The Second Evil Read Free

see what had happened to her but unable to turn away.
    â€œWhat is it, Bobbi? Why did you leave your grave? Do you want to tell me something?”
    Corky was so horrified, so overcome by Bobbi’s decaying form, she didn’t know whether she had spoken the questions out loud or only thought them.
    As she stared up at the sunken-eyed green face, Bobbi’s mouth slowly began to open. The flaking, blackened lips parted as if about to speak. No sound emerged.
    â€œBobbi, what
is
it?” Corky demanded. “What do you want to tell me?”
    The black lips opened wider.
    The sunken eyes rolled back.
    The winds swirled loudly.
    Corky stared up expectantly, unable to get off her knees, gripped by horror.
    The lips parted even wider, and a fat brown worm curled out from Bobbi’s mouth.
    â€œNooooooo!”
    Corky’s shrill scream rose and swirled with the raging wind.
    She covered her eyes and lowered her head, fighting the waves of nausea that rolled through her body.
    When she looked back up a few seconds later, blinking hard, struggling to breathe, Bobbi was gone.
    The ink black sky was clear. Pale moonlight filtered gently down.
    The winds had stopped.
    The cemetery was deserted. Silent.
    The ground over her sister’s grave wasn’t split or cracked open.
    It didn’t happen, she realized.
    It was another dream. Another nightmare about Bobbi.
    I was asleep, Corky thought.
    I was leaning against Bobbi’s gravestone, and I fell asleep.
    I’m always so tired these days. I never can fall asleep at night. I never sleep the night through because of the nightmares.
    Yes. I was asleep.
    She stared at the dark ground, solid, silent. I
must
have dreamed it, she thought. The ground trembling, the gravestones shaking and tilting. The bony hand reaching up through the crack in the earth. The grotesque figure of her sister, green and rotting, covered with dirt and insects.
    All a hideous dream.
    â€œWhat am I going to do?” she asked aloud. “What
can
I do to make these nightmares end?”
    She turned back to the low gravestone, lowering her head to talk once again to Bobbi. “I’m not going to visit for a while,” she said softly, her voice muted by the heavy chill in the air. “At least I’m going to try to stay away.”
    The wind picked up and gently stirred the trees. There seemed to be whispering all around.
    â€œIt’s not that I want to forget you, Bobbi,” Corky continued with a loud sob. “It’s just that—It’s just that I’m still alive, and I have to—”
    She stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense. I have to go. It’s late, and I’m cold.”
    Bobbi is even colder, she thought. The grim thought made her shudder.
    â€œBobbi, I really—”
    She stopped short and uttered a brief cry.
    Something moved behind a tall marble monument. A squirrel?
    No. It was too big to be a squirrel.
    Staring into the darkness, surrounded by the ceaseless whispers, Corky saw a dark form hunkered down behind the monument. A hand moved, then was quickly pulled back. A head, the face hidden in shadow, poked out, then disappeared just as quickly.
    Someone is here, Corky realized.
    Someone is watching me.
    The whispers grew louder as once again the wind swirled around her.
    Before she realized it, she had pushed herself away from Bobbi’s gravestone and was running down the sloping hill. Panting loudly, she made her way through the crooked rows of stones, her sneakers slipping on the wet grass, on the flat, dead brown leaves. Tall wet weeds swished against the legs of her jeans.
    Without slowing, she glanced back.
    And saw that he was following her.
    It was a man, or maybe a boy. He had the dark hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head.
    He was running fast, breathing hard, his breath steaming up over the dark hood.
    She could see only a triangle of his face. Saw part of his nose and