Werewolf of Fever Swamp Read Online Free PDF Page A

suddenly, I just wanted to solve the mystery.
    Who or what was scratching at the door?
    There was one good way to find out—open the door and look outside.
    “No, Grady—wait!” Emily pleaded.
    But I waved away her protests.
    Then I turned the doorknob and pulled open the kitchen door.

 
    11

    A gust of hot, wet air rushed in through the open door. The chirp of cicadas greeted my ears.
    Holding on to the door, I peered into the darkness of the back yard.
    Nothing.
    The nearly full moon, yellow as a lemon, floated high in the sky. Thin wisps of black clouds drifted over it.
    The cicadas stopped suddenly, and all was quiet.
    Too quiet.
    I squinted into the distance, toward the blackness of the swamp.
    Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.
    I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moonlight sent a pale glow over the grass. In the far distance, I could see the black outline of slanting trees where the swamp began.
    Who or what had scratched at the door? Were they hiding in the darkness now?
    Watching me?
    Waiting for me to close the door so they could begin their frightening howls again?
    “Grady—close the door.”
    I could hear my sister’s voice behind me. She sounded so frightened.
    “Grady—do you see something? Do you?”
    “No,” I told her. “Just the moon.”
    I ventured out onto the back stoop. The air was hot and steamy, like the air in the bathroom after you’ve taken a hot shower.
    “Grady—come back. Close the door.” Emily’s voice was shrill and trembly.
    I gazed toward the deer pen. I could see their shadowy forms, still and silent. The hot wind rustled the grass. The cicadas began chirping again.
    “Is anybody out here?” I called. I immediately felt foolish.
    There was no one out here.
    “Grady—shut the door. Now.”
    I felt Emily’s hand on my pajama sleeve. She tugged me back into the kitchen. I closed the door and locked it.
    My face felt wet from the damp night air. I had chills. My knees were shaking.
    “You look kind of sick,” Emily said. She glanced over my shoulder to the door. “Did you see anything?”
    “No,” I told her. “Nothing. It’s so dark in back, even with a full moon.”
    “What’s going on in here?” A stern voice interrupted us. Dad lumbered into the kitchen, adjusting the collar of the long nightshirt he always wore. “It’s past midnight.” He glanced from Emily to me, then back to Emily, looking for a clue.
    “We heard noises,” Emily said. “Howls outside.”
    “And then something was scratching on the door,” I added, trying to keep my knees from shaking.
    “Fever dreams,” Dad said to me. “Look at you. You’re red as a tomato. And you’re shaking. Let’s take your temperature. You must be burning up.” He started toward the bathroom to get the thermometer.
    “It wasn’t a dream,” Emily called after him. “I heard the noises, too.”
    Dad stopped in the doorway. “Did you check the deer?”
    “Yeah. They’re okay,” I said.
    “Then maybe it was just the wind. Or some creatures in the swamp. It’s hard to sleep in a new house. The sounds are all so new, so unfamiliar. But you’ll both get used to them after a while.”
    I’ll never get used to those horrible howls, I thought stubbornly. But I headed back to my room.
    Dad took my temperature. It was just slightly above normal. “You should be fine by tomorrow,” he said, smoothing my blanket over me. “No more wandering around tonight, okay?”
    I murmured a reply and almost instantly drifted into a restless sleep.
    Again I had strange, troubling dreams. I dreamed I was walking in the swamp. I heard the howls. I could see the full moon between the slender tree trunks of the swamp.
    I started to run. And then suddenly I was up to my waist in a thick, green bog. And the howls continued, one after the other, echoing through the trees as I sank into the murky bog.

    When I awoke the next morning, the dream lingered in my mind. I wondered if the howls were real, or