The Evil Lives! (14 page)

She kicked out again, then rolled over onto her knees and tried to rise.

Her feet slipped in the mud and she began to crawl away, sobbing in fear. “Janine!” she cried. “Get up! Can you get up?”

“What's . . . what's going on?” Janine's voice sounded weak and confused. “Amanda?”

“He's going to kill me!” Amanda sobbed, scrambling through the mud on her hands and knees. “Help me!”

“It's too late!” Brandon's footsteps splashed through the mud as he stormed after her. “It's your turn, Amanda. There's nothing you can do!”

“No!” Amanda scrambled to her feet and raced around to the head of the empty grave. Brandon stood at its foot, glaring at her.

A pink froth of blood bubbled from his mouth. He sucked it in and swallowed, licking his lips. “There's nothing you can do,” he repeated. “Nowhere to go. No one to help.”

Amanda stared at him, her breath coming in ragged sobs.

“You can't win, Amanda. You can't beat me.” His eyes glowed triumphantly. “I will live forever.”

No! Amanda thought, suddenly remembering. The Evil
can
be beat.

It must be drowned.

She glanced around and her heart sank. We're in the middle of a graveyard, she thought. There's no way to drown him. Not here.

A movement behind Brandon caught Amanda's
eye. Janine. She was on her feet now, moving toward Brandon.

Brandon heard her. He spun around and grabbed Janine, lifting her from the ground as if she weighed almost nothing. He pinned her arms to her side.

Janine cried out once, then gasped as he began squeezing the air from her lungs.

“Stop it!” Amanda screamed.

She had to do something. Glancing around frantically, she spotted a fallen branch. She grabbed it up and ran around the grave.

Holding the branch like a baseball bat, Amanda swung it over her shoulder, then brought it crashing against the back of Brandon's skull with a loud crack.

Brandon howled. A shudder passed through him.

His grip loosened, and Janine dropped to the ground in heap. Shaking his head to clear it, Brandon staggered sideways toward the grave.

The grave! Amanda thought quickly. If we can push him in there, maybe . . . maybe he'll go back in time.

“Help me, Janine!” Amanda shouted. She grabbed hold of Janine's arm and hauled her to her feet. “We can't drown the Evil, but maybe we can send it away. Help me push him in the grave.”

Janine gazed at her blankly.

Brandon stopped and turned toward them.

“Come on, Janine!” Amanda screamed. “Help me shove him into the grave before it's too late!”

As Amanda swung the branch at Brandon again, Janine finally seemed to understand. She ran up and shoved him.

Brandon danced back out of their way. But Amanda kept swinging the branch, cracking him in the knees, then in the side of the head. As Brandon
swung his arm out, trying to grab hold of the branch, Janine shoved him hard.

Brandon dodged back. His heel slid over the edge of the grave. He caught his balance and began to lunge forward.

Switching her grip on the branch, Amanda held it like a battering ram—and drove it straight into his chest.

Brandon teetered for a second, then toppled backward into the open coffin.

Amanda peered over the edge.

Brandon lay still. His eyes were closed, shutting out their eerie green glow.

“He's unconscious! Quick! Close the lid!” Amanda cried. She and Janine ran around to the left of the grave. The lid rested against one side of the grave, stuck in the muddy earth.

“Use the branch,” Janine suggested quickly. “Pry it loose with the branch.”

Amanda stuck the branch down, but it was too thick to slip between the coffin lid and the wall of earth. She glanced around for something thinner.

Her gaze landed on Judd, lying crumpled and still beneath the tree. Tears rose to her eyes. I thought he was possessed by the Evil, she remembered guiltily. How could I have been so wrong?

A twig snapped.

Amanda stiffened.

Janine grasped Amanda's wrist. Her fingers were icy. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Slowly, Amanda turned her gaze to where Janine was staring.

A woman stood a few feet from the end of the grave.

Half corpse. Half skeleton.

Decaying flesh hung in strips from her face. Her lips were black with rot. Her hands dangled at her sides. The long finger bones gleamed, picked clean of skin and meat.

“Sarah Fear,” Amanda whispered. But which Sarah was it? The real Sarah—the one who drowned on the way to London? Or Jane, who had taken Sarah's name when they switched places?

“What's going on?” Janine cried. “I thought the Evil was inside Brandon! Why is Sarah Fear here?”

The hideous corpse stood quietly, staring at them with empty eye sockets. And then she staggered forward, toward Amanda and Janine.

She raised her arms, and pieces of tattered material fell away, exposing rotting flesh and shiny bone.

The corpse took another staggering step. Her bony fingers curled like claws as she reached out for Amanda.

“Leave me alone!” Amanda cried. “Don't hurt me!”

T
he corpse took another lurching step.

Its bones creaked and rattled. Clumps of blackened flesh fell from its arms and plopped softly into the mud.

Amanda screamed again. She backed away and bumped into Janine, who stood frozen now, too frightened to move.

The corpse reached the end of the grave.

The overpowering smell of rotting flesh filled the air. Amanda swallowed hard and covered her mouth with her hand. “Come on!” she choked out, giving Janine a tug. “We have to get out of here. Hurry!”

Amanda tugged again, and Janine finally responded. They dodged away from the bony, grasping fingers and ran up to the head of the grave.

The corpse stopped and turned her head from side to side. The neck bones creaked like rusty hinges.

“We can't leave Judd here!” Amanda cried. “We have to take him with us somehow. If we leave him, who knows what she might do to him?”

Janine shuddered and squeezed Amanda's hand. “Okay. Let's go.”

The corpse started to move again. It took one lurching step around the corner of the grave.

Amanda and Janine began to run down the opposite side.

A howl of pure rage suddenly split the air.

They stopped dead. The howl echoed in the night.

“What
was
that?” Janine cried.

Before Amanda could answer, Brandon sprang from the coffin and landed at the foot of the grave. His eyes gleamed stronger than ever, lighting up the hideous face of the corpse with their eerie green glow.

The corpse turned. As her empty gaze seemed to focus on Brandon, her rotting lips drew back in a snarl. “No!” she shouted. Her voice sounded like a young woman's. “Not you! You're dead. I killed you!”

“You thought you did. But you failed!” Bellowing in fury, Brandon leaped through the air and attacked the corpse. His powerful hand closed around her arm, snapping the bone.

The corpse shrieked in agony and twisted away. “I killed you, Sarah!” she screamed again. “You were supposed to stay dead!”

“Never!” Brandon yelled. “I'll never die!”

The corpse hissed like a snake and raked her hand over Brandon's face.

Blood seeped out of the cuts and trickled into Brandon's eyes.

“You'll die now!” the corpse shrieked. She clawed at Brandon's chest, ripping his shirt and leaving a trail of bloody cuts in his skin.

“What's going on?” Janine screamed. “What's happening?”

Amanda suddenly realized the truth. “The corpse isn't Sarah!” she cried. “It isn't the real Sarah. It's Jane Hardy!”

“What are you talking about?” Janine demanded.

“Sarah's spirit possessed Jane a hundred years ago, and now it's in Brandon. But Jane is still trying to kill it! She—”

A horrible shriek interrupted Amanda.

Still struggling, Brandon and Jane stood at the very edge of the grave.

Jane kept ripping at Brandon's flesh with the sharp bones of her fingers. Strips of skin hung from his face like bloody ribbons, and he shrieked in pain.

“Die!” Jane screamed. She lurched forward, trying to shove him into the gaping hole. “Die!”

The Evil in Brandon howled in rage. “I'm not going down into that grave again. Never again!” He swung his arm, punching his fist into the side of Jane's skull.

Pieces of rotting flesh flew from her face. She rocked back, stunned.

“Never!” Brandon shouted. “Never!”

Jane snarled and tore at him again.

Brandon dodged her ripping, clawlike hand. His foot slid in the mud.

Jane rushed at him, shoving him from behind. But Brandon caught his balance and dug his heels in.

The Evil is too strong, Amanda thought. Jane will never be able to push it into the grave.

Not alone.

Help her, she told herself. Help her shove it in and bury the Evil forever.

Taking a deep breath, Amanda rushed toward the struggling corpse.

“What are you doing?” Janine screamed. “Stop!”

Amanda couldn't stop. Brandon was wheeling around, grabbing for Jane's neck. In another second, his powerful hands would snap her head off.

As Brandon reached for Jane's throat, Amanda plowed into him. Shoved him backward.

His glowing eyes widened in surprise.

His heels slipped over the edge of the grave.

Amanda cried out—and pushed at him again.

Roaring in anger, Brandon fell back.

His feet slid off the edge of the grave. He swung an arm out wildly.

His fingers locked around Amanda's wrist.

“No!” she screamed. She grabbed at his fingers, desperately trying to pry them loose.

But Brandon held her in a ferocious grip.

And as he fell into the grave, he pulled Amanda in with him.

A
manda smiled to herself as a soft, warm breeze washed over her. Nice, she thought. So comfortable.

She turned on her side to snuggle deeper into the pillow.

The mattress felt as hard and solid as a slab of wood.

Scowling, Amanda opened her eyes.

Darkness surrounded her.

She sat up, bracing herself on one elbow. How did the bed get so hard?

The bed tilted. Amanda's elbow scraped along the hard surface. She put her other hand down to keep her balance.

It's not a bed, she realized. It
is
wood. Am I on a floor?

The breeze grew cooler and stronger. And damp. Amanda could feel the sticky moisture on her skin.

The floor tilted again.

Birds screeched overhead.

The darkness began to fade, and Amanda heard the sound of voices. Men and women, shouting anxiously, calling out to each-other in troubled tones.

Above their cries, Amanda heard the voices of two women, shouting furiously.

The darkness faded further. Amanda saw a cloudy sky and a trio of gulls swooping overhead. She heard water, slapping hard at the floor, making it pitch sideways.

Not a floor, she realized.

A boat. I'm on a boat.

The women's voices grew louder. Angrier. “It should have been you!” one of them cried.

Amanda turned her head toward the sound.

Two young women stood near the railing across the deck from Amanda, facing each other. Both wore high-buttoned boots and old-fashioned dresses with long skirts. They wore their hair piled high on their heads, with silk ribbons twisted through it.

One woman had fiery red hair. The other's was a light, silky brown.

Jane and Sarah.

They're young again! Amanda thought. Alive and young. Back in their bodies, exactly the way they were when I saw them switch identities.