Free Welcome to Dead House by R. L. Stine Page B

—” Josh started.
    Karen shook her head, her eyes glowing with amusement. “No. Sorry, Josh. No great-uncle. It was just a trick to bring you here. Once every year, someone new has to move here. Other years, it was us. We lived in this house — until we died. This year, it’s your turn.”
    “We need new blood,” Jerry Franklin said, his eyes glowing red in the dim light. “Once a year, you see, we need new blood.”
    Moving forward in silence, they hovered over Josh and me.
    I took a deep breath. A last breath, perhaps. And shut my eyes.
    And then I heard the knock on the door.
    A loud knock, repeated several times.
    I opened my eyes. The ghostly kids all vanished.
    The air smelled sour.
    Josh and I stared at each other, dazed, as the loud knocking started again.
    “It’s Mom and Dad!” Josh cried.
    We both ran to the door. Josh stumbled over the coffee table in the dark, so I got to the door first.
    “Mom! Dad!” I cried, pulling open the door. “Where have you been?”
    I reached out my arms to hug them both — and stopped with my arms in the air. My mouth dropped open and I uttered a silent cry.
    “Mr. Dawes!” Josh exclaimed, coming up beside me. “We thought —”
    “Oh, Mr. Dawes, I’m so glad to see you!” I cried happily, pushing open the screen door for him.
    “Kids — you’re okay?” he asked, eyeing us both, his handsome face tight with worry. “Oh, thank God!” he cried. “I got here in time!”
    “Mr. Dawes —” I started, feeling so relieved, I had tears in my eyes. “I —”
    He grabbed my arm. “There’s no time to talk,” he said, looking behind him to the street. I could see his car in the driveway. The engine was running. Only the parking lights were on. “I’ve got to get you kids out of here while there’s still time.”
    Josh and I started to follow him, then hesitated.
    What if Mr. Dawes was one of them?
    “Hurry,” Mr. Dawes urged, holding open the screen door, gazing nervously out into the darkness. “I think we’re in terrible danger.”
    “But —” I started, staring into his frightened eyes, trying to decide if we could trust him.
    “I was at the party with your parents,” Mr. Dawes said. “All of a sudden, they formed a circle. Everyone. Around your parents and me. They — they started to close in on us.”
    Just like when the kids started to close in on Josh and me,
I thought.
    “We broke through them and ran,” Mr. Dawes said, glancing to the driveway behind him. “Somehow the three of us got away. Hurry. We’ve all got to get away from here — now!”
    “Josh, let’s go,” I urged. Then I turned to Mr. Dawes. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
    “Come on. I’ll show you. They’re safe for now. But I don’t know for how long.”
    We followed him out of the house and down the driveway to his car. The clouds had parted. A sliver of moon shone low in a pale early morning sky.
    “There’s something wrong with this whole town,” Mr. Dawes said, holding the front passenger door open for me as Josh climbed into the back.
    I slumped gratefully into the seat, and he slammed the door shut. “I know,” I said, as he slid behind the wheel. “Josh and I. We both —”
    “We’ve got to get as far away as we can before they catch up with us,” Mr. Dawes said, backing down the drive quickly, the tires sliding and squealing as he pulled onto the street.
    “Yes,” I agreed. “Thank goodness you came. My house — it’s filled with kids. Dead kids and —”
    “So you’ve seen them,” Mr. Dawes said softly, his eyes wide with fear. He pushed down harder on the gas pedal.
    As I looked out into the purple darkness, a low orange sun began to show over the green treetops. “Where are our parents?” I asked anxiously.
    “There’s a kind of outdoor theater next to the cemetery,” Mr. Dawes said, staring straight ahead through the windshield, his eyes narrow, his expression tense. “It’s built right into the ground, and it’s hidden by a