Sally’s lower lip trembled.
I felt bad but I had to try to make Sally understand the danger. The ghosts were already dead. Why should they care what happened to living people?
Sally and I followed the sound of voices into the kitchen. Mom was on the phone to the hospital. She looked pale and worried.
“Thank God,” she said when she hung up the phone. “They said Katie will be okay. Her parents are already at the hospital.”
Relief made my knees turn rubbery. And for some strange reason my stomach felt swirly, like I was going to throw up.
“Jay?” Dad asked. “Are you okay?”
I nodded and took a deep breath.
“You’re both exhausted,” Mom said. “Why don’t you guys take a quick nap while your father and I finish unpacking? We’ll wake you up in an hour or so and we’ll all have a big breakfast. How does that sound?”
“Sounds good, Mom,” I said, yawning. She was right. I was exhausted.
I walked my little sister upstairs and put her to bed. She hugged her stuffed bunny and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Out in the hallway I was heading for my bedroom when a door creaked open behind me.
I turned. The attic door had swung open. A cool breeze came down the attic stairs.
Forget it, Jason, I told myself. Go to bed.
But something drew me to that attic door. Why was a breeze coming down from up there? I had to find out.
My feet made not a sound on the steps. Not even a creak.
Sunlight shone yellow through the opening at the top of the stairs. I could see dust hanging thick in the air like a misty curtain.
I stepped into the attic.
I gasped in surprise. And instantly bent over coughing as the dust flowed down my throat. But I didn’t care.
The attic was a wreck!
The walls were totally smashed in. There were big holes in the floor.
And Bobby’s rocking chair was still there!
The little rocking chair was the only thing that wasn’t smashed to bits—everything else was broken or damaged.
Even my parents would have to believe the house was really haunted when they saw this!
I was about to yell for my dad. Then I heard something move behind me. A rustling, sneaky sound in the shadows.
The back of my neck tingled.
I was slowly turning around to look when a horrible voice spoke right by my ear. A creaky, raspy voice of the undead.
“You!” it shrieked. “It’s all your fault! I’ll get you! I’ll get you for good!”
I spun around. My heart leaped into my throat.
The witch-thing was there, eyes glowing from inside her black cloak. The same creature who haunted the place in the dark.
“ARGGGGHHHHH!”
It charged straight for me, snarling.
I was frozen to the spot.
Her eyes burned with fury.
One gnarled claw reached for my throat. In the other she held the sledgehammer. The same hammer that had smashed these walls to bits.
She cackled. Her black eyes glittered with vengeful glee.
I couldn’t move.
Cold, bony fingers closed around my neck.
The last thing I saw was the blur of the sledgehammer. Then the world went black.
5
Everything hurt. I was afraid to open my eyes and look.
I strained my ears. Was the witch-thing still there? I couldn’t hear a thing.
But I felt her crouching over me, waiting. As soon as I opened my eyes she would pounce.
I lay there for what seemed like forever. My nose began to itch. Then my knee. I tried to work out a plan but the itching filled my whole head. I had to move.
Very carefully I opened my eyes a slit. No witch. I moved my head an inch. Nobody there.
I blew out my breath and jumped up, scratching all over.
Ouch!
She must have really knocked me with that sledgehammer. I hurt in places I didn’t know I had.
But she hadn’t killed me, even though I knew I had seen murder in her eyes. Maybe she was weaker in the daytime. Yes, that was probably it! The sun sapped her strength.
I hobbled toward the door, working out a new plan in my head. A way to stop the haunting!
Then I heard a thud downstairs. And another.
The floor began to shake with the force of these new blows. Was the witch-thing taking her sledgehammer to the living room?
I was tempted to stay hidden up here until the noise stopped. But whatever was happening downstairs, Mom and Dad would think I was responsible.
I had to try to stop it.
Before I could change my mind, I left the attic. Pausing in the second floor hallway, I couldn’t hear anything breaking. No crunches or splinterings or tinkling of glass.
Just BANG! BANG! BANG!
I crept down the stairs to the first floor. There was no one in the living room or the dining room. The sound was coming from the back of the house.
The basement!
My feet pulled me along the hallway to the kitchen. My mind was blank—it was as if I’d lost control of my body.
The pounding got louder.
But it wasn’t the basement door that was dancing in its frame. It was the kitchen door. The furious banging was coming from outside.
As I stood stuck to the spot, the doorknob began to turn.
I stared at it in horror.
Was it Bobby, the dead boy? Or the witch-thing coming to get me?
The door shook and bulged.
A voice from the grave shouted out my name. “Jayyy-son! Jayyy-son!”
The door swung open.
6
A big dark shape filled the doorway, blotting out the sun.
“Jason? Is that you?”
I turned to jelly with relief. It was only Steve, my bud from next door.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “How come your parents are back already?”
I shrugged. “The job didn’t take as long as they thought, that’s all.”
“Yeah?” He sounded doubtful. “What was all the fuss over here late last night? I thought I heard screaming.”
“Must have been the ambulance siren,” I said, acting casual. Like it was
