And what about all the strange noises in the middle of the night? That eerie voice calling my name? Maybe there was a rational explanation for that, too, just like the incident in the basement had been an accident—my foot breaking through a slimy old stair, making me think there was a bony hand grabbing my ankle.
As for the shears stabbed into my mattress, that had to be Steve. Definitely Steve.
“Jason?” Mom called from the kitchen. “Your friend Steve is here.”
That proved it. He’d come back to see how scared I was. So I decided to play it cool, not let on that I knew.
“Hey, Steve.” I slapped him five.
“I don’t want you boys going far,” Mom said.
“We’ll be on the porch,” I said. “Just fooling around, right, Steve?”
“I guess so,” he said uncertainly.
When we were out on the porch, Steve took a bag out of his pocket and put it on the table. He had a chocolate chip cookie in his hand and he munched it. “My Mom made these. Help yourself.”
“No, thanks,” I said.
“You don’t like cookies?” he said, sounding disappointed.
“I like cookies fine, but first I want to settle something.”
“Sure,” he said, eyeing the bag. “What’s up?”
“Swear on your mother’s grave you’ll tell the truth?”
Steve made a face as he finished his cookie. “You think I’m a liar, is that it?”
“Just say you’ll swear.”
“OK, fine. I swear on my mother’s grave I’ll tell the truth. Satisfied?”
“Almost,” I said. “Now tell me about the shears.”
“What?”
“The shears you took out of my parents’ office and stabbed into my mattress.”
Steve stood up. “You know what, Jason? You’re totally out of your mind.”
You could tell he was telling the truth.
“Take it easy,” I said. “I believe you.”
I told him what had happened.
“Maybe it was your little sister,” he suggested.
“No way. She’s not big enough. It was like something really strong just plain went nuts in my room. Like it hated me.”
“You’re scaring me, you know that, Jason?” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Here, have a cookie before I eat them all up.”
Steve handed me the bag. I put my hand in and felt for a cookie.
My hand closed on something squishy.
Something gross and slimy.
“Oh, no,” shouted Steve. “Wait! I picked up the wrong bag. That’s the dog poop I cleaned off the front walk!”
I dropped the bag and jumped away. And felt as if I was going to barf.
Steve exploded with laughter. He laughed so hard, he fell on the porch and rolled around. “Gotcha,” he cried when he caught his breath. “Gotcha good. Now we’re even.”
I headed into the house.
“Hey, Jason, it’s only rubber. Fake dog poop. I bought it at the joke shop.” Steve laughed some more. “Jason, here’s the real cookies. Don’t you want one?”
He was still laughing when I went inside.
17
The aliens came bursting out of their hiding places in the hills, about to swarm down on the unsuspecting town and take over the minds of the townspeople. Thrilling and exciting and all that stuff—but I couldn’t concentrate.
I turned a page and realized I’d read through half the battle without understanding a word. Something else was clamoring for attention.
I put the book down. What was it?
Sally. Her voice was drifting faintly down the hallway. She should be asleep by now. But she sounded as if she was comforting someone.
I strained my ears but I couldn’t make out any words. Just the tone. A calming, soothing tone, as she sometimes used with her dolls.
Nothing weird about that, right? But my heart was starting to beat faster.
Then Sally’s voice rose. “Nooo,” she said.
I sat up and swung my feet to the floor. I didn’t want to go down the hall. No way.
But I had to check on my kid sister.
She was probably having a bad dream, I told myself. I’d look in on her and then come back and finish my book.
I cracked open my bedroom door and shivered in the suddenly cold air.
I started to go through the door and something bounced me right back. I landed on my butt and stared up at the doorway in disbelief.
There was nothing there. Nothing to stop me from leaving. And yet it had.
I got up and slowly walked forward again.
SLAP! I was sproinged back into the room. This time I managed to keep my balance and not fall down. I approached the doorway more slowly, reaching out. My hand came up against an icy-cold barrier. It felt rubbery, like some kind of weird, invisible Jell-O. It yielded a little but I couldn’t push through. And it felt completely creepy—clammy and slippery and unlike anything I’d ever felt before. Just touching it made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
“Jay-son!”
That was Sally, calling me. And I couldn’t get out of my own bedroom. Something wanted to keep me from helping Sally!
I couldn’t let that happen. I was getting through that icky stuff one way or another.
I got down in a three-point stance, tensed myself, and then charged full blast at the door. I sank to my waist in the invisible, icy goo. I started punching at it as hard as I could, desperate to get through.
The slimy, Jell-O-like stuff tightened around my head, slowed my fists until I couldn’t move at all, forward or backwards. It seeped into my ears and nose, squeezing my head.
The invisible stuff was sucking me in, digesting me slowly, cell by cell. It felt as if my skin was dissolving.
It was eating me!
I opened my mouth to scream and the gelatinous mass swam over my tongue and flowed down my throat. I was suffocating.
I struggled and wriggled, pulled with all my might. My chest was burning with effort and lack of air. I heard pounding footsteps on the stairs—somebody was coming, but who?
Suddenly there was a loud sucking noise and the goo let go. I fell back on the floor with a crash. What breath I had left was knocked out of me.
As I lay there gasping like
