Chapter 32

 

“We’ve gotta hide!” Johnny whispered. “Back down the stairs!”

The three boys scampered down the steps as quietly as they possibly could. Johnny hid on the far side of a tall cabinet, while Basil slithered under a table and Marko ducked into a broom closet.

From his hidey-hole, Johnny could hear Percy and Pamela chatting. But only a few words were audible.

“…Royalton…”

“…surprise…”

“…the next step…”

“…filthy headache…”

“…Wickenham…”

And “…Mummy…”

Then someone—it sounded like a ghost—interrupted them, announcing that there had been a disturbance outside. Automobiles hijacked. Damage done. Percy angrily asked a question or two, then the voices receded.

When the coast seemed clear, Johnny fetched Marko and Basil, and they went back upstairs. The bog zombie and ghost Steppe Warrior were still on guard. So Johnny, with a deep gulp, told Marko to toss the little vase.

Marko stepped out into the hallway, wound up like a Zenith Blue Sox outfielder, and threw the object as far as he could. There was a shattering noise. Marko nipped back out of sight.

Then everything happened very quickly.

The zombie came lumbering down the hallway, right past the staircase, not even seeing them crouching on the steps.

Marko and Basil charged after it, as Johnny ran in the opposite direction, winding up his cricket bat for a stinging hit the very instant he got close enough. What Johnny didn’t anticipate, as he surged forward, was the Steppe Warrior drawing his bow out of thin air and nocking an arrow. The bowstring twanged.

It was sheer dumb luck that Johnny’s bat happened to be directly in the path of that arrow—which made a solid thoinnnk in the hard willow wood.

The Steppe Warrior didn’t have time to re-nock or draw a blade before Johnny was on top of him. Johnny swung the bat and caught the ghost flush on the side of his head.

Splaaat!

While the Steppe Warrior writhed on the rich carpeting of the hallway, groaning in agony, Johnny drew the bat back for a golfing kind of swing. Only with the ghost’s head serving as the ball.

Just as he had back in Jadetown, when he was being chased by a ghost warrior, Johnny was prepared to smash this wraith into a miserable pulp. Even if it were the last thing he ever did.

But the ghost—his merciless, flat features a picture of perfect pain—seemed to know that he’d already lost this particular fight. He put his hands up, a sign of surrender. As livid as Johnny was, he’d had enough. He lowered his cricket bat. At that, the wraith warrior scrambled backward and dove through the carpeting as if it were made of water.

Johnny glanced back up the hallway to see how Marko and Basil were doing. He watched the two slowly backing away from the hulking bog zombie. Waving saber and axe, Marko and Basil were holding on but appeared to be giving ground. Johnny wanted to help them, but first he had to see if this had all been worth the effort. Was Nina in this bedroom?

He threw the door open. “Nina?” he barked. “Are you here?”

The room was as dark as ink. Johnny couldn’t see a thing. “Sparks? Sparks?”

He heard some soft moaning straight ahead and he groped his way toward it, quickly ramming up against what felt like a bed. He reached around and found a leg, which he squeezed and shook.

“Wha… Hullo…” came a groggy, hoarse voice. A girl’s voice.

“Nina, is that you?”

“Yeah, uh-huh.” There was a little pause. “Johnny?”

Johnny bent over and hauled his friend to the edge of the bed. He pulled her upright and gave her a pat on the shoulder. He could feel her wobble, and she almost toppled over backward as he stood her up. She sure didn’t seem as if she was ready to make a run for it. Somehow he had to get her moving.

“We have to vamoose right now, Sparks,” he urged. “Marko and Basil are trying to put that zombie guard out of commission. This is our only chance.”

“Don’t feel real good.” Nina leaned against Johnny. “Kinda dopey. Just wanna sleep.”

Even allowing for the late hour, Nina shouldn’t have been so disconnected. Johnny hauled her toward the door. “Sorry Sparks, can’t sleep now.”

“My right arm’s numb, Johnny. Can barely feel my fingers.”

Johnny stopped in his tracks, anger flaring inside him. “Did they hurt you? Did they torture you?”

“Don’t think so. Can’t remember much.” She swayed on her feet. “Don’t forget my pack. The goggles are in there. It’s by the bed.”

Johnny leaned his friend against the doorframe, hoping she wouldn’t fall over. He dashed back to the bed and felt around beneath it, quickly finding the bag. A few seconds later he was dragging Nina down the hallway.

It surprised him to see Marko dueling away with a ghost, not a bog zombie. It was some kind of sea raider from a millennium ago. Blades clanked against each other again and again. But where had the zombie gone?

Then Johnny noticed a dark form sprawled down near Marko, with a small, roundish shape nearby. A body with a detached head. This ghost must have been inside the bog zombie, animating it. Marko liberated it when his saber severed the head. And just like the bog bodies back in Royalton, this one had shrunken and shriveled.

Johnny and Nina made it almost as far as the staircase when Basil popped out of the deep shadows.

“I’d better go help Marko,” Johnny panted.

“No.” Basil shook his head. “Marko said he’d hold this blackguard off, then follow after us in a few minutes. Anyway, he says this ghost hasn’t much spunk, now that he’s out of his bog body.”

Johnny was torn. He knew he had to get Nina out of there, or risk her being captured again. But it just seemed plain wrong to leave Marko to battle it out without any help. For better or worse, he decided what to do. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

“C’mon then,” he said, leading Nina down the staircase. Basil followed close behind. They retraced their earlier steps all the way back to the pantry, ducking briefly into an alcove when a zombie came loping by. The coast was clear outside. But they couldn’t go as fast as Johnny would have liked, because Nina’s feet were still dragging.

They went into the garage through one of the smashed doors and straight to a sporty coupe, a red Allister. This and the cars the ghosts had taken were the only vehicles for which they had found keys.

After lifting the garage door in front of them, they climbed into the Allister—Johnny in the driver’s seat, and Nina and Basil squeezed into the back. The idea was to start the car and wait for Marko to appear at the pantry door. But when Johnny attempted to get the auto going, it simply wouldn’t catch. He tried again and again.

Basil climbed out of the rear seat and plopped down next to him. “Listen, Johnny, you’ve got to get Nina out of here. Pronto. These villains seem to have some special interest in her.”

Johnny agreed, though he wondered why Percy had suddenly focused his attention on Nina. Without goggles, she didn’t even have etheric vision. What kind of threat was she to him?

“Here’s an idea,” Basil continued. “I’ll stay here and keep trying to start this motor.”

“So I take Nina on foot?” Johnny didn’t like that idea, with all those zombies and ghosts stirred up like a hornet’s nest.

“Not exactly,” Basil said. He nodded his head toward a far corner of the garage.

Johnny looked in that direction.

“The Chapman Hellcat?” he exclaimed. The mere idea astonished him.

“Can you pilot the thing?” Basil asked.

Johnny had ridden a small motorcycle that Uncle Louie had been working on, over some of the trails up off of Great Lake. He knew how to start it, shift it, and brake it. In fact, he was pretty good at riding a cycle. “Yeah, I think so, Basil.”

His new friend grinned at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”

“And what about you and Marko? You know how to drive?”

“Oh, yeah,” Basil answered. “Never told any of my mates at St. Egbert’s, but my dream job is race car driver.”

Within a minute, Johnny was straddling the cycle, Nina standing behind him.

“Before we go, Sparks,” he said, “put on your goggles. I want you to be able to see any ghosts that might cause us trouble.”

“Okay. I’ll be on my guard.” And she proceeded to don the eccentric eye gear. It seemed that finally she had woken up, suddenly full of nervous energy.

First, Johnny kicked the starter over a few times with the fuel and ignition switch off, just as Uncle Louie had taught him. Then he turned on the fuel valve, the choke, and the ignition switch. He twisted the throttle a couple of times and found the compression stroke. It took him only two kicks to awaken that glorious, thrumming Chapman engine. He was happy to see the bike had a full tank of gas. Then he gestured for Nina to climb on behind him. She hopped on and grabbed onto his waist.

“Can you hold onto me with that sore arm?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s better now. Not so numb. I’ll be okay.”

With a jaunty wave to Basil—back in the Allister coupe, still trying to get it started—Johnny and Nina rolled out of the garage and onto the driveway. Johnny didn’t have the headlamp on, to avoid being noticed by the dangerous denizens of the place. He figured they could travel a bit with just the light from the quarter moon.

He was almost giddy with relief. It seemed that they were getting away clean.

But when he looked straight ahead, he gasped.

Two bog zombies had lurched out of the darkness at a bend in the driveway. And they were charging right toward the motorcycle.