A Ghostly invitation

Our horrified cries rang out over the construction site. They echoed through the trees at the back of the yard.

April and Geena held onto each other. They both were sobbing, tears running down their flushed faces. Muttering to himself, Spider angrily kicked a clump of dirt across the ground. Delia shut her eyes and hugged herself.

I grabbed Eric’s arm and held on. I had the feeling my legs were going to collapse. I pulled Eric to the side. We both turned away from the sight of Kerry’s sneakers on the ground, his legs jutting out from beneath the heavy slab.

“First they kill someone. Then they leave a stupid note. It’s so sick,” Brendan said.

“We know who is writing them,” I said. “We saw them break into the house. But— why? Why are they killing us? What do they want?” My voice cracked again.

Eric moved away from me. I watched him walk off to be by himself at the side of the house. I could feel my panic rising, like the ocean tide climbing higher … higher. I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I was about to drown.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Brendan, studying me, his face filled with concern. “You okay?”

“No,” I said. “Not really.” A tear rolled down my cheek.

He held onto me. “What are we going to do?”

I couldn’t answer. I just stared at him. He looked totally lost. His eyes kept darting around crazily.

“I should ask if you’re okay,” I said. “You don’t look so good.”

I let out a short cry of surprise as he wrapped his arms around me and hugged me. His cheek felt blazing hot against mine. He let go quickly and turned away as if embarrassed. He didn’t say a word. I watched him walk over to Eric, taking long strides.

I rubbed my face. I could still feel the heat of his cheek on mine.

Weird.

That was not what I expected.

Eric turned to Brendan, his expression tense. His hands were balled into tight fists. “What are we going to do?” he demanded. “What is the plan here?”

Brendan lowered his head. “I don’t have a plan. I … I’m trying to think of a way to get us home safely. But…” His voice trailed off.

“Should we search the island?” Eric asked. “See if anyone else came here this weekend? Someone who could help us?”

“The island is empty,” Brendan said. “I know this for a fact. There are only eight other houses on the island. And a few fishing cottages. No one here.”

“But maybe someone left a boat we can use,” Spider said.

“The boats have all been taken up for winter,” Brendan answered. “And no one else has a catamaran or a boat big enough for all of us.”

“But even if there’s a canoe…” Spider insisted, rubbing a hand tensely through his curly brown hair. “Someone could take it to town and get help.”

Brendan shook his head. “No one leaves canoes out after the season.”

Kenny took a few steps toward Brendan. “We could break into a garage or a shed. Take a canoe.”

“That’s not as easy as it sounds,” Brendan told him. “We’d need tools to break locks.”

Kenny scowled at his cousin. “We have to try something. Do you want to get out of here or not?”

“I want to get away from here as much as you do,” Brendan said. “Think I want to stay here and watch us get picked off one by one? I’m thinking hard, Kenny. I’m thinking as hard as I can.”

Kenny took a few steps toward Brendan, as if challenging him. “And what are you thinking, Brendan?”

Brendan hesitated. “I’m thinking we need to stick together. We need to stick close together. Keep an eye on everyone.”

Kenny laughed … a harsh, scornful laugh. “Stick together? That’s the best you can do?”

“Take it easy, Kenny,” Morgan said. “Picking a fight with Brendan isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Brendan always was a wimp,” Kenny muttered. “Stick together. That’s the best Fearless Leader can do. Two people are dead. Someone is playing a game with us. Writing those notes. Someone thinks that killing us is … is … funny.”

Brendan sighed. “Patti and Kerry … They went off on their own,” he said. “I’m only saying it’s safer to stay with the group.”

“Maybe we could hide in one of the other houses or cabins on the island,” April suggested. “It wouldn’t be so hard to break into a house, right? We could hide till the new boat pilot arrives.”

“But what if there is no new boat pilot?” Kenny demanded.

The discussion continued, but I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I covered my ears with my hands. I had a loud buzzing in my head. Tension. Tension and panic.

I couldn’t stand there one more second. I couldn’t stand there seeing Kerry’s legs stretching out from under the slab. Kerry’s crushed body underneath.

I started to back away from the others. My head spinning, I reached the house and went inside. I pushed the door closed behind me. The buzzing in my ears faded. So did the voices of my friends.

Are any of us going to survive?

Are any of us going to get off this island and back to our homes?

I tried to force the questions from my mind. But how could I?

I gazed down the long hall, dark as a tunnel. I couldn’t hear a sound over the low buzzing in my ears. My throat ached again. I felt like I was choking. I had to get water.

I started down the hall, trying to remember how to get back to the ballroom. My legs felt unsteady as I walked. My knees wouldn’t work. I had to force myself forward.

I knew Brendan said we should stick together. But my throat was throbbing. I really needed water.

My footsteps scraped softly in the empty hall. I kept glancing from side to side, expecting someone to jump out at me. My parched throat throbbed.

I turned a corner, peered into the inky darkness—and stopped.

A thin rectangle of light escaped the room in front of me. The door was nearly closed. I froze and listened hard. My whole body tingled with fear.

Someone was in that room.

I forced myself to the edge of the doorway. Stepping into the beam of light, I pushed the door open a few inches more. Peering inside, I could see tall shelves of books against the wall. This was some kind of library or study.

I gripped the side of the door. I wanted to slide it open more so that I could see the front of the room. But in my fear, I slipped—and pushed the door all the way open.

I stumbled into the room—and stared at the woman behind a long table. I had to squint. She stood in a gray mist, as if the room was filled with fog.

She didn’t look up at the sound of my clumsy entrance. I gazed at her scraggly white hair down to her shoulders. She had tiny black eyes over a long, pointed nose. She wore a gray, high-necked blouse over a long gray skirt. Her face, her skin all matched, the same gray as her clothing.

She had no color at all. As if I was staring at a black-and-white photo. She kept billowing in and out of focus as I studied her through the mist.

She stood behind the table, head down, working on something. I focused on the table—and held my hand over my mouth to keep from uttering a cry.

The table was covered with animal parts. I saw squirrel heads and a pile of squirrel tails. A cat’s head. A stack of gleaming, round eyeballs. Claws. Paws. And a small, black dog’s body without legs.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stop myself. I took a step forward on trembling legs. And then another, watching her lowered head, her hand slowly moving back and forth.

As I drew closer, the fog seemed to lift. And I saw what she was working on so intently.

One side of her blouse was raised. And I could see a long, narrow opening in her skin under her ribs. She had a black needle in her hand—and she was stitching the opening in her body, sewing the skin together.

Victoria Fear?

The ghost of Victoria Fear?

I didn’t want to believe it. But there she was. I was watching her sew herself together.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But before I could make a move, she raised her gray face, the patchy white hair falling against her drawn cheeks.

She saw me. Her mouth tilted into a jagged smile. She raised the long needle, the black thread trailing beneath it.

“Come closer, dear.” Her voice was as dry as wind rattling dead, brown leaves. “Come closer. It won’t hurt for long. I promise.”

24.

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20