Fear Street 5 - The Fire Game (8 page)

It was a dark, cloudy night, and the area seemed to be more deserted than ever. The street lamp at the corner of Old Mill Road and Fear Street had burned out, and huge shadows grew on every side of her.

I don't really need to follow them anymore, Jill thought. I know they've gone to Fear Street.

But she still didn't know why, and she had an idea it might be important.

She pulled the car over and checked to make sure all the doors were locked, then turned onto Fear Street.

There was no sign of the wagon or the boys. It was as if they had disappeared into a black hole. Worried, she squinted to see as far down the street as she could.

They must have pulled into a driveway somewhere, she thought. The only thing she could do was cruise the street, checking out each driveway as she passed.

Driving as slowly as she could, Jill headed down the deserted street in the direction of the cemetery. Somehow, all alone in the dark, it seemed much scarier than it had the other night with her friends. She remembered some of the stories they'd been telling about the terrible things that had happened in the different houses, and she felt a shiver pass through her.

She studied each house she came to, but there was no sign of the boys.

They had to be here. Fear Street was a dead-end street. There was no way out.

Dead end.

No way out.

Stop it, Jill told herself. She took a deep breath and kept driving.

Suddenly her car started to shudder and then the engine died.

"No!" Jill cried aloud in annoyance.

Again and again she turned the key, stepping on the gas. But nothing happened.

Somewhere off to the right a large figure came bounding across a yard and disappeared toward the woods.

It was a dog, Jill told herself. Just a dog.

She felt a trickle of perspiration run down her forehead.

This is ridiculous, she told herself. There's nothing to be scared of.

I'm in a locked car. I'm only a block from Old Mill Road. If the car doesn't start soon, I can walk back and phone for help.

Please start, she thought, turning the key again.

The engine cranked and cranked, but wouldn't catch.

I've probably flooded it, she thought. I'll just have to wait for a few minutes before I try again.

A bat fluttered against a dim streetlight across the street, and Jill gasped. Now, suddenly, the deep shadows seemed to have a life of their own. She thought she could see things moving at the corner of her vision.

But whenever she turned to stare directly at them, there was nothing there.

Except in her rearview mirror.

Glancing up, Jill saw a dark figure moving toward her car.

Her heart pounding, she turned around. She couldn't see any details in the gloom, but there was definitely someone there, walking up the street toward her car.

Maybe it's someone who lives here, she thought. Someone out for an evening stroll.

Maybe.

But in that case, why was he coming directly toward her car?

Wildly, she turned the key and tried to get the engine to catch. But she had no more luck than she had before.

A second later something hit hard against her window and she was blinded by a glaring light.

Fighting down choking panic, Jill tried to think what to do. There was no way the car would start, but maybe she could find something--a weapon of some sort.

Frantically she looked around the front seat and floor, then opened the glove compartment. There was nothing but the driver's manual and a half-eaten chocolate bar.

If only the light weren't so bright.

Whatever had hit her window hit it again, then continued in a rhythmic tattoo.

Suddenly Jill realized that it was someone knocking on her window and asking her to open it. No way I'll do that, she thought. But she did roll it down a crack, just enough to talk through.

"Are you all right, miss?" asked the figure. He turned his flashlight to his face, and Jill saw that it was a young police officer.

Relief flooded through her. "I'm fine," she said in a small voice, "but my car stalled and I can't get it started."

"Let me take a look," said the officer. "Can you unlatch the hood?"

Jill reached for the hood latch and popped it. The police officer disappeared behind the hood. A few minutes later he came back.

"Everything seems to be fine," he said. "Do you mind unlocking the door?"

"Well," said Jill. He certainly looked like a policeman, and he acted like a policeman. But she'd heard stories of people impersonating cops and then robbing their victims--or worse.

"You're right to be cautious," the young cop said. "Let me show you my ID." He reached into his pocket and took out a picture ID, then slipped it in to her through the window. Jill scrutinized it, comparing it with his face.

He was definitely a cop. She had never felt so relieved in her whole life. She unlocked the door, then slid over as the cop sat down next to her. He turned the key, and to Jill's surprise the car started right up.

"It wouldn't start before. Honest," she said, feeling like an idiot.

"Probably you flooded it," he said. "While I was checking the engine it had enough time to dry out."

"Well, thank you very much," said Jill.

"My pleasure," said the officer. "I hope you get where you're going soon.

This isn't the best neighborhood to be driving around in alone."

"I know," Jill agreed. "Thank you, Officer."

In her fright Jill had almost forgotten why she was there. She waited for the officer to get back into his patrol car and drive away, then resumed her search for Nick and Max.

She had almost reached the cemetery, with no sign of them, when suddenly she spotted their station wagon parked in the yard of a run-down, deserted-looking house just at the edge of the woods.

What in the world could the guys be doing there?

She cut the engine and sat watching the house for a few minutes. They had to come out sooner or later.

But then what? Would she confront them, or follow them again? She reminded herself that she'd followed them to find out what they were up to. She'd never have a better chance than now.

She took a deep breath, then unlocked the door and climbed out. The air was cool, and she realized with a start that she wasn't wearing a jacket.

Somewhere off in the woods an animal howled.

Shivering, she began to make her way toward the deserted house.

In the dark it was hard to keep her footing, and she had to move slowly to avoid being tripped by a rock or overgrown vine. There was no sign of life in the house, and as she got closer she could see that most of the windows were broken, jagged shards of glass hanging from their frames like icicles.

What are the boys doing here? she wondered again.

She heard a loud thumping from inside the house and stopped in fright.

She was about to start moving toward it again when there was a sudden brilliant flash and the house erupted into flames.

Squinting against the sudden brightness, she saw Nick and Max running at top speed toward the car parked out front.

As Jill watched, horrified, the fire spread until the house seemed to be the center of one large flame. She could hear the crackling and popping of burning wood, and she felt the heat, even out there by the street.

Through the smoke she saw the brown station wagon pull out of the yard, and then roar off down the street. There was too much smoke for her to see her friends' faces, but she imagined they both were laughing.

Jill pulled into the garage but didn't make a move to get out of the car.

In her mind's eye she could still see Max and Nick running away from the fire on Fear Street--the fire they had set.

She was pretty sure that they hadn't seen her there. Maybe they didn't care if she had seen them. Obviously, they had gotten out of control as far as the fire game was concerned.

After Nick and Max had driven off, Jill had gone directly to the fire box on Old Mill Road and pulled the alarm. Then she drove around for a while until she finally decided she had to go home to figure out what to do next.

Part of the reason she was so upset, she realized, was that the fire game had changed her relationship with all her friends. There wasn't even anyone she could discuss it with. Max and Andrea both acted as if there were nothing wrong with setting fires. And because of Gabe, she didn't feel comfortable confiding in Andrea anyway.

Diane was completely irrational on the subject of fire. And Nick--Nick was the biggest problem of all. He had been the one who had seemed completely against the fires from the start. Now he had just set two fires.

She locked the car and went in. Her parents were out, so she poured herself a glass of tomato juice, then took Mittsy up to her room. She hugged her pet for a while, then decided to study to take her mind off the fire game--and her feelings of guilt about it.

But when she sat down at her desk, the first thing she saw was her algebra book, which she'd brought in from the car. It reminded her of Nick, and how he'd gone to set a fire instead of studying with her that night.

"I give up!" she cried irritably, shutting the book.

She decided to do yoga exercises to calm down. She switched on the little portable TV she kept on her dresser, then sat on the rug and stretched to the sounds of canned laughter as an old episode of "Three's Company" came to an end.

She was doing a shoulder stand when the news came on. "The governor vetoes a capital punishment bill," said the anchorperson. "A homeless man dies in a suspicious fire. And more warm weather ahead. These stories and more coming up on 'Metro News Tonight.'"

Jill continued to stretch, half-listening to the news. She was just starting a half-forward twist when the anchor said, "Police suspect arson in a fatal fire tonight in Shadyside. For more on the story, we go to Tip Teppler."

Jill stopped stretching and sat up straight, her heart thudding.

The TV showed a handsome man with styled blond hair holding a microphone.

In the background could be seen a confusion of fire trucks and the blackened silhouette of a burned house. "Thank you, Heidi," said the reporter. "I'm reporting from Fear Street in Shadyside, where fire fighters struggled for nearly two hours to contain a fire in an abandoned house. Fire fighters arriving on the scene found a homeless man unconscious on the front porch. Efforts to revive him at the scene failed, and he was pronounced dead on arrival at Mercy Hospital, the apparent victim of a heart attack. With me is Lieutenant Ed Heasly, chief fire warden for the Shadyside Fire Department. Lieutenant, is it true that this fire was deliberately set?"

The camera switched to another man, this one weary looking, with rumpled, thinning brown hair. "It looks that way, Tip," said Lieutenant Heasly.

"We won't know until we complete our investigation, but the fire appears to have been deliberately set."

"Isn't it true," Tip Teppler went on, "that there has been an increase in arson in Shadyside in the last few weeks?"

"That's true also," said Heasly. "We're currently pursuing several leads, but we can't say more right now. I can tell you this. Since this fire involves a death, we aren't going to rest until we find the arsonists."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Heasly," the reporter said. "This is Tip Teppler reporting live from Shadyside. Now back to you in the studio, Heidi."

Feeling dizzy, Jill switched off the set.

The reporter had been standing in front of the house she herself had visited earlier that evening. The house that Nick and Max had set on fire.

The house that wasn't deserted at all, but had had a homeless man living in it.

A homeless man who was now dead.

The reporter said that the man had died of a heart attack, but firemen had found him unconscious. That meant that the fire had caused his death, directly or indirectly.

And it meant that Max and Nick were murderers.

And she was a witness.

For a long time Jill stared at the blank television screen. Then she picked up the phone and, her heart thudding, punched in Nick's number.

"Hello?" He sounded sleepy but completely normal. Maybe he hadn't heard about the homeless man yet.

"Hi, this is Jill," she said. "I--I was just calling to find out why you weren't home for our study date."

"Oh!" said Nick, sounding surprised. Then he quickly went on. "I'm sorry, but Max got last-minute tickets to the basketball game in Waynesbridge. I tried to call you, but your line was busy."

"That's really lame, Nick," she said.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he said. "I'll make it up to you. I'll come over tomorrow and--"

"I mean your lie is lame!" she interrupted. "You didn't go to any basketball game tonight, did you?"

"Sure I did," Nick said. "Just ask Max."

"It's bad enough hearing it from you. I don't want to hear the same lies from Max. You didn't go to the basketball game. You went to Fear Street."

Nick didn't answer for a moment. When he did he sounded cautious. "What makes you think so?"

"I saw you there," she said.

"You saw me there?"

"At the house. The one that you and Max set on fire."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nick said.

Jill thought he sounded very nervous. "Did you see the news on TV

tonight?" she asked.

"No. But what does that have to do with--"

"It so happens that there was a homeless man living in that house," Jill said. "And the fire caused his death!"

"What!" Nick sounded shocked. "This is a joke, right?"

"It's no joke," Jill said sadly. "I saw it on the news. They had a picture of the house. It was the same one. The one where I saw you and Max."

"Oh, no," Nick said. "I can't believe it. Someone died?"

"The fire caused him to have a heart attack," Jill said. "And the fire chief said they're looking for the people who did it. You and Max."

"We didn't set the fire!" Nick blurted out.

"Then you admit you were there?"