The Ghost of Fossil Glen (9 page)

After school, Allie waved goodbye to Dub, who was riding his bike to an appointment at the orthodontist's office. Karen and Pam walked off together, pointedly ignoring Allie. Allie stood for a moment outside the building, thinking. Her mind wasn't on Karen and Pam, however, but on Lucy.

Allie's parents were both at work and Michael was at the baby-sitter's, so there was no reason to go straight home. Dub was right: she had things to do. Resolutely, she pulled up the hood of her rain parka and headed over to Fossil Glen.

The day's downpour had slowed to a cold, soggy drizzle as she walked across the meadow. The sky was such a low, dark gray that it felt much later than 3:30 in the afternoon. Wispy fog floated over the tall grass of the meadow and hovered above the deep ravine of the glen, obscuring the edge of the cliffs. Trees seemed to rise eerily out of the mist, only to disappear again in the murky dimness.

Allie wasn't sure she should go to the glen, but she felt drawn to the scene of Lucy's death. She held the vague hope that being at the very place where Lucy had plunged off the cliff would provide a clue or help her know what to do next. And, she admitted to herself, she hoped that Lucy would appear or speak to her again.

Allie stopped near the cliff's edge, or at least what she sensed was the edge. The whole world seemed to be made of the same gray swirling mist. It made her feel oddly off-balance and unreal. She stood peering down. Occasional breaks in the fog allowed her glimpses of the rushing waters of Fossil Creek below.

This was the spot where Lucy had stood right before she fell. Allie pictured Lucy growing too warm in her blue sweatshirt, pulling it over her head, and setting it down on the path, along with the fossils she had found. What had happened next?

Suddenly it seemed to Allie that she was back in her horrible nightmare, the one in which she had felt hands tightening around her neck, the one in which she'd been falling and falling and falling. Once more, the tumbling girl became, not Allie, but Lucy.

Allie felt a strange, menacing presence nearby but couldn't dispel the vision filling her brain. She cringed as the plunging figure reached the ground.

Then the scene in her mind grew darker, as if evening had become true night. Someone was holding the dead girl by the arms, dragging her roughly upstream, grunting with the effort. Allie could make out only his shadowy figure and the sounds of his struggle, which was made more difficult by something he held in his hand.

A noise behind her broke the spell of her horrifying vision. She turned and peered through the mist. She could see no more than a few feet in any direction, except when the fog whirled in the wind and opened like a curtain, allowing her a momentary glimpse through the trees. She saw no one. But there was the sound once more; soft and furtive, like a muffled footstep. And again, closer this time.

The sensation of a menacing presence that she had felt in the dream was with her, only it was real now. Someone was on the cliff path with her.

For a moment she stood frozen, heart fluttering in her throat, eyes wide, trying desperately to see through the haze. She dreaded hearing the next step, but one part of her mind was waiting for it, so she could figure out where it was coming from and run the other way.

There. The snap of a twig and the faint swish of a branch snagging on cloth. Up the path to the right. Very close.

Why, she wondered wildly, would someone approach with such stealth and caution. Perhaps, she tried to tell herself, the person was lost in the fog, and frightened. Should she call out and announce herself?

“
No
.” It was the voice, Lucy's voice. “
Run. Fast
.”

Panic-stricken now, Allie turned and fled down the narrow path to the left. She wanted only to escape, to put distance between herself and those creeping footsteps. Holding her hands out in front of her to help feel her way, she ran stumbling down the wet, slippery trail. Twigs snagged her jeans and whipped her face as she raced blindly forward, the sound of her own flight so loud in her ears that she had no idea whether or not she was being followed. She was far too frightened to stop and find out.

At last, she came to a place where the fog had lifted slightly and she could see the meadow open before her. The ghostly shapes of the school's playground equipment appeared out of the murk. With her breath ripping raggedly from her throat, she ran toward the sliding board and the swing set and the jungle gym. Tears streamed from her eyes, so glad was she to see those familiar objects, looking safe and normal in their usual places.

Only when she was on the High Street sidewalk did she stop and look behind her. She saw nothing but the school grounds and the meadow and the monstrous shape of the bulldozer rising from the low-lying fog like a prehistoric creature.

But Allie knew that someone was there, just beyond her vision, hidden by the mist and the trees. Hugging her rain parka tight to her shivering body, she ran home and locked the doors behind her.

That night, before going to bed, Allie went from room to room, making sure the windows were closed and latched, and the doors were bolted tight. Her father saw her and asked teasingly, “What's up, Al? Afraid of the Bogeyman?”

Allie looked into her father's kind, laughing eyes and hesitated. How could she begin to tell him she was afraid of a man she'd never met, a man who was a murderer, who had figured out that she was the only person who knew he was a murderer, and that she had found out about it because she'd read the diary of a dead girl? “No,” she said finally. Her voice came out funny, high-pitched and quavering. “I was just—checking.”

“I always lock up, sweetie. You run on up to bed. It's late.”

Allie dreaded going to her room alone. Reluctantly, she turned to climb the stairs.

“Didn't you forget something?” said her dad. He stood with his arms out, and Allie ran to give him a hug. She clung fiercely for a moment before letting go, and he said softly, “Everything okay, Allie-Cat?”

“Yes,” said Allie. “I just—”

“What?”

“Just make sure everything's locked, okay?”

“You bet,” said her dad, giving her a kiss. “You can count on it.”

Allie checked her desk to make sure the diary was where she had left it. It was safe in the secret drawer, which Raymond Gagney obviously knew nothing about. Okay, she thought, he can't get the diary. And Dad locked up the house, so he can't get me. She repeated it over and over to herself: He can't get me, he can't get me, he can't get me.

But even with the lamp on her bureau burning brightly, Allie spent most of the night staring wide-eyed at the cracks in the ceiling, stiffening at every sound she imagined she heard. She longed for daylight, but found that instead of looking forward to the field trip the next day, she dreaded returning to the glen.

She could pretend she was sick. But that was no good. Her parents would have to go to work, and the idea of staying home alone all day was far worse than going to the glen with her class. She prayed for rain.

She must have slept, because she awakened to bright sunlight streaming through her window. It was a beautiful day. The field trip was on.

Okay, she told herself, she was going back to the glen. What did they say about falling off a horse? You were supposed to get right back on. Besides, she loved the glen. She'd been climbing those cliffs ever since she was a little older than Michael. She wasn't going to let Gag-Me stop her. She got out of bed and dressed in shorts, a T-shirt, and hiking boots.

“Mom?” she asked at breakfast. “Could you drive me to school today?”

“Sure, I guess so. Why? Do you have a lot to carry?”

“My backpack's really heavy,” Allie said.

“Okay. Be ready in five minutes,” said her mother.

As they drove toward school, Allie looked nervously for signs of Raymond Gagney. She felt a little silly. What was she looking for, anyway? A mysterious black sedan? A lurking figure wearing a raincoat and sporting a bristly mustache? The image her mind created was a combination of Lucy's description and every movie villain Allie had ever seen.

To her relief, no one and nothing out of the ordinary appeared on the way to school. Once in the parking lot, she thanked her mother and ran quickly into the building.

When Allie got to her classroom, Hoover was already there. With a red bandanna tied around her neck and her tail wagging madly, she was prancing happily around the room, sniffing and exploring.

“Hey, Hoover,” shouted Joey, “that's my lunch bag!” He grabbed the brown paper bag from Hoover's mouth and gave her a playful pat on the back.

As always, Allie was enchanted by Hoover. She would have loved to own a dog but couldn't because Michael was allergic to pet hair. “Come here, Hoover,” she called. “I brought something for you.” She reached into her backpack, took out a bag of pretzels, and held them up to show Mr. Henry. “Is it okay if I give her one?” she asked.

“One,” said Mr. Henry, “and that's it. The vet said she's got to go on a diet.”

“Poor Hoover,” said Allie, feeding the big dog the pretzel. Hoover thumped her tail gratefully. Allie rubbed Hoover's long, soft ears and whispered, “No more snacks for you, girl. Doctor's orders.”

Mr. Henry flicked the lights on and off and the class grew quiet. Even Hoover sat looking at him attentively.

“Well,” he said, “you all look ready for our excursion. Don't forget to bring paper and something to write with and, of course, your lunches. Those of you with field guides, be sure to bring them, too. Do we have one for identifying birds?”

Julie Horwitz held up a book.

“Mammals?”

“Yep.”

“Reptiles and amphibians, plants, fossils, trees, and insects,” said Dub.

“What about fish?” asked Mr. Henry.

“I've got it,” answered Allie.

“Okay, that ought to do it. Everybody ready? Let's go.”

As the class trooped across the meadow to the glen, Allie made sure that she was out of earshot of Karen and Pam while she told Dub what had happened to her at the cliffs the afternoon before.

Dub's eyes grew wide. “It's Gag-Me!” he said. “I told you! He's figured out who you are and now he's after you!”

“You think so?” said Allie with a shiver. Then she admitted, “So do I. I've been really spooked ever since. It was so creepy. I'm sure I heard footsteps, Dub. But, I don't know…I never actually saw anybody.”

Mr. Henry was leading the way down the path to a place where the slope of the cliff was more gradual and easier to manage. Years before, someone had tied a thick rope from tree to tree to form a handrail along a narrow trail that descended to the bottom of the glen.

“Now, take your time and be careful,” Mr. Henry warned. “These cliffs are slippery. They're made of what kind of rock?”

“Shale,” the class answered in unison.

“Right. And it's very crumbly, so watch your feet.”

Allie had to smile at Mr. Henry's caution. He was right, of course. But compared to the cliff she'd climbed earlier in the week, the path was a piece of cake.

One by one, the kids in the class followed Mr. Henry down the hill. Hoover had already raced to the bottom and was splashing in the creek, sending a mallard drake and a great blue heron squawking into flight.

While Allie and Dub waited their turn to go down, Allie walked a little farther up the path to the place where she figured she'd been standing the day before. Sure enough, there were the imprints of her sneakers, clearly outlined in the mud that was beginning to dry after the rain. There were prints where she had stood still, listening, and deep, smeared prints where she had taken off running.

No more than ten feet from where she had stood were several prints much larger than hers.

“Dub!” she cried. “Look!”

Dub ran over and studied the prints carefully. “Well, that proves it,” he said. “Somebody was on that path with you. And those shoes don't belong to any kid. Look how big they are.”

They stared wide-eyed at each other, neither one saying what Allie knew was in both their minds.

“Come on, you guys,” called Brad. “We're leaving you in the dust.”

Quickly, Allie and Dub walked back to join the others, glad that it was broad daylight and they were with Mr. Henry and the group and not alone. Most of the kids were already down by the creek, lifting up rocks and peering into pools. Allie could hear Joey's voice booming, “Hey! I found a crayfish!” Julie yelled out that she could see fish near the bottom of the falls.

“I've got the fish book,” Allie called back. “I'll be right there.”

She and Dub joined Julie on the creek bank near the small waterfall. There, in a clear, deep pool, was a group of fish. They were all facing into the rushing water, swimming so close together that they looked like a big dark mass.

“They're suckers,” said Dub.

“Yeah,” agreed Allie. “But is that their real name? I'll look them up and find out.” She and Dub and Julie flipped through the pages of the field guide and read about white suckers, which each spring swam from the lake up into the streams to spawn.

“Wait, that one over there is different,” said Allie, pointing to a larger fish, poised by itself in the shadow of a submerged log. They crept closer to get a better look, and the fish darted quickly to the other side of the pool, flashing silvery stripes on its side.

“A rainbow trout!” shouted Dub. “Mr. Henry! A rainbow!”

Mr. Henry, an avid fisherman, came over to look. “It's a beauty,” he said admiringly. “You know, this is one of the few streams around here that's clean enough for trout to spawn in.”

“We should put that in our letter to the owner of this place,” said Brad.

“You're right,” said Mr. Henry. “If they start digging foundations for fifty houses up above, there'll be a lot of erosion from these cliffs. All that mud will make a mess of the stream.”

“Hey!” a voice hollered excitedly. “Everybody! Come here! Look at this!”

“Cool!”

“What is it?”

“It's some kind of bird.”

“It's a duck, you dodo.”

“Oh, yeah? What kind?”

“Where's the book?”

“It's just sitting there! Why doesn't it fly away?”

Mr. Henry, Dub, and Julie headed over to where most of the kids in the class were gathered, looking down at a nest in the crotch of a fallen tree.

Allie continued to stare into the pool at the suckers, distracted by the thought of how awful it would be if the waters of the clear, beautiful pool were muddied and spoiled. Would that mean the fish could no longer spawn? If they couldn't safely lay their eggs here, where would they go? There would be no little baby suckers, no small trout to return to the lake and grow big.

She heard Joey shout, “It's a mallard duck, and no wonder she doesn't want to fly—she's got babies!”

“Come away from there, everybody,” said Mr. Henry. “We don't want to bother her.”

Allie was starting over to see the ducklings when she noticed that Hoover had strayed from the group and was heading rapidly upstream.

“Hoover!” she called. “Come back here!”

But Hoover, intent on some canine mission, ignored her.

“Hoover!” Allie called again. Hoover disappeared around the bend. “Uh-oh,” said Allie. Remembering the cow-manure episode and the class's promise to keep an eye on Hoover if she came along, Allie set off to bring her back.