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D. J. MacHale
D. J. MacHale
Random House
New York
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Prologue
Alec sprinted across the floor and flung himself the last
few feet into the bed in case blood-soaked claws were waiting to reach out and grab his ankles. He dug under the covers, lifted them up to his chin, and listened.
Nothing.
All he heard was the far-off wail of a police siren and
the white noise of the city beyond his closed window. He
believed his mom. There was no boogeyman under his bed.
It was silly to act like a jumpy two-year-old instead of a
mature nine-year-old. He scrunched his eyes shut, and after
a long twenty minutes, he fell asleep without having heard
any more weird sounds.
All was well.
Until just after midnight.
Theres no logical reason why strange doings begin when
the day changes, but thats often how it goes.
The scratching returned.
Alecs eyes snapped open as though he had heard the
crash of a cymbal. He lay very still. Whatever was under his
bed was back. His panic grew and his mouth went dry. He
wanted to yell for his parents, but his throat was closed so
tight, he couldnt utter a peep.
Then came the knocking. Whatever was down there
was alive. Or at least alive enough to be making sounds.
He couldnt take it anymore. He had to know what it was.
been so stupid? Why did I think there was a ladder? Will the
dog bite my fingers?
The dog.
Alec heard the scraping of its claws as it arrived at the
edge of the roof. He looked up, expecting to see the dog
looming over him, dripping slobber.
Instead, peering down at him was an old woman.
Help me! Alec called to her.
She had waist-length gray hair and wore a long forestgreen dress. Over it was a black shawl that she clutched to
her chest with a bone-white hand. The tendrils of hair blew
about her head like a pack of wild dancing spirits. Though
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her face was pale and wrinkled like that of someone a hundred years old, her eyes were focused and alive with fiery
madness.
Alecs brief moment of relief was shattered when he
looked into those horrible eyes.
Dad! he screamed in desperation.
He didnt have the strength to hang on much longer.
Save me! he cried to the woman. Please!
The woman leaned down over the edge to stare him
straight in the eye.
Oh no, she replied in a low, dark voice that sounded like
the hollow echo from an empty grave. That wouldnt help
me at all. Now, if you dont mind . . . please fall.
Dad! Alec screamed again . . .
. . . and lost his grip.
His fingers slipped off the edge, and he began to fall as . . .
. . . a hand shot down and grabbed his wrist, stopping
him from a death plummet. He was quickly hauled up and
over the edge as if he weighed no more than one of his
Transformers toys. A second later he was deposited safely
on the roof.
Dad! Alec cried, and threw his arms around his father.
Youre okay, Michael Swenor said soothingly as he
hugged his son to his chest. I promise.
Where is she? Alec asked, looking about with fear.
Where did she go?
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Who?
The old lady. She wanted me to fall. And there was a
dog under my bed. And a ladder, but it disappeared. I swear!
Im not lying!
I know youre not lying, Mr. Swenor said, his voice
cracking with emotion as he fought back his own tears. Lets
get back to your mother, and well talk about it.
Alec reluctantly released his bear hold on his father.
Do you know what happened, Dad? he asked.
Michael Swenor took a deep breath before replying, as if
the answer pained him.
I do, and its a long story, he finally said. Its time you
heard it. All of it. Your mom too.
So you believe me? Alec asked, finally getting control
of himself.
I do.
Michael Swenor stood up and reached his hand down to
take his sons. Lets go see Mommy.
They never connected.
The pit bull was back.
It came charging across the roof like a runaway freight
train.
Look out! Alec screamed.
Michael Swenor barely had time to look up before the
dog leapt at him. He instinctively backed away, but he was
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too close to the edge of the roof. He stumbled, hit the low
safety wall, and tumbled over.
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C H A P T E R
Use your brains, people, for a change, Mr. Winser commanded impatiently as he prowled the aisles of thirdperiod social studies class, hunting for his next victim.
Winser had been teaching seventh-grade social studies since before I was born. Maybe before my parents
were born. He was a fossil who wore wide ties that were
so ugly, I couldnt tell if the hideous patterns were intentional or just a bunch of stains from spilled food.
Can someone please offer me an intelligent
response? he asked with disdain. What were some
of the negative impacts of evolution between the Homo
erectus period and the Homo sapiens period?
Winser spun and pointed his finger at an unsuspecting girl.
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20
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Huh?
I stood staring, trying to understand what I was seeing. Or not seeing.
Then I remembered.
Ask him! He saw it! I exclaimed, and spun around.
Hey, chief, tell her about the
The guy was gone.
Wha ? I sputtered as I scanned the room for the
man in the bathrobe. There was no other way out of the
room. Hed just vanished. Again. Or maybe hed never
really been there.
Like the ghostly key.
I ran my hand through my thick brown hair and
wiped sweat from my forehead.
Are you trying to get more detention time? Holden
asked.
I . . . no. I thought I saw . . . didnt you see it?
See what? Holden asked with growing impatience.
I didnt answer. I knew how crazy it would sound,
because I was feeling pretty crazy.
She had no idea what I was talking about.
Nothing, I said. I thought I . . . never mind. I hurried to the upended desk and lifted it back into position.
Sorry.
I felt Holden staring at me. She must have been as confused as I was, though I wasnt sure if that was possible.
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C H A P T E R
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C H A P T E R
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are
the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright 2016 by D. J. MacHale
Jacket art copyright 2016 by Shane Rebenschied
Jacket lettering copyright 2016 by Leah Palmer Preiss
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Childrens Books,
a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks of
Penguin Random House LLC.
Visit us on the Web! randomhousekids.com
Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on request.
Printed in the United States of America
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First Edition
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the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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