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"Huh? I don't understand," I cried, my voice shaking.

This seemed to strike the others as funny. They all snickered and laughed.

"Karen -- you seemed so nice," I said. The words just tumbled out. I hadn't thought before I said them.

"This is the Dead House. This is where everyone lives when they first arrive in Dark Falls. When they're still alive."

Her eyes glowed a little brighter. "I was nice," she said in a glum monotone, "until I moved here."

"We were all nice," George Carpenter said in the same low monotone. "But now we're dead."

I watched them move forward in silence. Josh and I had backed up to the window. I looked around the dark room for an escape route.

"Don't be scared, Amanda," Karen said. "Soon you'll be with us. That's why they invited you to this house."

"Let us go!" Josh cried, raising his hands in front of him as if to shield himself. "Please -- let us go."

But there was nowhere to run.

"They're going to kill us!" Josh cried.

They laughed again, the dry, hoarse laughter. Dead laughter.

Moving forward in silence, they hovered over Josh and me.

"We need new blood," Jerry Franklin said, his eyes glowing red in the dim light. "Once a year, you see, we need new blood."

And then I heard the knock on the door.

I opened my eyes. The ghostly kids all vanished.

A loud knock, repeated several times.

"It's Mom and Dad!" Josh cried.

Karen shook her head, her eyes glowing with amusement. "No. Sorry, Josh. No great-uncle. It was just a trick to bring you here. Once every year, someone new has to move here. Other years, it was us. We lived in this house -- until we died. This year, it's your turn."

The air smelled sour.

"But our great-uncle --" Josh started.

Josh and I stared at each other, dazed, as the loud knocking started again.

I took a deep breath. A last breath, perhaps. And shut my eyes.

We both ran to the door. Josh stumbled over the coffee table in the dark, so I got to the door first.

"Mom! Dad!" I cried, pulling open the door. "Where have you been?"

I reached out my arms to hug them both -- and stopped with my arms in the air. My mouth dropped open and I uttered a silent cry.

"Kids -- you're okay?" he asked, eyeing us both, his handsome face tight with worry. "Oh, thank God!" he cried. "I got here in time!"

"Mr. Dawes!" Josh exclaimed, coming up beside me. "We thought --"

"Mr. Dawes --" I started, feeling so relieved, I had tears in my eyes. "I --"

"Oh, Mr. Dawes, I'm so glad to see you!" I cried happily, pushing open the screen door for him.

What if Mr. Dawes was one of them?

"But --" I started, staring into his frightened eyes, trying to decide if we could trust him.

Josh and I started to follow him, then hesitated.

"Hurry," Mr. Dawes urged, holding open the screen door, gazing nervously out into the darkness. "I think we're in terrible danger."

He grabbed my arm. "There's no time to talk," he said, looking behind him to the street. I could see his car in the driveway. The engine was running. Only the parking lights were on. "I've got to get you kids out of here while there's still time."

"I was at the party with your parents," Mr. Dawes said. "All of a sudden, they formed a circle. Everyone. Around your parents and me. They -- they started to close in on us."

"Come on. I'll show you. They're safe for now. But I don't know for how long."

"We broke through them and ran," Mr. Dawes said, glancing to the driveway behind him. "Somehow the three of us got away. Hurry. We've all got to get away from here -- now!"

Just like when the kids started to close in on Josh and me, I thought.

"There's something wrong with this whole town," Mr. Dawes said, holding the front passenger door open for me as Josh climbed into the back.

We followed him out of the house and down the driveway to his car. The clouds had parted. A sliver of moon shone low in a pale, early morning sky.

"Yes," I agreed. "Thank goodness you came. My house -- it's filled with kids. Dead kids and --"

"Josh, let's go," I urged. Then I turned to Mr. Dawes. "Where are Mom and Dad?"

"We've got to get as far away as we can before they catch up with us," Mr. Dawes said, backing down the drive quickly, the tires sliding and squealing as he pulled onto the street.

I slumped gratefully into the seat, and he slammed the door shut. "I know," I said, as he slid behind the wheel. "Josh and I. We both --"

"My flashlight," Josh answered, clicking it off. "I brought it just in case. But the sun will be up soon. I probably won't need it."

"So you've seen them," Mr. Dawes said softly, his eyes wide with fear. He pushed down harder on the gas pedal.

"Where are our parents?" I asked anxiously.

"We've seen it," Josh said. A bright light suddenly flashed on in the backseat.

Mr. Dawes hit the brake and pulled the car to the side of the road. We were at the edge of the cemetery. I climbed quickly out of the car, eager to see my parents.

As I looked out into the purple darkness, a low, orange sun began to show over the green treetops.

"What's that?" Mr. Dawes asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

"There's a kind of outdoor theater next to the cemetery," Mr. Dawes said, staring straight ahead through the windshield, his eyes narrow, his expression tense. "It's built right into the ground, and it's hidden by a big tree. I left them there. I told them not to move. I think they'll be safe. I don't think anyone'll think to look there."

We headed across the street, half-walking, half-jogging, Josh swinging the flashlight in one hand.

The sky was still dark, streaked with violet now. The sun was a dark orange balloon just barely poking over the trees. Across the street, beyond the jagged rows of gravestones, I could see the dark outline of the leaning tree that hid the mysterious amphitheater.

"Hurry," Mr. Dawes urged, closing his car door quietly. "I'm sure your parents are desperate to see you."

I followed his gaze, and saw our white terrier walking slowly along a slope of gravestones.

Suddenly, at the edge of the cemetery grass, Josh stopped. "Petey!" he cried.

"Petey!" Josh yelled again, and began running to the dog.

My heart sank. I hadn't had a chance to tell Josh what Ray had revealed to me about Petey. "No -- Josh!" I called.

"I'll go get him," I said, and took off, running as fast as I could along the rows of graves, calling to my brother. "Josh! Josh, wait up! Don't! Don't go after him! Josh -- Petey is dead!"

Mr. Dawes looked very alarmed. "We don't have time. We have to hurry," he said to me. Then he began shouting for Josh to come back.

It wasn't his father or his grandfather. He had told us he was the only Compton in his family.

Dead as everyone else.

COMPTON DAWES.

"Look," he repeated, and pointed to the gravestone he had tripped over.

Josh had been gaining on the dog, which was ambling along, sniffing the ground, not looking up, not paying any attention to Josh. Then suddenly, Josh tripped over a low grave marker.

So Mr. Dawes was dead, too.

I turned and squinted at the grave. I read the inscription, silently mouthing the words as I read:

"Look," he said finally.

I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that Josh wasn't knocked out or something.

My head began to spin. I felt dizzy. I steadied myself, holding onto Josh.

He was one of them. One of the dead ones.

COMPTON DAWES. R. I. P. 1950-1980.

"Josh -- answer me. Are you okay?"

He cried out as he fell, and the flashlight flew out of his hand and clattered against a gravestone.

"Josh?"

I grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to pull him up, but he kept staring straight ahead, his mouth open, his eyes wide.

Dead. Dead. Dead.

I quickly caught up with him. "Josh -- are you okay?"

Josh and I stared at each other in the purple darkness. Surrounded. Surrounded by the dead.

He was lying on his stomach, staring straight ahead.

Now what?

Now what? I asked myself.