Ghost Town by Joan Lowery Nixon Read Free Book Online Page A

decided. It was a perfect name for the dog.
    Here, Comstock
, he thought.
Come on, Comstock. That's a good boy.
    He thought about the way Comstock had protected him from the Tigers, and he wished he had a dog like that. He wished Comstock could come home with him.
    During dinner that evening at the motel's restaurant, Johnny talked on and on about every single thing he'd done all day. And in spite of everything Mr. Sands and the chaperones tried to do to keep things under control, the Tigers laughed and shouted and annoyed everyone in the room.
    Alan kept thinking about Comstock. The dog had such a strange way of staring, as if he could see right through skin and skull into people's minds. What kind of a dog was he?
    Later, when Alan headed for the motel room he was sharing with Johnny, the Tigers suddenly stepped in his way.
    Harley jabbed Alan with a sharp poke to his collarbone. It hurt so much Alan flinched, in spite of his determination not to. “We got something to talk about,” Harley said.
    “Yeah,” Red said. “About those chipmunks.”
    “And your thinking you could tell us what to do,” Bert added.
    Alan took a step back, and the Tigers crowded forward, even closer.
    “Boys! Time to head for your rooms. Lights out in half an hour!” Mr. Sands called from down the walk-way.
    The Tigers stopped and looked at each other.
    “Okay,” Harley said quietly. Jabbing Alan's collarbone again, he said, “We'll see you tomorrow morning. Early. You can expect us.”
    The Tigers disappeared as fast as they had come. Alan ran to his motel room, unlocked the door, and dashed inside. Quickly he dead-bolted the door.
    Johnny looked up from the twin bed he was sitting on. “What's going on?” he asked.
    Alan shrugged. “Nothing.”
    “Want to watch some TV?”
    “Not now. I'm going to take a shower and grab some sleep.”
    “I guess you're right,” Johnny said. “We have to get up early for breakfast. They're going to take us through the Castle and some of the other mansions. Do you know about the Castle? Have you seen any of the mansions? Do you know how rich some of those claims were?”
    Alan didn't feel like talking. He hurried into the bathroom to take his shower.
    He stayed in the shower so long that when he came out Johnny had fallen asleep. Alan wondered if the Tigers were safely in bed. He hoped so. For some reason he had a nagging feeling of being watched. Could they be lurking outside his door?
    “Don't be dumb,” he whispered to himself, but he opened the heavy drapes a crack to peek outside.
    The parking area in front of the motel was silent, and no one was in sight. He decided that the motel guests must be safely tucked into their rooms for the night.
    But across the walkway, just outside the small pool of light from an overhead lamp, sat a dog. His eyes reflected the lamplight's beam, and Alan could see that the dog was watching him.
    Alan leaned forward, peering into the darkness. He recognized the pointed ears, the watchful eyes. He let the drapes fall back into place, snatched up his motel key, and silently left the room. “Comstock?” he called softly as he stood on the doorstep. “Is that you?”
    The dog's ears seemed to perk even more sharply, and he rose. It was Comstock, all right, but what was he doing here?
    Alan was surprised by how large Comstock seemed. He stood much higher than a Lab or a German shepherd. He was almost the size of a Great Dane.
    Alan snapped his fingers. “Here, Comstock. Here, boy,” he said.
    As Comstock slowly walked toward Alan, Alan stretched out a fist, fingers curled down, so that the dog could sniff it. “Good boy,” Alan said as he felt Comstock's cool breath on the back of his hand. He could tell that Comstock liked him.
    Slowly Alan raised his hand and reached out to stroke Comstock's head. To his amazement, his hand moved through empty space. Comstock continued to gaze at Alan. He was certainly visible. Alan ran his hand along the space where