The Hanging Hill

78

“Head for the door on the right!” Meghan shouted. “The staircase!”

They dashed across the cluttered storage space.

For some reason, this Lilly Pruett ghost seemed different from all the others Zack had ever met. More like a ghoul. The type that can actually feast on human flesh.

Zack sometimes wished he hadn’t read so many books from the library’s paranormal shelf.

“Lilly Pruett said she didn’t do it.”

Great. The hungry hellcat was right behind them.

“She was lying and everybody knew it.”

“Hurry, Zack!” Meghan wrenched open the exit door and leapt into the stairwell.

“I’m coming!” Zack wormed his way around some Styrofoam headstones. He dared to look over his shoulder.

Lilly Pruett was right behind him, toilet breath steaming out her nostrils. She had her hatchet all lined up and aimed at his neck.

Suddenly, something grabbed hold of a belt loop on Zack’s jeans and yanked him backward into the stairwell. The door slammed, and on the other side, as he raced up the steps after Meghan, he heard a woman who wasn’t Lilly Pruett scream, “Leave Zack alone, you crazy witch!”

He froze. So did Meghan.

“Zack? Who was that?”

“I don’t know.”

“She knew your name!”

“Yeah.” He headed down the stairs. Went to the door.

“Zack? What’re you doing?” For the first time since they’d met, Meghan McKenna sounded scared.

“I need to see who it was.”

“Lilly Pruett might still be out there!”

“I don’t hear her anymore.” He reached for the doorknob.

“Zack? Be careful. I think she’s different than the other ghosts. She might be able to actually hurt us.”

“I know. But I have to see who just saved me.”

Zack gripped the doorknob.

He squeaked open the door.

Peered into the basement.

“Lilly’s gone.”

“Good,” said Meghan, coming down the stairs.

In the distant shadows, under the brick archway, Zack caught a glimpse of the curly-haired ghost—right before she vanished.

“It was her again,” said Zack.

“Who?”

“The ghost who led me to the trunk.”

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know. I can never see her face!”

Zack felt a lump of guilt or shame or both jumbling up inside his throat. Sadness washed over him and left his limbs feeling weak. He felt like he had to cry, only he couldn’t, because he didn’t want Meghan McKenna to think he was a big fat baby.

A lone teardrop, the only one he couldn’t control, streaked down his cheek.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” said Meghan as she rubbed the moist spot with her thumb. “We’ll figure it out, Zack. I promise. Together, we’ll figure it out.”