Attack of the Vampire Weenies (2 page)

As we stumbled into the locker room, Mr. Odzman walked over to his office, dropped into his chair, and put his feet up on his desk.

“He looks pretty happy,” I told Curtis.

Curtis glanced toward Mr. Odzman's office. “You'd be happy, too, if you didn't have to do any work.”

“I guess so. I think we're all going to skip gym for a while.” I headed for our next class. As I limped down the hallway and checked my schedule, a chilling thought hit me. “Curtis?”

“What?”

I pictured gas fires, powerful acids, toxic fumes, and broken glassware. “You don't think it will be like this in science class, do you?”

Curtis sighed. “I hope not.”

I looked ahead of us, toward the science lab, where a plume of smoke poured out the door. Kids were crawling into the hallway, crying and moaning. One boy was stomping on his notebook to put out a fire. A girl raced past him, covered in dripping foam. Beyond them, through the doorway, I could see the teacher, wearing a pair of safety goggles and a grin.

It was going to be a long day.

 

GHOST IN THE WELL

“Don't eat that,” Mary
said. “It will give you cramps.”

Rachel studied the crab apple she'd plucked from a drooping branch of the half-dead tree. She'd heard the same warning ever since she was little. You weren't supposed to eat them. But she was starving. “My stomach already hurts. This can't make it any worse. I've never heard of anyone dying from a crab apple.”

“That doesn't mean it hasn't happened,” Mary said.

“Well, if it kills me, you can feel good about being right.” Rachel bit into the small, hard fruit. The juice that trickled out was tart, like acid on her tongue. She chewed for a while before she swallowed. She opened her mouth for a second bite, then frowned and tossed the crab apple into a tangle of bushes behind the tree.

“You'll be sorry,” Mary said.

“But at least I won't be hungry.”

As they walked back to town, Rachel could swear she felt the chewed-up piece of apple moving toward her stomach. She braced for sharp pains, but nothing came.

That night, as she was getting ready for bed, someone whispered her name.

Rachel opened the door and looked down the hallway. Nobody was there.

She slipped back into bed and closed her eyes.

“Rachel … help me.…”

She sat up and looked around. Then, feeling foolish, she spoke to the whisper. “Who are you?”

“Helen.”

The whisper was firmer, clearer, as if her response had emboldened the speaker.
Helen?
Rachel didn't know anyone by that name.

“Where are you?”

“Outside.”

“It's dark,” Rachel said.

“You know your way.”

Rachel walked to the hallway again. She checked to her left. Her parents' bedroom door was shut. There was no light spilling from the gap at the bottom. She got dressed, then sneaked out the back door, which, unlike the front one, never creaked.

She wondered what Helen looked like. The voice sounded young. But it's hard to tell with a whisper. Rachel peered all around. There was nobody in the yard.

“I don't see you.”

“This way…”

She followed the voice toward the woods, and then down the path she'd walked with Mary. When the words led her to the crab apple tree, she wasn't surprised. Rachel looked up among the branches. She'd heard tales of wood nymphs from her grandmother.

“Are you up there?”

“No,” Helen said. “Down here, behind the tree.”

Rachel forced her way through the brush, then knelt on the other side of the tree. The ground was covered with dead leaves and fallen branches.

“Dig where the large root vanishes,” Helen said.

Rachel stood up and looked back toward her home. Digging made her think of worms and other unpleasant things.

“Please,” Helen said. “You're the only one who can help me.”

“Promise you won't hurt me,” Rachel said.

“I won't touch you,” Helen said.

Rachel knelt and grabbed a handful of dead leaves. The work wasn't difficult in the chilly night air. The ground was soft and spongy. But still, she felt sweat start to bead on her forehead as she tossed aside the leaves and branches.

Eventually, unexpectedly, her hand broke through to emptiness. Rachel gasped and fought for balance.

“Careful!” Helen said after Rachel had steadied herself.

“What is this?” Rachel prodded at the springy mass of vegetation. She'd heard about people stumbling across the openings of caves, but not here in the woods. The caves she knew of were high up in the hills across the river, not hidden behind crab apple trees.

“An old well,” Helen said.

“How—?” She wasn't sure of the right words to form the question. She pulled aside several more branches, but kept herself safely away from the expanding opening.

“I fell in,” Helen said.

Rachel didn't understand how the opening could have gotten covered so quickly. She was sure Helen must be starving. At least, in a well, there should be water. “Have you been there long?”

“It feels like it,” Helen said. “I couldn't really guess how long. Is Mr. Jefferson still our president?”

Rachel froze. Thomas Jefferson had been president right after John Adams, well more than two centuries ago. The broken branch in her hand suddenly felt far deader and drier than it had a moment ago. Minutes passed before she could speak again.

“That was a long time ago.”

“I was afraid of that, but I knew it must be so,” Helen said. “All the water has dried up.”

“You're a ghost?”

“I fear I must be. I'm trapped here. Nobody has heard me until now. I need help.”

The crab apple,
Rachel thought. She looked at the roots of the tree. They'd grown deep into the ground near the well.

“Help me,” Helen said.

A ghost.
Rachel leaped to her feet and backed away from the opening. “I have to go home.”

“No!” Helen yelled.

The force of the shout startled Rachel.

“Please,” Helen said. “I need to return the gold bracelet. Then I'll be free.”

“Bracelet?” Rachel asked.

“A beautiful gold bracelet with two diamonds and a ruby in it,” Helen said. “Have you ever seen a ruby?”

“Never,” Rachel said.

“They are so red, they almost seem alive. And the diamonds—oh, how they sparkled in the sunlight, like dancing rainbows.”

“I'll bet they're beautiful.” Rachel had seen small diamonds on other people's rings and necklaces. But she'd never even seen a ruby, or had a diamond she could call her own.

“Martha Vanderberg's father bought the bracelet for her,” Helen said. “She boasted about it all the time, and about her fancy dresses. I didn't have anything. So I took it. It was wrong. I know that.”

“Vanderberg…,” Rachel said. There was an old woman in town by that name. Gretchen Vanderberg. She was always talking about how her family had lived on this land for centuries. “I know that family.”

“Then you can return the bracelet,” Helen said. “I knew this was meant to be.”

Rachel thought about the gold bracelet. She had to see the diamonds and ruby. “I'll come back tomorrow. My uncle has a long ladder.”

“No. You must do it now, while the bite of apple is still in you,” Helen said. “After it is gone, you won't be able to hear me. Worse, I fear you won't remember me. You'll think all of this was a dream. It must be soon.”

That seemed odd to Rachel, but no odder than talking with the ghost of a girl who had died so very long ago. What didn't seem odd was the bracelet. That seemed essential. She needed to hold it, maybe even wear it.

“How can I get it?” Rachel asked. “Can you toss it up to me?”

“I can't touch things. My hands pass through them. There's a barn nearby. Straight west of the tree. You'll find rope in there,” Helen said.

Rachel didn't like the idea of stumbling deeper into the woods. “How do you know it's still there?”

“I can see beyond the well sometimes. Not far. And not always. But I know there's a barn and a rope. Be careful. The barn is old and the wood is rotten. I would hate to see you get hurt out there.”

Rachel found the barn and the rope. When she returned, she tied one end of the rope around the crab apple tree, and dropped the other into the opening. “It's dark,” she said.

“Not for me,” Helen said. “I'll guide you.”

Rachel knew she should turn and leave. But part of her needed to touch that bracelet. She grabbed the rope with both hands, tugged against the knot to be sure it would hold her weight, then backed toward the opening of the well.

“Promise me you'll return the bracelet,” Helen said.

“I'll see that the bracelet goes where it belongs,” Rachel said.
Maybe it belongs with me,
she thought. Like Helen, she felt the world had given her less than she deserved. That was about to change. She could see the gold on her wrist already.

She took a step down into the well. And then another. The wall of the well felt solid enough. This would be easier than she'd thought.

The scream ripped through her ears like a thousand tortured voices exploding in her head. It hit so hard, it caused her real pain. Rachel slapped her hands over her ears.

It was a reflex. But a deadly one. As she fell, she clutched desperately for the rope in the blind darkness.

She missed.

It was a long fall.

“Hello,” Helen said.

Rachel, too stunned to speak yet, looked at the girl. She was young, maybe ten or twelve, and pretty, with curly brown hair. Behind Helen, against the wall of the well, Rachel saw a small skeleton. She looked down and saw her own lifeless body. She quickly looked away.

“Why—?” Rachel's mind felt numb, like she was halfway caught in a deep sleep. Her body felt nothing at all.

“I've been terribly lonely,” Helen said. “Until now.”

“But the bracelet,” Rachel said. “How can I return it? How can I help you be free?”

“Oh, there's no bracelet,” Helen said. “That was a lie.”

“A lie?” Rachel couldn't believe the beautiful ruby never existed.

“I'm very good at lying. That's why I was being chased by the other children. That's how I fell into the old well.”

A touch of anger broke through Rachel's numbness. “Then how was I supposed to set you free?”

“I don't think there is a way,” Helen said. “I suspect I'll be here forever. But not alone. Not now that I finally found someone to drop in and keep me company. So, tell me all about yourself, and about the world. Has much happened since Mr. Jefferson was elected?”

“I'm never speaking to you again.” Rachel stared toward the top of the well, and toward the world she'd left. “You tricked me. You're a horrible person.”

“Oh, you'll talk,” Helen said. “Maybe not now. Maybe not for a day or a year. But sooner or later, you will. I can wait. I'm very good at that, too.”

 

IT'S ONLY A GAME

Somewhere in Idaho …

“
Please, Dad,” Lucas said.
“Everyone else has the Game-Jammer Channel. Can't we get it?”

“If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you jump?” Lucas's dad asked.

“Yeah,” Lucas said. “I mean—no.” He realized there was no safe answer to that question, so he stopped trying to find one and went back to pleading. “Come on, I'm the only kid in school who doesn't have a new system. All I've got is your old Atari, and that's from the last century.”

“It was good enough for me,” his dad said with that tone that meant
no more discussion.

Lucas shook his head and stomped up to his room. It wasn't fair. Every single one of his friends had the new Game-Jammer Channel. They got games streamed into their systems right off the cable—real games, with 3-D worlds and awesome audio—while he was stuck with that ancient machine. The resolution was so low, you could see the pixels, and the sounds were a joke. Just beeps and buzzes. Half the time, the cartridges didn't even work unless you put them in just right or blew on them real hard to get the dust off.

Lucas plunked down on his bed and stared at the stupid old game. He felt like smashing it. Then his eyes wandered to the cable outlet on the wall.

Why not?

He unplugged the cable from the back of his TV, then looked at the game system. There was no cable socket. Lucas remembered something he'd seen in a box in the basement. He ran down and searched through the old parts. Yup, there it was, all the way at the bottom—a converter that changed a cable signal into an old-fashioned antenna wire. He also grabbed a signal splitter and some extra cables.

Lucas ran back upstairs and attached the converter to the game system and then used the splitter to attach the game to the TV. It was a tangled mess of wires and cables, but he figured something interesting might happen.

“Here goes.” He switched on the power.

Somewhere between Mars and Jupiter …

“It is a rich
planet, and it will soon be ours,” Mexplatle said as he examined the data flowing into the bank of instruments on the panel in front of him.

“Excellent,” Rubnupshti said, rubbing his noses together in glee. “Any sign that they will resist?”

“No.” Mexplatle wagged his elbow. “Once we have landed and set up our shields, their primitive missiles and atomic weapons will not be a threat.”

Before Mexplatle could say more, a warning flashed on his control panel. “Hang on to your fleexbriddle,” he said. “We're heading for a field of asteroids.”

Somewhere in Idaho …