Haunted Adventure

At long last, the first day of vacation arrived.

Tony’s mother made them all a hearty breakfast of ham and fried eggs, but Tony was so excited that he could hardly eat anything. After breakfast, his mother took him and his father to the train station with all their gear.

“Call me!” she said.

“Call?” Tony grinned. “I don’t think there’ll be any reception in Misery Valley!”

“Well, write then!” she pleaded.

“Hmm, we’ll try,” Tony said, “but there probably won’t be any mailboxes.”

He found it extremely exciting that they would be almost unreachable for two weeks!

“We’ll be in touch,” assured Tony’s father. “We’ll call you when we get to Long Suffering.”

Long Suffering. That was the name of the place where they’d get off the train. It was the train station closest to Misery Valley.

But after a seemingly endless journey on a slow train that had stopped at almost every station, Tony’s father had forgotten his promise to call. And Tony didn’t want to remind him of it either. For him, the vacation had already started, and he didn’t really care about anything else. He had only one wish: to get to Misery Valley as soon as possible. But that wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. They had barely left the station when his father stopped in front of a store window where books and maps were on display.

“I think I’ll go into the store and ask if they have a good map of the area,” he said.

“What? Another one?” protested Tony.

Tony’s father had studied his maps throughout the whole train ride. But he didn’t let Tony’s comment stop him from going into the store to get another one.

After a few minutes, Tony headed into the store too, and pretended to be interested in the books on a shelf next to the door. He watched as his father stopped in front of a cabinet full of maps, opened the cabinet doors, and rummaged through them. But self-service was obviously not welcome in the store.

“May I help you?” asked the scrawny, withered-looking salesman. Everything about him was gray: his hair, his skin, his clothes.

“I—uh, I’d like a map of Misery Valley, the most detailed one possible.”

“Misery Valley?” echoed the salesman. His voice sounded like his nose was blocked. He looked Tony’s father up and down, taking special notice of his backpack.

“You’re not planning to go camping in Misery Valley, are you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m intending to do,” replied Tony’s father.

“You had better not,” the man said.

“And why not?”

“Because of—recent events!”

“Events? What kind of events?” asked Tony’s father gruffly.

“Well”—the man hesitated—“it has to do with the ruins.”

A low cry escaped Tony’s lips. He quickly clapped his hand over his mouth. Luckily, they hadn’t heard him.

“What about the ruins?” asked Tony’s father.

The salesman didn’t answer right away. Tony saw his wrinkled face change expressions. After a while he said, “They’re haunted, and now even more than ever before.”

Tony’s father laughed. “Haunted? Well, if that’s all it is…”

“You shouldn’t take it lightly!” warned the salesman.

“I’ll tell my son,” Tony’s father said. “He’s a fan of everything creepy and scary!”

In the meantime, he seemed to have found the right map. Or maybe he just wanted to end the conversation.

“I’ll take this one,” he said, placing it on the counter.

But the salesman had something else on his mind.

“You have a child with you?” he asked.

“Yes, my son.”

“Then be extra careful!” the man whispered.

“Careful?” Laughing, Tony’s father counted out the money for the map. “My son and I have come to have an adventure vacation, so if this place really is haunted like you say, that’s even better!”

He picked up the map and strutted out of the store straight past Tony, who had hidden behind an umbrella stand. After his father had left the store, Tony rushed over to the counter, where the salesman stood, looking worried.

“What did you mean by ‘events’?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Are you the son?” the man asked.

“Yes! And I really need to know what’s going on in the ruins!”

But before the salesman could reply, the door opened again, and Tony heard his father calling, “Tony, I’ve been looking for you! What are you doing? Come on!”

“I’m coming,” Tony grumbled, annoyed that he hadn’t found out what exactly the events in the ruins were. He trotted out of the store.

Outside, his father said, “I have an idea of where we can pitch our tent! On the new map, there is a place called the Wolf’s Den. It looks like a cave of some sort.”

“The Wolf’s Den?” Tony repeated, surprised. He could still remember what Rudolph had told him on the night of the vampire ball: in the old days, wolves had lived in Misery Valley, real wolves, Rudolph had said. And in order to keep curious snoopers away from the ruins, the vampires spread the rumor that these wolves were werewolves.

Tony had had a feeling of trepidation then, and now the feeling was back, like an icy hand squeezing his heart. With a shiver, he asked, “Do you think there are still wolves in there now?”

His father grinned. “Who knows? But wolves wouldn’t be a bad thing for an adventure vacation. Not too many. I mean, just two or three sneaking around the tent at night and howling… That would be pretty exciting!”

He was obviously making fun of Tony, and that helped Tony clear his head. His father was right. There might still be wolves in Siberia and Canada, but not here! But his father’s words had given Tony a good idea.

“You’re right,” he said, grinning. “It’s essential for an adventure vacation to have something sneaking around the tent and howling!”

But exactly what “something” Tony meant was his secret.