22 - Ghost Beach Read online

  Sam’s smile faded instantly. “You did?”

  Louisa’s eyes grew wide with concern. “You… you didn’t go in there, did you? Please say no.”

  “No, I didn’t go inside,” I told them.

  “It’s really dangerous,” Louisa said. “You shouldn’t climb up there. Really.”

  “Yeah. Really,” Sam quickly agreed. His eyes burned into mine.

  I glanced at Terri. I could tell what she was thinking. These three kids really were frightened. They didn’t want to admit it. They didn’t want to talk about it.

  But they were terrified of the cave.

  Why?

  I only knew one thing for sure: I had to find out.

  11

  At dinner, we sat at the round table in the living room off the kitchen. Brad was tackling a piece of corn on the cob with his knife, trying to saw off all the little niblets so he could eat them with a fork.

  “Brad… uh… I was wondering about the cave,” I started, fiddling with my silverware.

  I felt Terri’s foot nudge mine under the table.

  “What about it?” Brad asked.

  “Well… uh… the strangest thing…” I hesitated.

  Agatha’s head turned sharply. “You didn’t go into that cave, did you?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “You really shouldn’t go into the cave,” she warned. “It isn’t safe.”

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about,” I continued. I saw that everyone had stopped eating. “Last night when I went to look for the beach towel, there was a light flickering inside the cave. Do you know what it was?”

  Brad narrowed his eyes at me. “Just an optical illusion,” he said curtly. Then he picked up his corn and began sawing again.

  “I don’t understand,” I told him. “What do you mean?”

  Brad patiently put down his corn. “Jerry, did you ever hear of the northern lights? Aurora borealis?”

  “Sure,” I said. “But…”

  “That’s what that flickering light was,” he said, cutting me off. He picked up his corn again.

  “Oh,” I replied. I turned to Agatha, hoping she’d help fill in the blanks. She did.

  “It happens at certain times of the year,” she explained. “Something electric gets in the air. The whole sky lights up in streamers.”

  She reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes. “More potatoes?”

  “Sure, thanks.” I felt Terri’s foot bump me again from across the table. I shook my head at her. Brad and Agatha were wrong. That couldn’t have been the northern lights. The light was coming from the cave, not the sky.

  Were they mistaken?

  Or were they deliberately lying to me?

  * * *

  After dinner, Terri and I walked along the beach. Wisps of gray clouds floated over the full moon. Shadows stretched and shifted in front of us as we made our way over the pebbly sand.

  “They lied to me,” I insisted to Terri, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my cutoffs. “Brad and Agatha are hiding something. They don’t want us to know the truth about the cave.”

  “They’re just worried,” my sister replied. “They don’t want us to get hurt up there. They feel responsible, and—”

  “Terri, look—!” I cried. I pointed up to the cave.

  This time Terri saw the flickering light, too.

  As we watched it floating above our heads in the cave entrance, the clouds covered the moon and the sky darkened.

  “It’s not the northern lights,” I whispered. “There’s someone up there.”

  “Let’s check it out,” Terri whispered back.

  Before we even realized what we were doing, we were climbing the rocks, pulling ourselves up toward the cave. It felt as if I were being pulled by a magnet.

  I had to get closer, close enough to see what was causing that strange, floating light.

  Behind us, the ocean waves crashed against the lowest rocks, spraying surf in every direction.

  We were almost to the mouth of the cave. I glanced back and saw that the beach lay far below. In the cave mouth, the light still flickered and floated.

  We pulled ourselves up the last few rocks and stood up.

  We found ourselves standing on a wide ledge. The dark cave loomed up ahead, towering over us.

  I peered into the cave opening. How deep was the cave? I couldn’t tell.

  Squinting into the dim light, I thought I saw a tunnel leading off to one side.

  I took a step closer. Terri moved up close beside me. I could see the fear on her face. She bit her lower lip. “Well?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  “Let’s go in,” I said.

  12

  My heart thudded as we stepped into the darkness. Our sneakers slid on the smooth, damp cave floor. I nearly choked on the sour, musty smell.

  “Hey—!” I cried out as Terri grabbed my arm.

  “The light—look!” she whispered.

  It flickered near the back of the cave.

  Staying close together, we took a few steps toward it. Our sneakers squished loudly. The air grew warmer.

  “It—it’s a tunnel,” I stammered.

  The cave narrowed, then curved away. The dim light flickered from around the corner, from somewhere deeper in the cave.

  I swallowed hard. “Let’s just go a little farther,” I urged.

  Terri lingered behind me. “That tunnel looks creepy,” she uttered in a tiny voice.

  I heard a soft cluttering sound somewhere up ahead.

  “We’ve come this far,” I urged. “Might as well go just a little bit farther.”

  Following the light, we lowered our heads and stepped into the tunnel. I could hear the drip drip drip of water nearby. The air grew even warmer, steamy.

  The tunnel curved, then suddenly widened into a deep, round chamber.

  I stopped as I heard the cluttering sound again. A soft flapping, fluttering sound. Growing louder.

  “What’s that noise?” Terri cried. Her shrill voice echoed against the cave walls.

  Before I could answer, the fluttering became a deafening clatter.

  “Nooooo!” My cry was drowned out by the horrifying roar.

  I raised my eyes in time to see the black cave ceiling crumble and fall over us.

  13

  “Noooooo!”

  I was still wailing as I hit the wet cave floor. I covered my head with both hands.

  And waited. Waited for the crashing pain.

  The clatter swirled over me. A shrill whistle rose up over the sound.

  My heart thudding, I raised my eyes—and saw the bats.

  Thousands of black bats, flapping and fluttering, swooping back and forth across the chamber, darting low, then twisting away.

  The ceiling hadn’t fallen.

  By entering their chamber, Terri and I had awakened the bats. They whistled and hissed as they swooped wildly over our heads.

  “L-let’s get out of here!” I cried, helping Terri to her feet. “I hate bats!”

  “This is why Brad and Agatha warned us away,” Terri cried, shouting over the roar of fluttering wings.

  We both turned to leave. But the flickering light at the far end of the chamber made me stop.

  Just a few feet farther. If we made our way a few feet deeper into the chamber, we could solve the mystery.

  And never have to think about this frightening cave again.

  “Come on,” I shouted. I grabbed Terri’s hand and tugged.

  The bats swooped and darted over our heads, cluttering and whistling. We ducked our heads as we ran under them.

  To the back wall of the chamber. Into another narrow, curving tunnel. I pressed my back against the tunnel wall and edged forward, still holding Terri’s hand.

  The pale light grew brighter.

  We were getting close.

  The tunnel opened into another large chamber, about the same size as the first chamber. Terri and I had to shield our eyes. The entrance glowed
with a bright, flickering light.

  I took a few slow steps in, giving my eyes a chance to adjust to the light.

  Then I saw them.

  Candles. Dozens of short white candles perched around the chamber on rock ledges.

  All of them lighted. All of them flickering.

  “So that explains it,” I whispered. “Flickering candlelight.”

  “It doesn’t explain anything!” Terri protested, shadows dancing over her pale face. “Who put the candles here?”

  We both saw the man at the same time.

  An old man with long, stringy, white hair and a beaklike nose. He sat hunched over a crude table made from a log of driftwood.

  Pale and terribly thin, his worn shirt hung loosely on him. His eyes were closed. Shadows played over him. He seemed to flicker in and out with the candlelight.

  As if he were part of the light.

  Part of the ghostly light.

  Terri and I froze, staring at him. Did he see us? Was he alive?

  Was he a ghost?

  His eyes opened. Large, dark eyes sunk deep in their sockets.

  He turned to us, stared back at us with those frightening sunken eyes.

  Slowly he curled a bony, gnarled finger. “Come here.” His voice was a dry whisper. Dry as death.

  And before we could move, he rose up from the chair and began to come for us.

  14

  I wanted to run. But my feet felt glued to the floor.

  As if the ghostly figure were holding me there, keeping me from escaping.

  Terri let out a low cry. She bumped me from behind.

  I think she had stumbled. But her bump got us both moving.

  I took one last glance back at the pale, flickering figure. His bony frame shimmered in the eerie candlelight.

  He started toward us, his mouth twisted into a strange grin. The dark eyes gazed at us blankly, like black buttons on a snowman.

  Then we turned and ran.

  Terri sprinted ahead of me through the tunnel, her sneakers slapping the wet floor. Slipping and stumbling, I struggled to keep up with her.

  My legs felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds. The blood pulsed so hard at my temples, I thought my head might explode.

  “Go! Go! Go!” I shouted all the way.

  I turned and glanced back.

  He was coming after us!

  “Noooo!” I screamed.

  I shouldn’t have turned back.

  I stumbled over a jagged rock—and went sprawling on the hard floor.

  I landed hard on my elbows and knees.

  Gasping for breath, I spun around.

  In time to see the ghost’s bony hands reach out for my throat.

  15

  I let out a terrified howl, scrambled to my feet, and lurched away from his bony, outstretched hands.

  A few feet up ahead, Terri watched in horror, her mouth open, her eyes wide with fright.

  I heard the ghost groan as he reached out with both arms.

  Somehow I found the strength to run.

  Terri and I were both running now. Through the narrow, curving tunnel. Through the bat chamber, silent and empty now.

  To the mouth of the cave.

  And then we were slipping and sliding, scrambling down the dew-wet boulders. Down, down to the rocky, moonlit beach.

  I turned back once. I couldn’t help it.

  The cave opening was dark now, I saw. Darker than the night sky.

  We ran along the shore, then turned into the woods. We were both breathing hard, panting loudly as we reached the cottage.

  I pushed open the door, stumbled in after Terri, then slammed it hard behind us.

  “Terri? Jerry? Is that you?” Agatha’s voice floated from the kitchen. She came in, wiping her hands on a checkered dish towel. “Well?” she demanded. “Did you find it?”

  “Huh?” I gaped at her, still struggling to catch my breath.

  Did we find the ghost?

  Is that what Agatha was asking?

  “Did you find it?” Agatha repeated. “Did you find the beach towel?”

  She stared at us in bewilderment as Terri and I burst out in relieved laughter.

  I couldn’t get to sleep that night. I kept picturing the ghost. His stringy, white hair. His sunken eyes. His bony fingers reaching out for me.

  And I kept wondering if Terri and I had done the right thing by not telling Agatha and Brad about him.

  “We’ll only get in trouble for going into the cave,” I had told my sister.

  “They probably won’t believe us anyway,” Terri added.

  “And why should we get them upset?” I said.

  “They’ve been so nice to us. And we went into the cave when they told us not to.”

  So we hadn’t told them about the frightening ghost surrounded by candles in the creepy cave.

  And now as I lay in bed, tossing and turning, my mind tossed and turned, too. And I wondered if Terri and I should confess to our cousins what we had done and seen.

  Despite the summer heat, I pulled the covers up to my chin and stared at the window. Behind the billowing curtains, pale white moonlight shimmered brightly.

  The moonlight didn’t cheer me. It reminded me of the ghost’s pale skin.

  Suddenly, my troubled thoughts were interrupted by a soft tapping.

  Tap tap. Tap tap tap.

  I sat up quickly.

  The sound was repeated. Tap tap. Tap tap tap.

  And then I heard a ghostly whisper: “Come here.”

  Tap tap tap.

  “Come here.”

  And I knew that the ghost had followed me home.

  16

  “Come here.”

  Sitting up in bed, rigid with fear, I stared helplessly as a face rose up in the moonlit window.

  First I saw a pale tuft of hair. Then a broad forehead. A pair of dark eyes, gleaming blue in the bright light.

  Nat!

  He grinned at me through the window.

  “Nat! It’s you!” I cried gratefully, jumping out of bed, pulling my robe over my pajamas, and lurching to the open window.

  He giggled.

  I peered out. Sam had Nat on his shoulders and was lowering him to the ground. Louisa, in white tennis shorts and a loose-fitting gray sweater, stood beside them.

  “Wh-what are you guys doing out here?” I stammered. “You scared me to death.”

  “We weren’t trying to scare you,” Sam replied, his hands on Nat’s slender shoulders. “We saw you and your sister running on the beach. We wondered what happened.”

  “You won’t believe it!” I exclaimed.

  I realized that my voice was probably carrying up to Brad and Agatha’s room. I didn’t want to wake them.

  I motioned to the three kids. “Come into my room. We can talk in here.”

  Sam lifted Nat up to the windowsill. I pulled him in. Then the other two climbed in after him.

  They sat down on the bed. I paced excitedly in front of them.

  “Terri and I went into the cave,” I told them in a low voice. “We saw the ghost. He was sitting in a back chamber filled with candles.”

  All three of them showed surprise on their faces.

  “He was very old and scary-looking,” I continued. “He didn’t walk. He kind of floated. When he saw us, he started to chase us. I fell, and he nearly grabbed me. But I got away.”

  “Wow,” Sam muttered. The other two continued to stare at me in amazement.

  “Then what?” Nat asked.

  “Then we ran back here as fast as we could,” I told him. “That’s it.”

  They stared at me for a long moment. I tried to figure out what they were thinking. Did they believe me?

  Finally, Sam climbed off the bed and walked to the window. “We didn’t want you to know about the ghost,” he said softly, tossing back his brown hair.

  “Why not?” I demanded.

  Sam hesitated. “We didn’t want to scare you.”

  I let out a scornf
ul laugh. “You scared Terri and me just about every time we saw you.”

  “That was just for fun,” Sam explained. “But we knew if you found out about the ghost…” His voice trailed off.

  “Have you seen him, too?” I asked, pulling my robe tighter around me.

  All three of them nodded.

  “We stay away from there,” Nat told me, scratching his arm. “The ghost is too scary.”

  “He’s really dangerous,” Louisa revealed. “I think he wants to kill us all.” Her eyes locked on mine. “Even you. You and Terri.”

  I shuddered. “Why? Terri and I didn’t do anything to him.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Nobody’s safe,” Sam said softly, glancing nervously out the window. “You saw the skeleton in the woods, right? That’s what the ghost will do to you if he catches you.”

  I shuddered again. I was really scared now.

  “There’s a way to get rid of the ghost,” Louisa said, breaking into my troubled thoughts. She was nervously clasping and unclasping her hands in her lap. “But we need your help,” she continued. “We can’t do it without you and Terri.”

  I swallowed hard. “What can Terri and I do?” I asked.

  Before she could answer, we heard creaking above our heads. Voices.

  Had we awakened Agatha and Brad?

  Louisa and her two brothers hurried to the window and lowered themselves to the ground. “Meet us at the beach—tomorrow morning,” Sam instructed.

  I stood at the window and watched them disappear into the woods.

  The room fell quiet again. The curtains fluttered gently. I stared out into the gently swaying pine trees.

  How can Terri and I help to get rid of an ancient ghost? I wondered.

  What can we do?

  17

  I woke up the next morning to the sound of rain. I jumped out of bed and ran to the window. The rain swirled in a gusting wind. In the garden, narrow rivulets of water had formed between the vegetable rows and trickled off into the yard. A thick fog had settled on the trees.