21

All of a sudden I was gagging from the garbagey, dead-for-a-hundred-years smell.

I spun around.

The witch-thing leaped from behind a box, her eyes glowing in the dark.

“Arrrrrggggg! You miserable boy!” shrieked the creature.

Her sharp claws sank through the material of my shirt.

Riiiip!

My shirt tore as I slung her off me in terror.

She hissed, yellow eyes glowing and quick as a flash I raised the baseball bat and swung. I heard a crunch as the bat connected.

“Ahheeee!” The witch screamed and vanished back into the shadows.

I was breathing hard but there was no time to rest. I grabbed the handle of the trunk.

It was lighter than I expected.

But what had I thought was in it? A body?

I heaved and hauled the trunk through the path I’d sort of made, banging into boxes and knocking things over.

Then I was clear of the mess of junk and halfway to the stairs. The bottom of the trunk scraped over the dirt floor as I dragged it, my breath sounding ragged in my ears.

I reached the stairs and started humping it up, making an awful racket.

My heart was ready to burst with effort.

Suddenly a black shape darted out of the darkness and rushed me.

The witch was back. Hissing and spitting, she grabbed hold of the handle on the other end of the trunk.

“Mine!” she moaned. “Mine!”

I yanked back harder but I was nearly out of strength.

She pulled the trunk down a step, then another, dragging me down, too.

The witch had won again—but I couldn’t let go.

My hand seemed permanently frozen to that handle. She was pulling my arm right out of its socket!

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I started to imagine all the horrible things the creature would do to me when she got me back down into the basement.

“The trunk is mine!” she hissed. “And so are you!”

Panic rushed through my veins.

With the last of my strength I braced my feet on the stairs, gripped the handle as hard as I could, and tugged with all my might.

The other handle broke!

The witch-thing tumbled down the stairs with an awful screech and sprawled on the dirt floor.

“I’ll get you!” the creature moaned. “I’ll get you yet!”

Then she scuttled back into the shadows like a wounded thing.

Losing no time, I hauled the trunk up into the kitchen.

Safe at last! Totally out of breath, I collapsed against the basement door—after bolting it shut.

A door opened down the hall.

“Jason? Is that you?”

“Yes, Mom.” I jumped guiltily. Where could I hide the trunk?

“What was all that noise? Is everything okay?”

“Noise?” I moved into the hallway so she wouldn’t have to come into the kitchen to talk to me.

Mom had a blue pencil behind her ear and a calculator in her hand. “Clattering, banging. Was that you?”

Dad’s voice came from inside the room. “Carol, I need you to look over these calculations. We may have a problem here.”

“I was just playing, Mom,” I assured her, disappointed she hadn’t heard the witch’s screeching.

She gave me one of those considering looks, the kind that meant she was suspicious about my answer.

My heart sank. In a minute she’d come into the kitchen and see the trunk and demand all kinds of explanations. Then my dad called her again and she reached a decision.

She turned back into the office.

“We’re going to be working a while longer,” said Mom. “Maybe you could look in on Sally.”

“Sure, Mom.”

I went back to the kitchen. I couldn’t leave the trunk here. I’d have to carry it up to my room. Mom almost never went in there. She might not even see it.

I called up Steve and got him to come over. He was eager to help now that it was out of the basement. We hauled it up to my room and set it in the center of the floor.

“What do you think is in there?” asked Steve, his eyes bright.

“The truth,” I said. “The solution to the haunting.”