15 Amityville Horrible Read Online Free PDF Page B

off, so I hit the speed-dial for Jeremy. A recording came on immediately, telling me my call couldn’t be completed. I looked at my screen.
    No service.
    No service? How was that possible? I’d had a couple of bars upstairs.
    I lifted the phone overhead as high as I could. Still no—?
    “Run,” a man’s voice whispered behind me.
    I spun so fast I almost dropped my phone, fumbling to catch it as I backed into the corner. I lifted the screen to shine in front of me.
    “Who’s there?” I asked.
    No one, you fool. It’s a small, empty room.
    No, it had been empty. I’d had my back to the door when it slammed shut. Meaning someone could have come in and closed it behind him.
    I pressed my back against the wall and waved the phone around. Nothing. I could see nothing.
    “If someone’s there—”
    “Help me,” whispered a voice from below.
    I swung the cell phone light down to see the girl on the floor. She was rising, blood-stained hand reaching for me.
    “Help…”
    See, it’s a residual. It’s replaying.
    But she hadn’t reached up before. She’d reached out for my foot.
    “Why didn’t you help me?” she said. “Why won’t you stop him?”
    “Can you hear me?” I said. “If you can—”
    “You need to stop him.”
    “Run,” the man’s voice whispered.
    I wheeled, back slamming into the adjoining wall. My cell phone flickered. The light went out. I banged it against my thigh. I hit buttons. I held down the power switch. Nothing worked.
    It had a full battery when I left New York. There’s no way—
    The light. It drained because you were keeping the screen on at full brightness.
    That was silly, of course. I had enough power. I know I did.
    A click sounded, like the door opening. When I looked over, though, I couldn’t see any light shining through it. With my back against the wall, I sidestepped to the door and ran my fingers over the edge. It was shut tight. I tried the handle. It still wouldn’t—
    Another click, as if the door had closed. I yanked my hands back. I hadn’t pushed it shut. I knew I hadn’t—
    A whimper sounded behind me. I turned, instinctively lifting my dead phone. All I saw was darkness, but I could hear someone there, sniveling and crying softly. Then, slowly, I began to make out the edges of a faintly glowing figure. It was pressed against the far wall, as if hiding behind some invisible object. The figure came clearer. It was a girl—a young woman, maybe in her early twenties—dark-haired, with a chiffon head scarf and polka-dot Fifties-style dress.
    Tears streamed down her face as she hid there, breathing so hard I could hear it. When I took a step toward her, she jumped, then looked up, eyes meeting mine.
    “Hide!” she said. “Quick! He’s coming!”
    “Who’s coming?” I asked.
    She struggled for breath as her eyes filled with panic.
    I walked closer. “Who’s coming?”
    “He’s going to find me. I know he’s going to—”
    She let out a shriek, head jerking up, eyes rounding. Then she fell back against the wall, hands up. Blood spread across her dress as she screamed. The knife plunged in again.
    “Help! Please help!”
    I did. Not by running to shield her or pull her away. I couldn’t do that. Instead, I focused on whoever was stabbing her, to see him, to pull him through the ether. I tried every trick I knew to summon the ghost attacking her, and I didn’t see so much as a flicker. An invisible force just kept stabbing her with an invisible knife until she lay there, heaped by the foot of the wall, eyes closed.
    I turned to her and knelt. “Can you hear me? I don’t understand what’s—”
    Her eyes flew open. “Help us. Stop him.”
    Before I could say a word, she disappeared.

Six
     
    A third victim came after that, this one in a cleaning uniform and ponytail, the exact period difficult to guess but obviously modern. She ran in, she saw me, she entreated me to help her, to save her, then “he” came and she died. Again I tried