Another intruder. I finally found my voice

I finally found my voice. A scream burst from my throat. I spun away from her, that long needle and the slender rip in her side lingering in my mind.

I took off running, out the door, into the hall. My head spinning, the floor tilted up to meet me. Which way? Which way?

I finally remembered. I turned the corner and, breathing hard, ran full speed toward the back door. I didn’t slow up when I saw the other kids trudge into the house, led by Brendan.

Brendan stopped short when he saw me barreling toward him. His mouth dropped open. “Rachel? Where were you? What’s wrong?”

“Victoria Fear!” I cried breathlessly, gasping for breath, straining to get the words out.

Brendan hugged me. “Whoa. I’m glad you’re okay.”

The others stared in confusion.

I took a step back, my heart racing. “Victoria Fear! I saw her!” I cried. “A ghost. A ghost, Brendan. I saw Victoria Fear’s ghost.”

Brendan shook his head. “Rachel, I’m not getting this. You saw the security video. We have two murderers in the house. Why are you doing this ghost thing?”

“I … I saw her,” I insisted.

The others chimed in, everyone talking at once. “Rachel, did you hit your head?”

“You saw a ghost? Have you totally lost it?”

“Is she okay? Is she in shock because of Kerry?”

Brendan stepped forward and tried to pull me into another hug. But I pushed his arms away. The words burst out of me in a torrent. “You’ve got to believe me. I saw her. I saw the animals she was stuffing. And she was sewing … sewing herself up. Brendan, she—”

He pressed a finger over my mouth. “Show us,” he said. “Rachel, take a deep breath. Then show us. Take us there.”

I followed his instruction. I took a deep breath, held it in, then let it go. But it didn’t calm me. “She was a ghost, Brendan. I saw her. I’m not crazy.”

The other kids stared at me, murmuring to themselves. April stepped up to me. “You’re in shock, Rachel. We all are. But we can’t start seeing ghosts. We need to—”

“Show us,” Brendan repeated. “Show us the room. Where did you see the ghost?”

“It … it had all these bookshelves,” I stammered. “And she stood behind a long table.”

“The library on the first floor?” Brendan said. “Okay. Follow me.”

He took long strides down the hall. I hurried to keep up with him. The others followed, silent now.

We turned the corner. I saw the room, the door still open, the bright rectangle of light tilting out onto the hall floor.

“That’s it,” I whispered. “She’s in there.”

We stopped a few feet from the door, as if bracing ourselves for what we were about to see. Then Brendan and I stepped into the room together. We gazed at the tall bookshelves. Then we both turned to the front of the room.

I let out a sharp cry.

“There’s no one in here,” Brendan said.

The other kids had crept into the room and stood huddled against the bookshelves on the back wall.

“No,” I whispered. “I saw her.”

“No one here,” Brendan said, still staring at the front of the room. At the long table, which was bare. Completely bare. The dark wood gleaming under the ceiling light.

Brendan turned to me. I couldn’t read his expression. Was he worried about me?

“I didn’t imagine it,” I said. “She was in here. She had animal parts … A dog’s body. She stood right there.”

I turned and saw the other kids studying me intently. No one said a word. But I could read their thoughts.

Rachel has lost it.

Rachel is seeing ghosts.

Rachel is crazy.

“I’m not crazy!” I screamed. And then I turned and bolted toward the door. Without thinking, without even realizing what I was doing, I pushed past April and Geena, shoved them out of my way, and burst out into the hall.

I had to get away. I had to escape their eyes, their hard expressions, judging me, feeling sorry for me. Poor Rachel, who has lost her mind.

I ran blindly down the hall, turned, and kept running down another long hall. This one dark except for pale gray light filtering in from a high window at the far end.

I could hear Brendan calling my name, shouting for me to stop.

But I kept running.

Kept running until I saw something. Or someone.

A blur. Just a blur of color against the gray light. Someone crossed the hall up ahead of me. Someone running fast.

And I recognized him. Even in the darkness, I recognized him. But it was impossible. It couldn’t be.

Mac? Mac Garland?

No. No way.

Why would Mac be here?

“Hey—Mac?” I shouted his name. I took off, running again. “Mac? Is that you? I saw you!”

Did he follow me here?

Why?

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Mac. But I thought I recognized his straight, dark-blond hair. Recognized the way he stands straight up when he runs. (I once told him he ran like a giraffe.)

“Mac? I saw you! Mac?” My voice rang off the hallway walls, shrill and high.

Peering into the darkness, I slowed to a stop. No sign of him. I’d lost him somehow. Did I make a wrong turn? Was he hiding in one of the rooms?

I bent over and put my hands on my knees. I took a deep breath, then another, trying to get my heart to stop pounding.

I straightened up, my heart still racing. I gasped when I heard rapid footsteps. Hard thuds. Behind me. Coming fast.

“Huh?” I whirled around.

And saw someone running hard, hands outstretched as if to grab me. A man in a black mask.

25.

Дата добавления: 2015-07-20