Outside in the hospital’s linoleum hallway, Meg and Will stared at the plain grey door marked ROOM 3.
“Shock!” said Meg. “They’ll never save her. They don’t know what’s wrong, and they’ll never believe us!”
“I know, but the doctors might delay the ghost a bit. Give us some time. All that oxygen and stuff,” said Will.
Meg’s face crumpled. She suddenly looked lost.
“I saw her that time, Will. I actually saw her. She’s hideous. So much worse than the girl ghost. What are we going to do?”
“Listen.” Will spoke sharply. “She’s latched onto Ariel. The doll brought her here, but we know it’s not really the doll she wants. Number one, we’ve got to shake the ghost off Ariel. Number two, we’ve got to connect the two ghosts. That’s our solution. That’s the only way they’ll leave us alone: if they fix each other’s longings.”
“But both ghosts want Ariel!” wailed Meg.
“We’ve got to make a substitute,” said Will with a determined look on his face. “We’ve got to change their minds. It’s the only way.”
Meg stared at Will stunned. She wiped her nose and smeared it on her pant leg, something she’d never do at home. Maybe her harrowing experience in the well was catching up with her. She slumped against the wall.
“So what can we do?”
Will wished he were anywhere but here. The fact was, he didn’t know. How does a ghost change its mind? It was all a horrible nightmare. Worse than the manor ghost cornering him in the bedroom, worse than the girl ghost hovering by the well. Because now a ghost was cornering Ariel in the middle of the day in a perfectly respectable, modern British hospital and he couldn’t do anything about it. They desperately needed a plan, but Meg usually helped him think up plans. Now here she was leaning against the wall, looking at him and expecting him to save them.
“Okay, plan A,” said Will. He took a deep breath and watched as Meg lifted her head expectantly. He didn’t know what he was going to say next, but the hope in Meg’s eyes made him plunge on.
“Plan A is we go in and get the doll,” Will said. “One of us sneaks into the room, grabs the doll, and the manor ghost comes with it. She’s used to following the doll, so she leaves Ariel.”
“Oh,” said Meg. She wiped her eyes again but stopped crying. “Then we’ve got the ghost. What do we do with her?”
“Then we run. We run the doll back to the Griffinage, and, er . . .” His voice trailed off.
Meg looked at her brother. “We go back to the well.”
“Yes!” said Will, just realizing it himself. He’d been hugely relieved to get away from the well, so it didn’t occur to him at first. It had been so easy in the cop car, cruising away from all their troubles. Now they’d have to return, on purpose.
Enacting plan A set them back five minutes. Meg slipped into the room with no problem. She was relieved to see Ariel looking somewhat better. Maybe the oxygen was working. At least there were fewer medical people in the room, which was helpful, and although the computer monitors were still blinking wildly, they weren’t buzzing alarms. Ariel tossed on the bed, her cheeks rosy, and murmured, “Noodles likes marshmallow toast.”
The big-bosomed nurse was busy on the far side by the window. She looked up and glared at Meg, but didn’t say anything since two doctors were talking together in urgent tones. Meg smiled and tried to look her most innocent. She inched her way along the wall. Another nurse and the two doctors stood clumped together by the bed.
Meg darted forward and gave the doll’s legs a tremendous tug.
To her surprise, nothing happened. Ariel held the doll with only one arm, but it barely moved when Meg pulled. It was as if an invisible lock had clamped down, binding the doll to Ariel.
It was horrible, too, because Meg could no longer see the ghost clearly. She thought she could see a fuzzy outline, but when she looked again there was nothing but empty space. Why couldn’t she see her anymore? Was this what happened when you were eleven—almost twelve? Like radio on a bad reception. Intermittent. In and out. It just made everything harder, and scarier. She’s there all right, Meg told herself, shuddering. She’s there just as much as ever.
Meg tried again, bracing her legs this time against the hospital bed and yanking with all her might. Something did happen then. One of the doctors noticed her and spun around, knocking into the nurse with the dark bun, who crashed into the IV stand. Meg fell to the floor as the IV stand toppled on her. The second nurse leapt to right it. The doll stayed firmly clenched in Ariel’s arms.
“What are you doing here?” demanded the doctor. “I told you to stay out!”
“I just need the doll,” Meg pleaded from the floor.
“Out!” ordered the doctor.
“But . . .”
“OUT!”
The smaller nurse waved the others away and knelt down by Meg.
“That doll won’t budge, sweetie,” she said as she put her arm around Meg and helped her to her feet. “I tried when they brought your sister in. Best to let her keep it now.” Then she marched Meg out the door.
Will didn’t say anything when Meg appeared empty-handed in the hallway. It was obvious plan A had failed.
“The ghost has latched onto the doll somehow,” said Meg, beginning to cry again. “It’s stuck on Ariel. I can’t get it loose.”
“On to plan B,” said Will.
“What’s plan B?” asked Meg, wiping her nose.
“If we can’t pry the doll off, we’ll have to take Ariel, too.”
Will had been thinking about that while Meg was in the room. When the crash came, he figured they would need more desperate measures.
“Are you crazy?” said Meg. “They’ll never let us check her out! Her pulse was going nuts; there’s still lots of doctors in there. They won’t even let us go in, especially now. How are they going to agree to let her go home? They’ll probably keep her for days doing stupid, useless tests. No one will ever believe us about the ghost, and she’ll keep getting weaker. . . .” She paused. “That is, if she . . . Oh, Will!”
They both looked at each other, thinking the same thoughts. The fact was, Ariel didn’t have days. She might have an hour or so at most, if the oxygen and dopamine and everything else kept her alive past the next few minutes.
“We won’t ask, of course,” said Will. “Just do an emergency checkout. But we’ll need help and a big distraction.”
“Uncle Ben!” said Meg. “He’s big. In a place that won’t let you cough or sneeze, he’ll be a distraction all right.”
Will fingered something in his pocket, and a plan began to form in his mind. Half a plan, but at least a way to get Ariel out of the hospital.
“Right,” he said. “And we better get Shep’s help too.”
“Shep! But he’s been missing all day. He’s . . .”
“He’s in the ward down the hall.”
The door to Ariel’s room opened, and a nurse stepped out. She walked casually, humming to herself.
“She wouldn’t do that unless Ariel’s stable again,” whispered Meg. “That dopamine stuff must be working.”
“Maybe,” said Will.
“Look! It must be,” said Meg, pointing, as the door opened again and a doctor walked out. “That’s two gone. There’s hardly anybody left in her room. Now’s our chance.”
Will nodded. The next instant, Meg and Will split up, one disappearing to the patient beds in Cadbury Ward, the other downstairs to the garden.
A terrific ruckus erupted on the patient wing of the hospital’s second floor. Something brown, furry, and definitely oversized streaked down the hall, skidded on the linoleum, and slammed into a potted fig plant.
“A bear!” cried a nurse who was walking by. “A bear in the hospital! Help!”
“What?” called the matron, poking her head out of a patient’s room.
“A bear! We’re being attacked by bears!” screamed the nurse again. “Live ones! Big, hairy ones! Help!”
Feet came running from all directions. The nurse kept screaming, “Bear!” while the “bear” growled in all the confusion and barreled toward the nurse, who jumped behind a magazine rack.
No one could blame her for mistaking Uncle Ben for a bear. Newfoundlands aren’t an everyday occurrence, especially high-speed ones. This particular nurse was fond of picking up the Weekly Rag at the grocery checkout. Just last week, they’d run a story about exotic pets. More and more British home owners were keeping wild animals as pets, animals like crocodiles, lions, and tigers. Imagine! Dangerous ones like that! A tiger named Teddy had even escaped from a house in Devon. If tigers could roam about Devon, bears might run wild in Somerset.
Uncle Ben swerved and bounded in the other direction. The excitable nurse yelped. She tipped over the rack, and magazines scattered and slid across the floor.
“What’s all this?” cried a doctor, running up. The next moment he slipped on a glossy magazine called Racing Ahead, which slithered over Wellness Today, and he landed flat on his back.
“Oof!” he yelled. “What was that?”
“Bears!” yelled the nurse again, then added for good measure: “Tigers!” She scrambled to a new hiding spot behind a row of artificial potted plants.
The “bear,” or perhaps, “Uncle Bear,” was snuffing its great nose. All of a sudden, he leapt toward a gurney being wheeled down the hall by a porter, landing on top of the mattress. The porter yelled and let go, sending the hospital bed spinning and skidding down the hall straight toward the first nurse and her potted plants. She screamed and ducked.
The gurney hit the wall and bounced away again. The bear was still balanced on the gurney, dropping globs of slobber on the neat, clean sheets.
“Hide your sandwiches!” the nurse cried. “Don’t let it smell food. It might eat you!”
“Sandwiches?” came a doctor’s voice. “Bears don’t eat sandwiches. Whatever are you talking about, Fiona?”
“Hide your honey, then!” she cried and ducked again.
The speeding gurney spun in circles, knocking into chairs, fallen doctors, and spilled magazines, then hurtled to the opposite wall. It hit with a crash, narrowly missing the fish tank, then ricocheted toward the patient rooms.
At that moment, Dr. Fenster emerged from Room 3. She opened the door, took two steps, and—slam!—collided with the bear and gurney.
Uncle Ben had had enough. He jumped off the rolling bed, right onto Dr. Fenster, who tried to sit up, but collapsed again under 150 pounds of shaggy fur.
“The bear!” cried the porter, pointing at the mass of brown fur.
“The doctor!” cried a nurse.
“Wild animals!” called Fiona. “Exotic pets! Escaped from Devon!”
“Help! Police! Call the fire brigade!” yelled Dr. Fenster, her voice muffled underneath so much fur. Fiona, the first nurse, had sharp ears and ran to obey.
“Evacuate!” she cried, and pulled the fire alarm.