The Evil Lives! (12 page)

Dustin and Janine shrugged.

“Sarah's evil spirit must have gone to Shadyside,” Amanda said. “She went after Jane—she was so angry at Jane. And the Evil took over Jane's body and made her kill people.” She stared into Janine's eyes. “We called up that Evil. It burst out of this grave.”

“I don't know what to think,” Janine admitted with a sigh. “This whole thing is really creeping me out. And so is this horrible cemetery. Let's go.”

Turning their backs on the empty grave, Janine and
Dustin hurried away. Amanda followed. By the time they reached the street, she was shivering violently. She was soaked to the skin and covered with mud. Mud that reeked of decay and death.

Jane's death. And Sarah's death.

Except Sarah isn't truly dead, Amanda reminded herself. Not as long as the Evil lives.

And it does live.

On the street, Dustin said a quick good-bye and hurried to his car.

“I guess he doesn't want to get back together anymore,” Amanda murmured as she climbed into Janine's car. “That's one way to get rid of him—make him think I'm nuts.”

Janine didn't reply. She started the car and pulled away from the curb so quickly the tires squealed.

Amanda turned to her. “What about you? I suppose you think I'm nuts too.”

“No way,” Janine protested. “But this is so weird. I'm totally confused.”

“So am I,” Amanda admitted. “But I know what I saw. Sarah's Evil was so strong. Too strong to die. And it came back through Jane's grave.”

Janine's fingers tightened anxiously on the steering wheel. “But if it really is back, what can we do?”

“I'm not sure. But we have to be careful,” Amanda warned. “The Evil is inside someone. We just don't know who.”

Janine nodded and bit her lip nervously as she turned the car into Amanda's driveway.

“Don't go all the way to the house,” Amanda told her. “If my parents hear the car, they'll come to the door. I don't want them to see me like this. I'll walk up the driveway and sneak in the back.”

Janine stopped the car at the foot of the drive. Amanda climbed out. As Janine pulled away, Amanda started toward the house.

And stopped.

A set of footprints led up the drive.

Clumps of thick, moist earth had scattered around each print.

Amanda gasped.

It looks like mud from the grave.

But it doesn't have to be, she told herself. It probably isn't.

Amanda continued up the drive. But she kept one eye on the footprints.

Halfway toward the back, the prints stopped.

Amanda's heart seemed to stop too.

The muddy footprints led straight up to her bedroom window.

A
manda backed away from the footprints. Her heart was racing now, and her legs felt shaky.

Something rustled in the hedge behind her. Amanda jumped, then sped down the walk and into the kitchen through the back door.

“Amanda?” her mother's voice called from the front of the house.

Amanda caught her breath and tried to steady her voice. “Yes. It's me.”

“We were getting worried. You should have called.”

“Sorry.” Amanda kicked off her filthy sneakers and picked them up.

“Your father and I are just leaving,” her mother told her. “We're having dinner with the Dixons, so you're on your own. There's leftover chicken in the refrigerator.”

Amanda's stomach tightened into a knot. After falling into that grave, she couldn't imagine ever eating again.

Her parents called out good-bye, and the front door slammed.

Amanda stood in the kitchen, listening. Her sister Adele had gone back to college yesterday. Silence in the house now. All Amanda heard was the hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of the hallway clock.

Clutching her sneakers, she left the kitchen and crept down the hall.

She stopped at her bedroom door. As she reached for the handle, terror shot through her. She quickly snatched her hand back.

The footprints! The muddy footprints had led to her bedroom window!

Had someone climbed into her room?

As Amanda stood in the hall, a clump of mud oozed down her jeans and plopped to the floor. Water dripped from her hair. Her fingers and toes felt numb from the cold.

You have to go in, she told herself. You have to get out of these clothes and into something warm and dry.

Amanda forced herself to take hold of the door handle. She sucked in her breath, quickly turned the handle, and pushed the door open.

A wave of air rolled out, its smell so sour that Amanda staggered back a step, dropping her shoes to the floor. She gasped, then almost gagged as the foul smell filled her nose again. Her stomach heaved and tears sprang to her eyes.

“Amanda,” a voice whispered from inside the bedroom. “Come in.”

Amanda gasped again. The voice sounded hollow. Thin and hollow, as if whoever spoke had no strength.

The thin, whispery voice repeated her name. “Amanda.”

Amanda blinked the tears from her eyes and stared through the doorway.

A woman stood in the center of the room.

A dead woman. Half corpse. Half skeleton.

Tattered shreds of rotting flesh dangled from the bones of her shoulders and arms.

Strips of what had once been a long skirt hung like ribbons around her leg bones.

Only a few wisps of hair clung to her skull.

One eye was missing. The other had oozed from its socket and stuck to a jutting, shiny-white cheekbone.

Her nose was a greenish-black pulp of rotting flesh.

One foot was bare.

The other wore a rotting, high-buttoned boot.

Sarah Fear! Amanda thought in horror. It's her corpse!

Run! she told herself. Get out of the house.

But her feet felt rooted to the floor. She couldn't move them. All that moved was her heart, pounding so hard she thought it would burst from her chest.

Sarah raised her arm and crooked a bony finger at Amanda, motioning her inside.

Amanda swayed dizzily.

“Come in, Amanda,” Sarah whispered. A decayed chunk of her lip broke off and a stream of rotten breath blew across the room. “We must hurry. You and I are going to trade places now.”

A
manda gasped as another wave of dizziness swept over her. The floor seemed to tilt under her feet.

I'm falling, she thought in panic. Falling into the room.

Into death.

The floor tilted farther.

Amanda swayed forward, toward the open door.

“No!” Screaming in terror, she braced her legs and raised her arms to stop herself from falling.

Her hands banged against the door.

She stared at it, blinking in confusion.

The door is still closed, she realized. She ran her palm down the smooth wood.

My bedroom door is closed.

Her knees sagged as relief flooded through her. She leaned her head against the door and breathed deeply.

I imagined it, she thought. That rotting corpse with its sickening smell. That dry, dead voice. I'm still freaked from falling in the grave and going back in time.

I imagined the whole thing.

Amanda closed her eyes and took another deep breath. Then she picked up her shoes and opened the door.

Stepping inside, she quickly flipped on the light.

The room stood empty.

Everything looked the same as it had when she left this morning. Stuffed animals piled on the bed. Books stacked on the desk. A thick, rust-colored sweater and black leggings draped across the chair.

Amanda dropped her shoes and started toward her closet. She needed a long, hot shower and dry clothes.

As she moved farther into the room, she began to unzip her sweatshirt. Mud clogged the zipper and it wouldn't go down. She crossed her arms and grabbed hold of the bottom of the shirt to pull it over her head.

Then she froze, elbows stuck out, heart banging against her chest as she gazed across the room.

The bed had blocked it before, but she now could see it clearly.

A clump of mud, stuck to the windowsill.

More mud beneath the window.

A footprint. Then another and another, leading across her bedroom.

Still frozen in place, Amanda tracked the footprints with her eyes. They led across the pale blue rug, past the closet, and stopped in front of the dresser.

Amanda's eyes traveled slowly up to the top of the dresser.

Her hairbrush. A pair of rolled-up socks. A small
plastic tree with earrings and bracelets dangling from its limbs. A bottle of hand lotion.

A sheet of paper anchored beneath the bottle.

Amanda dropped her arms and forced herself to walk toward the dresser. It's only a piece of paper, she told herself. Mom probably left me a note.

But Mom didn't climb in my window and track mud across the rug. And everybody leaves notes on the corkboard in the kitchen.

In front of the dresser, Amanda stopped, gasping. The paper was wet and muddy. But the mud didn't cover the writing, or the bold signature at the bottom:

Sarah Fear.

Amanda's hand shook as she slid the lotion bottle off the paper and read Sarah Fear's message: “You and your friends have awakened a great Evil. The Evil takes pleasure in killing. You are next, Amanda.”

“No!” Amanda cried out. She backed away from the dresser, clutching her arms.

First Luke. Then Natalie.

And I'm next, she thought in terror. I'm next!

How will I die? What kind of gruesome “accident” is going to happen to me?

And who will do it? Who is possessed by the Evil?

Who do I have to watch out for?

It won't matter, she thought. The Evil is too strong. I saw it. I watched it spew out of Sarah's mouth and boil the ocean.

Even if I find out who it is, I can't fight it. It will get me, no matter what.

Amanda backed up until her legs hit the bed, and she dropped onto it.

Amanda drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. I can't give up, she told herself.
There has to be something I can do. Some way to stop the horrible Evil before it kills me or anybody else.

Janine, she thought suddenly. Janine has the instructions on how to call up the Evil. Maybe they tell how to get rid of it.

Amanda grabbed the telephone and punched in the number.

Busy.

Amanda hung up and peeled off her filthy clothes. She grabbed her bathrobe from the closet hook and shrugged into it. Then she hurried back to the phone and stabbed out Janine's number again.

Still busy.

I have to talk to her! Amanda thought desperately. I have to tell her what's happened. She'll help me figure everything out.

Go over there, she told herself. Stop wasting time!

She threw off her robe and hurried back to the closet. She dragged out a pair of fresh jeans and pulled them on. She fumbled around for a second pair of sneakers and shoved her feet into them.

Hurry! her mind screamed at her. Hurry!

Racing to the chair, she grabbed up the rust-colored sweater, yanking it over her head as she flew from the room.

In the kitchen, she snatched the car keys from the hook by the refrigerator, then tore down the hall to the front door.

As she turned the handle, a strong gust of cold air blew the door wide open.

Amanda gasped.

Judd stood outside, his face only a foot away from hers.

Amanda stared at him.

“Hi,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“I . . . I guess.” Amanda backed up a step.

As Judd took a step forward, Amanda heard a squishing noise.

She glanced down.

And gasped again, her heart suddenly racing with fear.

Judd's sneakers were caked with mud.