in some way...
"Around the back?" Jimmy whispered to him.
"Yeah."
"This is where it all began. Well, let's get this over with."
Both boys hurried forward, shoulders hunched over. The street was quiet, and it had always been an isolated nook of the small town anyway. Only a few other homes were on the block, all of them old, although nothing compared with Berger's spook house. Rusty shivered at the chill air, the temperature continuing to drop. It had been a long, harrowing night, with seemingly no end. Disaster lurked around every corner. Danger waited for him, knew his name. He tried not to think about his parents, instead focusing on what lay before them, and what he might do to help them escape from Berger's power. He just had to find a way.
They crept along the side of the house, keeping free of the clutching thorn bushes that lined the wall. Jimmy seemed to be fearless, boldly going first, hesitating, then reaching the back porch. Here's where it had all happened, Rusty thought, as both boys stared at the forbidding kitchen entrance. Here's where Berger had taken Jimmy, hypnotized him somehow, made him his puppet. And now they'd returned again, one year later. Jimmy was already pulling at the handle, and to their surprise it easily turned in his grasp. He snapped his head back at Rusty.
Too easy. Something's wrong.
Jimmy tried the inside door. It was open as well. Neglect? Or maybe Berger had been using it recently, unknown to the neighbors or police. Of course, the other possibility, and the most unpleasant one, was that it smelled of a trap. But how could Berger know that Rusty would come back here of all places? The man was cunning, held some type of weird power, but Rusty refused to believe that he knew everything he was thinking. Or might be thinking.
Jimmy looked back at him.
"Let's go." Rusty whispered. "We won't find any answers standing around out here."
Joining the other boy, Rusty pushed the frame inwards, and they now stood in the kitchen. Jimmy pulled out a flashlight, and they examined the interior. Cobwebs fluttered about like the dried husks of ghosts. The table was empty, the counter bare.
"The bank probably cleaned the place out. They'll turn over a grave to find a penny. At least that's what my mom said onceâ¦" Jimmy shrugged.
Rusty frowned. Where to start? If anything important was still to be found here, it wouldn't be out in the open, he reasoned. "Let's try the basement or attic."
Both were unpleasant choices, and neither of them were in a rush to try their slim options. But time was running out.
"I don't know," Jimmy whispered. "Basement first. It's closer. Probably right behind that door." He pointed at the single door in the room, walking towards it. Leading the way with his flashlight, Rusty was on his heels.
"Stay close. I'm really getting the creeps big time." Jimmy's face looked scared, his usual confidence melting away in the silent home of their enemy. Rusty felt something in the walls around him as well. A quiet, patient sense of malice. Evil had lived here. Still might. Bad things had happened here. And he didn't care to find out any details. His instincts were strong enough to quench any doubts.
They descended the stairs, finding them to be steep, old, and in disrepair. The floorboards moaned with each footstep, sending shivers down both their spines. After nearly two dozen steps, they reached the bottom. Jimmy's light illuminated a large room, filled with boxes that appeared empty. A solitary light bulb was fixed to the center, and Rusty walked forward, trying it. The bulb was dead.
"Let's look around, maybe we can find something."
"What are we looking for?"
"I don't know. Just...something interesting, maybe?"
"Rusty, I hate to tell you this, but your plan's really bad."
They rummaged around, searching for anything which seemed unusual or out of place. Rusty didn't have a clue as to what they were looking for, but he knew this house held secrets, and he was
"Around the back?" Jimmy whispered to him.
"Yeah."
"This is where it all began. Well, let's get this over with."
Both boys hurried forward, shoulders hunched over. The street was quiet, and it had always been an isolated nook of the small town anyway. Only a few other homes were on the block, all of them old, although nothing compared with Berger's spook house. Rusty shivered at the chill air, the temperature continuing to drop. It had been a long, harrowing night, with seemingly no end. Disaster lurked around every corner. Danger waited for him, knew his name. He tried not to think about his parents, instead focusing on what lay before them, and what he might do to help them escape from Berger's power. He just had to find a way.
They crept along the side of the house, keeping free of the clutching thorn bushes that lined the wall. Jimmy seemed to be fearless, boldly going first, hesitating, then reaching the back porch. Here's where it had all happened, Rusty thought, as both boys stared at the forbidding kitchen entrance. Here's where Berger had taken Jimmy, hypnotized him somehow, made him his puppet. And now they'd returned again, one year later. Jimmy was already pulling at the handle, and to their surprise it easily turned in his grasp. He snapped his head back at Rusty.
Too easy. Something's wrong.
Jimmy tried the inside door. It was open as well. Neglect? Or maybe Berger had been using it recently, unknown to the neighbors or police. Of course, the other possibility, and the most unpleasant one, was that it smelled of a trap. But how could Berger know that Rusty would come back here of all places? The man was cunning, held some type of weird power, but Rusty refused to believe that he knew everything he was thinking. Or might be thinking.
Jimmy looked back at him.
"Let's go." Rusty whispered. "We won't find any answers standing around out here."
Joining the other boy, Rusty pushed the frame inwards, and they now stood in the kitchen. Jimmy pulled out a flashlight, and they examined the interior. Cobwebs fluttered about like the dried husks of ghosts. The table was empty, the counter bare.
"The bank probably cleaned the place out. They'll turn over a grave to find a penny. At least that's what my mom said onceâ¦" Jimmy shrugged.
Rusty frowned. Where to start? If anything important was still to be found here, it wouldn't be out in the open, he reasoned. "Let's try the basement or attic."
Both were unpleasant choices, and neither of them were in a rush to try their slim options. But time was running out.
"I don't know," Jimmy whispered. "Basement first. It's closer. Probably right behind that door." He pointed at the single door in the room, walking towards it. Leading the way with his flashlight, Rusty was on his heels.
"Stay close. I'm really getting the creeps big time." Jimmy's face looked scared, his usual confidence melting away in the silent home of their enemy. Rusty felt something in the walls around him as well. A quiet, patient sense of malice. Evil had lived here. Still might. Bad things had happened here. And he didn't care to find out any details. His instincts were strong enough to quench any doubts.
They descended the stairs, finding them to be steep, old, and in disrepair. The floorboards moaned with each footstep, sending shivers down both their spines. After nearly two dozen steps, they reached the bottom. Jimmy's light illuminated a large room, filled with boxes that appeared empty. A solitary light bulb was fixed to the center, and Rusty walked forward, trying it. The bulb was dead.
"Let's look around, maybe we can find something."
"What are we looking for?"
"I don't know. Just...something interesting, maybe?"
"Rusty, I hate to tell you this, but your plan's really bad."
They rummaged around, searching for anything which seemed unusual or out of place. Rusty didn't have a clue as to what they were looking for, but he knew this house held secrets, and he was
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