R. L. Stine_Mostly Ghostly 03 (9 page)

No streetlights here. And no lights in the windows of the old mansion. The scrape of my boots as I made my way up the long driveway was the
only sound I heard, except for the whistle of the wind through the quivering bare trees.

No sign of Mr. Morgo, at least. But what would I find inside? Were Nicky and Tara still here?

I slipped on a patch of ice. Caught my balance. Then, breathing hard, crunched my way along the side of the house.

Squinting in the darkness, I saw a low window near the back. The glass had been broken out. I stopped when I heard voices inside.

My heart started to pound. Sliding my boots over the snow, trying not to make a sound, I crept up to the window. Moving slowly, carefully, I peeked into the house—and let out a gasp of horror.

Ghosts—at least a dozen of them.

I saw a young boy with his eyes missing and a gaping hole where his nose should be. His lips flapped as he made a crazy jabbering sound.

He floated beside an old woman in a long, tattered gray dress. She was bald—and I saw long brown worms crawling over her scalp in place of hair.

One ghost had his head tossed back. His face was rutted with deep red scars. His yellow eyes rolled wildly as he stared at the ceiling, and he laughed at the top of his lungs, laughed without stopping.

Two young girl ghosts floated beside him. They
had clumps of dirt clinging to their clothes. When they raised their arms, I saw that the skin had rotted off their hands. Their bony fingers cracked loudly as they balled them into fists.

And in the middle of these ugly ghosts … trapped in the middle … I saw my two frightened friends, Nicky and Tara.

TARA GRIPPED NICKY'S ARM
tightly. They both were trembling with fright. The ugly ghosts floated in a line now, laughing and hissing, whispering and jabbering. They backed Nicky and Tara up against a wall.

Flickering candles provided the only light. As I stared through the window, the ghosts appeared to fade in and out of the dancing shadows.

A tall, frail-looking ghost in overalls and a torn flannel shirt scratched his peeling scalp. His eyes glowed red in the candlelight, and he gave Nicky and Tara a cold, toothless smile.

Another ghost had half his face missing, the skull poking through on his left side.

I leaned on the windowsill and stared in through the broken window. I saw two bearded, scarred, scowling ghosts hold up two silver life pods.

Nicky and Tara glanced frantically around the room. I knew they were searching for a way to escape. But they were backed against the wall, and the ghosts pressed closer and closer.

“We’ll keep you two inside these life pods for a while,” a deep voice said.

And then I saw Mr. Morgo appear in the middle of the line of ghosts. His dark coat swirled around him. His hat was pulled low over his blond hair.

The bearded ghosts raised the life pods out toward Nicky and Tara.

“Let us go!” Tara cried in a high, trembling voice. “We can’t help you.”

“We’re telling the truth!” Nicky shouted.

Morgo shook his head. “You’ll be very comfortable inside a pod. Your parents kept
us
inside them—until Phears came along and stole the pods and set us all free.”

He floated closer to Nicky and Tara. “Have you had the pleasure of meeting Phears?”

Nicky and Tara didn’t answer. They both stared in horror at the life pods, shimmering in the flickering light.

“Why not make it easy on yourselves?” Morgo said. “Tell us where your parents are, and we’ll let you go.”

“We
told
you!” Tara cried. “We don’t know. I swear!”

“We came here to ask you,” Nicky added. “We hoped that
you
could help us find them.”

The ghosts all laughed—chilling hoarse laughs that sounded like coughing.

Morgo was the only one who didn’t laugh. He kept his icy blue-eyed stare on my two friends. “Well, why don’t we just keep you snug and safe in one of these pods,” he said. “And we’ll all wait for your parents to come looking for you.”

“No, please—” Tara begged.

“We can’t help you. Really,” Nicky said. “Don’t make us go inside those things.”

Morgo didn’t reply. He nodded to one of the bearded ghosts. The ghost pointed his pod at Nicky and Tara.

I watched in horror as my two friends floated up off the floor. They both screamed. They were being sucked into the life pod.

They thrashed their arms and tried to twist their bodies free. But the force of the pod seemed too powerful.

Nicky and Tara screamed again, more faintly this time. They started to shrink. The pod pulled Nicky closer. His head was about to disappear into the silvery pod.

I gripped the windowsill. I knew I had to do something.

But what?

Could I distract the ghosts? Give Nicky and Tara just enough time to escape?

I had to try.

Holding on to the sill, I started to pull myself through the open window.

But before I could move, I felt a sharp stab of pain in my back. I’m hit, I thought. The ghosts got me. I’m hit. …

I let out a startled gasp—and slid to my knees in the snow.

I HEARD LAUGHTER BEHIND
me.

The pain faded quickly. I spun around—and saw the Wilbur brothers’ grinning faces. Billy and Willy came running across the snow, heaving snowballs at me.

The snowballs were hardpacked and icy. A sharp one had hit me in the back.

“I don’t have time for this!” I shouted.

Inside the house, my friends were in terrible trouble. I didn’t have time to waste on a snowball fight with the Wilburs.

“Go away! Get away!” I screamed.

Furious, I picked up one of their ice balls and heaved it back at them. Billy ducked and it sailed over his head.

He pulled back his arm, launched a big snowball at me—and it flew through the open window of the house.

A shrill scream burst out the window. A ghostly wail.

The Wilbur brothers dropped their snowballs.
Their eyes bulged in fright. “Who screamed?” Willy asked. They both stared at the house.

Another long, loud howl of pain floated from inside.

“I’m outta here!” Billy cried.

Slipping on the snow, the two Wilburs took off running. Willy's cap blew off his head, and he didn’t stop to pick it up.

I watched them disappear through the scraggly hedges at the front of the yard. Then I turned to the window and peered inside.

To my surprise, one of the bearded ghosts was doubled over in pain. I watched him frantically brushing snow off his chest.

The other ghosts were frozen in place, watching the bearded ghost's struggle. Nicky and Tara backed themselves against the wall.

What happened here? I asked myself.

What happened?

And suddenly, it became clear.

I spotted a snow shovel leaning against the side of the house. I ran over to it, grabbed it, and hurried back to the window.

Bending low, I plunged the shovel into the deep snow and filled it. Then, using all my strength, I heaved a huge pile of snow high into the window.

I heard cries and screams. Howls of pain.

But I didn’t stop to see what was going on in there. I dug the blade in again, deep into the
snow—and swung another shovelful into the room. Then another. Another. Not stopping to take a breath. Making the snow fly fast and hard.

More screams rang out. Shrill wails of pain and terror. And then the screams were drowned out by a sizzling hiss. It reminded me of fried eggs and bacon crackling on the stove.

As I heaved in shovel after shovel, I remembered Tara's pain when she was hit by snow. Remembered how it had burned her. And I remembered how the snow had burned Morgo, too.

And I remembered the words that Lulu had murmured to Nicky and Tara:
“Colder than the grave.”

That's what it would take to defeat these ghosts. Something colder than the grave. Like
snow!

Yes! I listened to the sizzling hiss. The sound of ghosts burning, burning in pain. And knew I had melted them all, melted them with something
colder than the grave.

My arms ached. Sweat poured down my face.

Silence now. The sizzling had stopped. No more ghostly howls and screams of pain.

I lowered my hands to my knees and struggled to catch my breath. My gloves were soaked. My chest ached.

I grabbed the windowsill and hoisted myself up. I squinted into the flickering candlelight.

No one in there. No sign of the ghosts. Except for the two silvery life pods on the floor.

“Hey—anyone still here?” I shouted in.

No reply.

I’d done it. I’d destroyed the ghosts. But … wait!

“Oh noooo!” I let out a horrified moan.

The evil ghosts were all gone.
But so were Nicky and Tara!

A HEAVY FEELING OF
dread slid over me. I stared into the empty room, watching the shadows dart and dance.

Only shadows. No one left.

“Nicky? Tara?” I called their names. “Are you here? Please—be here!”

No reply.

I sighed and tried again, shouting their names. But no. They weren’t here.

Why hadn’t I looked? I’d heaved all that snow into the room without aiming it. Without thinking. I’d destroyed the evil ghosts—and my friends along with them.

With another long, sad sigh, I lowered myself into the house. The room smelled smoky. It smelled like our kitchen after Mom burned the roast.

I spun around, searching for any clue that Nicky and Tara might still be here, any clue that they might be okay.

My boots bumped one of the life pods on the floor.

Yes! The life pods!

Excited, I grabbed them both up and lifted them close to my face.

“Nicky? Tara? Are you in there?” I shouted at the top of my lungs into the pods.

Silence.

I carried the pods over to a candle and examined them in the light. I turned them over and over in my hands. I shouted my friends’ names again.

No. Nicky and Tara weren’t trapped inside.

With an angry cry, I tossed the two pods to the floor. They hit hard and bounced away.

Nicky and Tara were my best friends, I realized. They tried to help me in school. They tried to make me a braver, more popular person.

Yes, my best friends …

They had come to me for help. They were frightened and alone, and they’d asked me to help them find their parents.

And what did I do?

I
murdered
them. I murdered my best friends.

Furious, I kicked a pod against the wall. Then I dragged myself to the window, climbed back out into the wind and the blowing snow. And I trudged, head down, to the bus stop.

I rode the bus to Powell Avenue. I was so unhappy, so lost in my thoughts about Nicky and Tara, I almost missed my stop.

The heavy clouds had rolled away. A yellow full moon shone down, making the snow gleam like gold.

I started to pass Traci Wayne's house when I saw her in the front yard. All the tree lights were on, making her yard nearly as bright as day.

Traci waved to me. She had a bunch of friends with her. “Hey, Max,” she called. “We’re building a snow house. Want to help us?”

Huh? Traci Wayne was inviting me over? Inviting me to join her friends?

Normally, I’d go nuts, maybe do a few cartwheels, scream and beat my chest like a gorilla.

“No thanks,” I called.

You don’t murder your friends and then go build a snow house—even if your friends were ghosts.

I lowered my head and kept walking. Crossing the street, I stepped into a deep snowdrift, and icy snow poured into my boot. I hardly noticed.

All the lights were on in my house. I knew Mom would be angry because I sneaked out when she’d told me to stay inside.

I sure didn’t feel like eating anything. My stomach was knotted and heavy as a rock.

I knew my family would be in the kitchen. So I sneaked in the front door and crept silently upstairs to my room. I didn’t want to see anyone. I
closed the door behind me and locked it. Then I clicked on the light.

Blinking, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. Then I turned to the bed—and let out a cry.

“What are
you
doing here?”

I STARED AT NICKY
and Tara, sitting side by side on my bed. They both smiled at me. “What's up, Max?” Nicky said.

“You—you’re
alive
!” I screamed. “You’re okay! You—you—you—” I couldn’t get the words out. I was so happy, so thrilled to see them.

They leaped off the bed and we all jumped up and down. And then we ran around in circles and did a crazy dance and then jumped up and down again.

Finally, we collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. “You’re alive! The ghosts are dead, and you’re alive!” I cried.

“Well … we’re not exactly
alive,
” Tara said.

“But we’re still here, thanks to you,” Nicky said, slapping me a high five.

“We got out of there as soon as the snow started to fly,” Tara said. “We knew it would be a massacre. We ran like crazy!”

“How did you figure it out, Max?” Nicky asked. “I guess they don’t call you Brainimon for nothing!”

We slapped some more high fives. I was starting to come out of my shock.

“I … I almost
killed
you,” I said, shaking my head.

“Hey, no problem,” Nicky said. “It turned out okay—right?”

“And we learned a lot,” Tara said. “Those silver pods. Our parents used them to imprison ghosts.”

“Yeah. Ghosts can shrink and live inside those things,” Nicky said. “Mom and Dad used them to hold the evil ghosts prisoner.”

“They almost put
us
in one,” Tara said. And then her mouth dropped open. “Hey!”

Suddenly, Nicky and Tara were both staring hard at me.

“Max, the pod you wear around your neck,” Tara said. “Your mother gave it to you—right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. She found it on the floor the day we moved into this house. She put it on a chain and gave it to me for good luck.”