بگو سیب و بمیر فصل 2

Say Cheese and Die! - Chapter 2

Greg toppled backward onto the ground. “Aah!” he screamed. Then he realized the others were laughing.

“It’s that dumb cocker spaniel!” Shari cried. “He followed us!”

“Go home, dog. Go home!” Bird shooed the dog away.

The dog trotted to the curb, turned around, and stared back at them, its stubby tail wagging furiously.

Feeling embarrassed that he’d become so frightened, Greg slowly pulled himself to his feet, expecting his friends to give him grief. But they were staring up at the Coffman house thoughtfully.

“Yeah, Michael’s right,” Bird said, slapping Michael hard on the back, so hard Michael winced and turned to slug Bird. “Let’s see what it’s like in there.”

“No way,” Greg said, hanging back. “I mean, the place is kind of creepy, don’t you think?”

“So?” Shari challenged him, joining Michael and Bird, who repeated her question: “So?”

“So… I don’t know,” Greg replied. He didn’t like being the sensible one of the group. Everyone always made fun of the sensible one. He’d rather be the wild and crazy one. But somehow he always ended up sensible.

“I don’t think we should go in there,” he said, staring up at the neglected old house.

“Are you chicken?” Bird asked.

“Chicken!” Michael joined in.

Bird began to cluck loudly, tucking his hands into his armpits and flapping his arms. With his beady eyes and beaky nose, he looked just like a chicken.

Greg didn’t want to laugh, but he couldn’t help it.

Bird always made him laugh.

The clucking and flapping seemed to end the discussion. They were standing at the foot of the broken concrete steps that led up to the screened porch.

“Look. The window next to the front door is broken,” Shari said. “We can just reach in and open the door.”

“This is cool,” Michael said enthusiastically.

“Are we really doing this?” Greg, being the sensible one, had to ask. “I mean—what about Spidey?”

Spidey was a weird-looking man of fifty or sixty they’d all seen lurking about town. He dressed entirely in black and crept along on long, slender legs. He looked just like a black spider, so the kids all called him Spidey.

Most likely he was homeless or a drifter. No one really knew anything about him—where he’d come from, where he lived. But a lot of kids had seen him hanging around the Coffman house.

“Maybe Spidey doesn’t like visitors,” Greg warned.

But Shari was already reaching in through the broken windowpane to unlock the front door. And after little effort, she turned the brass knob and the heavy wooden door swung open.

One by one, they stepped into the front entryway, Greg reluctantly bringing up the rear. It was dark inside the house. Only narrow beams of sunlight managed to trickle down through the heavy trees in front, creating pale circles of light on the worn brown carpet at their feet.

The floorboards squeaked as Greg and his friends made their way past the living room, which was bare except for a couple of overturned grocery store cartons against one wall.

Spidey’s furniture? Greg wondered.

The living room carpet, as threadbare as the one in the entryway, had a dark oval stain in the center of it. Greg and Bird, stopping in the doorway, both noticed it at the same time.

“Think it’s blood?” Bird asked, his tiny eyes lighting up with excitement.

Greg felt a chill on the back of his neck. “Probably ketchup,” he replied. Bird laughed and slapped him hard on the back.

Shari and Michael were exploring the kitchen. They were staring at the dust-covered counter as Greg and Bird stepped up behind them. They saw immediately what had captured their attention. Two fat gray mice were standing on the counter, staring back at Shari and Michael.

“They’re cute,” Shari said. “They look just like cartoon mice.”

The sound of her voice made the two rodents scamper along the counter, around the sink, and out of sight.

“They’re gross,” Michael said, making a disgusted face. “I think they were rats—not mice.”

“Rats have long tails. Mice don’t,” Greg told him.

“They were definitely rats,” Bird muttered, pushing past them and into the hallway. He disappeared toward the front of the house.

Shari reached up and pulled open a cabinet over the counter. Empty. “I guess Spidey never uses the kitchen,” she said.

“Well, I didn’t think he was a gourmet chef,” Greg joked.

He followed her into the long, narrow dining room, as bare and dusty as the other rooms. A low chandelier still hung from the ceiling, so brown with caked dust it was impossible to tell that it was glass.

“Looks like a haunted house,” Greg said softly.

“Boo,” Shari replied.

“There’s not much to see in here,” Greg complained, following her back to the dark hallway. “Unless you get a thrill from dustballs.”

Suddenly, a loud crack made him jump.

Shari laughed and squeezed his shoulder.

“What was that ?” he cried, unable to stifle his fear.

“Old houses do things like that,” she said. “They make noises for no reason at all.”

“I think we should leave,” Greg insisted, embarrassed again that he’d acted so frightened. “I mean, it’s boring in here.”

“It’s kind of exciting being somewhere we’re not supposed to be,” Shari said, peeking into a dark, empty room—probably a den or study at one time.

“I guess,” Greg replied uncertainly.

They bumped into Michael. “Where’s Bird?” Greg asked.

“I think he went down to the basement,” Michael replied.

“Huh? The basement?”

Michael pointed to an open door at the right of the hallway. “The stairs are there.”

The three of them made their way to the top of the stairs. They peered down into the darkness. “Bird?”

From somewhere deep in the basement, his voice floated up to them in a horrified scream: “Help! It’s got me! Somebody—please help! It’s got me!”