Don't Stay Up Late (11 page)

I crossed the room and dropped down beside him. “That was just my friend, Nate,” I said. “He stopped by. No reason to be scared.”

He stared at me as if trying to decide if I was telling the truth. His chin was trembling. I leaned forward and hugged him. “Settle down. Get back under the covers. Everything is fine,” I said.

He scooted down and I tucked the quilt under his chin. “Goodnight,” he said in a tiny voice.

“Goodnight, Harry. I'll be right downstairs if you need anything. Don't worry. Go to sleep, okay? It's very late.”

“Very late? Can I stay up? Can I stay up late?”

“No. No way,” I said. “You're already half-asleep.”

He nodded and shut his eyes. I gazed for a moment at his cute face, his blond hair spread out on the pillow. Then I hurried downstairs to scold Nate for scaring the kid.

“Nate? Hey, Nate?” I crossed the living room, into the back hall to the kitchen. “Did you leave?”

He wasn't in the kitchen. I noticed a few cookies were missing from the plate. I didn't hear him leave, but I guessed that Nate had gone to pick up his brother.

I returned to the living room and picked up my phone from where I'd tossed it onto the couch. I made a mental note to remember to bring a charger with me from now on.

I settled on the couch and reached for my backpack. I had more homework to do, but I didn't remember what it was. I thought about Nate creeping through the kitchen. Why didn't he knock on the kitchen door before he came in? Why didn't he call out as soon as he entered the house?

He probably was afraid he might wake up Harry.

I leaned forward and started to paw through the books and other junk in my backpack. But I sat straight up when I heard a sound. The soft squeak of a floorboard. My breath caught in my throat.

“Nate? Is that you?”

My voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

Silence.

And then I heard shallow breathing. A rhythmic wheezing. Close to my ears.

I spun around. “Nate? Are you back?”

No one there.

Panic gripped the back of my neck. I suddenly felt cold all over. “Who's there? I can hear you. Nate? Harry? Did you come downstairs?”

No reply. The breathing grew more rapid, each breath sending a chill down my back.

And then I gasped as a blur of motion across the room caught my eye.

And the backpack fell to the floor as I jumped to my feet—and gaped in silent horror at the demon-creature, hunched at the bottom of the stairs.

 

29.

This isn't happening. Please—tell me I'm hallucinating.

I wasn't. I stood frozen, my fists tight at my sides.

We had a staring contest. He had one huge hand resting on the banister. He was normal height, not very short or very tall. His legs were spread, as if ready to run.

His eyes were red as burning coals, surrounded by the tight greenish reptile skin that covered his face. He had green pig ears that poked up from the top of his head. His animal snout hung open, revealing two rows of pointed teeth.

Wheezing loudly, his chest rising up and down, he took a lumbering step away from the stairs. He walked unsteadily, like an animal not used to standing on its two feet. Grunting sounds came from deep in his throat.

“Who are you?” I screamed in a shrill voice I didn't recognize. “What do you
want
?”

He lurched forward another few steps. He didn't reply.

Does he speak? Does he understand English?

Crazy questions. But your mind goes crazy when you are terrified beyond anything you've ever felt.

“Stay away!” I screamed. “Go away!”

He took another heavy step toward me. Then he tilted his fur-topped head back, uttered a shrill hissing sound, puckered his black lips, and spit a huge gray-green gob of gunk into the air. It shot across the room and landed with a loud wet
splat
on the coffee table at my feet.

I screamed and forced myself to move. I darted to the back of the couch. Another thick gob of spit landed on the couch-back in front of me. It sizzled as it sank into the cushion.

“Nooooooo!”
I let out a long wail as I watched the creature raise both arms as if preparing to grab me. I spun away from behind the couch. My eyes shot back and forth, looking for an escape route.

Another snakelike hiss from the creature. He snapped his jaws, making his pointed teeth click. Again. Again. The clicking sound hurt my ears, like chalk squeaking on a chalkboard.

Panting in terror, I watched as he sent another wad of spit flying toward me. I ducked, and it sailed over my head and made an ugly
splat
sound on the wall.

I stood up—and uttered a cry as the next disgusting wad of spit hit me, stunned me, splattered over my hair and forehead. The warm gunk oozed down my face. It smelled putrid, like rotten eggs.

I raised a hand to wipe it away. And now my hand was covered in sticky goo. I stood there, unable to decide what to do, the spit sinking into my hair, running down my face.

And then … something inside me snapped. I felt a weird burst of energy. A wave of anger swept over me.
“Stop! Go away!”
I shrieked.
“Go awaaaaay!”

I must have temporarily lost my mind. Because instead of backing away from the ugly, spitting creature, instead of trying to escape, I pushed myself forward. I lurched away from the wall—and went after him.

I lowered my head like a football running back and went charging at him.

The creature's red eyes flared. The hissing stopped. He turned and took off, staggering away from me toward the front door.

Roaring like a wild beast, I flew after him.

He turned at the doorway, ducked past me, and trotted back into the living room. He had a strange, twisted grin on his black lips, as if he was enjoying the chase.

He stopped at the side of the couch. Leaped onto the coffee table. Turned and waited for me to come after him.

But I ran to the stairway. I was panting hard, my face burning hot and stained with sweat. I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't have a plan. I knew only that I wanted to protect Harry. I wouldn't let the creature go up the stairs again.

We had another staring contest. The creature perched on the coffee table, big gnarly hands on his waist. For the first time, I noticed that he was dressed in baggy brown clothes, a long shirt that came down nearly to his knees. Brown leggings revealing bare, fur-covered feet at the bottoms.

A horror-movie creature that wore clothes?

The insanity of it made him even more frightening to me. He had to be real. If I had imagined him, I'd never put him in clothes.…

More crazy thoughts.

My whole body tingled with cold sweat as I struggled to catch my breath.

And then the creature was moving again. Grunting loudly, he ran straight to the wall. Hoisted himself onto the dark-wood bookcase. Then scrambled straight up. To my shock, he ran up the wall.
Then ran across the ceiling!
His large bare feet slapped the ceiling as he ran upside-down across it.

He spun and dropped into the hall. His feet thudded the floor as he plunged into the kitchen. I heard the kitchen door slam hard.

Did that mean he was gone? Did he run out of the house?

I hunched with my hands pressed over my knees. I stayed there, my chest throbbing, hair falling over my sweat-drenched face, gasping for air.

When I could finally move, I pushed my hair off my face, took a deep breath, and strode to the kitchen. I stopped at the doorway.

A chill tingled my neck as I realized it could be a trap. The demon-creature slammed the door to make me think he had left. But he was lurking there, waiting to trap me.

I hesitated. Then, one hand on the doorframe, I leaned forward and peered into the kitchen. No one there. He was gone.

I let out a long breath. My chest still ached from our insane chase.

Now I had only one thought in my head. Harry. Was Harry okay?

I hurried to the stairway. I started to take the stairs two at a time.

I was halfway up the steps when I heard the scream.

A shrill scream of horror. A girl's scream. From outside? Right outside the house?

I stopped. And heard a second scream, high and desperate. A frantic scream for help.

I turned to the front door.

What is happening out there? Who is screaming like that?

 

30.

I stumbled and nearly toppled off the steps. The screams sent chill after chill down my back. Someone right outside the house was in horrible trouble.

The demon-creature had run out the back door. Had he attacked someone in the front of the house?

A horrifying thought made me gasp.
Was that Brenda screaming?

Harry's mom, home from work. She climbs out of the car. And the creature leaps on her.

“No,” I whispered. “Please—no.”

I tore down the stairs and ran to the front window. The front porch light sent a cone of yellow light over the front yard. I saw tall weeds swaying in a breeze. The grass gleamed silvery under the light.

No one there.

I ran to the front door and tugged it open.

Silence now. The shrill chirp of crickets. The whir of the grass and weeds blown by the swirling wind.

“Anyone out there?” My voice sounded muffled, choked by my fear. “Hello? Anyone there?”

A gust of wind blew my hair back. I waited. And listened.

No one there.

I pushed the door closed. The chill of the night air lingered on my skin. Once again, I heard the shrill shrieks and cries in my mind.

I didn't imagine them.

I pressed my back against the front door and gazed at the stairway. It took me a few seconds to realize I'd forgotten about Harry. Was he okay? Did he hear the screams? Did he sleep through my chase around the living room with that ugly creature?

I took a deep breath. My mouth was dry as cotton. My legs were trembling. But I forced my way up the stairs. The floor creaked under my shoes as I hurried down the long hall.

I stopped outside Harry's door. I reminded myself to pretend to be calm, nonchalant. I remembered how frightened Harry was the first time the creature appeared.

I grabbed the knob and slowly pulled the door open. So dark in there. The darkness seemed to creep out through the open doorway, to spill out into the hall.

“Harry?” I whispered.

Blue light washed into the room from the open bedroom window. The curtains flapped wildly in the strong breezes.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. I made my way on tiptoe to the side of Harry's bed. I could hear his soft breathing.

He was lying on his side, facing me. His eyes were shut tight. His mouth was open slightly. His hair was spread over the pillow.

He slept through everything
.

I let out a sigh of relief. I watched him sleep for a few more seconds. Then I crept over to the window and closed it, and made my way out of his bedroom.

Back in the living room, I couldn't sit down. I paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching my fists. I thought about calling my mother and telling her the whole frightening story about the demon-creature. But I knew what she'd say. She'd say I was hallucinating again, that I wasn't ready to take on this babysitting job.

Should I call 911?

The police wouldn't believe me, either. Why should they believe such a crazy story? They'd think it was some kind of prank, some kind of high school dare.

I had to tell someone. Who could I turn to? Before I could decide, I heard the back door open. Footsteps clicked across the kitchen floor.

The creature has returned.

That was my first terrifying thought. I froze in place, my eyes on the back hall.

When Brenda walked into the room, I nearly collapsed from relief.

She set her pocketbook and briefcase down and turned to me. “Lisa? Are you okay?”

“Well—” I started. But a voice from the stairway interrupted.

“Hi, Mom.”

I turned to see Harry halfway down the stairs.

Brenda's mouth dropped open. “Harry? Are you still awake?”

A pleased smile spread over his face. “I stayed up late.”

“That's terrible!” Brenda exclaimed, her eyes on me.

“That's not true!” I cried. “I was just in your room, Harry. You were sound asleep.”

His smile grew wider. “I was pretending.”

“But—why?” I said. “I don't understand.” I turned to Brenda. “I put him to bed at eight o'clock. I—”

“Never mind,” Brenda said wearily. Her tiredness showed on her face. “Harry, go back to your room. I'll come up in a few minutes and tuck you in.”

He turned without another word and half-jumped, half-ran up the stairs.

“He needs his sleep,” Brenda said, unbuttoning her suit jacket. “He's terrible if he stays up late.”

“I had no idea he was awake,” I told her. I made sure Harry wasn't still on the stairs. Then I whispered, “Brenda, I have to talk to you.”

She motioned to the couch and we both sat down. My heart started to race. I knew I couldn't hold it in any longer. I had to tell her about the frightening intruder in the house.

Would she believe me? Would she think me insane or something?

“I have to tell you something,” I said softly. “Something serious.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. She grabbed my hand. “Lisa, you're trembling. What is it you want to tell me?”

 

31.

The long blast of a car horn made me jump. It was so loud, I thought it was inside the house. It took me a moment to realize it was Nate in the driveway.

“Who's that?” Brenda climbed to her feet.

“It's my friend Nate. He came to pick me up,” I said.

Brenda glanced to the front window. “Will he wait? Do you want to invite him to come in?”