The Nightmarys by Dan Poblocki Read Free Book Online Page A

his eyes, trying to make out
    exactly what Stuart could have mistaken for a
    monster. But there was nothing down there
    except for a couple of glimmering pieces of
    loose change, far away near the drain at the
    bot om of the twenty- ve-foot wel . Seconds
    later, he’d made it to the wal in the shal ow
    end to nd Stuart stil sit ing in the gut er, his
    feet pul ed up out of the water.
    Now Thom sounded real y angry. “You can
    get in or go home, Chen. I’m not going to say it
    again. Let’s move!”
    Reluctantly, Stuart slid into the water. He
    glanced at Timothy brie y before popping his
    goggles over his eyes. He ducked under the lane
    lines and entered Timothy’s lane. Timothy was
    about to push o the wal , when he felt Stuart
    grab his arm.

    grab his arm.
    “What is it?” said Timothy.
    Stuart’s eyes were invisible behind his
    mirrored lenses. “It was the thing with the
    claw,” he said in a low voice.
    “What was the thing with the claw?”
    “The monster from Wraith Wars?” said Stuart,
    sounding freaked out. “The game? It was at the
    bot om of the pool.”
    Timothy didn’t even know how to respond.
    Hadn’t they just been ghting? Obviously,
    Stuart was terri ed. Timothy remembered how
    crazy he had felt in the basement of the
    museum that morning, when al the golden
    idols had stared at him.
    “I didn’t see anything down there,” said
    Timothy. “Maybe your goggles were smudged.”
    Stuart nodded. “I’m gonna fol ow behind you,
    though, okay? In this lane.”
    Timothy sighed. “Okay.”
    When he nal y pushed o the wal , he
    realized that, in a way, they’d both just

    realized that, in a way, they’d both just
    apologized to each other.
    Twenty laps later, Timothy hopped out of the
    pool to take a drink from the water fountain.
    He was out of breath and his brain was racing
    with numbers. Five hundred yards, twenty laps,
    twenty minutes on the clock …
    Then, pages 102, 149, and 203.
    And eventual y names: Carlton Quigley.
    Bucky Jenkins. Leroy “Two Fingers” Fromm …
    Zelda Kite. Zilpha Kindred. Abigail Tremens.
    Timothy had just come up from the fountain,
    when he noticed someone standing in the last
    row of bleachers. Since the lights hung low in a
    similar fashion to the locker room, the steep
    seats were dark. The pool itself was bright.
    Timothy held his hand up to shade the light.
    What he saw sent goose bumps rippling
    across his skin. Timothy could see only a
    silhouet e—the man in the long overcoat and
    the brimmed hat. He understood clearly why

    the brimmed hat. He understood clearly why
    the man had come.
    The book.
    It was stil in his locker.
    The man descended the stadium stairs and
    slipped into the nearest exit, disappearing
    entirely into the shadows of the upstairs
    hal way.
    Timothy turned and dashed toward the boys’
    lockers. Slipping and sliding on the cold
    ceramic tile, he heard Thom shout, “No
    running!” before careening through the
    doorway. He ignored his coach, fearing that, in
    his rush to get away from Stuart, he might have
    forgot en to put the padlock on his locker.
    In the hal way, Timothy slowed. He suddenly
    felt foolish. Was he real y wil ing to risk his life
    just to keep a stupid old kids’ book?
    He skidded to a halt. The hal way didn’t look
    the same. It was longer than usual. Where had
    the showers gone?
    Timothy turned around. The hal way behind

    Timothy turned around. The hal way behind
    him stretched on for what looked like hundreds
    of yards before disappearing into murky
    darkness.
    Had he taken the wrong hal way? Maybe he
    was accidental y heading toward the girls’
    room? Something deep inside told him, No. He
    hadn’t made a wrong turn—the hal way had.
    Timothy decided to return to the pool,
    toward the safety of his team, but as he ran, the
    hal way continued to grow even longer. The
    ceiling sank lower. The wal s were covered
    with grime. The oor was slick with gray-green
    slime. Mildew. Or something. And it stank,