R. Stine: The Werewolf of Fever Swamp

"What is that?" I whispered. And then, reading her expression, I quickly added, "Don't say it's a wolf."

"I–I don't know," she replied, both hands raised to her face. I recognized her look of panic. "Let's get Mom and Dad."

I grabbed the door handle. "Let's just take a look," I said.

I don't know where my sudden courage came from. Maybe it was the fever. But, suddenly, I just wanted to solve the mystery.

Who or what was scratching at the door?

There was one good way to find out — open the door and look outside.

"No, Grady — wait!" Emily pleaded.

But I waved away her protests.

Then I turned the doorknob and pulled open the kitchen door.

A gust of hot, wet air rushed in through the open door. The chirp of cicadas greeted my ears.

Holding on to the door, I peered into the darkness of the back yard.

Nothing.

The nearly full moon, yellow as a lemon, floated high in the sky. Thin wisps of black clouds drifted over it.

The cicadas stopped suddenly, and all was quiet.

Too quiet.

I squinted into the distance, toward the blackness of the swamp.

Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound.

I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moonlight sent a pale glow over the grass. In the far distance, I could see the black outline of slanting trees where the swamp began.

Who or what had scratched at the door? Were they hiding in the darkness now?

Watching me?

Waiting for me to close the door so they could begin their frightening howls again?

"Grady — close the door."

I could hear my sister's voice behind me. She sounded so frightened.

"Grady — do you see something? Do you?"

"No," I told her. "Just the moon."

I ventured out onto the back stoop. The air was hot and steamy, like the air in the bathroom after you've taken a hot shower.

"Grady — come back. Close the door." Emily's voice was shrill and trembly.

I gazed toward the deer pen. I could see their shadowy forms, still and silent. The hot wind rustled the grass. The cicadas began chirping again.

"Is anybody out here?" I called. I immediately felt foolish.

There was no one out here.

"Grady — shut the door. Now."

I felt Emily's hand on my pajama sleeve. She tugged me back into the kitchen. I closed the door and locked it.

My face felt wet from the damp night air. I had chills. My knees were shaking.

"You look kind of sick," Emily said. She glanced over my shoulder to the door. "Did you see anything?"

"No," I told her. "Nothing. It's so dark in back, even with a full moon."

"What's going on in here?" A stern voice interrupted us. Dad lumbered into the kitchen, adjusting the collar of the long nightshirt he always wore. "It's past midnight." He glanced from Emily to me, then back to Emily, looking for a clue.

"We heard noises," Emily said. "Howls outside."

"And then something was scratching on the door," I added, trying to keep my knees from shaking.

"Fever dreams," Dad said to me. "Look at you. You're red as a tomato. And you're shaking. Let's take your temperature. You must be burning up." He started toward the bathroom to get the thermometer.

"It wasn't a dream," Emily called after him. "I heard the noises, too."

Dad stopped in the doorway. "Did you check the deer?"

"Yeah. They're okay," I said.

"Then maybe it was just the wind. Or some creatures in the swamp. It's hard to sleep in a new house. The sounds are all so new, so unfamiliar. But you'll both get used to them after a while."

I'll never get used to those horrible howls, I thought stubbornly. But I headed back to my room.

Dad took my temperature. It was just slightly above normal. "You should be fine by tomorrow," he said, smoothing my blanket over me. "No more wandering around tonight, okay?"

I murmured a reply and almost instantly drifted into a restless sleep.

Again I had strange, troubling dreams. I dreamed I was walking in the swamp. I heard the howls. I could see the full moon between the slender tree trunks of the swamp.

I started to run. And then suddenly I was up to my waist in a thick, green bog. And the howls continued, one after the other, echoing through the trees as I sank into the murky bog.

When I awoke the next morning, the dream lingered in my mind. I wondered if the howls were real, or just part of the dream.

Climbing out of bed, I realized I felt fine. Yellow morning sunlight poured in through the window. I could see a clear blue sky. The beautiful morning made me forget my nightmares.

I wondered if Will was around this morning. Maybe he and I could go exploring in the swamp.

I got dressed quickly, pulling on pale blue jeans and a black-and-silver Raiders T-shirt. (I'm not a Raiders fan. I just like their colors.) I gulped down a bowl of Frosted Flakes, allowed my mom to feel my head to make sure my fever was gone, and hurried to the back door.

"Whoa. Hold on," Mom called, setting down her coffee cup. "Where are you going so early?"

"I want to see if Will is home," I said. "Maybe we'll hang out or something."

"Okay. Just don't overdo it," she warned. "Promise?"

"Yeah. Promise," I replied.

I pulled open the kitchen door, stepped out into blinding sunlight — and screamed as an enormous, dark monster leapt onto my chest and heaved me to the ground.

"It — it's got me!" I screamed as it pushed me to the ground and jumped on my chest.

"Help! It — it's licking my face!"

I was so startled, it took me a long time to realize my attacker was a dog.

By the time Mom and Dad came to my rescue and started to pull the big creature off my chest, I was laughing. "Hey — that tickles! Stop!"

I wiped the dog spit off my face with my hands and scrambled to my feet.

"Where'd you come from?" Mom asked the dog. She and Dad were holding on to the enormous beast.

They both let go, and it stood wagging its tail excitedly, panting, its big red tongue hanging down practically to the ground.

"He's enormous!" Dad exclaimed. "He must be part shepherd."

I was still wiping the sticky saliva off my cheeks. "He scared me to death," I confessed. "Didn't you, fella?" I reached down and stroked the dark gray fur on the top of his head. His long tail started wagging faster.

"He likes you," Mom said.

"He practically killed me!" I exclaimed. "Look at him. He must weigh more than a hundred pounds!"

"Were you the one scratching at our door last night?" Emily appeared in the doorway, still in the long T-shirt she used as a nightshirt. "I think this clears up the mystery," she said to me, yawning sleepily and pulling her blonde hair behind her shoulders with both hands.

"I guess," I muttered. I got down on my knees beside the big dog and stroked his back. He turned his head and licked my cheek again. "Yuck! Quit that!" I told him.

"I wonder who he belongs to?" Mom said, staring at the dog thoughtfully. "Grady, check his collar. There's probably an ID tag."

I reached up to the dog's broad neck and felt around in his fur for a collar. "Nothing there," I reported.

"Maybe he's a stray," Emily said from inside the kitchen. "Maybe that's why he was scratching the door last night."

"Yeah," I said quickly. "He needs a place to live."

"Whoa," Mom said, shaking her head. "I don't think we need a dog right now, Grady. We just moved in, and — "

"But I need a pet!" I insisted. "It's so lonely here. A dog would be great, Mom. He could keep me company."

"You have the deer for pets," Dad said, frowning. He turned to the deer pen. The six deer were all standing alertly at attention, staring warily at the dog.

"You can't walk a deer!" I protested. "Besides, you're going to set the deer free, right?"