The Nightmare Game Read Online Free PDF Page B

window.
    With his face hidden, he felt almost brave. As he drew level with the house, he glanced around quickly, to check that no one could see him. Then he ducked into the front garden and squatted down behind the low front wall.
    Most of the garden was car parking space, with just a narrow flower bed immediately behind the front wall. And, now that he was near, he could see the dark, angular bush growing under the window, close against the house.
    He could have left then. But there was a narrow line of light showing between the curtains in the bay. Someone was obviously in that front room.
    And it suddenly occurred to him that it might be Hope.
    For almost five minutes, he crouched behind the wall, wishing he had enough courage to creep forward to the window. Hope might be in there. She might be in terrible danger. Maybe even being tortured. But he didn’t dare go any closer. If she was in there, she wouldn’t be alone. The tall kidnapper would be there, too. The one called—
    Warren was too frightened to sound out the name, even in his head. He set the letters dancing, disguising them quickly. Trying to get them to say something more reassuring. But the words that came back terrified him even more. Rot by the order . . . The Terror Body.
    The words curdled in his mind. Run, Rabbit, run, Rabbit, run, run, run. He was just a coward. A hopeless coward. I can’t . . . I can’t . . .
    The voice in his head was still whining when he began to crawl forward through the shadows.
    He crept across the garden, and when he reached the bay window he pulled himself up, slowly, until his head was just above the level of the windowsill. Leaning forward over the stiff, scratchy branches of the bush, he peered between the curtains. By moving his head around, he could see the whole lighted room.
    And the girl inside.
    It wasn’t Hope—there was no sign of her—it was the other girl. The kidnapper with the fox-red hair.
    For a second, Warren was shocked to see how ordinary she looked. He’d remembered a fierce, malevolent face. An evil witch with sharp features and a river of burning hair. But she was just a girl on a sofa, reading a book. Her hair fell around her face as she leaned forward. As he watched, she picked up a pad and scribbled a note. She was doing her homework.
    He squashed forward, to get a better view. As he pressed against the bush in front of him, a stray twig hit the window. Tap.
    And the girl jumped.
    Her head jerked up and for a second her eyes were wide and startled. Then she looked down again and went on reading.
    Warren felt a small, surprising flicker of satisfaction. Last time he’d seen her, she was towering over him in the street, shaking her gleaming hair and taunting him. But when she heard a strange noise, she jumped, just like anyone else.
    He reached out, deliberately this time, and bounced the twig against the glass again. Tap, tap.
    This time, she didn’t jump. It was even better. She glanced up nervously, with a little frown. Putting her book down, she leaned forward, ready to stand up—and then hesitated, uncertainly.
    Tap, tap, tap.
    He wanted a reaction—but he hadn’t expected her to move so fast. Before the twig had sprung back from the third tap, she was on her feet and heading for the window. He ducked down quickly, pressing himself into the sharp branches. By the time she dragged the curtains apart, he was too low for the light to catch him.
    Crouching there, with his heart thudding, he held his breath and tried not to think what would happen if she left the curtains open and crept away. If she tiptoed to the front door and jumped out at him. What would he do then? There was no getaway car waiting to carry him off. Only a bus stop, five minutes’ walk away. If she decided to come out and investigate, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
    But she didn’t. After a few seconds, she drew the curtains together impatiently and he heard her walking