Authors: Christopher Pike

The Howling Ghost (9 page)

The ghost turned back to Cindy. Gently it reached out to touch her hair. But doubt crossed its face and it stopped. Adam knew he had to act fast.

“Cindy,” he said. “Tell Mrs. Makey something only your father and she could have known.”

“I don't understand,” Cindy mumbled, still standing on the stairs with the ghost only a foot away.

“It could be anything his mother taught him,” Adam said. “Anything your father later taught you.”

Cindy paused. “He taught me this poem. I know he knew it as a kid, but I don't know who taught it to him.”

“Just say it,” Adam snapped.

Cindy recited the poem quickly.

The ocean is a lady.

She is kind to all.

But if you forget her dark moods.

Her cold waves, those watery walls.

Then you are bound to fall.

Into a cold grave.

Where the fish will have you for food.

The ocean is a princess.

She is always fair.

But if you dive too deep.

Into the abyss, the octopus's lair.

Then you are bound to despair.

In a cold grave.

Where the sharks will have you for meat.

“It's sort of a lousy poem,” Cindy said after she was finished.

“Please quit using the words
lousy
and
ugly
around Mrs. Makey,” Adam said. The ghost's face became thoughtful. Adam asked softly, “Mrs. Makey, did you teach your son that poem?”

The ghost nodded slowly, and as it did a single tear
ran over its cheek. The tear did not appear to be made of water, however, but of diamond. It glistened in the glow cast by the powerful searchlight.

Once more the ghost turned back to Cindy. Adam understood what it needed to know. So did Cindy. She reached out to touch the ghost's shoulder.

“He was a great man, my father,” Cindy whispered. “He had a happy life. He married a wonderful woman, and had us two kids.” Then she lowered her head and there were tears on her face as well. “He died a couple of months ago, in a fire.” Cindy sobbed. “I'm sorry. I know you miss him. I miss him, too.”

The ghost did a remarkable thing right then. It hugged Cindy. No, it did more than thatâit comforted her, and Cindy comforted it. For several seconds they cried in each other's arms, although Adam could not hear the ghost's tears.

Then the powerful light that poured through the floor dimmed.

Cindy and the ghost let go of each other.

Adam stepped forward. “Watch has sabotaged the generator. He's cut the power.” Adam looked at the ghost. “I'm sorry. I don't know if this will hurt you. Our friend was just trying to save us.”

To Adam's surprise, the ghost smiled and shook its head, as if to say that it was all right. Cindy got the same impression.

“I don't think she cares,” Cindy said. “I think she wants to move on now.” She grabbed the ghost's hands and spoke excitedly. “You can see my father! Your son!”

The ghost's smile widened. For the last time she hugged Cindy and nodded in Adam's direction. Almost as if to say thank you.

Then the searchlight failed and they were plunged into darkness.

At first it seemed completely dark. Then Adam noticed his flashlight lying on the floor. It was still on and he picked it up. After the searchlight the beam appeared feeble.

The ghost was gone.

Cindy quickly climbed the ladder to the top attic.

A moment later she reappeared with a five-year-old boy in her hands.

“Neil!” She was crying.

“Cindy!” her brother kept shouting happily. “Did you kill the ghost?”

“No,” Adam said. “We just showed it the way home.”

But their adventures were far from over.

All three of them smelled smoke.

Adam ran over to the door in the floor and opened it easily. But what he saw below did not reassure him. Far down, through the first trapdoor that led onto the
steps, he saw huge orange flames on the ground floor of the lighthouse. Sally was in the room with the searchlight also looking down to the ground floor. Before Adam could speak, Watch poked his head through the floor at her feet. He had a big grin on his face.

“I was able to destroy the generator,” he said.

“What did you do?” Sally screamed at him. “Blow it up?”

“As a matter of fact that is exactly what I did,” Watch said, climbing into the room and standing beside Sally. He glanced back down at the flames, which were rapidly moving through the interior of the lighthouse. He lost his smile as he added, “It's too bad this place doesn't have a fire extinguisher.”

“But we're trapped!” Sally screamed. “We're going to die!”

“I don't want to burn to death,” Cindy whispered beside Adam, fear in her voice.

“We're not going to die,” Adam said. “We've come too far for that to happen.” He stood and spoke to all of them. “We're going to have to leap off the balcony and into the water.”

“You're crazy,” Sally said. “A hundred-foot fall will kill us.”

“Not necessarily,” Watch said. “It is the surface tension of the water that usually kills people when they jump from high places into water. But if that tension can be broken just before we hit the water, we should be all right.”

“What does surface tension mean?” Neil asked his sister.

She rubbed his back. “I'll explain it later, after Watch explains it to me.”

“Are you saying that if we have something like a board hit the water just before we do,” Adam said, “we should live?”

“Exactly,” Watch said. “Come down here. We'll break a few boards off the balcony railing.”

Adam first helped Cindy and Neil down the ladder to join Watch and Sally and then climbed down himself. They hurried onto the balcony. A sharp cold wind had come up. It tore at their hair, while far below they could see huge waves crashing on the rocks. The surf had come up in the last few minutes.

It wasn't difficult to tear the railing apart to get all the boards they needed. Soon they each had a couple.

But they were quickly running out of time. Flames burst through to the searchlight room. The bulbs of the light fizzled and then exploded in a gruesome
shower of glass and sparks. Orange light bathed the surroundings. The temperature soared.

“Do we throw them over the side ahead of us?” Sally asked.

“No,” Watch said. “You'd never catch up with them. Throw the boards below you
after
you jump. They should hit the water a second before you.”

“What if I hit to the side of my boards?” Sally asked.

“Then you'll die,” Watch said.

There was nothing to say after that. There was no time to talk anyway. Fire licked out at them on the balcony. Smoke filled the air. It was almost impossible to breathe. They were all coughing. Together they drew back from the opening they had created in the railing. They needed a running start so they could fly beyond the rocks. Cindy held Neil in her arms, and wouldn't part with him, although Adam offered to take the boy. Adam realized he would have to throw Cindy's boards out for her.

They nodded at each other and then ran.

Over the side they flew.

It was the scariest thing imaginable.

For Adam it felt as if he fell forever. The cold wind ripped at his face and hair. He saw the waves, the rocksâall spun together. The ground seemed to take
the place of the sky. He wasn't even sure which way was up and which way down. But he remembered to throw out his handful of boards.

Then there was an incredible smash.

Adam felt as if he had been crushed into a pancake.

Everything went cold and black.

He realized he was under the water. He couldn't see the others and for the moment he couldn't worry about them. He swam for the surface, hoping he was going in the right direction. A few seconds later his head broke into the night air. It felt wonderful to draw in a deep breath. He was the first one up. But the others appeared quickly, tiny heads peeking out of the rough surf.

“Can you swim?” he shouted at Neil.

“I'm a great swimmer,” the boy said proudly.

They swam to the end of the jetty, where they had earlier tied the rope. They had to time getting onto the rocks, so they didn't get crushed by waves. But the night was finally kind. There was a sudden lull in the waves and soon they were on dry land. Or at least on a bunch of rocks that they could walk on to dry land.

Cindy was so excited to see her brother. She refused to let go of Neil, hugging him and burying him with kisses. Adam was happy for both of them.

“Your mom will be surprised to see your brother again,” he told Cindy.

“That's putting it mildly,” Cindy said. “Oh, I want you to meet my mother. She likes to meet all the guys I hang out with.”

“It's not clear yet whether you and Adam will be having an ongoing relationship,” Sally said.

Cindy chuckled. “I think we're all going to be friends. Even you and me, Sally.”

“We'll see,” Sally said, doubtful. But then she smiled and patted Watch and Adam on the back. “Another heroic mission successfully concluded. I must say you guys did a good job.”

“You were the one who figured out the secret of the mystery,” Adam said. “Without you, the ghost would have killed us all.”

“What's this?” Watch asked.

“Nothing,” Sally said quickly. “I'll explain it to you later.” She pointed out to sea. “It's amazing we never saw any sharks today. I guess these waters aren't as dangerous as I thought.”

But Sally spoke too soon.

A huge white fin sailed by just then.

They jumped up on the biggest rock and grabbed on to one another.

“You must never forget where we live,” Adam whispered.

“Ain't that the truth,” Sally said, gasping.

On the way home they stopped for doughnuts. Except for Neil, they all ordered coffee. They needed to settle their nerves. The day had been a little too exciting.

About the Author

Little is known about Christopher Pike, although he is supposed to be a strange man. It is rumored that he was born in New York but grew up in Los Angeles. He has been seen in Santa Barbara lately, so he probably lives there now. But no one really knows what he looks like, or how old he is. It is possible that he is not a real person, but an eccentric creature visiting from another world. When he is not writing, he sits and stares at the walls of his huge haunted house. A short, ugly troll wanders around him in the dark and whispers scary stories in his ear.

Christopher Pike is one of this planet's best-selling authors of young adult fiction.

Books by Christopher Pike

Spooksville #1: The Secret Path

Spooksville #2: The Howling Ghost

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.