32 - The Barking Ghost (6 page)

Heavy breathing.

Not my breathing. Not Fergie’s breathing.

I swallowed hard.

“F-Fergie,” I stammered. “We’re not alone in here!”

A low, steady growl proved me right.

Someone—or
something
—was hiding in the closet with us.

We listened to the low growls for another second or two.

Then we both flew out of the closet, screaming in horror.

I only made it a few feet. I tripped over Mickey’s skateboard. Went
sprawling headfirst. Landed flat on my face.

As I struggled to my feet, I saw a dark figure step out of the closet.

“You!” I screamed in a hoarse, frightened voice.

Mickey grinned back at Fergie and me. “Oooohhh! Ooooooohhh! Look at me!” he
cried. “I’m a killer poodle!”

Fergie and I stared at him in disbelief. He had been in the closet the entire
time.

I dove to the bed and pulled down the blanket.

“Oh, wow!” I cried out when I saw a bunch of rolled up sheets and towels.

“But how did you know?” Fergie asked him. “How did you know we were coming?”

Mickey flashed us both a smug smirk. “When you showed up this morning
clutching that dumb box and whispering to Cooper, I knew something was up. I’ve
been spying on you two jerks all day.”

“You sneak!” I cried.

“A sneak? Me?” Mickey replied innocently. “What do you call what you’re
doing, prowling around my room and hiding in my closet?”

I was so angry. So disappointed. Our great revenge plan—totally ruined.

I grabbed Fergie by the arm. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“That’s right!” Mickey called gleefully after us. “Running away with your
tails between your legs!” Then he howled and barked some more.

Great guy—huh?

Fergie and I sat in the hall outside my room. We had really wanted to give
Mickey a good scare. So he could see how it felt.

But we had messed up. Totally.

“We’ll get him next time,” Fergie offered. “We’ll come up with an even better
plan. Maybe something with knives and fake blood.”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to scare Mickey out of his skin—
tonight!

Not much chance of that.

Fergie and I yawned at the same time. Then we both stood up. “Guess we should
go back to bed. Maybe—”

“Did you hear that?” I asked, cutting Fergie off.

She nodded. “Yeah. I hear it. Barking.”

“That’s not my brother,” I whispered. “It’s definitely the dogs!”

“I don’t get it!” Fergie cried in a trembling voice. “Where are your parents?
Where’s Mickey?”

I led her down the hall, in the direction of the barking.

“I told you,” I whispered. “They can’t hear the dogs. I don’t know why. No
one can hear them but us!”

We turned into the living room and gasped.

Two sets of red eyes glowed in the dark.

I reached for Great-grandma’s lamp, but knocked it over. It crashed loudly to
the floor.

The dogs barked.

Fergie clutched my shoulder. Her hand trembled. “Turn on the lights! Please!”
she pleaded.

But before I could reach the switch, the lights snapped on.

We spun around. And there stood Mom on the stairway, glaring down at us.
“Cooper! Margaret! What on earth are you two doing?”

“It’s the dogs, Mom!” I cried. “See? They’re—”

“What dogs?” Mom called. I spun around.

No glaring red eyes. No dogs. Except for Fergie and me, the room stood
empty.

“Wow, your mom sure was upset,” Fergie whispered as we trudged back down the
hall to our rooms.

“But now you believe me, right, Fergie?” I asked. “You heard the dogs
yourself!”

Fergie nodded. “For sure. There were definitely dogs here.”

“Go to sleep!” Mom called sternly. “Immediately!”

“Okay, Mom!” I called back. I turned to Fergie. “We’ll check out the woods in
the morning,” I told her. “Those dogs have to be somewhere!”

“Good idea,” Fergie agreed. “See you in the morning.”

Back in my room, I couldn’t fall asleep. I sat on my bed and tossed a
baseball into the air. I watched the numbers slowly click by on my alarm clock.

I thought about the dogs. They were definitely here tonight. Fergie had heard
them, too.

But how do they get in and out of my house? I wondered.

And how do they vanish into thin air like that?

And why do they keep bothering me? Why?

I tossed down the baseball and crept into the hall.

I knocked softly on Fergie’s door. “It’s me. Can I come in?”

“What’s wrong?” she whispered, opening the door.

“Listen,” I said. “I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow. Let’s search for
those dogs
now.”

Fergie narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “It—it might be dangerous,” she
stammered.

“I don’t care,” I told her. “Let’s go.”

A few minutes later, Fergie and I skulked around the backyard with our
flashlights.

No moon tonight. No stars. A chilly mist hung in the air.

We both shivered.

I pointed my flashlight at the ground and searched for paw prints.

None. As usual.

“How come they never leave prints?” I muttered under my breath.

Fergie shrugged, but didn’t answer. I could tell she was as scared as I was.
She stuck close by my side.

The beam of my flashlight fell on the jungle gym. As I stared down at the
ground ahead of me, something suddenly grabbed my ankle.

“Hey!” I yelled, tumbling in the dirt.

I twisted and squirmed, trying to break free. “Help!”

Fergie rushed over to help. Why was she laughing?

“What a klutz! You’re all tangled up in the lawn sprinkler!” she exclaimed.

“It’s not funny,” I insisted. I was glad she couldn’t see me blush in the
darkness. “I could have broken my leg or something!”

Fergie bent down to help free me. Then she stopped. “Did you hear that?” she
asked.

“Hear what?”

“Listen.”

We waited silently in the dark. Hardly breathing.

Then I heard it, too. A soft creaking coming from the house. It sounded like
an old door swinging open and shut.

We carefully made our way toward the sound. To my surprise, we found a small
window low to the ground. I’d never noticed it before.

The window was open, swinging back and forth, making the creaking noise.

“It leads to the basement,” I said, poking my head in. “Do you think this is
how the dogs get into the house?”

Fergie didn’t answer me.

“Fergie?” I called.

No reply.

A chill of fear shot down my back.

I spun around.

In time to see a dark form come charging at me.

Startled, I stumbled. The back of my head hit the house with a hard
thwack.

The dark creature leaped on top of me.

Pinned me to the ground.

A sour smell filled my nostrils as I struggled to get up.

But I couldn’t move.

The creature panted. Its jaws opened wide. Hot saliva dripped on to my face.

The big dog held me prisoner.

What did it plan to do next?

“Get off me!” I choked out.

I reached up both hands—and shoved with all my might.

To my surprise, the big dog toppled off.

I jumped to my feet, my heart pounding. Spinning around, I saw Fergie.
Trapped. Backed up against the house by the other dog.

“Go home!” she cried meekly to the dog. “Go home!”

The dog didn’t budge.

I picked up a stick. I waved it furiously in front of me to keep the dogs a
good distance away.

As I approached the animals, Fergie shook her arms wildly at them.

They lowered their heads and growled softly.

Then, one of them came running at me. The stick didn’t seem to bother him at
all.

I lost my balance and crashed into Fergie.

Both dogs curled their lips into fierce, ugly snarls.

My legs were shaking so hard, I could barely stand.

Growling and snapping their jaws, the dogs backed Fergie and me against the
house.

“Now what?” Fergie cried, grabbing my arm.

“G-good question,” I stammered as the dogs lowered their heads and moved
closer.

I shut my eyes.

I had this crazy idea that if I made them disappear, I’d disappear, too.

Guess what? It didn’t work.

I felt a sudden burst of hot, sour dog breath on my face.

Then I felt tugging. On my sweatpants.

I opened my eyes. The dog pulled furiously at my sweats. Not biting. Tugging.

Fergie appeared as confused as I was. The other dog tugged at the hem of her
T-shirt.

“What do they want?” Fergie whispered.

“I… I… I don’t know,” I answered. “They—they’re not biting or
attacking!”

“Cooper, I think they want us to go with them,” Fergie said.

“That’s crazy!” I cried. The dog tugged harder on my sweatpants. “I saw this
on a
Lassie
show once!”

“I don’t think it’s crazy, Cooper,” Fergie said. “Watch.” She stepped forward
slowly, and the dog’s tail began to wag. “See? They want us to go with them!”

I hesitated. It seemed ridiculous.

But when I edged forward, the dog that had been tugging on my pants began
wagging his tail, too.

“See?” Fergie whispered.

Sorry, but I wasn’t buying it. I turned and started to run.

“Cooper, don’t!” Fergie cried.

Too late.

The big creature took off after me. Leaped high. And knocked me to the
ground.

When I climbed to my feet, he started tugging again.

“Come on. Let’s see what they want,” Fergie pleaded with me. “We don’t have
much of a choice, anyway. They’re not going to leave us alone.”

We followed the dogs through the woods. They stayed close by, never getting
too far ahead. And always glancing back.

I pointed my flashlight along the path. The dim light didn’t help very much
at all. I had no idea where we were going. All I knew was that it was very dark
out—and we were headed deeper and deeper into the woods.

“I hope we can find our way
back,”
I muttered to myself.

Then, without warning, the dogs sped up. Their big paws trod heavily on the
soft ground.

A few seconds later, they began barking and scratching wildly at something
between the trees.

I lifted my flashlight and aimed it in their direction.

In the center of a small clearing stood a broken-down wooden shack. The dogs
clawed at the door. When they had pushed it open, they came back for us. They
began tugging again, pulling us toward the shack.

“Wha—what is this place?” I cried. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” Fergie whispered. “I’ve never seen this shack before.”

The dogs tugged—furiously now. They really wanted us to go in there.

“What can be inside?” I whispered to Fergie.

Fergie swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” she whispered back. “But I think we’re
going to find out!”

“Fergie, I don’t like this,” I whispered. “Let’s get away from here—fast!”

I felt the dog clamp its jaw tighter on my ankle.

Had he understood what I’d said?

“They’re not going to let us get away,” Fergie said softly.

Snarling and growling, the dogs backed us up against the door to the shack.

“Whoa!” I cried out as the dogs leaped at the side of the shack.

“I don’t
believe
it!” Fergie screamed.

The dogs jumped right through the wooden wall. They disappeared inside.

“That’s
impossible!”
Fergie cried.

“Tell that to the dogs,” I murmured.

I had seen them do it before—in my own kitchen.

“They’re
ghosts
or something!” Fergie cried.

I grabbed her arm. “Let’s get out of here! Whatever happens… we can’t go
in that shack!”

We’d taken only a few steps when the dogs came tearing out through the shack
wall.

They edged in close, pressing us up against the shack again. Before we could
struggle or try to get away, the dogs rose up on their hind legs.

Standing up, they were taller than us! Fergie and I exchanged terrified
glances.

The dogs staggered forward. Pressed their front paws against our chests. And
shoved us backwards into the shack.

We screamed as we started to fall.

The shack had no floor.

We fell, hurtling down. Tumbling as we fell.

Down, down, down.

Into a deep, black hole.

A deep, black hole that didn’t seem to end.

I landed softly on my feet. I didn’t even feel it.

Had we fallen into some kind of well? Or a tunnel dug deep under the shack?

I couldn’t tell.

I took a deep breath and gazed around the heavy blackness. “Fergie—are you
okay?” I called. My voice came out tiny and shrill.

“I—I guess,” she replied after a few seconds. “Cooper—
look!”

I started to reply that it was too dark to see anything. But then I glimpsed
the two pairs of red eyes, glaring at us through the darkness.

I gasped.

“Don’t move!”
instructed a dry whisper of a voice.

“Who are you?” I managed to choke out. “What do you want?”

“Why did you dogs bring us here?” Fergie demanded.

“We are not dogs,” the voice growled. “We are people.”

“But—but—” I sputtered.

“Silence!” the voice commanded. “Silence while you are in the Changing Room.”

“The
what
?” I cried.

The red eyes flared.

“Centuries ago, my friend and I had an evil spell cast upon us,” the voice
continued, ignoring my question. “The spell forced us to roam these woods as
dogs. Ghost dogs.”