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Authors: R. L. Stine
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stop. The campfire … the gun … our names carved on the tree … the brown leather briefcase of money …
When I finally fell asleep, I had another wolf dream.
In this dream, I was in a house I didn’t recognize. In a brightly lit living room filled with red furniture. Everything red. I felt puzzled. Where was I? How did I get there?
In the dream, I wanted to figure everything out. I was frightened by my confusion. But before I could get clear on anything, I saw the wolf across the room.
Tall and powerful-looking, standing stiff and alert. The black wolf, gazing at me with those intelligent blue eyes. Ears straight up, jaw open just enough to reveal yellow, curled teeth.
My confusion gave way to fear. A terrifying staring match, the wolf and I. Neither of us blinked. Neither of us moved a muscle.
Studying each other. Testing each other.
And then suddenly, in my sleep, in my dream, I’m asking myself a frightening question:
Is the wolf watching me? Or am I the wolf?
16.
When I picked up Eddie at the pet cemetery the next afternoon, Mac Stanton stood with him near the gate. Mac had a white paper shopping bag in one hand and was shaking it in front of Eddie.
“Do you believe this?” Mac greeted me. “People dump their dead dogs over the fence in the middle of the night and expect me to take care of them.”
Something thumped heavily in the bag as Mac shook it. I assumed it was a dead dog.
“That’s terrible,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I could see that Mac was really angry.
“Do you know what the rent on this property is?” he demanded. He didn’t expect an answer. He was just ranting. “It’s sky high. So why do these idiots think I’m going to bury their dogs for nothing?”
I glanced at Eddie. He looked embarrassed.
“People are upset when their pet dies,” I said. “I guess they’re just not thinking clearly at the time.”
Mac scowled at me. His gold tooth caught the sunlight. His face was bright red. “Well, I’m thinking clearly. I’ll tell you that.” He pointed up to a tree limb overhanging a row of graves. “See that? That’s a security camera. I put them up all over the grounds. Next time someone comes in here at night to dump a dead dog, I’ll know who it is.”
He gazed up at the camera. “And don’t think I won’t come after them.”
Swinging the shopping bag at his side, he spun around and stormed toward the office.
I stepped close to Eddie. “Wow. Is he always like this?” I whispered.
Mac slammed the office door behind him.
“He has a temper,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Sometimes he’s a little out-of-control. But then a few seconds later, he’s his usual grouchy self.”
We both laughed. We climbed into the car, and I drove toward Eddie’s house in the Old Village. It was a hot day, hazy and wet, the kind of day that made your skin prickle at the back of your neck, made you wish you were at the beach.
The air-conditioner in Mom’s Corolla always takes twenty minutes to get cold. I smelled something sour, like rotted meat.
Eddie saw me sniffing the air. “It’s me,” he said. “The smell from the cemetery, it sticks to my clothes … to my skin. I can’t figure out why it smells so bad there.”
“Is it the crematorium?” I asked, turning onto Village Road.
“I don’t think so,” Eddie said. “Mac hasn’t fried any animals since I’ve been working there.”
I stopped for a light. My phone buzzed and vibrated. I pulled it out and gazed at the screen. A text from Sophie: “Finished second. Thanks for your support.”
“What’s that?” Eddie asked.
“My sister being bitter,” I said. I tucked the phone back into my bag. “Sophie’s feeling neglected these days.”
“How come?” he asked.
“Because I’ve been neglecting her?”
We both laughed again. But I cut my laughter short. “She’s going through a hard time. I’m not really sure why. We don’t confide in each other a
When I finally fell asleep, I had another wolf dream.
In this dream, I was in a house I didn’t recognize. In a brightly lit living room filled with red furniture. Everything red. I felt puzzled. Where was I? How did I get there?
In the dream, I wanted to figure everything out. I was frightened by my confusion. But before I could get clear on anything, I saw the wolf across the room.
Tall and powerful-looking, standing stiff and alert. The black wolf, gazing at me with those intelligent blue eyes. Ears straight up, jaw open just enough to reveal yellow, curled teeth.
My confusion gave way to fear. A terrifying staring match, the wolf and I. Neither of us blinked. Neither of us moved a muscle.
Studying each other. Testing each other.
And then suddenly, in my sleep, in my dream, I’m asking myself a frightening question:
Is the wolf watching me? Or am I the wolf?
16.
When I picked up Eddie at the pet cemetery the next afternoon, Mac Stanton stood with him near the gate. Mac had a white paper shopping bag in one hand and was shaking it in front of Eddie.
“Do you believe this?” Mac greeted me. “People dump their dead dogs over the fence in the middle of the night and expect me to take care of them.”
Something thumped heavily in the bag as Mac shook it. I assumed it was a dead dog.
“That’s terrible,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I could see that Mac was really angry.
“Do you know what the rent on this property is?” he demanded. He didn’t expect an answer. He was just ranting. “It’s sky high. So why do these idiots think I’m going to bury their dogs for nothing?”
I glanced at Eddie. He looked embarrassed.
“People are upset when their pet dies,” I said. “I guess they’re just not thinking clearly at the time.”
Mac scowled at me. His gold tooth caught the sunlight. His face was bright red. “Well, I’m thinking clearly. I’ll tell you that.” He pointed up to a tree limb overhanging a row of graves. “See that? That’s a security camera. I put them up all over the grounds. Next time someone comes in here at night to dump a dead dog, I’ll know who it is.”
He gazed up at the camera. “And don’t think I won’t come after them.”
Swinging the shopping bag at his side, he spun around and stormed toward the office.
I stepped close to Eddie. “Wow. Is he always like this?” I whispered.
Mac slammed the office door behind him.
“He has a temper,” Eddie said, shaking his head. “Sometimes he’s a little out-of-control. But then a few seconds later, he’s his usual grouchy self.”
We both laughed. We climbed into the car, and I drove toward Eddie’s house in the Old Village. It was a hot day, hazy and wet, the kind of day that made your skin prickle at the back of your neck, made you wish you were at the beach.
The air-conditioner in Mom’s Corolla always takes twenty minutes to get cold. I smelled something sour, like rotted meat.
Eddie saw me sniffing the air. “It’s me,” he said. “The smell from the cemetery, it sticks to my clothes … to my skin. I can’t figure out why it smells so bad there.”
“Is it the crematorium?” I asked, turning onto Village Road.
“I don’t think so,” Eddie said. “Mac hasn’t fried any animals since I’ve been working there.”
I stopped for a light. My phone buzzed and vibrated. I pulled it out and gazed at the screen. A text from Sophie: “Finished second. Thanks for your support.”
“What’s that?” Eddie asked.
“My sister being bitter,” I said. I tucked the phone back into my bag. “Sophie’s feeling neglected these days.”
“How come?” he asked.
“Because I’ve been neglecting her?”
We both laughed again. But I cut my laughter short. “She’s going through a hard time. I’m not really sure why. We don’t confide in each other a
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