Nightmare Academy Read Online Free PDF

in trouble. You may like us, you may not, but at least you'll have a room for the night.” She held out another business card.
    Elijah accepted it with a shrug, then read it out loud. “Margaret Jones, Light of Day Youth Shelter, 203 Miller Street. Shelter, rescue, counseling.”
    Sarah entered the name and address on a laptop computer.

    It could be perfectly legitimate, or it could be a very sly trap.

    â€œI'm not getting any matches. I thought Living Way was the only youth shelter around here.”
    Nate carefully eyed the woman talking to his kids, thinking it over: no matches in the computer; no record of this particular youth shelter; a pleasant, nonthreatening woman with business cards.
    It could be perfectly legitimate, or it could be a very sly trap. He spoke into his collar, “This could be it. Let's take it slow, one step at a time, and check it out.”

I 'M READY AND WILLING,” Elisha replied.
    â€œIt beats another night on the street,” Elijah conceded, taking his sister's cue.
    Margaret Jones thought they were talking to her. “Great! Come on, I'll walk you there.” She started up the street at a leisurely pace and the kids followed her. “It can get rough out here. Not too many people who believe in Right and Wrong. You know what I mean?”
    â€œYeah,” Elisha answered.
    â€œSure,” said Elijah.
    â€œBut it looks like you two trust each other, and that's the start of friendship right there, doing right by our friends. You know what I'm talking about? Do you think there's a right and there's a wrong?”
    They came to an intersection and turned right, heading up the hill.

    â€œThey've turned right on Spencer,” Nate reported, walking a block behind them.
    Sarah was behind the wheel and driving the van, watching a moving map on the dashboard linked with a GPS receiver.
    â€œMiller's three blocks north of Spencer on Second. I'll check it out.” She turned up Spencer and drove right by her kids as they walked with Margaret Jones.

    Margaret Jones kept on talking, but there was something strangely “rehearsed” about it as if she was driving at something. “Some kids grow up going to church, things like that, and they seem to have a pretty good sense of right and wrong. Were either of you raised in church?”
    Go with the flow, Elisha thought. “I was.”
    â€œDid you like it?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œDo you believe in God?”
    â€œSure. I'm a Christian.”
    Margaret Jones was delighted. “You are? Well, that says a lot, doesn't it? I'll bet you're a very honest person then.”
    â€œI try to be.”
    â€œThat's great. How about you . . . uh, what should I call you? You don't have to use your real name.”
    â€œCall me Jerry.”
    â€œJerry, how about you? Do you believe in God?”
    â€œAbsolutely.”
    â€œSo, do you think that helps you to be honest?”
    He decided to act “dull” about it. “Sure, I guess.”
    â€œI mean, I've been wondering if a person's religious beliefs have anything to do with their morals. What do you think?”

    Sarah drove past an old stone building cubbyholed between two newer ones and saw the little sign on the front window: Light of Day Youth Shelter. “I've found it and it looks real. I'm going to park somewhere.”
    â€œI still have the kids,” Nate reported, following them up Second Avenue toward Miller.
    Sarah parked against the curb a block past the shelter, shut down the engine, and clambered into the back where she once again manned the radio receivers and recording equipment.

    â€œHere we are,” said Margaret, pulling the door open.
    Inside was a small reception area with chairs, couches, and a table neatly arranged with fashion, sports, and teen interest magazines. Through a wide archway to the right was a dining hall; several kids were sitting around the tables enjoying late-night soup and