Page 73 of The Neighborhood Ghost

The wails of the ghouls spilled into the hallway, the wails and screams like Hugo had never heard before.

Thaddeus stuck his head outside. “They are all moving,” he said as he stepped out onto the porch. “They are all moving toward something.”

Hugo lowered the hockey stick and joined Thaddeus outside. The two men moved to the railing. Rows and rows of ghouls shambled their way through the landscape. The entirety of the banshee’s army all converged on a central spot.

“They’re not moving toward something. They’re moving toward someone.”

“Listen . . . the knocks. The three knocks are getting faster,” Thaddeus said.

The knocks were indistinguishable, almost sounding like one continuous knock.

“Her beast must be trying to get out to he—” Hugo paused. “Look. The rider’s gone.”

The black carriage remained, yet the rider on the black horse was gone.

“He was not supposed to leave. His orders were to guard you.”

“Unless he’s after Alice,” Hugo shouted as he sprinted down the gray porch steps. He took off across the lawn.

“Wait!” Thaddeus yelled as he followed. “Wait for me.”

The darkness envelopedAlice as she slammed the door shut. Her hand struggled to find the lock, stabbing at the darkness, only to find the back of the wooden door. After a few swipes, she found the target—the deadbolt lock. With a flick of her wrist, she was locked tight inside the house.

She flipped around and placed her back against the door. Out of instinct, she snapped her finger to conjure a source of light. Nothing appeared. She clenched her fist and struck the door behind her. The muffled sound of the wailing outside grew closer. Their ghoulish hands scratched at the door, attempting to get inside. The door held firm.

She was alone. Powerless. Trapped. However, she was safe. For now. Alice knew she couldn’t stay here. She had to keep moving, but without anything to defend herself, she wouldn’t get very far. She had to find something, anything, to use to her defense. She inhaled to soothe her racing heart.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The furniture took shape in the void. A couch. A chair. End tables. The ticking of a clock filled the room. Typical of the average household. None would be suitable for her needs.

Alice dragged her hand across the wall, searching for a light switch. She didn’t know if the house had power or would even illuminate, but she had to try. She couldn’t stumble around in the darkness without knowing what was before her. She didn’t even know if she was alone. After a few swats at the wall, she found her query. She flicked the switch.

Nothing. No lights. Only darkness.

Typical.

The doorknob jostled back and forth. If only she had her powers. She could seal the door so they couldn’t get in, and this would become her fortress. But there was no time to dwell on the what ifs. She had to move if she wanted to survive and find Hugo.

She set out into the home with small steps and her arms outstretched. The windows were boarded up. Only a small amount of light snuck through, enough for the outline of larger objects.

Her thick-soled boots echoed off the hardwood floor. The ground was at least solid. She kicked an object; it rolled off into the distance and knocked into something solid. Alice couldn’t see what it was or what it struck.

She paused.

There were no other sounds in the house. Only the creaks in the floorboards as she took another step. Alice took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest, and plunged into the darkness. She stretched out her arms to guide her way.

Alice’s hand brushed against the wallpapered wall as she encountered an entryway opening. She paused. Her hand explored around the corner. There was nothing waiting for her on the other side. Undeterred, she moved forward.

The shape of four chairs and a square table took form in the darkness as a sliver of light broke through the boarded-up window. She could make out the faint outline of a stove and refrigerator. She was in the kitchen. A smile formed on her face. If there was any place perfect for finding weapons, it would be the kitchen.

She shuffled toward the fridge, hoping it could shed some light on the situation. Her hands found the outside door and opened it. No light. No brisk rush of cold. Nothing.

Alice’s anger and frustration bubbled to the top. Her arms shook as she clenched her fists and drew her arms in close. Her teeth mashed and gnarled under immense pressure to yell and scream, but she couldn’t. Alice didn’t know if she was alone in the house, so she used all her strength to hold it in.

Her heart beat faster. A bead of sweat trickled down her neck. As she stood there, the darkness enveloped her, its presence suffocating. Alice squatted down, closed her eyes, and tapped her shoulders.

“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . .” she muttered to herself. She resorted to a calming technique she had learned when she had panic attacks following Sam’s betrayal. She reached ‘one’ in her countdown and stood. The frustration washed aside.

Alice swiped across the adjoining counter. It was empty and bare. Her hands traveled down the front, searching for drawers. She found a round handle and pulled the drawer open. She lightly tapped the inside, not knowing what to expect. It was empty.

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