Free 40 - Night of the Living Dummy III by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page A

innocent.

 
 
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    Dan’s mouth dropped open.
    I let out a sharp cry.
    “Don’t act stunned. Just get him out of here,” Dad said angrily. “And why is
he all wet? Did you have him out in the rain?”
    I glanced out the kitchen window. Lightning flashed through a dark gray sky.
Sheets of rain pounded the glass. Thunder rumbled overhead.
    “Not a very nice morning,” Uncle Cal said, stepping up behind Dan and me.
    “I’ve got coffee ready,” Dad told him.
    “I see your friend here beat us down to breakfast,” Uncle Cal said, motioning
to Slappy.
    The dummy’s grin seemed to grow wider.
    “Get him out of here, Trina,” Dad repeated sharply. “Anyone want pancakes
this morning?” He moved to the cabinet and started searching for a frying pan.
    “Make a few extra for me. I’m starving,” Uncle Cal said. “I’ll go see if Zane is up.” He turned and hurried out of the
kitchen.
    Dad leaned into the cabinet, banging pots and pans, searching for the one he
always used for pancakes.
    “Dad, I have to tell you something,” I said softly. I couldn’t hold it in any
longer. I had to tell Dad the truth. I had to tell him the whole story.
    “Dad, Slappy is evil,” I told him. “He’s alive, and he’s evil. Dan and I
threw him down the well last night. We had to get rid of him. But now—he’s
back. You have to help us, Dad. We have to get rid of him—now.”
    I took a deep breath and let it out. It felt so good to get the story off my
chest.
    Dad pulled his head from the cabinet and turned to me. “Did you say
something, Trina? I was making such a racket, I couldn’t hear you.”
    “Dad, I-I—” I stammered.
    “Get that dummy out of here—now!” Dad shouted. He stuck his head
back into the cabinet. “How can a whole frying pan disappear into thin air?”
    I let out a disappointed sigh. A loud burst of thunder made me jump.
    I motioned with my head for Dan to help me. We lifted Slappy off the chair. I
held him around the waist, as far away from me as possible.
    His gray suit was sopping wet. Water dripped off his black leather shoes.
    We were halfway up the attic stairs when Slappy blinked and let out a soft
chuckle. “Nice try, slaves,” he rasped. “But give up. I’m never going away.
Never!”

 
 
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    What a dreary morning.
    Rain pounded the windows. Lightning crackled through the charcoal-gray sky.
Thunder boomed so close it rocked the house.
    I felt as if the storm were inside my head. As if the heavy, heavy storm
clouds were weighing me down. As if the thunder erupted inside my brain,
drowning out my thoughts.
    Dan and I slumped on the couch in the den, watching the storm through the
Venetian blinds over the big window. We were trying to come up with an idea, a
way to get rid of Slappy.
    The room was chilly. Damp, cold air leaked through the old window. I rubbed
the sleeves of my sweater, trying to warm myself.
    We were alone in the house. Mom, Dad, Uncle Cal, and Zane had gone into town.
    “I tried to tell Dad,” I said. “You heard me, Dan. I tried to tell him about
Slappy. But he didn’t hear me.”
    “Dad wouldn’t believe you anyway, Trina,” Dan replied glumly. He sighed. “Who would believe it?”
    “How can a wooden dummy come to life?” I asked, shaking my head. “How?”
    And then I remembered.
    And then I had an idea.
    I jumped up from the couch. I tugged my brother by the arm. “Come on.”
    He pulled back. “Where?”
    “To the attic. I think I know how to put Slappy to sleep—for good.”
    I stopped at the attic door and held Dan back. “Be very quiet,” I instructed
him. “Maybe Slappy is asleep. If he’s asleep, my plan will go a whole lot
better.”
    Thunder roared as I opened the door. I led the way up the stairs, moving
slowly, carefully, one step at a time. I could hear the rain pounding down on
the roof. And I could see the flicker of lightning on the low ceiling.
    I stopped as I reached the top of the stairs and