the cave. Joshua slowly followed him.

As he came close to the entrance Shadow suddenly leaped toward him. Chris flattened himself against the wall. “You won’t get me this time,” he yelled at Shadow.

Chris heard a growl over his head. He looked up to see Shadow at the top of the limestone bank. With teeth bared, Shadow jumped right at Chris.

This time Chris held the torch high, aiming it at Shadow. As the torch passed through the ghost dog, Shadow yelped and vanished.

Just two steps further and Chris was at the entrance of the cave. “Come,” he said to Joshua. “Come and see.”

He entered the cave and stuck the unlit end of the torch into a crack in the cave floor. It gave enough light so that the scattered coins could be seen. Chris hurried to place the gold chain just inside the large hole they had dug. If Joshua saw it he would be able to see the bones of Amelia’s hand.

Chris stood against the wall of the cave and wished he was invisible. He waited.

Where was Joshua?

Just when Chris was about to give up, the entrance to the cave became dark. From where he was pressed against the wall Chris could see Joshua peering into the cave.

A horrible cry echoed through the cave. Joshua’s ghost stumbled to its knees, and tried to scoop up handfuls of the coins. He moaned and muttered to himself, as Chris slowly edged closer and closer to the opening in the cave.

Then Shadow slunk into the cave like an evil shadow. Silently he slipped around Joshua and sat in front of the hole that Chris had dug, his tongue hanging out, a wicked look in his eyes.

“Oh no you don’t!” Chris yelled at Shadow. He picked up a small stone and hurled it at the dog.

Shadow, true to form, left his spot to snarl and threaten Chris.

Chris didn’t care. Shadow couldn’t hurt him. Joshua had seen the gold chain, and beyond the chain to the bony hand. Joshua’s wail bounced off the walls of the cave.

There was nothing more Chris could do. He hurried out of the cave and made his way along the track as fast as he could without stumbling. Amy was waiting for him and grabbed his arms, pulling him into the woods.

“What happened?” she asked.

Suddenly the cave seemed to explode with a gigantic roar. Chris and Amy were knocked off their feet by a swift rush of wind.

It was over almost as soon as it had begun. Amy raised her head. “What was that?”

Chris sat up. “Listen,” he said.

The forest had come alive with sound. There was a soft soughing in the pine trees, and a bird chirped somewhere over their heads. They could hear the splash of wavelets against the rocks and the motor from a boat far out on the river.

“Shall we go back to the cave?” Amy asked.

“Not now,” Chris said. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

He and Amy got to their feet. There was just enough daylight left for them to trace their steps back to the beach.

“Look at our pile of wood!” Amy said. “What happened?”

The pile was stacked high, as they had originally left it.

“Maybe when we thought it was scattered along the beach it really wasn’t,” Amy continued. “I mean, it might have been an illusion, and we thought—Well, it could have been that way. Or could it?”

“Stop talking to yourself and hold this,” Chris said, handing her a short stick of the pine. He pulled the tinder box from his pocket and set to work with the flint and steel. In just a moment the pine had caught. He thrust the flaming branch into the pile of logs and boughs, and the whole thing caught with a whoosh.

Chris and Amy stepped back from the blaze.

“Mom and Aunt Jennie will see the fire,” Amy said.

“They’ll send a boat,” Chris said. “I don’t think we’ll have long to wait.”

Amy sat on the beach, pulling her knees up and hugging her legs. She rested her chin on her knees. “I’m not afraid anymore,” she said. “I like the island now. It’s just the way it should be.”

“We’ll have a lot to tell everyone,” Chris said.

“They won’t believe us.” Amy sighed.

“But when they go to the cave they’ll be able to see the coins and the gold chain and—and Amelia,” Chris said.

“I mean they won’t believe about the ghosts and what they did. You can’t see ghosts.”

“But if we explain.”

“You didn’t believe in ghosts until you actually saw one,” Amy said. “Mom and Aunt Jennie and everyone else will just think we came over here, and our boat sunk, and we went exploring and found the cave and Amelia’s body. If we tell them about the ghosts they’ll just say that we have ‘lively imaginations.’ ”

Chris sat down next to her. “I suppose you’re right. Don’t you think anyone will believe our story?”

Amy shrugged. “Maybe someday we’ll write it down, and someone will read it and believe it.”

“Maybe,” Chris said. He could see the lights along the opposite shore. A few of them seemed to be moving closer. He thought he heard the motor of a boat.

“There’s just one thing I wish,” Amy said. She looked toward the bonfire. “I wish I had a marshmallow.”

A voice called from a short distance away on the water, “Amy! Chris! Are you there?”

The boat was coming closer.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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978-1-4532-8267-0

This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media

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