Fear Street 5 - The Fire Game by R. L. Stine

Author:R. L. Stine [Stine, R. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-06-02T09:09:10+00:00

"Well, too bad," Andrea said. "Maybe I'll be luckier when I see Gabe on Thursday."

"Yeah, maybe," Jill said. "Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

After she hung up, Jill felt worse than ever. She got ready for bed, then pulled the covers up and closed her eyes. She tried to remember how wonderful she had felt with Gabe in the park, but the memory was already fading. When she tried to picture him playing the guitar and singing to her, all she could visualize was his angry expression after the car burned.

What would happen when he went out with Andrea? she wondered. Would he sing the same songs to her, hold her hand, kiss Andrea the way he had kissed her?

And what about the fire game? Would it really be over now, as Andrea predicted?

Much later, Jill was awakened by a familiar--and now terrifying--smell: smoke. Her heart thudding in her chest, she sat straight up in bed. No, she thought. Not here. It can't be.

The smell grew stronger, and she realized she had to warn her parents.

She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound would come out. It was as if the smoke were choking her, choking back her voice.

Feeling faint and weak, she struggled out of bed and down the hall, calling to her parents, but the sound that came out was only a feeble squeak.

More frightened than ever, she pulled open their bedroom door and saw their bed empty.

No!

She was alone.

Alone with the fire.

She turned and ran down the hall. The reflection of red and orange flames came from somewhere downstairs. She stumbled down the stairs, fighting for breath with every step, feeling as if her body weighed a thousand pounds.

The glow of the fire was coming from the kitchen. Terrified, yet drawn to it, she followed the glow and saw that flames were coming out of the stove.

Frantic, she ran for the bucket in the closet, then filled it with water and poured it over the stove. Again and again she filled the bucket and doused the fire. Finally it sputtered and sizzled out. The stove in front of her was blackened with soot.

Terrified of what she would find, she opened the oven, where the fire seemed to have started.

"Oh, no! No! Please--no!" There, black and charred, lay the body of Mittsy.

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