A New Fear Page 7

  The other workers trooped inside as soon as the doors were open, and Nicholas followed them. Huge machines and large circular saws filled the building. He touched his finger to the jagged edge of one saw blade.

  “Careful,” someone called. “You have to treat the saws as if they are always running. You could lose a finger if you do not.”

  Nicholas turned around. A short, lean guy about Nicholas’s age stood watching him with serious blue eyes.

  “You are such an old woman, Jason,” another worker joked. He looked like a human mountain. He stood over six feet tall, with a meaty, powerful build. He had bright red hair and green eyes.

  “You must be the new worker Mr. Manning told us about,” the redheaded man said. “I’m Ike. And my grandmother here is Jason. You will be working with us.”

  “I am Nicholas,” he replied.

  “I am not an old woman,” Jason told Nicholas, shooting a hard look at his big friend. “It is smart to treat the saws as if they are dangerous—even when they are off. I just thought you should know that. Last month—”

  “So, Nicholas, you ever work in a sawmill before?” Ike interrupted.

  “No,” Nicholas admitted.

  “Nothing to it.” He winked. “Just make sure you count your fingers at the end of the day. Jason counts his every night. He worries about his fingers so much that he failed to notice the fact that he cut off three toes!”

  Ike guffawed, and Nicholas could tell Jason was trying not to smile. It is clear these two have been friends for a long time, he thought.

  “I did not cut off my toes,” Jason protested halfheartedly.

  “Take off your shoes and prove it!” Ike challenged. “No, wait. Here comes the boss’s daughter. You do not want to offend her with the aroma of your feet.”

  “And you do not want to offend me with your flapping lips. You may be as big as a bear, but I can knock you down to size and you know it.”

  Jason grinned at Nicholas. “Do not be fooled by the size of him. I have to wrestle him to the ground every few days to keep him in his place. You can do it, too. It is easy.”

  Ike growled. Then smiled sweetly as Ruth walked by.

  “Good morning,” Ruth murmured as she stopped beside them.

  “Have you met Nicholas?” Ike asked. “It is his first day.”

  “Yes, we have met.” Ruth gave Nicholas a small smile, without quite looking at him.

  “Ike, would you find someone to sweep the floor, please?” Ruth asked. “The sawdust is too high.”

  “Sure, Miss Manning,” Ike answered, tipping his cap.

  “Does she work here?” Nicholas asked, when Ruth continued on her way.

  “She takes care of the books,” Ike answered as he reached for a broom. “She is as plain as a plank of wood and never has much to say. I think she is a perfect match for Jason,” he teased.

  Jason snorted, shoving his blond hair off his face. “I am not the one who falls all over her,” he shot back. “Sure, Miss Manning. Whatever you say, Miss Manning,” he mimicked.

  Ike laughed good-naturedly and handed the broom to Nicholas. “The new guy sweeps.”

  Nicholas began making piles of sawdust. Then he heard someone call his name. He glanced up and saw Betsy hurrying toward him, her blond hair bouncing around her shoulders.

  Several of the other workers stopped what they were doing to watch her pass by, but Betsy never took her eyes off Nicholas. She thrust a brown box with red hearts drawn on it into his hands. “Your lunch!” she explained. “I made it just for you and you forgot it this morning.”

  “Oh, isn’t that sweet,” Ike cooed, clasping his big, beefy hands in front of him.

  “No lunch for me, Betsy?” Jason asked. “I thought you were going to help me grow as big and strong as Ike!”

  “You made fun of what I brought last time, so you are not getting anything else,” Betsy answered. “Nicholas gets all my lunches from now on.”

  Betsy tossed her blond curls over her shoulder and smiled at Nicholas. “Mother says I should call you Mr. Fear, since you are a boarder. But I like Nicholas better! You do not mind, do you?”

  Nicholas shook his head. Jason turned and stared at Nicholas, his blue eyes icy.

  “Nicholas is handsomer than you and Ike put together, so I have decided to cook only for him!” Betsy teased Jason.

  She did not appear to notice how serious Jason’s expression had grown. But Nicholas did. He could see the muscles flexing in Jason’s jaw.

  “Betsy, you are looking for trouble flirting that way,” Jason warned, his voice harsh. “You have to leave now. There is work to be done here.”

  Jason must really like Betsy, Nicholas thought. He is so jealous and all she did was bring me my lunch.

  “All right,” Betsy agreed with a sigh. “See you tonight,” she called to Nicholas. Then she scampered out of the mill, getting a few more appreciative glances from the men.

  Nicholas felt the back of his neck prickle. He had the sensation of someone watching him. Staring at him. He glanced up, and found Ruth standing at the window of one of the second-floor offices. He waved to her, but she turned away.

  Poor Ruth, he thought. She must feel bad seeing all the men goggling over Betsy. I bet no man has ever looked at her that way.

  Nicholas shrugged and returned to sweeping up the sawdust.

  By the end of his first day, Nicholas had decided he liked the lumber business.

  Wood smells a lot better than fish, he thought as he strolled back to the boardinghouse. It had a fresh smell. He did not mind ending the day smelling like sawdust.

  And the wood felt smooth—not slimy.

  Nicholas heard a faint rustle in the bushes alongside the road. He stopped. The sound stopped, too.

  He began to walk again. The rustling sound began again.

  Is someone following me?

  Nicholas knew almost no one in town. Who could be following him?

  Pain jabbed the back of his head. Something fell to the ground with a thud.

  A rock. Someone had thrown a rock at him!

  Nicholas touched the back of his head and winced. Warm, sticky blood coated his fingers. He could feel more blood running down his neck.

  He kicked the rock. It rolled twice, then stopped.

  There is something tied around it, Nicholas realized.

  Ignoring the pain in his head, he bent down and grabbed the rock. A piece of brown paper covered it. Nicholas pulled off the string and opened the paper.

  “No,” he whispered as he read the message. Who would do such a thing?

  “Be afraid, Nicholas Fear,” the note read. “You don’t belong in Shadyside.”

  Chapter 20

  Nicholas sucked in his breath. The gash in his scalp burned as Betsy dabbed alcohol on it.

  “You have to be careful working at the sawmill. Accidents can happen so easily,” she cautioned him.

  “It did not happen at the sawmill,” he said through clenched teeth. “It happened while I was walking home.”

  Betsy put the alcohol on the kitchen table and sat in the chair next to his. “Someone attacked you?”

  He shrugged. “Someone threw a rock at me. With this note wrapped around it.” He dug the crumpled note out of his pocket and handed it to her.

  Her blue eyes widened as she read the words.

  “I do not know why anyone would threaten me like that. I can think of nothing I have done to cause such hatred.” Nicholas’s brow furrowed.

  “Actually, Nicholas, it could have been anyone,” Betsy admitted. “People in Shadyside have always hated the Fears. The Goodes especially.”

  “Why?” Nicholas asked. “Why would anyone hate an entire family?”

  Betsy sighed. “There is an old feud between the Goodes and the Fears. I do not know how it began. But there is much hatred on both sides.” Betsy hesitated, her blue eyes filled with concern for Nicholas.

  “Tell me,” Nicholas urged.

  “It is said that
the Fears practiced dark magic. Many people—not just the Goodes—claim they performed strange ceremonies in their mansion. Ceremonies that required blood. That is why the mansion is set so far back from the street—the Fears did not want anyone to see what they did there.”

  Nicholas did not know what to say. He stared down at his hands. He did not want Betsy to notice how badly her story had upset him.

  “I should wash off this blood,” he muttered. He had kept one hand over his head wound all the way back to the boardinghouse. His hands were caked with dried blood.

  Nicholas stood and crossed to the sink. He ran water over his hands. The dry, brown blood grew thick, sticky, and bright red. The blood’s rusty scent filled his nostrils.

  Their ceremonies involved blood, he thought. What were they doing inside the mansion?

  He lathered soap over his hands and scrubbed his skin viciously. Scrubbed it until it was raw.

  Then he turned the water off. But he did not take his seat beside Betsy.

  What else would he discover about the Fear family?His family? “What else?” he asked in a low voice.

  He heard Betsy’s chair scrape against the floor as she stood up. She hurried over and placed her hand on his back.

  He tensed.

  “I heard that two of Simon and Angelica’s children were found in the Fear Street Woods. All their bones had been removed. At least that is the story people tell.”

  Betsy hesitated again, then continued in a rush. “People say many of the Fears have died strange and horrible deaths. They say bad luck follows every member of the family. But I do not believe in bad luck,” Betsy added firmly. “And neither should you.”

  Nicholas looked over his shoulder. “How do you know so much about my family?”

  “I am a Goode—sort of. My mother was a Goode before she married my father.”

  Betsy reached around him and picked up a large knife. She ran her finger along the shiny edge.

  Nicholas stiffened.

  She stepped up to the counter and began chopping tomatoes. “Do not worry,” she said. “I like Fears just fine.”

  She glanced over at him. “Of course, not everyone in my family does.”

  Nicholas watched the saw’s teeth bite into the wood. The saw had an endless appetite.

  That is why you must pay attention, Nicholas ordered himself. All morning his eyes had wandered away from his work and over to the other men He studied their faces, trying to decide if one of them had thrown the rock.

  Ike fed another board to Nicholas. Nicholas and Ike were working by themselves today. Jason had teamed up with a man whose usual partner was sick.

  Nicholas felt the board quiver as it met the saw. When the end of the board slid through the blade, Ike whistled.

  Nicholas glanced up. Ike rubbed his stomach. Nicholas smiled. Ike was hungry. Nicholas nodded and turned off the saw.

  “I will meet you outside!” Ike yelled as he picked up his lunch.

  Nicholas grabbed his small cardboard box and headed after Ike. Today Betsy had drawn arrows through the red hearts. He hoped Jason did not notice.

  Nicholas paused by the pile of wood he and Ike would cut that afternoon and checked each piece carefully. Ike had explained what could happen if a saw jammed on a knothole. And Nicholas did not want to take any chances.

  He ran his fingers over one of the boards. The wood was good quality, smooth and fine. This is the type of wood that should be used to build houses on Fear Street, Nicholas thought.

  He continued outside and found Ike sitting on a log. Nicholas dropped down beside him. “Is Jason eating with us?”

  Ike shrugged. “He said he had something to do.”

  “Do you think it bothers him that I live in the boardinghouse with Betsy and her mother?” Nicholas asked.

  “That depends,” Ike answered. “What did she pack her sweetheart today?” Ike asked.

  “I am not her sweetheart,” Nicholas grumbled.

  “She thinks so,” Ike said, his green eyes sparkling. He grabbed the box and peeked inside. “Mmmmmmmm. Fried chicken. I would be happy to be her sweetheart if she cooked like this for me.”

  Nicholas gave Ike a piece of chicken, and they ate in silence—enjoying the food and the warm sun.

  “Why don’t we change places?” Ike suggested when they finished lunch. “I will work the saw and you feed me the boards.”

  “All right,” Nicholas agreed as they returned to their station. “I checked the wood for knotholes before I left. I knew you were going to do it—but I wanted to check them, too.”

  “Turning into an old lady like Jason,” Ike scolded. “I am kidding,” he added. “It is smart to check things yourself.”

  Ike took his position beside the saw. “Watch for splinters as you feed me the boards,” Ike advised. “They can hurt like crazy.”

  Ike flipped the switch. The saw whirred to life.

  Nicholas picked up a plank and began guiding it toward Ike and the saw.

  The whizzing saw bit into the wood.

  Then it came to an abrupt halt.

  Ike scowled. He put some pressure on the wood.

  It did not budge.

  Ike leaned closer.

  The saw jumped free. It tore through the wood.

  Ike uttered a long, deep moan of pain.

  Blood sprayed into the air. It spattered across Nicholas’s face. Soaked into his shirt.

  Nicholas leapt over to the saw and shut it off.

  “Get them for me! Get them for me!” Ike shrieked.

  “What?” Nicholas yelled back. “I do not know what you want.”

  “My fingers!” Ike howled.

  Chapter 21

  Nicholas crouched down beside the saw. Blood gushed from Ike’s hand, turning the sawdust on the floor bright red.

  Nicholas heard Ike moaning. He groped through the wet sawdust. Searching, searching.

  “My fingers!” Ike yelled again. Someone else shouted. The saws stopped one by one. Feet pounded up beside Nicholas.

  Nicholas continued to search. The sawdust flew into his eyes, making it hard to see.

  Then he saw them. All three fingers had flown to the other side of their worktable.

  Nicholas stretched out under the table. His face pressed against the bloody sawdust. He could just reach them.

  He jumped up, the fingers in his hand. They still felt warm. “I have them, Ike! I have them all,” Nicholas shouted.

  Someone had wrapped a cloth around Ike’s hand. But the blood had already soaked through it.

  Nicholas tore off his shirt and pressed it against the stubs of Ike’s fingers. Blood drenched the shirt in seconds.

  Ike groaned low in his throat. Every freckle stood out against his pasty-white face.

  “We will get you to a doctor,” Nicholas promised.

  Without warning, Jason shoved Nicholas aside. “I knew we could not trust you,” he yelled. “This is your fault.”

  Glaring at Nicholas, Jason rewrapped Ike’s bloody hand with his own shirt. “Go get the doctor,” he snapped at one of the other men.

  Jason led Ike to a corner of the room and had him stretch out on the floor. He held Ike’s hand straight up.

  Nicholas felt guilt wash over him.

  Was it my fault? he wondered. Did I do something wrong? I checked the boards before we went to lunch. I checked the boards. They didn’t have any knotholes.

  Nicholas noticed some of the other men giving him angry looks. They should not blame me. The same thing would have happened to me if Ike had been feeding me the boards, he thought.

  A chill raced through Nicholas. He remembered the rock someone had thrown at him the day before. The rock with the note warning Nicholas he did not belong in Shadyside.

  Did someone plant the board to cause the accident? Ike and I did not decide to switch places until after lunch. Did someone hopeI would be hurt?

  The next day, the sawmill felt too quiet. Even with the noise of the machinery.

 
The doctor did not know when Ike would be able to return to work. Or if he would be able to return at all.

  Nicholas felt horrible. Ike was his first real friend in Shadyside. He made the job fun. And he was willing to teach Nicholas everything.

  Nicholas would do anything to make it up to Ike. But there was nothing to do.

  Nicholas had been assigned to work with Jason. Jason only spoke to him to give him orders. The other men did not speak to him at all.

  Nicholas could hardly believe Ike would not come up behind him, teasing him about Betsy’s lunches. He did not know what he would do if Ike could never come back to work.

  He knew most of the men blamed him. He blamed himself a lot of the time. He had checked the boards so carefully. But maybe he had missed the knothole.

  He felt sick inside every time he pictured Ike’s hand. Or the way Ike’s face looked when he screamed for his fingers.

  Nicholas searched the grain of each board Jason fed him. He wanted to be sure no one arranged an “accident” for him.

  Around noon, Jason stopped feeding the boards and walked away without a word.

  I suppose that means it is time for lunch, Nicholas thought. Very nice, Jason. He turned off the saw. The buzzing continued to ring in his ears.

  Nicholas wandered outside and sat on the log he had shared with Ike the day before. He felt lonely.

  I need Rosalyn here, he thought. I need someone to talk to.

  He heard footsteps and glanced up. Mr. Manning walked toward him. Ruth scurried along behind her father.

  Is he going to fire me? Nicholas wondered. Does he blame me for Ike’s accident, too?

  Mr. Manning dropped onto the log. He exhaled a deep breath. “Have you met my daughter?” he asked.

  “Yes, Father,” Ruth replied before Nicholas could answer. “I ran into him before he began working at the mill.”

  Ruth glanced at him shyly, and they smiled at their secret joke.

  “Ruth does all my paperwork,” Mr. Manning said. He clapped his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “She is a sharp girl. She has a head for numbers.”

  Isn’t he going to ask me anything about the accident? Nicholas wondered.