The Second Evil by R.L. Stine

air.
    She whirled around and tried to slam the hand against the wall. Then she reached up with both hands and grabbed the hand at the wrist. It felt so cold. Cold and damp, as if it had just risen from a wet grave.
    The room spun. The dark ceiling appeared to lower on her.
    Corky grabbed the wrist with both hands and tugged. The bony fingers dug deeper into her throat, squeezing tighter.
    She reached for the fingers. Grabbed two in each hand.
    And pulled with all her might.
    The sickening sound of bones cracking gave Corky some hope. Suddenly she could breathe. She noisily sucked in air, exhaled, sucked in more.
    The broken fingers grasped frantically for her, but their hold was weak. She grabbed the cold wrist, pulled the broken hand off, and heaved it across the room.
    Then, with a cry of horror, of disbelief, of relief all mixed in one, Corky lurched for the doorknob again and frantically turned it. This time the door opened.
    She found herself in the dark, silent corridor.
    She slammed the lab door hard behind her.
    Her heart pounded. The only sound now.
    Her eyes were clouded by tears.
    She pushed her hair back from her face and started to run.
    â€œChip,” she said out loud. “Chip!”
    He had told her he’d be working late in the wood-shop. They had made plans to meet there after her exam. “Chip!”
    Off-balance, the floor tilting ahead of her, Corky started to run down the long hallway, her footsteps echoing loudly. She was breathing noisily through her open mouth. “Chip!”
    She rubbed her throbbing throat as she ran. The bony fingers were gone, but she could still feel them pressing against it, so cold and wet, until she couldn’t breathe.
    â€œChip!”
    The shop was downstairs at the back of the building.She stumbled on the first step but thrust out both hands and caught herself on the railing.
    Isn’t anyone here? she wondered. The vast school building was so silent that she imagined she could hear her thoughts echoing in the hall.
    Down the stairs and along a shorter hallway. The double doors to the shop came into view. The silence gave way to a high-pitched roar. A steady whine.
    What
is
that noise? Corky wondered.
    She pushed her way through the double doors, bumping them open with her body, and lunged into the shop.
    â€œChip! Where are you?” she cried, her voice revealing her terror. “Chip?”
    The steady roar grew louder, closer.
    Her eyes darted over the worktables, the pile of lumber against the side wall, the tall power drills, the safety goggles hanging on their pegs.
    â€œChip, where
are
you? Are you here?”
    She made her way into the center of the big room, her sneakers sliding over the fragrant sawdust on the floor. She came to a halt at the dark puddle.
    What is that?
    She stared down at it. It took her a long time to realize she was staring at a puddle of blood.
    Then she saw two shoes on the floor. Legs. Almost hidden behind a worktable.
    Taking a deep breath, she made her way around the dark puddle to get a better view. She cried out when she saw Chip lying facedown in a larger puddle of blood. A lake of dark blood.
    â€œOhh.”
    She grabbed the top of the worktable, leaned against it, forced herself not to drop down beside him.
    â€œChip?”
    She could tell that he was dead.
    Chip was dead. Sprawled there in his own blood.
    She had to look away. She couldn’t keep on staring at him.
    She glanced up—and saw the power saw. And realized the steady whirring sound came from the power saw. The blade was spinning loudly.
    Louder.
    Even louder.
    And then Corky’s ear-piercing screams drowned out the roar of the whirring saw blade as she caught sight of Chip’s severed hand. Chip’s hand, cut off at the wrist, rested like a glove beside the blade.

Chapter 14
Where Is the Evil Spirit?

    C orky didn’t cry at Chip’s funeral.
    She was all cried out. She had cried until her eyes burned and her cheeks