The Evil Lives! by R.L. Stine Page A

into the kitchen through the back door.
    â€œAmanda?” her mother’s voice called from the front of the house.
    Amanda caught her breath and tried to steady her voice. “Yes. It’s me.”
    â€œWe were getting worried. You should have called.”
    â€œSorry.” Amanda kicked off her filthy sneakers and picked them up.
    â€œYour father and I are just leaving,” her mother told her. “We’re having dinner with the Dixons, so you’re on your own. There’s leftover chicken in the refrigerator.”
    Amanda’s stomach tightened into a knot. After falling into that grave, she couldn’t imagine ever eating again.
    Her parents called out good-bye, and the front door slammed.
    Amanda stood in the kitchen, listening. Her sister Adele had gone back to college yesterday. Silence in the house now. All Amanda heard was the hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of the hallway clock.
    Clutching her sneakers, she left the kitchen and crept down the hall.
    She stopped at her bedroom door. As she reached for the handle, terror shot through her. She quickly snatched her hand back.
    The footprints! The muddy footprints had led to her bedroom window!
    Had someone climbed into her room?
    As Amanda stood in the hall, a clump of mud oozed down her jeans and plopped to the floor. Water dripped from her hair. Her fingers and toes felt numb from the cold.
    You have to go in, she told herself. You have to get out of these clothes and into something warm and dry.
    Amanda forced herself to take hold of the door handle. She sucked in her breath, quickly turned the handle, and pushed the door open.
    A wave of air rolled out, its smell so sour that Amanda staggered back a step, dropping her shoes to the floor. She gasped, then almost gagged as the foul smell filled her nose again. Her stomach heaved and tears sprang to her eyes.
    â€œAmanda,” a voice whispered from inside the bedroom. “Come in.”
    Amanda gasped again. The voice sounded hollow. Thin and hollow, as if whoever spoke had no strength.
    The thin, whispery voice repeated her name. “Amanda.”
    Amanda blinked the tears from her eyes and stared through the doorway.
    A woman stood in the center of the room.
    A dead woman. Half corpse. Half skeleton.
    Tattered shreds of rotting flesh dangled from the bones of her shoulders and arms.
    Strips of what had once been a long skirt hung like ribbons around her leg bones.
    Only a few wisps of hair clung to her skull.
    One eye was missing. The other had oozed from its socket and stuck to a jutting, shiny-white cheekbone.
    Her nose was a greenish-black pulp of rotting flesh.
    One foot was bare.
    The other wore a rotting, high-buttoned boot.
    Sarah Fear! Amanda thought in horror. It’s her corpse!
    Run! she told herself. Get out of the house.
    But her feet felt rooted to the floor. She couldn’t move them. All that moved was her heart, pounding so hard she thought it would burst from her chest.
    Sarah raised her arm and crooked a bony finger at Amanda, motioning her inside.
    Amanda swayed dizzily.
    â€œCome in, Amanda,” Sarah whispered. A decayed chunk of her lip broke off and a stream of rotten breath blew across the room. “We must hurry. You and I are going to trade places now.”

Chapter 23

AMANDA DIES NEXT
    A manda gasped as another wave of dizziness swept over her. The floor seemed to tilt under her feet.
    I’m falling, she thought in panic. Falling into the room.
    Into death.
    The floor tilted farther.
    Amanda swayed forward, toward the open door.
    â€œNo!” Screaming in terror, she braced her legs and raised her arms to stop herself from falling.
    Her hands banged against the door.
    She stared at it, blinking in confusion.
    The door is still closed, she realized. She ran her palm down the smooth wood.
    My bedroom door is closed.
    Her knees sagged as relief flooded through her. She leaned her head against the door and breathed