The Hanging Hill

100

“Don’t be afraid,” said the soft, childish voice.

“Who are you?” Judy asked the darkness.

“Clara Kimble. Mr. Harry Houdini showed me how to do this trick, ages ago. Feel on the floor. Near your feet.”

“I don’t feel a thing,” Mrs. McKenna grunted.

“Not you, silly. You!”

Judy felt a rush of cold air, as if she had just stuck her head inside the freezer case at the supermarket to check out the ice cream. She slid her feet around on the floor.

“Got it! Found it!”

“Great!” said Meghan’s mom.

“Push it sideways,” said the girl. “Push it now!”

Judy pushed. She heard a soft thunk. A panel flopped open under her feet and she tumbled out onto the floor.

“What about the rope? My hands?”

“Move the knots around,” whispered the girl. “Find the slack. There is always slack. Houdini said so!”

Yes! Judy found the slack, wrestled her hands free, and pulled off her blindfold. Started to work on the ropes binding her ankles. “Thanks, Clara!”

Clara was gone.

“Hang on, Mary!” Judy crawled back into the box. Maneuvered around Derek’s unconscious mom. Started untying Mrs. McKenna’s wrists and ankles.

“Was that a ghost?” Mrs. McKenna asked.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“What about Mrs. Stone?”

“We’ll come back for her.”

The two moms crawled out the secret panel on the bottom of the box.

They heard a man screaming and laughing in the darkened wings stage right.

“You fools!”

His voice was dripping evil.

“You weaklings will never stop us!”

“Let’s go out the other way,” Judy whispered.

Mrs. McKenna nodded.

They ran as quickly and quietly as they could for the stage door on their left.