22 - Ghost Beach (9 page)

“Run! Run!”

But as we struggled to lower ourselves down the rocks, the roar of thunder
drowned out Terri’s shouts.

The ground shook.

My legs nearly slid out from under me.

I cried out when I realized the roar in my ears wasn’t thunder.

Half-blinded by the rain, Terri and I spun around in time to see the rocks
topple from the top of the cave.

The rain and wind must have loosened them. And now the big boulders rumbled
down, cracking, knocking against each other, bumping, and rolling.

Rock after rock, thudding onto the stone ledge.

Until the dark cave mouth was completely covered.

Shielding my eyes from the rain with both hands, I peered up at the cave, and
waited.

Waited to see if anyone would come out.

But no one did.

No ghostly kids.

No old man.

Harrison Sadler had given his life to capture the ghosts.

The cave glimmered white in a flash of lightning.

Now it was my turn to pull Terri away. “Let’s go,” I pleaded.

But she didn’t budge. She stood staring through the rain at the closed-up
cave.

“Terri—please. Let’s go. It’s over,” I said, tugging her away. “The mystery
is solved. The terror—it’s all over.”

A few minutes later, Agatha threw open the front door of the cottage and
rushed out to greet us. “Where were you? Brad and I were worried sick!”

She ushered us in, fussing over us, shaking her head, talking excitedly, glad
we were back safe and sound.

Terri and I got dried off and into clean clothes.

The rain had stopped by the time we joined Brad and Agatha in the kitchen for
steaming mugs of hot cider. Outside the kitchen window, the wind still blew the
trees, sending water cascading down from the leaves.

“Now tell us what happened to you,” Brad said. “Agatha and I really were
terribly upset that you were out in this storm.”

“It’s kind of a long story,” I told them, warming my hands on the hot cider
mug. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning,” Brad said quietly. “That’s usually the best place.”

Terri and I did our best to tell them the whole story of the three ghostly
kids, the old man, and the frightening cave. As we talked, I could see their
expressions changing.

I could see how worried they were for Terri and me. And I could see how
unhappy they were that we had ignored their wishes and ventured into the cave.

When I finished the story, the room grew quiet. Brad stared out the window at
the dripping rainwater on the glass. Agatha cleared her throat, but didn’t
speak.

“We’re really sorry,” Terri said, breaking the silence. “I hope you’re not
angry at us.”

“The important thing is that you’re both safe and sound,” Agatha replied.

She stood up, stepped over to Terri, and gave her a warm hug.

Agatha started toward me, her arms outstretched—when a sound outside made
her stop.

Barking. Loud dog barking.

Terri lunged for the back door and pulled it open. “Jerry—look!” she cried.
“It’s Harrison Sadler’s dog. He got out of the cave. He must have followed us
here.”

I moved to the open doorway. The dog had been drenched in the rain. Its wet gray fur was matted to its back.

Terri and I reached out to pet the dog.

But to our surprise, it reared back and growled.

“Easy, boy,” I said. “You must be really frightened, huh?”

The dog snarled at me and started to bark.

Terri bent down and tried to soothe the animal. But it backed away from her,
barking ferociously.

“Whoa!” I cried. “I’m your friend—remember? I’m no ghost!”

Terri turned to me, her expression puzzled. “You’re right. We’re not ghosts.
Why is it carrying on like that?”

I shrugged. “Whoa. Easy, boy. Easy.”

The dog ignored my pleas, barking and howling.

I turned back to see Brad and Agatha huddled against the kitchen wall, their
faces tight with fear.

“That’s only Brad and Agatha,” I told the dog. “They’re nice people. They
won’t hurt you.”

And then I swallowed hard. My heart began to throb.

I realized why the dog was barking like that. He was barking at Brad and
Agatha.

Agatha stepped into the doorway, shaking her finger at the snarling animal.
“Bad dog!” she cried. “Bad dog! Now you’ve given away
our
secret, too!”

Terri gasped. She realized what Agatha was saying.

Agatha slammed the kitchen door hard and turned back to Brad. “What a pity
that dog had to show up,” she said, shaking her head fretfully. “Now what do we
do with these two kids, Brad? What do we do with the kids?”

Scanning, formatting and
proofing by Undead.