By the time Morton dragged himself out of bed on Sunday morning, it was almost noon. He had spent an entire day reading comics and then most of a restless night lying awake thinking. Everything was going wrong. Melissa seemed to hate him more than ever, James was growing secretive and distant, and so far, reading Scare Scape hadn’t helped with any of their unanswered questions.

And then there was the trouble with Robbie, which for some reason upset Morton more than everything else.

When he finally made it downstairs the house was empty. He found Dad in the backyard, raking and mowing the overgrown lawn with the help of the now-repaired mower. Dad had hardly made any progress at all since Morton’s first failed attempt, though that didn’t seem to have dampened his spirits.

“What do you think?” he said proudly, leaning his rake up against a tree and turning to face Morton.

“It looks great,” Morton said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Do you need any help?”

Dad looked in surprise at Morton. “Not reading your comics today?”

Morton shrugged and looked down at his feet.

“Oh, growing out of them are you?”

“I dunno. Maybe,” Morton said.

“Well, what about going to see your friend Robbie?”

Morton shook his head. “Things aren’t going so well with Robbie.”

“Oh dear. What’s wrong?”

“It turns out he’s not the person I thought he was.”

“Meaning what, exactly?” Dad asked.

“I found out that last year he stole a lot of money and they sent him away to a correctional school. That’s why everybody else avoids him, because they know he’s a thief.”

“That’s very unfortunate,” Dad said. “Did he tell you why he stole the money?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

“He lied to me,” Morton said, the pain surfacing in his voice. “He told me he never stole anything in his life.”

Dad took off his gardening gloves and perched himself on the side of the wheelbarrow. “You can’t always take things at face value,” he said. “It seems to me that you should at least give Robbie the chance to explain himself.”

“Why?”

“Because it sounds like you’re missing something. I told you about Copernicus, right?”

“Dad!” Morton groaned. “Why does everything have to be about astronomy? We’re talking about people, not planets.”

“Copernicus was a person, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, Dad. He was the person who figured out that the Earth is not the center of the solar system,” Morton recited mechanically. “You’ve told me like a hundred times, but what’s that got to do with Robbie?”

“It teaches us an important lesson about life. One we should never forget.”

“The fact that Earth goes around the sun and not the other way around is an important lesson?”

“No, that’s a discovery. The lesson is that what appeared to be true turned out to be completely false. It seemed so obvious that the sun went around the Earth that for thousands of years nobody even questioned it. But if you dig a little deeper, investigate some of the smaller clues, like the movements of the other planets, or the cycle of the stars, you’ll find that the truth is exactly the opposite of the obvious.”

“You mean, you think Robbie might not be a thief?”

“I mean the obvious solution is not always the true one. And truth likes to hide, so you should never judge anything based on a few facts. Why do you think I turned to astrophysics? Believe me, it’s much easier trying to understand the behavior of a star that’s three billion miles away than it is to understand why James and Melissa fight all the time.”

“Oh, you’ve noticed, huh?” Morton said.

“I notice a lot of things,” Dad said, ruffling Morton’s hair, “but I can’t explain all of them. So, do you want to help do some raking, or are we going to have more astronomy lessons?”

Morton grabbed hold of a rake. “Raking!” he said.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and Morton found puttering around in the garden with Dad a welcome distraction. It wasn’t until Melissa and James returned just before supper that Morton’s worries seeped back to the surface. Melissa hadn’t spoken to either of them since revealing the source of her wish, and James was far from his usual upbeat self. Morton got the sense that he was brooding over something. Dad noticed the mood too and decided to buy pizza in an attempt to cheer everybody up. Unfortunately it didn’t work. Melissa sat picking at her plate, glowering at James, and James, who looked ill even before the meal, wolfed down three slices of Hawaiian pizza and then suddenly raced upstairs to lock himself in the bathroom again.

“What’s wrong with James?” Dad asked with a look of genuine concern.

“Stomach flu,” Morton said before Melissa could speak. “It’s been going around. Everyone at school has it.” Melissa gave Morton a questioning look and Morton shook his head, hoping she wouldn’t say anything.

“I should go see if he’s okay,” Dad said.

“No!” Morton said abruptly, grabbing Dad’s arm before he could leave the table. “I mean, it’s probably very infectious. And I’m sure he’d rather be alone until he’s finished, you know, barfing his guts out.”

Dad settled back down. “You’re probably right. Best to let nature take its course.”

It was a full twenty minutes before James finally came back downstairs. Morton noticed at once that James’s skin was so pale it had a silvery gray sheen, and he couldn’t be sure, but the whites of his eyes seemed to have a greenish tinge.

“Goodness, James,” Dad gasped. “You look like the walking dead. Is it true you have this stomach flu?”

James glanced briefly at Morton, and Morton nodded to him behind Dad’s back.

“Yes,” James said. “That must be it. But I feel much better now.”

“Well, you don’t look any better. You should drink some milk of magnesia and go straight to bed.”

“I think I’ll pass on the milk of magnesia, but I will go to bed,” James said. “I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry?” Dad said. “Why on earth would you be sorry? It’s not your fault you’re ill.”

James shrugged and smiled weakly before going back upstairs to his room. Morton couldn’t help noticing that he’d been looking at Melissa when he’d said sorry.

After supper Morton wanted to talk to Melissa about King’s closet story, but she insisted she had important homework and went straight to her room after washing the dishes. Morton decided to press on with the comic reading research alone. He could hardly believe that only a few short weeks before, nothing could have made him happier than curling up under his blankets and reading Scare Scape. Now it felt like a chore. All he really wanted was to find a story about a gargoyle that granted wishes or a story where Zombie Twins herded cats. He wanted to find something, anything, that could help them understand what was happening in Dimvale. But there was nothing, and Morton couldn’t help feeling somehow betrayed. The comic had always helped him before. It had always seemed to have answers. Now it seemed determined to remain silent.

It was very late when he finally turned off his light. A dense blackness filled the room, and sleep crept slowly up on him. He began to dream that a large centipede-like monster with a double ring of lamprey-like teeth was juggling cats in a circus. Then the cats and the monster vanished in a cloud of yellow smoke and John King appeared in their place, his face dimly illuminated by the light of a single, hovering candle. Then, unexpectedly, John King grabbed the darkness around him as if it were a black curtain and literally tore it apart. A swarm of monsters spewed out of the tear, growling and hissing and baring their teeth.

Morton awoke with a start and reached immediately for his reading light. It took him a moment to realize that he’d just had his first nightmare and the terror that was still gripping him was not real but the echoes of his dream. He suddenly wished he was still sharing a room with James, but knew that wouldn’t really make much difference. James was so distant and secretive these days that Morton felt he hardly knew him.

He had just rolled over in an attempt to get back to sleep when he heard the sound of the screen door opening downstairs. He sat up at once, his senses on high alert. Dad was not working tonight, so he wouldn’t be going anywhere, and it was far too late for it to be anyone else. Morton slipped quietly out of bed and opened the door to his balcony. He stepped into the dewy night air and peered down over the back porch. A silhouette emerged from the door below and dashed into the shadows of the tree-lined driveway. Morton recognized the dark shape as James immediately, and his heart began to thud nervously in his chest. Why would James be going out at this time of night? He knew at once that he had to find out.

Morton pulled on his slippers and dashed downstairs as quietly as he could. Just as he stepped onto the back porch, he saw James reach the end of the driveway, turn left, and walk determinedly down the street. Being careful not to be seen, Morton followed him into the night.

James seemed to know exactly where he was going. He’d half-run, half-walk along one street, get to the corner, pause for a brief second, and then dash off again. Morton had a hard time keeping up with him without being seen. Before long James had made his way to a lane passing between two rows of houses. Morton had to pinch his nose as soon as he rounded the corner because a strong smell of rotting food emanated from a green Dumpster halfway down the lane. To his surprise James made directly for the Dumpster. Morton tucked himself out of sight behind a rickety wooden fence and peered through the slats. Inexplicably James climbed right into the Dumpster and began rifling around, looking for something. He seemed to sniff at the garbage bags and then chose one and threw it down to the gravel road. Morton squinted to see more clearly in the dark, but all he could see was the outline of James jumping down and crouching over the shiny black bag. He stayed hunched over in that position for what seemed like a very long time, and Morton had just decided to come out of hiding and simply ask James what he was doing, when a car suddenly turned onto the lane. The bright headlights surprised James as much as they did Morton, and James snapped his head up in shock. The driver of the car obviously didn’t see James because he passed by without slowing, throwing the lane into darkness again. But Morton saw. In the brief flash of light he saw something he’d never forget. Something more confusing and terrifying than everything else that had gone before. James was eating a slab of slime-covered steak writhing with white maggots. Morton almost threw up at the sight of it.

He ran back to the house in confused panic. Part of him had wanted to stay and talk to James, to ask him what was happening, but another part of him was afraid. And yet, how could he be afraid of James? James was his brother and had always been his closest friend. He loved James. Morton’s confusion mounted, and he knew that if he didn’t talk to someone about what he’d just seen, he’d explode. He also knew that the only person in the world he could talk to was Melissa, who, under normal circumstances, was also the last person in the world he’d go to.

When he got back to the house he was surprised and a little relieved to see a shaft of yellow light spilling out from under Melissa’s bedroom door. Could she too still be awake, or had she just fallen asleep with the light on? Morton decided to chance it. He pushed the door open and peeked inside. But Melissa wasn’t there. Her bedding was thrown back in a rough pile, but her bed was empty. Then Morton noticed that the closet door was slightly ajar and the dresser that normally held it shut had been pushed to one side. Morton’s heart skipped a beat. Had something happened to Melissa? He examined the room more closely. There was no sign of a struggle; no bits of squashed, monstery things on the floor; no overturned furniture. No blood. He moved silently into the room, his senses on full alert.

He was halfway to the closet when he noticed Melissa’s diary lying open on her desk. Melissa never, ever left the diary open. She always locked it and kept the key carefully hidden. This was not a good sign. Did something emerge from the closet and drag her in? Morton moved closer to the diary. He knew it was very wrong to pry into the deepest most personal thoughts of another person but, he told himself, maybe it would give him a clue as to her whereabouts. He began reading the elegant black print.

*  *  *

September 23

Another nightmare. Can hardly sleep anymore. Perhaps if I write them down, they’ll stop, or at least they’ll have less of a hold on me. Tonight I dreamed I woke up in darkness and walked out onto the yard. A giant pit had opened up like an ugly black mouth right in the middle of Dad’s perfect lawn. I moved closer to the pit. I put my toes right on the edge and peered down. I didn’t want to. I was screaming inside with fear, but I had to know what was down there. Guttural voices seemed to call from the blackness. No words, no language I knew, and yet, I understood. They were telling me to jump. Jump and everything would be right, they were saying. Everything would be just as it had been before. My heart pounded so hard it felt like a wild animal trapped in my chest, desperate to escape. Could it be true? Could I go back? The pit was so dark. So terrifyingly dark. “It’s only one step,” the voices urged. One step. I bit my lip until it hurt. I felt tears running down my cheek. I jumped. Icy wind rushed around me, so cold it felt like pieces of glass slashing through my clothes, tearing at my legs and arms. At first I thought the voices were moaning, whimpering in the darkness, until I realized it was me. I was crying, not screaming with fear, but crying like a pitiful lost baby. I don’t ever remember feeling so alone. And then, when I thought the blackness would consume me forever, I landed. I crumpled into soft ground, unhurt. When I stood up I saw I was on Dad’s perfect lawn, exactly where I started, except the pit had gone. But somehow I knew. This was not where I started. It just looked the same. Something was horribly wrong with this place.

*  *  *

Morton heard a sudden hissing grunt from inside the closet and snapped the diary closed, his heart hammering with fear. Melissa’s nightmares, it seemed, were much worse than his.

Morton tiptoed over to the closet and dared to peer in. He saw nothing but an empty landscape of somewhat tattered clothing. It looked like his monsters had been chewing at the garments nearest to the door, perhaps in a desperate attempt to find something edible.

“Melissa?” Morton whispered.

There was no answer. He ventured farther into the brightly lit aisles. The everlasting lights on the ceiling made everything seem somehow flat and unreal, as if he were walking into a picture in a magazine. Morton wondered absently where the electricity to keep those thousands of lights blazing came from. Hopefully it wouldn’t show up on Dad’s electricity bill.

“Melissa!” he called again, more loudly this time.

A skittering noise behind him made him whirl around, but there were no monsters in sight. The echoes of Melissa’s nightmare, mixed in with the image of James eating a maggot-infested steak still flitting about in his brain, did nothing to calm his nerves. He began to wonder if he was imagining things but then heard the scampering of tiny claws and a faint gurgling once more. He followed the sound only to find a moment later it was behind him, as if whatever it was had doubled back. He whirled again, and again saw nothing. The skittering moved off into another aisle. Morton followed, from one aisle to another until he realized, too late, that he’d lost track of the exit. He stood on his tiptoes, attempting to see over the top of the clothing racks, but couldn’t get any sense of direction. From where he stood it looked as though the closet just went on forever.

The skittering noise moved closer again. This time it seemed to be coming directly toward him. He looked all around, infuriated. It was only at the last moment that a vague, glassy shape revealed itself directly before him. He realized at once what had been hunting him. It was the Visible Fang, the transparent creature that resembled a large walking jelly. Only now it didn’t have cheap paper stickers stuck to its belly to represent its inner organs, like it did when it was just a toy. Morton could clearly see the creature’s heart, stomach, and lungs pulsing and beating in its translucent body. As soon as the Fang realized it had been seen, it hopped out of sight again. This time the skittering noise began racing in circles, and Morton knew that it was preparing to pounce. He looked quickly around him for a weapon but saw only pants and shirts. His heart began to beat wildly. The creature didn’t have toxic venom, like the Vapor Worms, but it did have a diamond-hard fang that could rip a person’s flesh open like a wet paper bag.

He was just about to flee in any random direction when Melissa appeared from nowhere, running like an athlete. She brandished a long silver sword before her and homed directly in on the barely visible creature. In one surprisingly graceful move she skewered it right through its belly. It let out an earsplitting shriek and then simply popped, like a sackful of watery jelly, leaving nothing but a slimy clear pool on the carpeted floor.

Morton had never been so happy to see Melissa in all his life.

“You shouldn’t come in here,” she said flatly. “They’ve gone almost two weeks without food. They’re getting a lot more savage.”

“Where did you get that sword?” Morton asked, amazed by her heroic appearance.

“It was way down the back, with the medieval armor.”

“Medieval armor?”

“Yeah. As far as I can tell the farther away from the door you get, the farther back in time the fashions go. I haven’t made it back to the Stone Age, but I’m sure it’s there.”

“That’s freaky.”

“Yeah, it’s also freaky that my baby brother is wandering around in my closet at two in the morning. What exactly are you doing here?”

Morton suddenly wanted to ask Melissa the same question. He could almost understand her dashing in every morning to grab a new outfit, but why exactly was she in here now when she should have been sleeping? Was she becoming seduced by the closet like the girl in King’s story? Morton made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said.

“Talk? Couldn’t it wait until morning?”

“It’s James. He’s … well, he’s doing strange things.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“This is serious,” Morton pleaded. “I think it might have something to do with his wish.”

Morton suddenly had Melissa’s full attention. “Okay, I’m listening,” she said.

Morton described how he’d followed James and seen him eating food from the Dumpster. Melissa listened in silence, and by the time he was finished she looked sickly and pale.

“What kind of a wish makes you eat garbage?” she said.

“I don’t know,” Morton said. “I’m worried that he might be suffering some kind of possession or something like that.”

“Why would he wish for that?”

Morton scratched his head. He’d been asking himself that question. “Remember what happened before the blue light? You two had a big fight and then he went up to his room in a bad mood, and he said he didn’t make a wish, but obviously he did, only he didn’t make a conscious wish. Maybe because he was angry. Dark magic feeds off anger.”

Tears welled up suddenly in Melissa’s eyes. Morton hadn’t expected this response at all. He had half expected her to find some cruel satisfaction over James’s situation.

“This is stupid!” she said angrily. “This sort of thing doesn’t happen in real life. It’s even worse than the stories in your comic. They at least make sense in the end. I feel like we’re trapped inside of one of King’s sick jokes.”

Morton was beginning to feel he might agree with Melissa. This situation was complicated and muddled, where the stories in Scare Scape were always straightforward with a simple ending.

“What are we going to do about James?” he asked.

Melissa grabbed a nearby T-shirt and wiped her face dry, pulling herself together.

“Don’t confront him alone,” she said. “Like you say, he may be possessed. He may even be dangerous.”

Morton felt a horrible sick feeling creeping over him again. The thought of James being possessed by something evil was more than he could bear.

“We’ll talk to him after school tomorrow,” Melissa went on. “When we’re all together.”

Morton nodded in agreement and then followed Melissa through the labyrinths of the closet back to her room. As he did so he had an overwhelming urge to hold on tight to Melissa’s hand, but decided this was not the time to indulge in fear. If he was going to get through this, he was going to have to be strong — stronger than he’d ever been in his life.