Field of Screams

  One out!

  It had seemed such a sure base hit, the runner was already halfway home. He turned and tore back toward third. From the ground, I reached out and slapped the base with my glove.

  Double play. Two out!

  Feet skidded behind me. Still flat on the ground, I rolled back toward second. The runner from second spun to go back. I rolled twice in the dirt and tagged the heel of his shoe.

  Three out!

  A triple play!

  The game was over. And we won!

  The crowd in the bleachers erupted in a huge roar. I lay there, staring up at the sky.

  “Yes!” I screamed. “Yes!”

  My teammates raced to me from all directions. They pulled me to my feet and then hoisted me onto their shoulders. We paraded around the field as the crowd cheered.

  Boog was jumping up and down like an idiot. “An unassisted triple play! Did you see that?” he yelled to the whole world.

  I was still dazed from what I did. What we did. Buddy Gibson and I. An unassisted triple play!

  I went through the trophy ceremony in a daze of happiness and relief. In fact, it wasn’t until I was on my second burger at the barbecue that it hit me.

  Hold on a second!

  “What am I still doing here?” I gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Gibson asked inside my head.

  “I’m still here,” I muttered. “That’s what’s wrong! On TV the time traveler gets to leave after he does what he’s supposed to do. What’s the deal?”

  Boog, who was standing nearby, turned and stared at me.

  “Are you talking to me?” he asked.

  “Uh—no,” I said quickly. “I just said, ‘What a meal!’ There’s so much to eat!”

  “Yeah. Isn’t it great?” Boog laughed and stuffed half a hot dog into his mouth.

  “Maybe this doesn’t work like TB,” Gibson suggested.

  “TV,” I said under my breath.

  “Whatever. What I’m saying is, maybe you can’t go home.” Gibson’s voice was unusually quiet, for him. “Maybe you’re stuck here. With me.”

  “You think?” My heart sank. “No. It can’t be. There must be some delay or something. That’s all.”

  “I hope so,” he said. “But just in case—are you any good at schoolwork?”

  I had to laugh.

  Boog gave me a strange look. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” I answered.

  “Come on, boys. Loading up,” Coach Johnson called.

  We all climbed on the bus. Soon it was whizzing down the road and we were on our way home. Everybody but me.

  I closed my eyes. Maybe I even drifted off. Because I don’t remember how long we’d been on the bus when it stalled.

  Hrrrn, hrrnn, hrrrrrnnn, the starter moaned.

  I sat up, bleary-eyed. “What is it?” I asked Boog.

  “The bus is stalled,” he answered.

  The noise of the starter continued. “Don’t flood it,” Coach Johnson advised.

  I peered sleepily out the window. Then I stared in horror.

  A double thread of track ran below the bus and curved sharply to the right.

  We were stalled on the railroad tracks!

  My plan—it didn’t work! We were all going to die anyway!

  “We have to get out!” I yelled. “Now!”

  “Simmer down, son,” Ernie called. “It’ll start in a minute.”

  “No. The train. The train!” I wailed. “It’s going to hit us. Why won’t you—” I broke off. Listening.

  Oh, no. No!

  The train’s rumble came right through the floor of the bus.

  “The train! It’s coming!” Johnny Beans screeched.

  “Oh, no!” Coach shouted. “Ernie, get us out of here!”

  The starter whined. I could see the light from the train now.

  “Let us out!” someone screamed.

  But there was no time. The train barreled around the curve. Its light blared in my face.

  We were done for!

  23

  “No!” I yelled.

  It couldn’t be! Not after I’d been through so much!

  HRRRN! HRRRRN! The engine whined. The train roared closer. Its whistle shrieked.

  Then the engine caught. The bus lurched and surged forward.

  WHAM! Metal crunched as the train clipped the rear corner of the bus. We shot forward as if the bus were a rocket.

  Ernie struggled with the wheel. The bus careened crazily back and forth across the road.

  “Hold on, everybody!” he bellowed.

  We were all yelling and screaming now. The smell of burning rubber filled my nose. I clutched the metal bar across the top of the seat desperately.

  Then the bus ran off the road. I lost my grip and went flying. My head crashed against the window.

  And that’s the last thing I remember.

  * * *

  “Buddy? Buddy? Are you okay?”

  I opened my eyes and saw the coach—my coach, Mr. Burress—looking down at me. I glimpsed Eve’s face over his shoulder. Her mouth hung open so wide, you could have fit a baseball in there.

  “All right!” I whispered.

  I was back!

  Coach Burress helped me to my feet.

  “Send in Charlotte to pinch-run,” he called over his shoulder.

  “I’m okay. I’ll shake it off,” I protested.

  “Shake it off? You just got clobbered in the head with a fastball. You’re out of this game,” Coach declared firmly.

  Coach and Eve led me to the dugout. On the way, I gazed around, drinking in the sights. Red and blue uniforms that didn’t look like sacks. Women in jeans instead of dresses. Normal cars.

  I was really back!

  “So—what did I miss?” I asked Eve, trying to sound casual.

  “Miss?” Eve frowned. “You were knocked out for only about fifteen seconds. You didn’t miss anything.”

  We reached the dugout. Both my mom and dad were there already, hovering. Mom dipped a cloth in the ice chest and held it to the place where the ball had got me.

  “Mom, I’m all right, really,” I told her.

  She smoothed my hair back and gave me a worried look. “Are you sure, Buddy?”

  “Yeah.” I grinned. “I have a hard head.”

  Then I did something really embarrassing. I threw my arms around my mom and dad and hugged them both. Hard.

  “My goodness!” Mom sounded surprised. “Thank you, sweetie! What brought that on?”

  I flushed. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I just felt like it.”

  Mom glanced at Dad and raised her eyebrows. “Maybe we’d better take him to the doctor after all.”

  After I talked them out of that, I sat on the bench and watched Oneiga clobber us. Same old lousy Shadyside team.

  Boy, was I glad to see them!

  * * *

  By the time we left the ball field though, I was starting to wonder. Everything here was so real. So normal. And even though I spent three days in 1948, it seemed that no time passed at all in the present.

  Did I really travel in time?

  Or did I just imagine it all?

  Maybe the whole adventure happened in my mind!

  I puzzled over it as Dad drove us toward Shadyside. Eve was riding with us—her parents couldn’t make it to the game.

  We stopped off at the 7-Eleven on Village Road. Dad ran in for sodas. When he came back to the car, he tossed a couple of packs of baseball cards onto the backseat.

  “Maybe that’ll help make up for losing the game,” he said.

  I smiled. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Mr. Sanders,” Eve echoed.

  I picked up one of the packets and tore off the plastic wrapper. Eve leaned over to watch. “Get anything good?”

  My mouth dropped in shock as I spotted the top card. It was a special issue on shiny, stiff paper with a gold border. A special Hall of Famer card.

  Stari
ng out at me was Buddy Gibson!

  He looked older, of course. But it was definitely him. No way could I make a mistake about that. The caption said he played third base for the Yankees in the sixties.

  “Oh, man!” Eve exclaimed. “A Buddy Gibson! You’re so lucky. Those things are pretty rare.”

  I studied the card with a pounding heart.

  So it wasn’t a dream at all!

  I did go back in time. I did change the past. No one died in that bus crash. And Buddy Gibson went on to the major leagues. To the Hall of Fame!

  “Buddy Gibson.” Eve sighed. “The most famous person who ever came from Shadyside. I sure would like to meet him. But he probably wouldn’t have any time for a couple of kids.”

  I grinned. “I have a feeling he’d find time for us.”

  Because, thanks to me, Buddy Gibson had all the time in the world!

  Are you ready for another walk down Fear Street?

  Turn the page for a terrifying

  sneak preview.

  Robbie felt exhausted as he climbed the attic stairs. He was so tired he couldn’t even float up.

  He couldn’t remember feeling this tired before.

  He began the night with so much energy. Now he had almost zero. He didn’t have enough energy to be bothered when his sister danced around the attic taunting him.

  He was too tired to care!

  “Mr. High and Frighty,” Dora teased. “What a terrible ghost you are!”

  “Cut it out,” Robbie moaned. “Just shut up.” He slumped in the armchair, so weak he couldn’t even raise dust.

  Dora did a little tapdance. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Useless Excuse for a Nightmare!”

  “Don’t worry? Even you can’t scare Oliver Bowen. Nothing works,” Robbie mumbled. “We’ve tried everything we usually do.”

  Dora grinned. “Right. So it’s time for something completely different. Let’s follow Oliver to school—and haunt him out in the open, in front of other kids!”

  What a mean plan!

  Robbie felt so encouraged and happy, he even managed to smile.

  * * *

  Both ghosts clung to Oliver’s shadow as he went inside the big redbrick school next morning. There were so many students in the halls that Robbie was confused. He hadn’t seen this many people in one place in a long time! If ever—outside of TV.

  Oliver’s first class was English. Robbie was relieved to get to a room where they could stay still for a while. It was hard following Oliver when he dodged between people. This school was huge and noisy!

  Dora didn’t start anything yet. Robbie wondered if something was the matter with her.

  Maybe she was just trying to get used to being in this big building! It felt strange to be outside the house.

  By the end of Oliver’s class, Robbie began feeling better. More himself. Dora seemed to perk up too.

  Oliver’s second class was math. Robbie found it easier navigating the halls this time. Dora winked at him. She must be ready for the big scare, Robbie thought.

  The teacher, Mr. Gerard, handed out a math test. “Now that we’ve gotten the introductory material out of the way, I want to see where you all are in math. We have some new faces in Shadyside this year.” He smiled at Oliver.

  Oliver smiled, looking embarrassed. He peeked at the kids near him. Robbie checked them out too. They were studying Oliver. He was the new kid, after all.

  “Oh, yeah,” Dora murmured. “This will be good. Now everybody’s looking at him.”

  Dora clasped her hands above her head and shook them like a champion. Robbie rolled his eyes.

  “Here’s an extra sheet of paper,” Mr. Gerard continued, passing out blank paper to all the kids. “Remember, show your calculations, everyone!”

  Some kids groaned and mumbled that it was too hard, but Robbie noticed Oliver went right at it. Oliver must be good at math.

  Oliver was breezing through the third problem when Dora sprang into action. She grabbed the pencil out of his hand. She zoomed up and drilled the pencil point-first into the ceiling.

  Oliver blinked, stared at his paper and his hand.

  He peered down at the floor.

  No pencil.

  But also, no reaction. Oliver didn’t seem to think anything was wrong.

  Robbie knew what Dora’s mistake was. She performed the pencil trick so fast Oliver didn’t even know what had happened!

  Oliver yawned into the back of his hand, dragged out his backpack, and pulled out his three-ring binder.

  He flipped it open and took another pencil out of the pocket in front. Then he went back to work.

  “Do it slower,” Robbie suggested. “He has to be able to see where it goes.”

  “Shut up!” Dora snapped.

  But Robbie noticed that she did what he said. For once.

  She grabbed Oliver’s pencil slowly this time. She waved it around in front of his eyes to make sure he was watching what she was doing, then zapped it up into the ceiling. It hung quivering next to the other pencil.

  Oliver stared at the two pencils for a second.

  Then he got out another one and went back to work.

  Dora’s mouth dropped open. So did Robbie’s.

  “How can he ignore those pencils? Doesn’t he even think it’s weird?” Dora demanded. Robbie shrugged.

  Dora tried again. But this time, Oliver clutched his pencil so tight Dora couldn’t snatch it away!

  “Let go!” she screeched in frustration. Since she couldn’t get the pencil away, she jiggled it so Oliver scribbled on his math paper.

  He frowned and erased the squiggles.

  And went back to work!

  By this time, Robbie noticed, other kids were peeking at Oliver. The girl at the desk to Oliver’s right sat staring at the pencils in the ceiling, her mouth open. The boy to Oliver’s left narrowed his eyes, glancing from the pencils to Oliver and back.

  Robbie tried to send a mental message to Oliver. Just act scared, Robbie ordered him. Act scared and we’ll leave you alone!

  Oliver ignored the ceiling pencils, the other kids, and Robbie’s thoughts, and went on working.

  Robbie could tell Dora was really steamed now! She snatched Oliver’s notebook off his desk and slammed it onto the floor!

  Mr. Gerard looked up. Several heads whipped around.

  “Uh,” Oliver mumbled. “Sorry.”

  He leaned over to pick up his notebook. Dora grabbed his third pencil and shot it into the ceiling!

  Oliver just got out another one.

  Robbie shook his head. How can Oliver stay so calm? he wondered.

  The girl next to Oliver gasped. “But—but—” she stammered, pointing at the ceiling.

  “What?” Oliver asked. He glanced up. “Oh.” He shrugged and gazed back down at his test. He studied the next problem on his paper, chewing on his pencil.

  All the kids in the class stared at him. One or two giggled.

  The boy to Oliver’s left leaned over. “How did you do that?” the boy whispered.

  Yeah, Oliver, Robbie thought, explain that one.

  Oliver just smiled mysteriously and went back to work.

  The room buzzed as the class muttered and murmured. Some kids pointed at the pencils in the ceiling.

  “Class!” Mr. Gerard exclaimed. “What’s all this noise? Get back to work!”

  The kids stopped whispering. They bent over their math tests. They picked up their pencils and went back to work.

  But everyone kept sneaking looks at Oliver.

  No one could concentrate!

  Dora swooped at Oliver’s desk. She grabbed his math test and tugged it.

  Oliver dropped his pencil on the desk and grabbed his test. Dora snatched his fourth pencil and jammed it into the ceiling!

  Oliver sighed.

  “Coo-uhl!” the boy on Oliver’s left exclaimed.

  Robbie couldn’t believe it. All Oliver did was open his notebook and reach into his Ziploc pencil keeper. He wasn’t scared at
all!

  But this time Oliver’s pencil keeper was empty.

  He glanced at the girl next to him. She shook her head no.

  He peeked at the boy to his left. Another head shake.

  Oliver sighed again and stood up. He gazed at the pencils in the ceiling. He climbed onto his desk chair and reached for them.

  “Oliver Bowen, exactly what do you think you’re doing?” Mr. Gerard demanded.

  That was when Dora did her worst. Or best, depending on how you looked at it, Robbie thought.

  She grabbed Oliver and spun him around on the chair!

  Robbie clutched his stomach. Oliver twirled so fast! If he was spun like that, he knew he would throw up.

  Robbie flew up to the ceiling as the class went wild. Kids jumped to their feet. The whole room buzzed with their exclamations: “Wow!” “No way!” “How does he do that?” “Oh, man!” “Teach me to do that!”

  Mr. Gerard tried to restore order. “Oliver Bowen!” he shouted. “Stop that! Oliver Bowen! Do I have to send you to the principal’s office? Class! Settle down!” He hit his desk with a steel ruler.

  Still the kids pointed, talked, and stared.

  Dora spun Oliver six times. Then she let go of him.

  Robbie gazed at his sister. She was fading. Her outline was beginning to blur. She used up a lot of energy moving something as big as a boy! She looked a little green.

  But what about Oliver? Did Dora’s haunting work? Was he afraid? Robbie turned to face him.

  Oliver swayed on his chair, trying to steady himself.

  He opened his eyes really wide.

  And his mouth!

  His face twisted.

  Dora had done it, Robbie realized.

  Oliver was going to scream!

  About R.L Stine

  R.L. Stine, the creator of Ghosts of Fear Street, has written almost 100 scary novels for kids. The Ghosts of Fear Street series, like the Fear Street series, takes place in Shadyside and centers on the scary events that happen to people on Fear Street.

  When he isn’t writing, R.L. Stine likes to play pinball on his very own pinball machine, and explore New York City with his wife, Jane, his teenage son, Matt, and his dog, Nadine.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.