Who Let the Ghosts Out? (3 page)

I let him lead me out of the garage, down the driveway, and into the street. He raised his leg at the tree stump at the bottom of the drive, one of his favorite places. Then we walked on toward the corner.

It was a cool October night. Gusts of wind sent brittle dead leaves swirling down the street. The moon had disappeared behind low black clouds.

Buster loped along, sniffing the grass, sniffing a pile of leaves, sniffing everything. I think to dogs, sniffing is like reading. They can't read, so they sniff everything instead.

I let Buster sniff whatever he wanted. I was so happy that he wasn't snarling and trying to turn me into a dog biscuit.

It all went fine until we reached the corner.

We stepped into the circle of yellow light from the streetlamp, and Buster started to change.

He stopped suddenly and turned his big furry head to me.

I leaned down. “Buster, what's wrong?”

Then the dog opened his mouth—as if to speak!

As I stared in shock, his mouth opened wider. His black lips pulled back until I could see all his teeth. The lips pulled back farther. The mouth pulled open even wider.

“Buster—?”

I gasped in horror as the lips pulled back…
back …until Buster's whole head disappeared. Was he
swallowing
himself?

His eyes disappeared inside his skin. The gaping mouth slid back over Buster's body. I could see glistening wet, pink flesh—the insides of his throat.

And then, as the fur peeled back, I saw pale bones and gleaming yellow and red organs. Buster's purple, pulsing heart. His rib cage. His balloonlike stomach. His twisting yellow guts.

“Ohhh.” My stomach churned as I stared, frozen in horror.

Blood shot through purple, pulsing veins. Buster's heart throbbed
outside
his body. Gloppy, half-digested food fell from his stomach and plopped onto the sidewalk.

In seconds, he stood in front of me—
inside out
!

Only his wagging tail remained covered with fur. The rest of him pulsed and throbbed and glistened, his wet and shiny insides
on the outside
.

“Ohh.” I let out another groan. I pressed a hand over my mouth, trying to keep my dinner down. My whole body shook.

How could this be happening? I glanced around quickly. Was anyone else nearby? Was I the only one seeing this?

The houses were all dark. No one else was on the street.

Something moved from inside the bulging, pink
dog stomach. A shadow formed. A wisp of black mist floated up from the panting inside-out dog.

Under the streetlamp, the black mist rose quickly, and spread.

And in the swirling fog, I saw the figure of a man.

I dropped to my knees in fright and stared helplessly as the man formed, lifting himself slowly. His face was hidden in darkness. His body was wrapped in a flowing black cloak down to his ankles.

The figure shifted and swayed in the swirling black fog. I huddled beside Buster and stared up as the shadowy figure floated over me.

And in a booming voice, so powerful it made the grass quiver and bend, he said:

“Where are they? Tell me where they are, and I might let you live!”

“W
HOA
—! P
LEASE —”
I
JUMPED
to my feet and tried to back away. But I tripped over the curb and landed on my butt on the grass.

The fog swirled over me, pinning me to the ground. Inside the mist, I could see the man in the swirling cloak.

“Tell me!”
he screamed.

His breath was a rush of hot wind, putrid like rotten fish. The stench hung over me. I held my breath, waiting for it to fade away.

“Tell me where they are!”
Again, the hot, smelly breath roared over me.

“Who—? Where?” I choked out. “I—I really don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't lie to me, fool!”

A wisp of black fog shot over my arm. I let out a scream as sharp pain stabbed through my hand.

“No—oh, please!” I uttered a weak cry as the skin began to peel back from my fingers. My fingernails flopped loosely.

“Ohhh. It hurts! It really hurts!” I could see all
the blue veins and yellow tendons and muscles of my hand.

I opened and closed my fist, trying to lessen the pain. I watched the tendons and muscles move, the tiny veins pulsing with blood. Stab after stab of fiery pain shot up my hand, my arm, my whole body.

“See what I can do?” the voice boomed, sending another spray of hot, fish-stinking breath over me.

“Yes,” I whispered, gaping at my ugly, wet claw. “Please—it hurts so much. …”

A wave of his shadowy arm, and the skin slid back over my hand. It moved over my fingers like a tight-fitting glove. The fingernails pulled back into place.

“Next time I won't be so nice. Next time, I will peel you like an orange.”

Shaking, I tried to move my fingers. They seemed to work okay.

This can't be happening, I told myself. My hand still ached. Please, Max—wake up from this nightmare.

I stared at the figure, hidden in the black cloak. Who is he? I wondered, struggling to stop my body from shaking. What does he want with me?

“Now, tell me where they are!” the voice boomed.

“I … really don't understand,” I said, gazing up at the billowing figure in the fog. “Who are you?”

“My name is Phears. I am the Animal-Traveler.”

I climbed to my knees. “You … travel inside animals?” My voice trembled.

“Stop stalling,” he rasped, floating over me like a black cloud. “I've been in your room. I couldn't find them. Where are you hiding them?”

“You … you've been in my room?”

“They might as well surrender.” Phears ignored my question. “Their parents are gone for good. And we, their prisoners, have all escaped. All the ghosts are out.”

“Huh? I—I can't help you. I don't know what you're talking about,” I said, my teeth chattering. “I'm not hiding anyone. I'm just here walking my inside-out dog.”

“You're lying!”
he screamed. His hot breath blasted me, so putrid I couldn't breathe. “Say your final prayer!”

“No—please! Please! I'm not hiding anyone. You got the wrong guy! Did you try my neighbors?”

The thick fog floated over me. A roar filled my ears. I stared up at the shadowy figure. The darkness swirled tightly around me, circling me, smothering me.

I grabbed my throat. It felt as if someone was squeezing my neck … tighter … tighter …

I squirmed and ducked and dodged, but I couldn't escape the choking grip on my throat.

This isn't fair, I thought. He's got the wrong guy … the wrong guy. I'm going to die—and it's all a mistake.

Gasping, wheezing, I struggled for breath. My chest burned. The ground swayed beneath me. I fell to the grass. Everything started to spin.

I couldn't fight it. Couldn't breathe.

Finally, I gave up and surrendered to the fog, surrendered to the hot, black, choking wind.

B
RIGHT LIGHT WASHED OVER
the darkness. I blinked.

I must have passed out for a moment. I was still on my knees on the corner.

The light split in two. I blinked again and a car came into focus. It turned the corner, and the beam from its twin headlights rolled over me.

Phears floated above me. The light swept right through him. He let out a hoarse gasp. I saw his hands fly up to protect his face as if the light was painful to him. Twisting away from the glow, he curled into a tight ball. Then he disappeared into his fog, and the fog vanished too.

Phears can't stand light, I realized.

I turned to Buster—still inside out. He was lying on his side in the grass. His purple heart was pounding hard. It made a
sliccck sliccck sliccck
sound, sort of like windshield wipers.

“Hey, Max—” The car stopped. Mrs. Murray, one of our neighbors, poked her head out the driver's window.

“Oh. Hi, Mrs. Murray.” I climbed to my feet, feeling shaky and dazed. Phears' terrifying voice still boomed in my ears.

Mrs. Murray pointed to Buster. “Did you drop your garbage there? Need help picking it up?”

“No thanks,” I said. “It's just my dog.”

Her mouth dropped open. She raised her eyes from Buster to me. “You're such a strange boy, Max,” she said. The car roared away.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. What just happened? Did I really see what I thought I saw?

I couldn't stop trembling. My legs felt like rubber bands. My breath rattled in my throat.

It had to be a hidden-camera TV show, right? And now people were going to come jumping out of the bushes, telling me how scared I looked and how hilarious the whole thing was.

But no. No cameras. No hidden TV crew in the bushes.

It really happened. Who was Phears? Some kind of ghost or zombie or something? Why did he travel inside animals? And why did he think I was hiding someone from him?

He said he had been in my room. That thought sent a chill down my back. And he said next time he'd peel me like an orange.

Oh, wow. I had to make sure there
was
no next time. But—how?

I squeezed my hand. The skin was back nice
and tight. I shuddered and pictured it all peeled again with the yellow tendons and blue veins showing.

At least Phears is gone, I thought.

But I was wrong.

As I turned to Buster, the black cloud floated over me again. I blinked, struggling to see in the heavy mist. And once again, I heard Phears' booming voice.

“I know Nicky and Tara Roland are back,” he said. “And I know you are hiding them.”

I raised my hands to shield myself. “Please—no more pain. You've made a big mistake.”

“You are the one making the mistake,” Phears boomed from inside his ghostly fog. “But I am leaving now. I am clouding your mind so you will not remember me. I don't want you to warn them. I don't want them to know that I am coming. So I am erasing your memory for now. But don't worry—I will be back!”

Everything went bright red for a minute. So bright, I had to shut my eyes.

When I opened them, I was standing on the street corner with Buster's leash in my hand. Why did my hand ache? Had Buster snapped at me?

I gazed around the dark street. Something had just happened, I knew. Something strange. I struggled to remember. I felt kinda shaky and weak.

But I couldn't remember anything strange.

Buster bared his teeth and started to growl at me. He swung his head around and tried to take a bite out of my leg. At least
he
felt totally normal.

I tugged him home and locked him up in the garage. Then I hurried inside, still feeling weird.

I found Mom and Dad in the den, side by side on the brown leather couch, staring at the wide-screen TV. “What took you so long, Maxie?” Mom asked, her eyes straight ahead on the screen.

“I … don't know,” I answered. “I feel kinda dizzy, kinda weak. And my hand hurts.”

“Hold it down!” Dad snapped. “Wrestling is on.” He leaned toward the TV screen so that his face was nearly in the ring with the two hulky wrestlers.

“Max, you'd better go up to your room,” Mom said. “You're interrupting a grudge match.”

“Aren't they
all
grudge matches?” I asked. They didn't hear me. They were cheering on one of the wrestlers, shouting and shaking their fists in the air. Mom was usually so quiet, like a little mouse. But she enjoyed wrestling more than Dad.

“Kill him!
Kill
him!” she was screaming.

Dad slapped her a hard high five.

I turned and climbed the stairs to my room.

I IM'd Aaron for an hour or so. I was starting to feel more normal. I asked Aaron if he had
trouble with the algebra homework. Some of the equations were about a mile long.

But, of course, Aaron hadn't opened his math book. He never does.

That's one reason I really like Aaron. He's just about the only kid in my class who never asks me for help with his homework!

Other kids call me all the time. “Brainimon, help me with my science project.”

“Brainimon, what's the answer to number six?”

“Please, Brainimon—write a quick book report for me.”

My phone rings so often, you'd think I was actually popular!

Anyway, I was online with Aaron until nearly eleven. Then, yawning, I tucked myself into bed. I could hear Colin playing his guitar in his room down the hall. After a while, the music stopped.

I had nearly drifted off to sleep when I heard the noises in the kitchen. Again. The scraping sounds. The clanging of pots. Faint footsteps.

And then the soft croak of a voice. Soft and sad, like a sigh.

“Oh, glory. Oh, glory…”

Trembling, I jammed the pillow over my head and covered my ears.

I didn't want to hear these ghostly whispers. I'd heard them every night, ever since we moved into
this house. No one else heard them. No one believed me.

Who was down there? If only I had the courage to go and see …

Instead, I jammed the pillow over my head— and prayed whoever it was would go away.

T
HE NEXT FEW DAYS
went by without any problems. Except two kids dropped out of my after-school
Stargate SG-1
club. They said
Stargate SG-1
was boring, and they wanted to join a
Deep Space Nine
club instead.

“The joke is on them,” Aaron said after they left. “There
is
no
Deep Space Nine
Club. It broke up three years ago.”

So now there was just Aaron and me left in the
Stargate SG-1
club. Kinda boring, since we're not into
Stargate SG-1
that much. We just wanted to make some new friends.

On Monday afternoon, I hurried home and hard-boiled eight eggs. They were almost finished when Colin came nosing around. “Yo. What's up, Chicken Lips?” he asked, staring into the pot.

“Just making some eggs,” I said.

He started to reach into the boiling water to pull one out. I knew what he planned to do. Drop the egg into my T-shirt pocket and then smash it. He'd done it before.