Title Stine, R.L. - [Goosebumps 22] - Ghost Beach (Undead) (v1.5) iLLegaL eagLe.pdf ✅

1 GHOST BEACH Goosebumps - 22 R.L. Stine (An Undead Scan v1.5)
2 1 I don’t remember how we got to the graveyard. I remember the sky grew dark—and we were there. My sister Terri and I walked past rows of crooked, old tombstones, cracked and covered with moss. Even though it was summer, a damp, gray fog had settled on everything, sending a chill through the air. I shivered and pulled my jacket closer. “Wait up, Terri!” I called. As usual, she had plowed ahead. Graveyards get her all excited. “Where are you?” I yelled. I squinted into the gray fog. I could see her shadowy figure up ahead, stopping every few seconds to examine a tombstone. I read the words on the tombstone tilted at my feet: In memory of John, son of Daniel and Sarah Knapp, who died March 25, 1766, aged 12 years and 22 days. Weird, I thought. That kid was about my age when he died. I turned twelve in February. The same month Terri turned eleven. I hurried on. A sharp wind swept in. I searched the rows of old graves for my sister. She had disappeared into the thick fog. “Terri? Where did you go?” I called. Her voice floated back to me. “I’m over here, Jerry.” “Where?” I pushed forward through the mist and the leaves. The wind swirled around me. From nearby came a long, low howl. “Must be a dog,” I murmured aloud. The trees rattled their leaves at me. I shivered. “Jer-ry.” Terri’s voice sounded a million miles away. I walked a little further, then steadied myself against a tall tombstone. “Terri! Wait up! Stop moving around so much!” I heard another long howl. “You’re going the wrong way,” Terri called. “I’m over here.” “Great. Thanks a lot,” I muttered. Why couldn’t I have a sister who liked baseball instead of exploring old cemeteries? The wind made a deep sucking noise. A column of leaves, dust, and dirt swirled up in my face. I pinched my eyes shut. When I opened them, I saw Terri crouched over a small grave. “Don’t move,” I called. “I’m coming.”
3 I zigzagged my way around the tombstones until I reached her side. “It’s getting dark,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.” I turned and took a step—and something grabbed my ankle. I screamed and tried to pull away. But its grasp tightened. A hand. Reaching up through the dirt beside the grave. I let out a shrill scream. Terri screamed, too. I kicked hard and broke free. “Run!” Terri shrieked. But I was already running. As Terri and I stumbled over the wet grass, green hands popped up everywhere. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Pop! Pop! The hands rose up. Reached for us. Grabbed at our ankles. I darted to the left. Thwack! I dodged to the right. Pop! “Run, Terri! Run!” I called to my sister. “Lift your knees!” I could hear her sneakers pounding the ground behind me. Then I heard her terrified cry: “Jerry! They’ve got me!” With a loud gasp, I spun around. Two big hands had wrapped themselves around her ankles. I froze, watching my sister struggle. “Jerry—help me! It won’t let go!” Taking a deep breath, I dove toward her. “Grab on to me,” I instructed, holding out my arms. I kicked at the two hands that held her. Kicked as hard as I could. But they didn’t move, didn’t let go. “I—I can’t move!” Terri wailed. The dirt seemed to shake at my feet. I peered down to see more hands sprouting up from the ground. I tugged at Terri’s waist. “Move!” I yelled frantically. “I can’t!” “Yes, you can! You’ve got to keep trying!” “Ohhh!” I let out a low cry as two hands grabbed my ankles. Now I was caught. We were both trapped.