[Goosebumps 01] - Welcome to Dead House Read online

  I stared into the darkness, trying to see his face.

  “You’d be nuts to go there at night!” he declared.

  I began to think I had misjudged him. He was afraid to go there. That’s why he was trying to stop us.

  “Are you coming or not?” Josh demanded, getting farther and farther ahead of us.

  “I don’t think we should,” Ray warned.

  Yes, he’s afraid, I decided. I only imagined that he was threatening us.

  “You don’t have to. But we do,” Josh insisted, picking up his speed.

  “No. Really,” Ray said. “This is a bad idea.” But now he and I were running side by side to catch up with Josh.

  “Petey’s there,” Josh said, “I know he is.”

  We passed the dark, silent school. It seemed much bigger at night. Josh’s light flashed through the low tree branches as we turned the corner onto Cemetery Drive.

  “Wait—please,” Ray pleaded. But Josh didn’t slow down. Neither did I. I was eager to get there and get it over with.

  I wiped my forehead with my sleeve. The air was hot and still. I wished I hadn’t worn long sleeves. I felt my hair. It was dripping wet.

  The clouds still covered the moon as we reached the cemetery. We stepped through a gate in the low wall. In the darkness, I could see the crooked rows of gravestones.

  Josh’s light traveled from stone to stone, jumping up and down as he walked. “Petey!” he called suddenly, interrupting the silence.

  He’s disturbing the sleep of the dead, I thought, feeling a sudden chill of fear.

  Don’t be silly, Amanda. “Petey!” I called, too, forcing away my morbid thoughts.

  “This is a very bad idea,” Ray said, standing very close to me.

  “Petey! Petey!” Josh called.

  “I know it’s a bad idea,” I admitted to Ray. “But I didn’t want Josh to come here by himself.”

  “But we shouldn’t be here,” Ray insisted.

  I was beginning to wish he’d go away. No one had forced him to come. Why was he giving us such a hard time?

  “Hey—look at this!” Josh called from several yards up ahead.

  My sneakers crunching over the soft ground, I hurried between the rows of graves. I hadn’t realized that we had already walked the entire length of the graveyard.

  “Look,” Josh said again, his flashlight playing over a strange structure built at the edge of the cemetery.

  It took me a little while to figure out what it was in the small circle of light. It was so unexpected. It was some kind of theater. An amphitheater, I guess you’d call it, circular rows of bench seats dug into the ground, descending like stairs to a low stagelike platform at the bottom.

  “What on earth!” I exclaimed.

  I started forward to get a closer look.

  “Amanda—wait. Let’s go home,” Ray called. He grabbed at my arm, but I hurried away, and he grabbed only air.

  “Weird! Who would build an outdoor theater at the edge of a cemetery?” I asked.

  I looked back to see if Josh and Ray were following me, and my sneaker caught against something. I stumbled to the ground, hitting my knee hard.

  “Ow. What was that?”

  Josh shone the light on it as I climbed slowly, painfully, to my feet. I had tripped over an enormous, upraised tree root.

  In the flickering light, I followed the gnarled root over to a wide, old tree several yards away. The huge tree was bent over the strange below-ground theater, leaning at such a low angle that it looked likely to topple over at any second. Big clumps of roots were raised up from the ground. Overhead, the tree’s branches, heavy with leaves, seemed to lean to the ground.

  “Timberrr!” Josh yelled.

  “How weird!” I exclaimed. “Hey, Ray—what is this place?”

  “It’s a meeting place,” Ray said quietly, standing close beside me, staring straight ahead at the leaning tree. “They use it sort of like a town hall. They have town meetings here.”

  “In the cemetery?” I cried, finding it hard to believe.

  “Let’s go,” Ray urged, looking very nervous.

  All three of us heard the footsteps. They were behind us, somewhere in the rows of graves. We turned around. Josh’s light swept over the ground.

  “Petey!”

  There he was, standing between the nearest row of low, stone grave markers. I turned happily to Josh. “I don’t believe it!” I cried. “You were right!”

  “Petey! Petey!” Josh and I both started running toward our dog.

  But Petey arched back on his hind legs as if he were getting ready to run away. He stared at us, his eyes red as jewels in the light of the flashlight.

  “Petey! We found you!” I cried.

  The dog lowered his head and started to trot away.

  “Petey! Hey—come back! Don’t you recognize us?”

  With a burst of speed, Josh caught up with him and grabbed him up off the ground. “Hey, Petey, what’s the matter, fella?”

  As I hurried over, Josh dropped Petey back to the ground and stepped back. “Ooh—he stinks!”

  “What?” I cried.

  “Petey—he stinks. He smells like a dead rat!” Josh held his nose.

  Petey started to walk slowly away.

  “Josh, he isn’t glad to see us,” I wailed. “He doesn’t even seem to recognize us. Look at him!”

  It was true. Petey walked to the next row of gravestones, then turned and glared at us.

  I suddenly felt sick. What had happened to Petey? Why was he acting so differently? Why wasn’t he glad to see us?

  “I don’t get it,” Josh said, still making a face from the odor the dog gave off. “Usually, if we leave the room for thirty seconds, he goes nuts when we come back.”

  “We’d better go!” Ray called. He was still at the edge of the cemetery near the leaning tree.

  “Petey—what’s wrong with you?” I called to the dog. He didn’t respond. “Don’t you remember your name? Petey? Petey?”

  “Yuck! What a stink!” Josh exclaimed.

  “We’ve got to get him home and give him a bath,” I said. My voice was shaking. I felt really sad. And frightened.

  “Maybe this isn’t Petey,” Josh said thoughtfully. The dog’s eyes again glared red in the beam of light.

  “It’s him all right,” I said quietly. “Look. He’s dragging the leash. Go get him, Josh—and let’s go home.”

  “You get him!” Josh cried. “He smells too bad!”

  “Just grab his leash. You don’t have to pick him up,” I said.

  “No. You.”

  Josh was being stubborn again. I could see that I had no choice. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll get him. But I’ll need the light.” I grabbed the flashlight from Josh’s hand and started to run toward Petey.

  “Sit, Petey. Sit!” I ordered. It was the only command Petey ever obeyed.

  But he didn’t obey it this time. Instead, he turned and trotted away, holding his head down low.

  “Petey—stop! Petey, come on!” I yelled, exasperated. “Don’t make me chase you.”

  “Don’t let him get away!” Josh yelled, running up behind me.

  I moved the flashlight from side to side along the ground. “Where is he?”

  “Petey! Petey!” Josh called, sounding shrill and desperate.

  I couldn’t see him.

  “Oh, no. Don’t tell me we’ve lost him again!” I said.

  We both started to call him. “What’s wrong with that mutt?” I cried.

  I moved the beam of light down one long row of gravestones, then, moving quickly, down the next. No sign of him. We both kept calling his name.

  And then the circle of light came to rest on the front of a granite tombstone.

  Reading the name on the stone, I stopped short.

  And gasped.

  “Josh—look!” I grabbed Josh’s sleeve. I held on tight.

  “Huh? What’s wrong?” His face filled with confusion.

 
“Look! The name on the gravestone.”

  It was Karen Somerset.

  Josh read the name. He stared at me, still confused.

  “That’s my new friend Karen. The one I talk to on the playground every day,” I said.

  “Huh? It must be her grandmother or something,” Josh said, and then added impatiently, “Come on. Look for Petey.”

  “No. Look at the dates,” I said to him.

  We both read the dates under Karen Somerset’s name. 1960-1972.

  “It can’t be her mother or grandmother,” I said, keeping the beam of light on the stone despite my trembling hand. “This girl died when she was twelve. My age. And Karen is twelve, too. She told me.”

  “Amanda—” Josh scowled and looked away.

  But I took a few steps and beamed the light onto the next gravestone. There was a name on it I’d never heard before. I moved on to the next stone. Another name I’d never heard.

  “Amanda, come on!” Josh whined.

  The next gravestone had the name George Carpenter on it. 1975-1988.

  “Josh—look! It’s George from the playground,” I called.

  “Amanda, we have to get Petey,” he insisted.

  But I couldn’t pull myself away from the gravestones. I went from one to the next, moving the flashlight over the engraved letters.

  To my growing horror, I found Jerry Franklin. And then Bill Gregory.

  All the kids we had played softball with. They all had gravestones here.

  My heart thudding, I moved down the crooked row, my sneakers sinking into the soft grass. I felt numb, numb with fear. I struggled to hold the light steady as I beamed it onto the last stone in the row.

  RAY THURSTON. 1977-1988.

  “Huh?”

  I could hear Josh calling me, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.

  The rest of the world seemed to fall away. I read the deeply etched inscription again:

  RAY THURSTON. 1977-1988.

  I stood there, staring at the letters and numbers. I stared at them till they didn’t make sense anymore, until they were just a gray blur.

  Suddenly, I realized that Ray had crept up beside the gravestone and was staring at me.

  “Ray—” I managed to say, moving the light over the name on the stone. “Ray, this one is… you!”

  His eyes flared, glowing like dying embers.

  “Yes, it’s me,” he said softly, moving toward me. “I’m so sorry, Amanda.”

  13

  I took a step back, my sneakers sinking into the soft ground. The air was heavy and still. No one made a sound. Nothing moved.

  Dead.

  I’m surrounded by death, I thought.

  Then, frozen to the spot, unable to breathe, the darkness swirling around me, the gravestones spinning in their own black shadows, I thought: What is he going to do to me?

  “Ray—” I managed to call out. My voice sounded faint and far away. “Ray, are you really dead?”

  “I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to find out yet,” he said, his voice floating low and heavy on the stifling night air.

  “But—how? I mean… I don’t understand….” I looked past him to the darting white light of the flashlight. Josh was several rows away, almost to the street, still searching for Petey.

  “Petey!” I whispered, dread choking my throat, my stomach tightening in horror.

  “Dogs always know,” Ray said in a low, flat tone. “Dogs always recognize the living dead. That’s why they have to go first. They always know.”

  “You mean—Petey’s… dead?” I choked out the words.

  Ray nodded. “They kill the dogs first.”

  “No!” I screamed and took another step back, nearly losing my balance as I bumped into a low marble gravestone. I jumped away from it.

  “You weren’t supposed to see this,” Ray said, his narrow face expressionless except for his dark eyes, which revealed real sadness. “You weren’t supposed to know. Not for another few weeks, anyway. I’m the watcher. I was supposed to watch, to make sure you didn’t see until it was time.”

  He took a step toward me, his eyes lighting up red, burning into mine.

  “Were you watching me from the window?” I cried. “Was that you in my room?”

  Again he nodded yes. “I used to live in your house,” he said, taking another step closer, forcing me back against the cold marble stone. “I’m the watcher.”

  I forced myself to look away, to stop staring into his glowing eyes. I wanted to scream to Josh to run and get help. But he was too far away. And I was frozen there, frozen with fear.

  “We need fresh blood,” Ray said.

  “What?” I cried. “What are you saying?”

  “The town—it can’t survive without fresh blood. None of us can. You’ll understand soon, Amanda. You’ll understand why we had to invite you to the house, to the… Dead House.”

  In the darting, zigzagging beam of light, I could see Josh moving closer, heading our way.

  Run, Josh, I thought. Run away. Fast. Get someone. Get anyone.

  I could think the words. Why couldn’t I scream them?

  Ray’s eyes glowed brighter. He was standing right in front of me now, his features set, hard and cold.

  “Ray?” Even through my jeans, the marble gravestone felt cold against the back of my legs.

  “I messed up,” he whispered. “I was the watcher. But I messed up.”

  “Ray—what are you going to do?”

  His red eyes flickered. “I’m really sorry.”

  He started to raise himself off the ground, to float over me.

  I could feel myself start to choke. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I opened my mouth to call out to Josh, but no sound came out.

  Josh? Where was he?

  I looked down the rows of gravestones but couldn’t see his light.

  Ray floated up a little higher. He hovered over me, choking me somehow, blinding me, suffocating me.

  I’m dead, I thought. Dead.

  Now I’m dead, too.

  14

  And then, suddenly, light broke through the darkness.

  The light shone in Ray’s face, the bright white halogen light.

  “What’s going on?” Josh asked, in a high-pitched, nervous voice. “Amanda—what’s happening?”

  Ray cried out and dropped back to the ground. “Turn that off! Turn it off!” he screeched, his voice a shrill whisper, like wind through a broken windowpane.

  But Josh held the bright beam of light on Ray. “What’s going on? What are you doing?”

  I could breathe again. As I stared into the light, I struggled to stop my heart from pounding so hard.

  Ray moved his arms to shield himself from the light. But I could see what was happening to him. The light had already done its damage.

  Ray’s skin seemed to be melting. His whole face sagged, then fell, dropping off his skull.

  I stared into the circle of white light, unable to look away, as Ray’s skin folded and drooped and melted away. As the bone underneath was revealed, his eyeballs rolled out of their sockets and fell silently to the ground.

  Josh, frozen in horror, somehow held the bright light steady, and we both stared at the grinning skull, its dark craters staring back at us.

  “Oh!” I shrieked as Ray took a step toward me.

  But then I realized that Ray wasn’t walking. He was falling.

  I jumped aside as he crumpled to the ground. And gasped as his skull hit the top of the marble gravestone, and cracked open with a sickening splat.

  “Come on!” Josh shouted. “Amanda—come on!” He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me away.

  But I couldn’t stop staring down at Ray, now a pile of bones inside a puddle of crumpled clothes.

  “Amanda, come on!”

  Then, before I even realized it, I was running, running beside Josh as fast as I could down the long row of graves toward the street. The light flashed against the blur of gravestones as we ra
n, slipping on the soft, dew-covered grass, gasping in the still, hot air.

  “We’ve got to tell Mom and Dad. Got to get away from here!” I cried.

  “They—they won’t believe it!” Josh said, as we reached the street. We kept running, our sneakers thudding hard against the pavement. “I’m not sure I believe it myself!”

  “They’ve got to believe us!” I told him. “If they don’t, we’ll drag them out of that house.”

  The white beam of light pointed the way as we ran through the dark, silent streets. There were no streetlights, no lights on in the windows of the houses we passed, no car headlights.

  Such a dark world we had entered.

  And now it was time to get out.

  We ran the rest of the way home. I kept looking back to see if we were being followed. But I didn’t see anyone. The neighborhood was still and empty.

  I had a sharp pain in my side as we reached home. But I forced myself to keep running, up the gravel driveway with its thick blanket of dead leaves, and onto the front porch.

  I pushed open the door and both Josh and I started to scream. “Mom! Dad! Where are you?”

  Silence.

  We ran into the living room. The lights were all off.

  “Mom? Dad? Are you here?”

  Please be here, I thought, my heart racing, the pain in my side still sharp. Please be here.

  We searched the house. They weren’t home.

  “The potluck party,” Josh suddenly remembered. “Can they still be at that party?”

  We were standing in the living room, both of us breathing hard. The pain in my side had let up just a bit. I had turned on all the lights, but the room still felt gloomy and menacing.

  I glanced at the clock on the mantel. Nearly two in the morning.

  “They should be home by now,” I said, my voice shaky and weak.

  “Where did they go? Did they leave a number?” Josh was already on his way to the kitchen.

  I followed him, turning on lights as we went. We went right to the memo pad on the counter where Mom and Dad always leave us notes.

  Nothing. The pad was blank.

  “We’ve got to find them!” Josh cried. He sounded very frightened. His wide eyes reflected his fear. “We have to get away from here.”