Ghosts in the Graveyard Page 4

  “How do you know the ghosts didn’t go up the front stairs and come down the back ones and are waiting in the kitchen? The footsteps we heard overhead weren’t Mother’s, either.”

  “Why don’t you freak me out more than I already am, Charlie.” Jack shoved him.

  “I’m sorry, but we have to have a better plan.”

  They were both silent for several seconds. Charlie really hoped this was all a nightmare and any minute his mother would be waking them up to get ready for school.

  “Okay, I say we take our chances going through the kitchen. We’ll use this black salt again, if we have to.”

  Jack didn’t answer.

  “Hello? I said I agree with you. Now what’s your problem?”

  “I think we should split up.”

  “You’re crazy. I’m stuck in the bathroom because you were too afraid to come downstairs by yourself. I should punch in the mouth.” Charlie pushed Jack out of the way and started to open the door.

  “Just hear me out,” Jack said, pulling the door shut.

  Charlie looked up and gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’m listening.”

  Jack took a deep breath. “I don’t think those spooks are gonna leave or they’d be gone by now. So I think we’re gonna have to force them out.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?”

  “I’ll go in the kitchen and open the basement door. Then I’ll use the flour to make a barrier that’ll prevent the ghosts from going past the door and force them to go downstairs.”

  “Unless they turn around and go the other way.”

  “That’s where you come in. You’ll hide in the bathroom and give me a few minutes to put the flour on the floor, then you’ll come out and push on the swinging door to make it squeak. When you hear the spirits headed this way, you’ll hurry back into the bathroom until they pass by and go into the kitchen. Then you’ll sneak out and pour the black salt along door leading into the kitchen so they can’t go back that way. I’ll hide behind the basement door, and when they go down, I’ll slam the door shut and we’ll scatter the rest of the flour and salt around so they’re stuck.”

  “What makes you think that’s going to work any better than the salt did?” Charlie chided.

  “Do you have a better idea?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, I do. Let’s start yelling for Mother.”

  Jack bowed his head, his voice was barely audible when he spoke. “What if the ghosts get here before she does? What if they already have Mom and Millie?”

  Charlie hadn’t thought of that. “Okay, let’s do it your way.”

  “Wish me luck,” Jack said and then he exited the bathroom, leaving Charlie alone.

  He couldn’t believe he let Jack talk him into this. They should have just yelled for Mother. Better still they should’ve just went and told her they were scared. Now they were really going to be in trouble.

  His anxiety grew the longer he stayed in the bathroom. This was ridiculous. Charlie was tired and scared and the last thing he wanted to do was try to draw the attention of the gruesome apparitions. He was just going to go to the kitchen and try to stop Jack from making a mess with the flour and drag his brother upstairs to their mother’s room and asked her if they could stay in there for the night.

  Decision made, Charlie cracked the door and made sure the coast was clear. He tiptoed the short distance to the swinging door and nudged it open. To his horror, his little brother was squatting in the middle of the floor with flour strewn all over.

  “Mother’s going to kill you when she sees this mess.” Charlie released the door and it whooshed as it swung back and forth.

  Jack yelped and jumped. “You scared me to death. I’m not done yet.”

  “Yes you are. Get up and start sweeping.”

  “You’re not my boss, Charlie Foster. I’ll—”

  Charlie set the bowl on the table and put his hands on his hips. “You’ll what?”

  Jack’s mouth worked up and down, but no sound came out.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  A chill ran up and down Charlie’s spine causing him to shiver. The cold intensified and the jerking and tugging nearly pulled him apart, as if his insides were being ripped out. He gasped, trying to catch his breath. To his horror, the ghosts stepped through him and stopped in front of Jack. Terror rooted Charlie to the spot. His mind screamed for him to toss the contents of the bowl on the apparitions, but he was afraid to move. Charlie could clearly make Jack out on the other side of the ghosts. His face was pasty white and tears were streaming down his cheeks. One of the spooks had a small square box of some sort and it started shooting red beams out in the direction of Jack, and he raised his arms to shield his eyes. Then there was bright flash of light, followed by another, then another. Charlie was momentarily blinded by the flare.

  “Charlie, help me,” Jack yelled just before he disappeared.

  “Jack!” Charlie screamed and then he dove for the bowl and flung the black salt into the faces of the evil ghosts. Their screeching and howling nearly burst his eardrums. They stumbled and fell down the stairs.

  Tears streaming from his eyes, Charlie crawled to the door and slammed it shut then to the pile of flour where Jack had been just moments before. “Mother! Help me!”

  Chapter Nine

  When black cats prowl and pumpkins gleam,

  May luck be yours on Halloween.

  ~Author Unknown

  Tears streamed down Helen’s face. Her mind screamed for her to move, that Millie was alone and the boys needed her. But fear held her in place, eyes fixated on the cluttered wardrobe.

  After a few seconds, the faint sound of muffled whimpers seeped through the closet. A jolt shot from the top of Helen’s head down to her toes, spurring her into action as she recognized the frightened cries of her youngest child.

  Millie!

  Helen grabbed the baseball bat propped against the wall and dashed to her room. She suffered a momentary attack of panic when the beam of the flashlight landed on the bed and Millie wasn’t in it.

  “Millie, honey, it’s okay. Mommy’s here,” Helen whispered, her voice trembling.

  Soft, pitiful sobs answered, nearly breaking her heart. She tossed the bat on the bed, squatted down, and pulled up the bed ruffle. A quick scan with the flashlight located the little girl. Tucked into a tight ball, hiding, the frightened child refused to move. Helen reached in and pulled the little girl out, thrilled her daughter was safe. As soon as she was clear of the bed, Millie curled up on Helen’s lap and cried harder.

  “I w-woke up and y-you were gone. I got scared.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m here now.” She kissed her daughter and squeezed her tight.

  “Don’t leave me again, Mommy.”

  “I promise. Now, hold my hand. We have to go downstairs and find Jack and Charlie.”

  Helen set the little girl away from her. As she started to retrieve the bat from the bed, a yelp followed by a door banging caused Millie to scream and catapult in Helen’s arms, throwing her off-balance. She clutched at the mattress to keep from falling over backward.

  “It’s okay, Millie. I’ve got you.”

  “Hold me, Mommy.” Millie wrapped her arms and legs tightly around Helen.

  With little choice, she tucked an arm under Millie to support the little girl, positioning her hand so the beam from the flashlight shined out in front, and snatched the bat with her free hand. Then she stood and hurried toward the stairs.

  “Be real quiet, baby,” Helen said as she flew down the steps, scanning in front of her with the light, bat held out in a defensive position. Careful to skip the loose rungs so they wouldn’t squeak, she tiptoed as quickly as possible to the bottom of the staircase.

  Millie’s head jostled against her shoulder blade, sending a painful twinge down her arm with each thump. But she didn’t care. Her only concern was finding her boys.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she shined the light in the living ro
om then aimed the beam down the hall and glanced toward the kitchen where she’d seen the intruders headed. The bathroom door was ajar.

  “Charlie? Jack?”

  No answer.

  Millie lifted her head and yawned. “Where are they, Mommy?”

  Not wanting to alarm or frighten Millie more than she already was or put her in danger, Helen decided to forego heading into the kitchen. “I don’t know, honey. But we’re going to find them.”

  Helen kept her eyes trained on the kitchen as she backed up toward the alcove behind the stairs to call the police. The phone sat on a small table, and there was a tiny matching bench to the side. She leaned the bat against the wall and set Millie on the seat.

  The little girl took hold of Helen’s nightgown. “Don’t leave me here, Mommy.”

  She patted the child’s hand. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’m going to call the police and report burglars.”

  “Are Jack and Charlie in trouble?”

  “No, honey. Now be quiet for me. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Standing in front of Millie and keeping her eyes facing forward toward the front door and living room, Helen picked up the phone. Before she could the police, there was a loud scream followed by someone yelling Mother. Bile rose in her throat and she dropped the phone, sure the voice was Charlie’s.

  Helen grabbed the bat and turned to Millie. “Stay there!”

  “Mother!”

  “Charlie!” she yelled, stepping out into the entryway for a better view down the hall, making sure to stay where Millie could see her.

  The swinging door banged open, slapping the wall, and she recoiled. Charlie tumbled through the doorway backward, falling on his backside, kicking and screaming. It took him a couple of tries before he was able to stand.

  “Mother!” he cried.

  Relief washed over her and she dropped the bat. “Charlie!”

  The terrified boy whipped around, eyes wild and scared as they found her. “Mom.” He ran to Helen, plowing into her hard enough to knock the air out of her.

  She crushed him to her in a tight embrace and stroked his hair in a comforting gesture. “It’s all right. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Everything’s all right.”

  Millie ambled over and hugged Helen’s leg.

  “N-no it’s n-not, Mother. Jack’s gone. He’s gone and it’s all my fault.”

  “What do you mean Jack’s gone? What happened?” Every fiber of her being told her she didn’t want to know, but her baby was missing and she had to find him. “Charlie,” she coaxed. “Where is your brother?”

  “The evil spirits zapped him with a red light of some sort, there was a flash, and he disappeared.”

  Chapter Ten

  Just as courage imperils life, fear protects it.

  ~Leonardo da Vinci

  Helen was filled with gladness, confusion, and trepidation all at the same time. Charlie was safe. Terrified but safe. He had obvious seen something that had horrified him and there was no doubt whatever it was involved Jack. What that was, she had no idea. Red lights? Disappearing into thin air? None of it made any sense, and if she didn’t figure it out, she wouldn’t find her son.

  “Charlie, quit babbling and tell me what happened. Where’s Jack?”

  “J-J-Jack. They got Jack!” Charlie broke into hysterics.

  Bile rose in Helen’s throat and her heart thumped out an erratic, panicked pattern as it rejected Charlie’s words and tried to rid them from her brain by pounding so hard and fast she was sure her head would explode. This wasn’t happening. Her youngest son had not been snatched from the safety of their home. Right out from under her nose. How would she explain this to Charles when he returned?

  She couldn’t.

  No. She wouldn’t allow him to come home after serving his country for four years to learn their child had been kidnapped.

  She grabbed her eldest son by the shoulders and shook him. “Who has Jack? What happened?”

  “The bogies,” Millie whispered, clutching Helen’s nightdress tighter and burying against her thigh.

  Fear gripped her stomach and acid rose up, making her choke. Whoever or whatever the boogies were, they had her baby and she had to get him back. Helen gave her eldest son a squeeze then set him and Millie back from her. “Don’t move.” She hurried to the closet under the stairs and swung the door open. Standing on tiptoe, she retrieved a key in a crevice at the top of the doorjamb and unlocked a gun cabinet against the back wall.

  “Charlie, where did they take your brother?” she asked as she loaded a shotgun.

  He pointed a shaky finger at the kitchen.

  Helen’s first instinct was to jerk open the door and run after her son before they lost more time. It took all her willpower not to do just that. But she couldn’t risk leaving Charlie and Millie alone for even a second.

  Resigned and heartbroken, she placed an arm around the kids and shuffled them back toward the front entryway. “I have to call the police. Stay clo—”

  A loud crash from the direction of the kitchen caused all three of them to jump and scream. Thunderous pounding commenced then halted almost as quickly. The hair on Helen’s neck stood on end and she realized there was no time to waste. The sounds made it clear that the intruders were still in the house. And that meant Jack was too. If she took the time to wait for the police, they’d be long gone with her son.

  Decision made, she put Millie’s hand in Charlie’s, unwilling to leave them alone, afraid someone would get them as well. “Take your little sister’s hand—don’t let go—and stay behind me.”

  Charlie nodded, and Helen started down the hall, shotgun pointed at the kitchen door. When she reached it, she used the gun to push it open. The room was dark and quiet. As she walked past the kitchen table, she glanced down and saw the dark floor was covered in a white substance. She aimed the beam of her flashlight on it and nearly fainted. Tiny footprints were clearly visible.

  “I-it’s flour. Jack was making a barrier to keep the ghosts chasing us away. Only it didn’t work and they got him. I tried to help…” The boy broke off in sobs.

  “Charlie, we’ll get him back. Which way did they go?”

  “I knocked them down in the basement and slammed the door closed. I didn’t realize they had Jack or I wouldn’t have done it.”

  Helen turned and faced the cellar door. “Okay, stand against the wall and when I say now, open the door fast. And stay out of the way.”

  The scared boy wiped the tears away with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, Mother.”

  Helen hugged him. “It’s okay. Just do as I say and don’t let go of Millie no matter what.”

  It came out an accusation. Like she was saying don’t lose Millie the way you did Jack. Charlie recoiled like she’d slapped him, no doubt understanding her words to mean she blamed him for Jack’s disappearance. But that wasn’t how she felt. Charlie was a kid himself. Her baby. It killed her to think how frightened and traumatized he must have been to watch someone snatch his brother right in front of him. And Jack had to be scared out of his mind. How she wanted Charles home to fix this, to say the right thing, to find their son.

  She forced back her own tears and squeezed Charlie to her. “Listen to me, son. It’s not your fault Jack’s missing. Not the least little bit. We’re going to get him back, you two. Okay?”

  “Okay,” they answered in unison.

  “Now, Millie, stay behind your brother and keep ahold of his hand. Charlie, are you ready?”

  He took a couple steps, turned sideways, backed up against the wall, and put his hand on the doorknob. “Ready.”

  Helen stationed herself in front of the cellar door, making sure to leave plenty of room so she wasn’t in the way when it opened. She lifted the gun to her shoulder and concentrated on the door, hoping her aim was true, praying she didn’t have to find out.

  “Now, Charlie!”

  He swung the door open and Helen was taken aback by the black hole now fill
ing the space of the doorframe. The opening was sure to swallow up anyone who entered it. She pushed that thought away and, finger at the ready on the trigger, stepped forward.

  “Whoever you are, let my son go and get out of here or I’ll fill you full of holes.”

  No answer.

  “Charlie, I’m going down. Count to one hundred. If I’m not back up when you finish, call the police.”

  “No, Mommy. Please don’t go down there,” Millie pleaded.

  “Shh, Millie. I have to get Jack. Stay with Charlie.”

  She edged closer to the stairs. Dread and terror screamed at her to turn and run the other way, but the mother in her refused to listen. Her only concern was finding Jack. Her baby needed her.