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I pulled back with a gasp when I heard the soft cracking sound. The cracking sound grew louder until it was a rumble, then a roar. It sounded as if the ground were ripping apart.

"Quick!" I yelled. "Push!"

Below, I could hear startled voices, angry voices.

No.

Was the tree moving?

The old tree fell quickly. It didn't have far to fall. But it hit with a thundering crash that seemed to shake the ground.

"We can't do it!" I cried, so disappointed, so frustrated, so terrified. "We can't move it!"

Josh let out an exasperated, defeated sigh. "I can't, Amanda. I can't move it."

"Push! Keep pushing!"

The veins at my temples felt about to pop.

It gave a little, but bounced right back.

The voices from below were getting louder.

We hurtled into the tree trunk with our shoulders, both of us grunting from the effort, our muscles straining, our faces bright red.

He backed up to try again.

"Josh --" I glared at him.

Defeated, I slumped over onto the tree trunk, and started to bury my face in my hands.

"Push!" I cried. "Push it again!"

The cries went up instantly. Horrified cries. Angry cries. Frantic cries.

I grabbed Josh and we both stood in amazement and disbelief as bright sunlight poured into the amphitheater.

The people in the amphitheater, the living dead caught in the golden light, began scrambling over one another, screeching, pulling, climbing, pushing, trying to claw their way to shade.

But it was too late.

The cries became howls. Howls of pain, of agony.

Their skin began to drop off their bones and, as I stared open-mouthed, they crumbled to powder and dissolved to the ground, their clothes disintegrating along with them. The painful cries continued to ring out as the bodies fell apart, the skin melted away, the dry bones collapsed. I saw Karen Somerset staggering across the floor. I saw her hair fall to the ground in a heap, revealing the dark skull underneath. She cast a glance up at me, a longing look, a look of regret. And then her eyeballs rolled out of their sockets, and she opened her toothless mouth, and she cried, "Thank you, Amanda! Thank you!" and collapsed.

Josh and I covered our ears to shut out the ghastly cries. We both looked away, unable to keep watching the entire town fall in agony and crumble to powder, destroyed by the sun, the clear, warm sun.

It didn't take our parents long to get us packed up and to arrange for the movers to take us back to our old neighborhood and our old house. "I guess it's lucky after all that we couldn't sell the old place," Dad said, as we eagerly piled into the car to leave.

Mom and Dad were standing right where they had been, tied back-to-back, their expressions a mixture of horror and disbelief.

When we looked back, they had all disappeared.

Dad backed down the driveway and started to roar away.

"Mom! Dad!" I cried.

I'll never forget their smiles as Josh and I ran forward to free them.

"Stop!" I cried suddenly. I'm not sure why, but I had a sudden, powerful urge to take one last look at the old house.

As both of my parents called out to me in confusion, I pushed open the door and jogged back to the driveway. Standing in the middle of the yard, I stared up at the house, silent, empty, still covered in thick layers of blue-gray shadows.

Wasn't that Mr. Dawes standing at the porch, clipboard in hand? I wondered, catching a glimpse of a dark figure as I ran to the car.

I found myself gazing up at the old house as if I were hypnotized. I don't know how long I stood there.

"Oh. I… uh…" His question caught me by surprise. I could hear my dad honking his horn impatiently down on the street. "I… uh… used to live in your house," I found myself answering.

And then I turned and ran full speed down to the street.

I didn't look back. I slammed the car door behind me, and we sped away.

"Here we are, kids," the mother said, smiling at them. "Our new house."

The crunch of tires on the gravel driveway snapped me out of my spell. Startled, I turned to see a red station wagon parked in the driveway.

Two boys about Josh's age jumped out of the back. Their parents followed. Staring up at the house, they didn't seem to notice me.

And then his brother's eyes widened as he noticed me. "Who are you?" he demanded.

No, it couldn't be Mr. Dawes up there waiting for them, I decided.

"It doesn't look new. It looks old," one of the boys said.

It just couldn't be.

The other members of his family turned to stare at me.