The Haunted Car Read online

  But I couldn’t stop myself.

  I had a terrifying feeling. A feeling that some strange, invisible force had pulled me into the car. Had forced me to slide the key into the ignition. Had forced me to turn the key.

  And then, I felt a rush of cold air as my hand shot out — and clicked on the radio.

  I expected a blast of music. But instead, I heard the crackle and whistle of static.

  I pushed a button. Then another.

  No. No music.

  Was the radio broken?

  I spun the volume knob, turned it all the way up.

  And the voice — the soft, girl’s voice — whispered from the speakers: “I’m evil … I’m so evil …”

  I opened my mouth to call out to her — but only a choked gurgle escaped my throat.

  “I’m so evil …”

  Before I could utter a sound, the engine started up. The headlights flashed on. The car shifted into reverse.

  “Noooo!” I wailed. “This isn’t happening! This can’t be happening!”

  But with a jolt that sent my head crashing against the windshield, the car shot back, down the driveway, into the street.

  “Hey!” I shrieked. “Stop this! Let me out! Stop! Let me out!”

  The car shot rapidly into the street.

  As if pushed by an invisible hand, the gearshift moved to drive.

  “Stop! What’s happening?” I shrieked.

  I grabbed the door handle. Tugged it up and shoved all my weight against the door.

  Locked. Locked tight.

  “Let me out!”

  The tires skidded over the slick, frosty pavement. The car bolted forward, heading down the hill, down Forrest Valley Road.

  “No! This is crazy! Who are you? What are you doing?”

  I frantically tried the door again. It didn’t open.

  The car slid on the pavement. Picked up speed as it curved downhill.

  I grabbed the steering wheel, struggling to keep the car on the road.

  Gasping in panic, I slammed my foot down on the brake pedal.

  But the car sped up instead of slowing to a stop.

  Laughter poured from the radio speakers. The same low, cold laughter as before.

  “Who are you? Where are you?” I screamed.

  I tromped on the brake again, but the car didn’t slow.

  I grabbed the key in the ignition — and twisted it to off.

  But the engine roared even louder.

  I pulled the key from the ignition and jammed it in my coat pocket.

  But the car rolled even faster.

  “Noooo!” I uttered a terrified cry as the car swerved off the road, tires skidding. My head hit the ceiling as the car bumped over the hard ground.

  I grabbed the wheel in both hands. Leaned over it. Spun it hard.

  Guided the car back onto the road.

  The road sloped steeply downhill. The buildings of town came into view, far below us.

  I pumped the brake. I tried to shift into park.

  I tugged on the emergency brake.

  But the car rolled faster, faster, engine roaring.

  “Enjoying the ride?”

  The girl’s voice floated from the speakers, so soft I could barely hear her over the roar of the engine, the rumble of the tires.

  “Are you? Are you enjoying it?”

  “Stop it! Stop the car — please!” I choked out. The wheel bounced in my hands. I spun it hard, struggling to follow the curves as we shot down the steep slopes.

  I heard a long, low whistle. From somewhere far in the distance.

  A train whistle?

  The girl’s laughter drowned out the sound.

  “Who are you? Where are you?” I demanded, gripping the wheel, working it between both hands.

  Despite the cold of the night, sweat poured down my forehead. My clammy hands slid on the steering wheel.

  “But you like to drive!” the voice insisted, teasing, so cruel.

  “No! No, I don’t!” I wailed. “Stop the car. We’re going to crash! Stop it now!”

  “Stop it? Okay,” she purred.

  I felt the brake pedal slam down to the floor — and stay there.

  I heard the tires squeal.

  The car skidded — slid wildly out of control.

  I spun the wheel, but it didn’t help.

  I cried out as the car began to spin.

  Tires shrieking in protest, the car slid off the road.

  Bumped over grass and shrubs. Bounced and skidded.

  Toward the tall, dark trees beyond the shoulder.

  The girl’s laughter rose up from the speakers, rose up all around me as the trees loomed close.

  I’m going to crash, I realized in those few fast seconds.

  The laughter rang in my ears. Rang and echoed as if it were inside my head.

  I’m going to crash.

  I’m going to die.

  I jerked the wheel hard, frantically trying to spin the car away from the trees.

  The car bounced hard.

  “Oww!” I cried out as my head shot up against the roof again.

  The dark trees rose up in the windshield. The tires scraped over tall grass and weeds.

  “Yes!” I spun the wheel again, and the trees slid out of view. The car whirled around, rocked up and down, faced the road once again.

  Another hard bump. And then I was back on the pavement.

  Roaring along the dark, curving street. Picking up speed.

  “Stop the car! Stop it!” I screamed, the wheel jerking and twisting under my hands.

  The girl’s laughter floated over the roar of the engine.

  In the distance, I heard the wail of the train whistle once again.

  “Who are you? Why are you doing this?” I demanded, my voice bouncing with the car.

  More cold laughter. And then she moaned, “I’m evil … I’m so evil.”

  And the train crossing came into view in the headlight beams.

  I saw the guardrails slide down. Red lights flashed.

  To the left, I could see the dark outline of the train, black against the purple night sky. A whir of motion as the engine approached the crossing.

  I heard another long, low train whistle.

  I slammed my foot down hard on the brake.

  But the car shot forward.

  The guardrails shone in the headlights as the car roared to the tracks.

  “Good-bye, Mitchell.” The girl’s voice purred from the speakers. “Hope you enjoyed your ride. Your last ride.”

  Twin headlights from the front of the train poured over the crossing just a few yards in front of me. Bright white light that made me shield my eyes.

  And scream louder than I’ve ever screamed.

  My scream rose over the shriek of the train engine.

  My breath cut off as the car braked with a hard jolt.

  “Oooohhh!” I tossed forward over the wheel.

  Then I rocked back hard against the seat.

  The tires squealed as if crying.

  The front bumper cracked into the wooden guardrails. The car bounced to a stop.

  The train roared past.

  I stared at the whir of train cars, gasping, my chest heaving up and down, struggling to catch my breath. My throat was raw from screaming. Chill after chill made my whole body shudder.

  The train clattered past. It gave another long, low whistle blast, this one fading into the distance.

  Silence now. Except for my rapid, shallow breaths and the thudding of my heart.

  The car slowly backed up, away from the guardrails.

  “Wasn’t that fun?” the girl’s voice whispered from the radio speakers. “Did that give you a thrill?”

  “No!” I cried angrily. “Are you crazy?”

  With a furious growl, I snapped the radio dial to off.

  But it didn’t cut off the girl’s laughter.

  The car was rolling past trees and houses again, following the curving road uphill. I barely notic
ed. I was trembling. I could still hear the roar and clatter of the speeding train cars in my mind.

  “Who are you?” I finally choked out. “Are you a ghost? Do you haunt this car?”

  No answer.

  “I don’t understand!” I cried. “Tell me who you are. Why did you try to kill me?”

  Silence.

  And then the soft moan, “I’m evil … I’m so evil.”

  The car slowed to a stop.

  I peered out the windshield — and to my surprise saw my parents, their robes flapping over their pajamas, running barefoot down the driveway.

  I’m … home! I breathed a long, shuddering sigh of relief.

  Dad pulled open the driver’s door. “Mitchell!” he bellowed. “How could you do this?”

  “How? How?” He grabbed my arm and tugged me out of the car. His eyes burned angrily into mine. I’d never seen him so angry.

  Behind him, Mom shook her head. I saw tears on her cheeks.

  “This is the worst thing you ever did,” she choked out. “The worst.”

  “We can’t believe you took the car,” Dad said through gritted teeth. His hand squeezed my arm.

  “But — but — I didn’t do it!” I sputtered.

  Dad’s eyes gazed over my shoulder to the open car door. “Mitchell, you’re in serious, serious trouble,” he said, his voice trembling with anger. “Don’t tell lies. Don’t make up any stories. There’s no one else in the car. Don’t you dare try to tell us you didn’t take it.”

  “But — I can explain!” I started.

  I took a deep breath. Where should I start? How could I convince them that I didn’t drive the car?

  “Hey — what’s going on?” A girl’s voice cried out before I could start to explain.

  I turned and saw Marissa jogging across the driveway.

  “Is everything okay?” she called, her blond hair bobbing on her shoulders as she ran. “Why is everyone up so late?”

  “Wh-who are you?” Mom blurted out, wiping tears off her cheeks. “Are you a friend of Mitchell’s?”

  “She just moved in,” I told Mom.

  “I’m Marissa Meddin,” Marissa announced. “I was up late. I heard voices. I saw Mitchell out here….” Her voice trailed off.

  “Mitchell is in very big trouble,” Dad said, finally releasing his grip on my arm. “Mitchell has done something really terrible.”

  Marissa’s eyes locked on mine.

  “It isn’t true!” I cried. “Mom — Dad — you’ve got to believe me! I came out and sat in the car. But I didn’t drive it away.”

  “Mitchell, that’s ridiculous,” Mom insisted.

  “I’m warning you for the last time to tell the truth,” Dad uttered angrily.

  I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “The car is haunted!” I screamed.

  Mom and Dad cried out in surprise. Marissa stared at me openmouthed.

  “I know you won’t believe me — but it’s true! I heard a girl’s voice. She kept laughing and saying how evil she was. She drove the car. I didn’t drive it. I couldn’t control it. There’s a ghost. Really. A ghost —”

  “Mitchell, stop right now,” Dad said. “Have you suddenly turned into Todd? We’re not going to believe any crazy story about a ghost.”

  “You’re just getting yourself into more trouble,” Mom sighed.

  “But she tried to kill me!” I wailed.

  Marissa narrowed her eyes at me. Her expression changed. I saw her chin tremble. She suddenly looked very frightened. “Maybe Mitchell is telling the truth,” she said softly.

  I don’t think Mom and Dad heard her.

  “What was in your mind?” Mom demanded, more tears rolling down her cheeks. She pulled her bathrobe around her. “What were you thinking? Did you really think your dad and I wouldn’t see that the car was missing?”

  “You didn’t think at all — did you, Mitchell?” Dad accused. “You wanted to drive the car so bad — so you just stole the keys and took it for a spin.”

  “But you’re only twelve!” Mom cried.

  “The car is haunted. I can prove it!” I insisted. “I’m telling the truth. I’ll prove it to you.”

  I didn’t give them a chance to stop me.

  I turned and dove back to the car. “Come and listen,” I ordered them. “There’s a voice. The ghost’s voice. It comes out of the speakers. She’ll tell you. She’ll tell you the truth.”

  I leaned into the car. They huddled close behind me.

  I reached in and clicked on the radio.

  “Go ahead,” I told the voice. “Tell them what you did. Tell them the truth. Tell them why you haunt this car. Tell them!”

  The next night after dinner, I was upstairs in my room talking to Steve on the phone. “I can only stay on for thirty seconds,” I told him. “It’s the new rule. I’m prisoner here in my own house.”

  “What’s that about?” Steve asked.

  “It’ll take too long to explain,” I sighed.

  “So you’re in trouble?” he asked.

  “I’m grounded for life.”

  “Whoa! That’s totally disturbing!” Steve exclaimed. “Why? What did you do?”

  “My parents think I stole the new car and then lied about it,” I told him.

  “Did you do it?” he demanded. “Did you really take the car out?”

  “Kind of,” I replied.

  Then my kitchen timer rang. My thirty seconds were up. “Have a nice life,” I told Steve glumly. Then I hung up.

  I slammed the timer onto my desk. Mom had given it to me to time my phone calls. What can you say to someone in thirty seconds?

  It wasn’t fair.

  The whole thing wasn’t fair. I didn’t do anything wrong.

  But no one would ever believe me about the car being haunted.

  Well … I suddenly remembered there was one person who would definitely believe me.

  I made my way down the hall to Todd’s room.

  I heard him laughing in there. As I entered, I saw him leaning over his computer keyboard, staring into the monitor, playing a game.

  He turned away from the screen when he heard me enter. “What’s up?” he asked brightly. “Want to play me?”

  “I can’t,” I moaned. “I’m not allowed to have any fun, remember?”

  He frowned. “I never saw Mom and Dad so angry.”

  I slumped down on the edge of Todd’s bed. “Do you believe me?” I asked him. “Do you believe my story about the ghost in the car?”

  Todd nodded solemnly. “Yes. Of course I believe you,” he replied, his voice just above a whisper. “And I know who the ghost is.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. “You do? You know?”

  He nodded again.

  I lurched across the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Todd — tell me,” I demanded. “Who is it? Who is the ghost?”

  “It’s that new girl, Marissa,” Todd said solemnly.

  I gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s Marissa,” he repeated. “She’s the one who is haunting the car.”

  I laughed. “That’s totally crazy.” I rolled my eyes. “Why did I even ask you? I should have known you’d come up with something totally insane.”

  “It isn’t crazy,” Todd replied softly. He sat down at the other end of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “She showed up here the same day as the car, right? And she always appears suddenly to let you out when the door sticks. Right?”

  I scratched my head. “Yes. Right. But that doesn’t prove anything.”

  “How come she is always there, even in the middle of the night?” Todd demanded. “Because she is a ghost. Because she haunts the car. I know it.”

  “That’s totally dumb,” I told him. “Marissa is a real girl, not a ghost. She doesn’t live in the car. She moved onto our street last week. I’ll prove it to you.”

  I jumped up, ran down the hall, and grabbed my cordless phone. Then I brought it back into Todd’s room.

  I p
unched in 411. “Hello? Information? I’d like the phone number of the Meddin family. They just moved in on Scotts Landing Road.”

  His arms still tightly crossed, Todd kept his eyes on me as I waited for the operator to find the number. I could see he was tense. He chewed his bottom lip.

  “I’m sorry,” the operator reported. “There is no listing for Meddin on Scotts Landing.”

  “Oh,” I murmured. A chill ran down my back. I thanked her and clicked off the phone.

  Then I turned to Todd. “Maybe they don’t have their phone hooked up yet,” I said. I grabbed his arm and tugged him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “Huh? Go?” He pulled his arm free. “Go where?”

  “Let’s go over to Marissa’s house,” I replied. “I want to prove to you that she isn’t a ghost.”

  “But — but you’re grounded!” he sputtered. “You’re not allowed to leave the house, Mitchell.”

  “Mom and Dad are in the basement,” I told him. “Mom is helping Dad with some project he messed up. They’ll be down there for hours. We’ll be back before they notice we’re gone.”

  We sneaked downstairs and grabbed flashlights and our jackets. I could hear Mom and Dad down in the basement, arguing. They always yell at each other when they work together on one of Dad’s projects.

  Todd and I crept out the front door. It was a cold, cloudy night. No moon or stars in the sky.

  We jogged past the car. It sat dark and empty in the driveway. No green glow. No ghost grinning out at us from the front seat.

  We made our way to the street. Nearby, something scampered over the carpet of dead leaves on the ground. Probably a squirrel.

  “Which house did she move into?” Todd asked breathlessly.

  I pointed to the next block. “The Faulkners’ house,” I said. “You know. The run-down brick house with the big front porch falling down.”

  The streetlight was out on the corner. Our flashlight beams danced over the dark pavement in front of us. It was a still, windless night. Nothing moved, nothing stirred.

  The Faulkners’ house was the second on the block. I could see from the corner that all the lights were out. No car in the driveway.

  “Maybe they go to bed early,” I murmured.

  Our sneakers crunched over the dry brown leaves that covered the front yard. Keeping our flashlights on the ground, we made our way up to the front porch.