Chapter 19. Muttering to himself, Simon Fear pulled his cloak around himself as he stepped into the evening darkness

M uttering to himself, Simon Fear pulled his cloak around himself as he stepped into the evening darkness. Having searched the entire house for his daughter, he decided to try the garden.

Sometimes Julia would completely lose track of the time, and Simon would find her on a bench in the garden, dreamily poring over a book of romantic poetry.

A pale crescent moon rose above the woods at the end of the back lawn. The sky was still a royal evening blue. A cool wind picked up and blew against Simon as he crossed the yard.

“Julia? Are you out here?” The wind threw his voice back to him. He pulled the cloak tighter.

The roses on the tall trellises bobbed in the gusting breeze. The wind howled through the trees.

Or was it the wind?

Simon stopped and stood perfectly still, holding his cloak in place, his head tilted as he listened intently.

What was that horrible howl? That pained cry?

Simon took a few steps toward the frightening sound. He stood near the family burial plot, his eyes narrowed, listening.

There it was again.

A frightening shriek. Like the cry of a trapped animal.

Another shriek, high-pitched. A moan.

Simon turned toward the gardening sheds at the fence. Has a wild animal gotten itself trapped in one of the sheds? he wondered.

Another mournful howl.

No. The sound was too close.

So nearby.

Simon grasped his cloak as another shrill cry rose on a gust of wind.

He stared down at the ground. It seemed as if the sound was at his feet.

“But that’s impossible!” he cried.

And then he realized that he was standing beside a freshly dug grave, the dark earth still mounded loose over the coffin.

Mr. Jenkins’s grave.

Another pitiful cry, a desperate animal shriek.

From the ground. From the grave.

Someone crying out from the new grave.

A girl.

Julia!

“No!” Simon uttered, terror choking him.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had picked up the shovel and begun digging into the earth.

His heart pounding, Simon frantically shoveled, the blade cutting easily into the soft dirt. Working feverishly, he tossed the dirt over his shoulder, digging down, down—until finally, when he felt his chest was about to burst, the shovel hit something solid. The lid of the coffin.

“Yes!” Simon cried and began digging wildly, scraping and shoving the dirt out of the hole.

So close! So close!

“I’m coming!” he screamed in a panic-filled voice he didn’t recognize. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”

He didn’t try to lift the coffin. Instead he tossed the shovel aside and leapt down into the hole.

With trembling hands he lifted the latch. Then, gasping loudly, his heart thudding against his chest, he pulled up the coffin lid.

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20