There was a weird, quiet WHOOOSH! as if all the air was sucked out of the room, and suddenly the door exploded in flames, slamming us backward with a blast of fierce heat.
“Dave!” screamed Mom, darting right into the fire.
“Get back!” shouted Dad. “Head for the back door!”
But we couldn’t move. He pushed Mom away and fell out of the fire, rolling on the floor. Flames were shooting up his arm. Mom whipped off her bathrobe and beat at the flames until they were out.
“Dave, are you all right?” cried Mom.
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Get going!”
Although his voice sounded strangled from the pain in his arm, he pushed us along the hallway. Behind us hot, orange light flickered, lighting our way.
Sally whimpered but none of us spoke. Dad’s raspy breathing sounded as loud as the angry snap of the flames, as if he’d run a mile.
Nobody saw the wire the old witch had strung across the hall. I fell over it first, landing hard on my elbow with Sally tumbling on top of me. Mom caught her foot and twisted sideways to keep from toppling onto me and Sally. She landed with a piercing cry.
Dad ripped the wire out of the wall as Sally and I scrambled to our feet. But Mom was taking a long time getting up.
“My ankle,” she whispered to Dad. “I think it’s broken.”
“All right,” he said. “Grab hold of my shoulder and I’ll lift you. Kids,” he said sharply to me and Sally, “keep moving. Wait for us outside by the cherry tree. Move! Now!”
I grabbed Sally’s hand and ran for the back door. It seemed a long ways away without Mom and Dad beside us. But there was no fire in the kitchen and the smoke smell seemed fainter.
I was afraid to touch the doorknob but I had to. Behind me I could hear Dad helping Mom along the hallway. I held my breath and reached for the doorknob. It was cool and turned easily.
Outside the night air was sweet and fresh. Sally and I breathed deep and waited for Mom and Dad.
“Come on, kids, get away from the house,” said Dad as he came out, half-carrying Mom. “It might go up at any second.”
He started down the slope ahead of us toward the cherry tree, Mom hopping and hobbling beside him.
“Let’s go, Sally,” I said, and reached for her hand.
But my fingers closed on air.
I spun around.
No Sally! She was gone!
Then I heard soft, vicious laughter from inside the house. “You thought you’d escape me,” whispered the evil old witch, sounding right beside my ear. “But you won’t get away. None of you will get away!”
42
I darted back into the house, shouting over my shoulder for Dad. The witch stood in the kitchen doorway, Sally clutched tight against her. Behind them was the flickering glow of the fire at the front of the house.
“Daddy!” cried Sally. “Mommy!”
“You’re all going to die,” crooned the witch, backing slowly down the hall. Smoke drifted around her, making Sally cough.
In her white hospital gown, the evil old woman looked like a ghost. But the ghosts were gone, I thought, shaking so hard with fear I could barely move. There would be no Bobby to come to save us now.
“You thought you could steal my teddy bear,” she hissed. Her wispy hair stood out from her head in patches and her fat white tongue roamed around her scrabby lips like a slug.
The witch took another step back. “For years I searched and waited and searched. And you thought you could just come here and take it from me!”
She grabbed at the teddy bear in Sally’s arms but Sally clung tight and wouldn’t let go.
“I’ll teach you,” growled the witch. “I’ll get you just like I got that other brat.”
“Bobby will save me,” said Sally, hugging the moth-eaten teddy bear. She squirmed but the witch grinned, showing her blackened teeth, and clutched Sally tighter.
The air was thick and hard to breathe. “Let her go and you can have the teddy bear,” I said, moving deeper into the house toward them.
She just laughed and plucked something out of her pocket. It was only when she flicked the end of the wooden match against her fingernail that I realized what it was.
And only then—too late—did I smell the gasoline all around me.
I dove, launching myself down the hall, and flinched from the tiny flame of the match as it sailed over my head.
WHOOOOOSH!
There was a soft, deadly sound as all the air rushed away. I felt myself being sucked backward. I felt the white heat before I heard the explosion of fire.
“Jason!” screamed Sally from far away.
I couldn’t breathe. My throat burned and my lungs felt full of needles. On hands and knees I crawled down the hall, feeling the fire leap higher behind me.
“Sally! Jason!” It was Dad, trying to get in. But the back door was a sheet of flame, the kitchen was full of fire.
We were trapped. There was no way out.
The old witch threw back her head and howled with glee.
Sally kicked with both feet and her heel connected with the old lady’s knee. The witch let out a yelp and Sally punched her in the stomach.
For an instant her claws relaxed their grip. Sally squirmed and was free.
“Go, Sally,” I yelled and started after her.
The witch leaped in front of me, her eyes fiercer than the fire. She’s only an old lady, I reminded myself as I kept going. Then she snatched up something from off the floor—a gasoline can.
That stopped me.
“Your little sister won’t be so pretty as a crispy critter, will she?” taunted the witch, swinging the can so that gasoline spattered the floor between us. “She’ll never escape me. I’ll make a torch from her pretty blond hair. A blazing torch!”
The witch swung the gasoline can again. This was it! I lashed out with my foot and caught the can squarely, knocking it out of
