The Super Spies and the High School Bomber (37 page)

“I didn't want to stand by myself,” Lacey whimpered, slightly out of breath. She tugged nervously on the hem of her T-shirt as she eyed the house.

Sarah groaned and her shoulders slumped as if she carried a heavy burden. She sighed and pointed at the bushes again. “You hide over there with Jackie and be quiet.”

Sarah waited until the other girls were out of sight, and then climbed the stairs. Stopping when she reached the porch, Sarah took some deep breaths before stepping onto the sagging stoop. Walking gingerly, she hoped the porch would support her. Her stomach clenched when it groaned. She took another step and then another, the porch complaining with every footfall. Halfway across the stoop, she heard the girls behind the bushes.

“She's almost to the door,” Lacey said in a low voice.

Sarah bit her lip, stifling the disapproving remark dancing on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she turned and glared at the bushes, willing its occupants to shut up. She made eye contact with Jackie, who quickly ducked behind the shrubs, pulling Lacey with her.

What in the world is she doing?” Lacey asked.

“Shhh,” Jackie responded.

Sarah shook her head and continued her journey. She felt Jackie and Lacey watching her as she crept toward the door. Reaching the entryway, she was surprised to find the storm door wide open. The only barrier between the Cat Lady and the rest of the world was a flimsy screen door hanging askew on its hinges.

Alarm bells rang in Sarah's head.
This has got to be out of character for someone who never leaves her home.
She turned back and whispered to the other girls. “Hey!”

Jackie poked her head out. “What?”

“The storm door's open.”

“So?”

“So what do I do?”

“Duh, ring the doorbell.”

Sarah shrugged and pushed the doorbell. It let out an irritating buzz and she had the feeling it had been broken long ago and never fixed. She dashed down the stairs. The cats scattered, alarmed by the sudden activity. Reaching the shrubs, Sarah hid with her sister and Jackie.

Gasping for breath, Sarah waited for a reaction from the old woman. Her heart pummeled her ribs and she pressed her hand to her chest to calm it.

After a few minutes, Sarah started to pace. “Well, nothing's happened.” She peeked out from behind the shrub and saw the screen door hanging ajar. “I bet she's not even home. I'm going to try again.”

Jackie shrugged. “Be careful, remember she's a witch.”

Sarah shook her head, and then peered out from behind the shrubs. Once again, she climbed the stairs. She was braver this time and it didn't take her as long to make it to the door.

She looked inside, her heart lurching in her chest. She tiptoed to the picture window and peered through it. Gasping, she ran back to the entryway. Pulling it open, she lunged inside.

Sarah stared, unable to tear herself away. Shock ran through her body like an electrical current as she eyed the scene before her. The crumpled form of the Cat Lady lay on the living room floor, just inside the door. No life flickered in the old woman's staring eyes. Her mouth gaped open in a silent scream and her hands were up around her head as if she were warding off blows. Turning away from the Cat Lady's body, Sarah gagged as the coppery scent of blood assaulted her. There was blood splattered everywhere, on the wall, on the carpet and under the Cat Lady's body.

Suddenly, Sarah's throat constricted and she gasped for breath. Fearing she would faint, she stumbled back out the door and collided with Jackie and Lacey on the porch.

Jackie grabbed Sarah's arm and shook her. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? I never said to go inside!”

Sarah didn't speak. Shejust stared blankly at the porch.

Jackie shook her again. “Are you under the Cat Lady's spell?”

Lacey whimpered. “Hey, Sarah…. Can you hear me? Sarah?”

“She's under the Cat Lady's spell,” Jackie said waving her hand in front of Sarah's eyes.

“Oh my—,” Sarah moaned and clutched Jackie's arm.

“What is it?” Jackie shook her again. “Speak…say something!”

“Th-th-the C-C-Cat Lady, sh-sh-she's—,” Sarah stuttered.

“She's what?” Jackie demanded.

“Sh-she's dead.

 

Astraea Press

 

Pure. Fiction

 

www.astraeapress.com

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