ASHOCKERONSHOCKSTREET

Goosebumps-35R.L.Stine

(AnUndeadScanv1.5)

1

“Thisiscreepy,Erin.”MyfriendMartygrabbedmysleeve.“Letgo!”Iwhispered.“You’rehurtingme!”Marty didn’t seem to hear. He stared straight ahead into the darkness,

grippingmyarm.“Marty,please—”Iwhispered.Ishookmyarmfree.Iwasscared,too.But

Ididn’twanttoadmitit.Itwasdarkerthanthedarkestnight.Isquintedhard,tryingtosee.Andthen

agraylightgloweddimlyinfrontofus.Martyduckedlow.Eveninthefoggylight,Icouldseethefearinhiseyes.He grabbed my arm again. His mouth dropped open. I could hear him

breathinghardandfast.EventhoughIwasfrightened,asmilecrossedmyface.IlikedseeingMarty

scared.Ireallyenjoyedit.I know, I know. That’s terrible. I admit it. ErinWright is a bad person.

WhatkindofafriendamI?ButMartyalwaysbragsthatheisbraverthanme.Andheisusuallyright.

Heusuallyisthebraveone,andI’mthewimp.Butnottoday.That’swhyseeingMartygaspinfrightandgrabmyarmmademesmile.Thegraylightaheadofusslowlygrewbrighter.Iheardcrunchingsounds

onbothsidesofus.Closebehindme,someonecoughed.ButMartyandIdidn’tturnaround.Wekeptoureyesstraightahead.

Waiting.Watching….AsIsquinted into thegray light,a fencecame intoview.A longwooden

fence, itspaint fadedandpeeling.Ahand-lettered signappearedon the fence:DANGER.KEEPOUT.THISMEANSYOU.

MartyandIbothgaspedwhenweheardthescrapingsounds.Softatfirst.Thenlouder.Likegiantclawsscrapingagainsttheothersideofthefence.

I tried toswallow,butmymouthsuddenlyfeltdry. Ihad theurge torun.JustturnandrunasfastasIcould.

ButIcouldn’tleaveMartythereallalone.Andbesides,ifIranawaynow,

hewouldneverletmeforgetit.He’dteasemeaboutitforever.SoIstayedbesidehim,listeningasthescraping,clawingsoundsturnedinto

banging.Loudcrashes.Wassomeonetryingtobreakthroughthefence?Wemoved quickly along the fence. Faster, faster—until the tall, peeling

fencepicketsbecameagrayblur.Butthesoundfollowedus.Heavyfootstepsontheothersideofthefence.Westaredstraightahead.Wewereonanemptystreet.Afamiliarstreet.Yes,wehadbeenherebefore.Thepavementwaspuddledwithrainwater.Thepuddlesglowedinthepale

lightfromthestreetlamps.I took a deep breath. Marty gripped my arm harder. Our mouths gaped

open.Toourhorror,thefencebegantoshake.Thewholestreetshook.Therain

puddlessplashedagainstthecurb.Thefootstepsthunderedcloser.“Marty—!”Igaspedinachokedwhisper.BeforeIcouldsayanotherword,thefencecrumbledtotheground,andthe

monstercameburstingout.Ithadahead likeawolf—snapping jawsofgleamingwhite teeth—anda

bodylikeagiantcrab.Itswungfourhugeclawsinfrontofit,clickingthematusasitssnoutpulledopeninathroatygrowl.

“NOOOOOOO!”MartyandIbothletouthowlsofterror.Wejumpedtoourfeet.Buttherewasnowheretorun.

2

Westoodandstaredasthewolf-crabcrawledtowardus.“Please sit down, kids,” a voice called out behind us. “I can’t see the

screen.”“Ssshhhh!”someoneelsewhispered.MartyandIglancedateachother.Iguesswebothfeltlikejerks.IknowI

did.Wedroppedbackintoourseats.Andwatchedthewolf-crabscamperacrossthestreet,chasingafteralittle

boyonatricycle.“What’s your problem, Erin?” Marty whispered, shaking his head. “It’s

onlyamovie.Whydidyouscreamlikethat?”“Youscreamedtoo!”Irepliedsharply.“Ionlyscreamedbecauseyouscreamed!”heinsisted.“Sssshhh!” someone pleaded. I sank low in the seat. I heard crunching

soundsallaroundme.Peopleeatingpopcorn.Someonebehindmecoughed.Onthescreen,thewolf-crabreachedouthisbig,redclawsandgrabbedthe

kidonthetrike.SNAP.SNAP.Good-bye,kid.Somepeopleinthetheaterlaughed.Itwasprettyfunny.That’s the great thing about the Shocker on Shock Streetmovies. They

makeyouscreamandlaughatthesametime.Marty and I sat back and enjoyed the rest of the movie.We love scary

movies,buttheShockStreetfilmsareourfavorites.Intheend,thepolicecaughtthewolf-crab.Theyboiledhiminabigpotof

water.Then theyservedsteamedcrab to thewhole town.Everyonesatarounddippinghiminbuttersauce.Theyallsaidhewasdelicious.

Itwastheperfectending.MartyandIclappedandcheered.Martyputtwofingersinhismouthandwhistledthroughhisteeththewayhealwaysdoes.

WehadjustseenShockeronShockStreetVI,anditwasdefinitelythebestoneoftheseries.

Thetheaterlightscameon.Weturneduptheaisleandstartedtomakeourwaythroughthecrowd.

“Greatspecialeffects,”amantoldhisfriend.“Specialeffects?”thefriendreplied.“Ithoughtitwasallreal!”

Theybothlaughed.Martybumpedmehardfrombehind.Hethinksit’sfunnytotryandknock

meover.“Prettygoodmovie,”hesaid.Iturnedbacktohim.“Huh?Prettygood?”“Well, it wasn’t scary enough,” he replied. “Actually, it was kind of

babyish.ShockerVwasalotscarier.”I rolledmy eyes. “Marty, you screamed your head off—remember?You

jumpedoutofyourseat.Yougrabbedmyarmand—”“I only did that because I saw how scared youwere,” he said, grinning.

Whataliar!Whycan’theeveradmititwhenhe’sscared?Hestuckhissneakeroutandtriedtotripme.Idodgedtotheleft,stumbled—andbumpedhardintoayoungwoman.“Hey—lookout!”shecried.“Youtwinsshouldbemorecareful.”“We’renottwins!”MartyandIcriedinunison.We’renotevenbrotherandsister.We’renotrelatedinanyway.Butpeople

alwaysthinkthatMartyandIaretwins.Iguesswedolookalotalike.We’rebothtwelveyearsold.Andwe’reboth

prettyshortandkindofchubby.Webothhaveroundfaces,shortblackhair,andblueeyes.Andwebothhavelittlenosesthatsortofturnup.

Butwe’renottwins!We’reonlyfriends.Iapologizedtothewoman.WhenIturnedbacktoMarty,hestuckouthis

shoeandtriedtotripmeagain.Istumbled,butquicklycaughtmybalance.ThenIstuckoutmyshoe—and

trippedhim.Wekepttrippingeachotherthroughthelonglobby.Peoplewerestaringat

us,butwedidn’tcare.Wewerelaughingtoohard.“Doyouknowthecoolestthingaboutthismovie?”Iasked.“No.What?”“Thatwe’rethefirstkidsintheworldtoseeit!”Iexclaimed.“Yeah!”MartyandIslappedeachotherahighfive.Wehad just seenShockeronShockStreetVIat a special sneakpreview.

Mydadworkswithalotofmoviepeople,andhegotusticketsforit.Theothersinthetheaterwerealladults.MartyandIweretheonlykids.

“Knowwhat elsewas really cool?” I asked. “Themonsters.All of them.Theylookedsoincrediblyreal.Itdidn’tlooklikespecialeffectsatall.”

Martyfrowned.“Well,IthoughttheElectricEelWomanwasprettyphony-looking.Shedidn’tlooklikeaneel—shelookedlikeabigworm!”

Ilaughed.“Thenwhydidyoujumpoutofyourseatwhensheshotaboltofelectricityandfriedthatgangofteenagers?”

“Ididn’tjump,”Martyinsisted.“Youdid!”“Didnot!Youjumpedbecauseit lookedsoreal,”Iinsisted.“AndIheard

youchokewhentheToxicCreepleapedoutofthenuclearwastepit.”“IchokedonaMilkDud,that’sall.”“Youwerescared,Marty,becauseitwassoreal.”“Hey—what if theyare real?!”Martyexclaimed.“What if it isn’t special

effects?Whatifthey’reallrealmonsters?”“Don’tbedumb,”Isaid.Weturnedthecornerintoanotherhall.Thewolf-crabstoodwaitingformethere.Ididn’tevenhavetimetoscream.Heopenedhistoothyjawsinalongwolfhowl—andwrappedtwogiantred

clawsaroundmywaist.

3

Iopenedmymouthtoscream,butonlyasqueakcameout.Iheardpeoplelaughing.Thebigclawsslidoffmywaist.Plasticclaws.Isawtwodarkeyesstaringoutatmefrombehindthewolfmask.Ishould

have known that it was a man in a costume. But I didn’t expect him to bestandingthere.

Iwassurprised,that’sall.I blinked at awhite flash of light.Aman had just taken a picture of the

creature.Isawabigredandyellowsignagainstthewall:SEETHEMOVIE—THENPLAYTHEGAMEONCD-ROM.

“SorryifIscaredyou,”themaninsidethewolf-crabcostumesaidsoftly.“Shescareseasily!”Martydeclared.IgaveMartyahardshove,andwehurriedaway.I turnedbacktosee the

creaturewavingaclawatme.“We’vegottogoupstairsandseemydad,”ItoldMarty.

“TellmesomethingIdon’tknow.”Hethinkshe’ssofunny.Dad’s office is upstairs from the theater, on the twenty-ninth floor. We

joggedtotheelevatorsattheendofthehallandtookoneup.Dadhasareallycooljob.Hebuildsthemeparks.Andhedesignsallkinds

ofrides.DadwasoneofthedesignersofPrehistoricPark.That’sthebigthemepark

whereyougobacktoprehistorictimes.Ithasallkindsofneatridesandshows—anddozensofhugedinosaurrobotswanderingaround.

AndDadworkedontheFantasyFilmsStudioTour.EveryonewhocomestoHollywoodgoesonthattour.

Dad’sideawasthepartwhereyouwalkthroughahugemoviescreenandfindyourselfinaworldofmoviecharacters.Youcanstarinanykindofmovieyouwanttobein!

Iknow it soundsas if I’mbragging,butDad is really smart, andhe’s anengineeringgenius!Ithinkheistheworldexpertonrobots.Hecanbuildrobotsthatwilldoanything!Andheusestheminallhisparksandstudiotours.

MartyandIsteppedofftheelevatoronthetwenty-ninthfloor.Wewavedtothewomanatthefrontdesk.ThenwehurriedtoDad’sofficeattheendofthehall.

Itlooksmorelikeaplayroomthananoffice.It’sabigroom.Huge,really.Filledwith toys, and stuffed cartoon characters,movie posters, andmodels ofmonsters.

MartyandIlovetoroamaroundtheoffice,staringatalltheneatstuff.Onthewalls,Dadhasgreatpostersfromadozendifferentmovies.Onalongtable,hehasamodelofTheTumbler,theupside-downrollercoasterhedesigned.Themodelhaslittlecarsthatreallyscreecharoundthetracks.

Andhehasa lotofcoolstuff fromShockStreet—likeoneof theoriginalfurrypawsthatWolfGirlworeinNightmareonShockStreet.Hekeepsit inaglasscaseonthewindowsill.

Hehasmodelsoftramcarsandlittletrainsandplanesandrockets.Evenabig,silverplasticblimp.It’sradio-controlled,andhecanmakeitfloatroundandaroundhisoffice.

Whatagreatplace!IalwaysthinkofDad’sofficeasthehappiestplaceintheworld.

But today, asMarty and I stepped inside,Daddidn’t look toohappy.Hehunchedoverhisdeskwiththetelephonetohisear.Hisheadwaslowered,hiseyesdown.Hekeptahandpressedagainsthisforeheadashemumbledintothephone.

DadandIdon’tlookatallalike.I’mshortanddark.He’stallandthin.Andhehasblondhair,althoughthere’snotmuchleftofit.He’sprettybald.

Hehasthekindofskinthatturnsredeasily.His cheeks get real pinkwhen he talks.Andhewears big, round glasses

withdarkframesthathidehisbrowneyes.Martyand I stoppedat thedoorway. Idon’t thinkDadsawus.Hestared

downatthedesk.Hehadhistiepulleddownandhisshirtcollaropen.Hemutteredforashortwhilelonger.MartyandIcreptintotheoffice.Finally,Dadsetdown thephone.Heraisedhiseyesandsawus.“Oh,hi,

youtwo,”hesaidsoftly.Hischeeksturnedbrightpink.“Dad—what’swrong?”Iasked.He sighed. Then he pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his

nose.“Ihaveverybadnews,Erin.Verybadnews.”

4

“Dad—whatisit?What?”Icried.ThenIsawthegrinslowlyspreadacrosshisface.IknewI’dbeentricked

again.“Gotcha!”hedeclared.Hisbrowneyesflashedgleefully.Hischeekswere

brightpink.“Gotchaagain.Youfallforthatgageverytime.”“Dad—!”Iletoutanangrycry.ThenIrusheduptothedesk,wrappedmy

handsaroundhisneck,andpretendedtostranglehim.We both collapsed against each other, laughing. Marty still stood in the

doorway,shakinghishead.“Mr.Wright,thatissolame,”hemuttered.Dadstruggledtosliphisglassesbackon.“I’msorry.Youkidsarejusttoo

easytofool.Icouldn’tresist.”Hesmiledatme.“Actually,I’vegotgoodnews.”“Goodnews?Isthisanotherjoke?”Idemandedsuspiciously.Heshookhishead.Hepickedupsomethingfromhisdesk.“Checkthisout,

guys.Doyouknowwhatthisis?”Hehelditinhispalm.MartyandIcameclosertoexamineit.Itwasalittle,whiteplasticvehicle

withfourwheels.“Somekindoftraincar?”Iguessed.“It’satramcar,”Dadexplained.“See?Peoplesitonlongbenchesinsideit.

Here.It’smotor-driven.”Hepointedtothefrontofthemodeltoshowwheretheenginewent.“Butdoyouknowwherethistramcarwillbeused?”

“Dad,wegiveup.Justtellus,”Iinsistedimpatiently.“Stopkeepingusinsuspense.”

“Okay,okay.”Hischeeksreddened.Hissmilegrewwider.“ThisisamodelofthetramthatwillbeusedattheShockerStudioTour.”

Mymouthdroppedopen.“Doyoumeanthetourisfinallygoingtoopen?”IknewthatDadhadbeenworkingonitforyears.

Dadnodded.“Yes.We’refinallyabouttoopenittothepublic.Butbeforewedo,Iwantyoutwototestitout.”

“Huh?Youmeanit?”Ishrieked.Iwassoexcited,IfeltasifI’dburstoutofmyskin!

IturnedtoMarty.Hewasleapingupanddown,shootingbothfistsintotheair.“Yes!Yes!Yes!”

“Ibuiltthiswholetour,”Dadsaid,“andIwantyoutwotobethefirstkids

intheworldtogoonit.Iwanttoknowyouropinion.Whatyoulikeandwhatyoudon’tlike.”

“Yes!Yes!Yes!”Martykeptleapingintotheair.IthoughtImighthavetotiearopearoundhiswaistandholdontoittokeephimfromfloatingaway!

“Dad—theShockStreetmoviesare thebest!”Icried.“This isawesome!”AndthenIadded,“Isthetourveryscary?”

Dadrestedahandonmyshoulder.“Ihopeso,”hereplied.“Itriedtomakeit as scary and real as I could.You get on the tram and you ride through thewhole movie studio. You get to meet all of the characters from the horrormovies.AndthenthetramtakesyouonaslowridedownShockStreet.”

“The realShockStreet?”Marty cried. “Doyoumean it?Youget to ridedowntherealstreetwheretheymakethemovies?”

Dadnodded.“Yes.TherealShockStreet.”“Yes!Yes!Yes!”Martystartedpumpinghisfistsintheairagain,shouting

likeamaniac.“Awesome!”Icried.“Totallyawesome!”IwasasexcitedasMarty.SuddenlyMarty stopped leaping. His expression turned serious. “Maybe

Erinshouldn’tgo,”hetoldmydad.“Shegetstooscared.”“Huh?”Icried.“She was so scared during the movie sneak preview, I had to hold her

hand,”MartytoldDad.Whataliar!“Givemeabreak!”Icriedangrily.“Ifanyonewasascaredy-catwimp,it

wasyou,Marty!”Dad raised both hands to signalhalt. “Calmdown, guys,” he said softly.

“Noarguing.Youhave tokeep together.Youknow,you twowillbe theonlyonesonthetourtomorrow.Theonlyones.”

“Yes!”Martycheeredhappily.“Yes!Yes!”“Wow!That’sgreat!”Icried.“It’stotallygreat.It’sgoingtobethebest!”

ThenIhadanidea.“CanMomcometoo?Ibetshewouldreallyenjoyit.”“Excuse me?” Dad squinted at me through his glasses. His whole face

turnedbrightred.“Whatdidyousay?”“IaskedifMomcouldcometoo,”Irepeated.Dadkeptstaringatmeforalongtime,studyingme.“Areyoufeelingokay,

Erin?”heaskedfinally.“Yes.Fine,”Irepliedmeekly.Isuddenlyfeltveryconfusedandupset.WhathadIdonewrong?

WassomethingwrongwithMom?WhywasDadstaringatmelikethat?

5

Dadcamearoundthedeskandputanarmaroundmyshoulder.“IthinkyouandMartywill have abetter time if yougobyyourselves,”he said softly. “Don’tyouagree?”

Inodded.“Yeah.Iguess.”Istillwonderedwhyhewasstaringatmesosuspiciously.ButIdecidednot

to askhim. I didn’twant him toget angryor something and changehismindaboutusgoingonthetour.

“Do you mean you’re not coming with us?” Marty asked Dad. “We’rereallygoingbyourselves?”

“Iwant you togobyyourselves,”Dad replied. “I think thatwillmake itmoreexcitingforyou.”

Martygrinnedatme.“Ihopeit’sreallyscary!”hedeclared.“Don’t worry,” Dad replied. A strange smile spread over his face. “You

won’tbedisappointed.”Thenextafternoon,agrayhazehungintheairasDaddroveMartyandme

toShockerStudios.I satup frontwithDad,peeringout thecarwindowat the smog.“It’s so

gloomyout,”Imurmured.“Perfectforahorrormovie tour,”Martychimedinfromthebackseat.He

wassoexcited,hecouldbarelysitstill.Hekeptbouncinghislegsupanddownandtappinghishandsontheleatherseat.

IhadneverseenMartysocrazed.Ifhedidn’thavehisseatbelttoholdhimdown,he’dprobablybouncerightoutofthecar!

The car climbed up the Hollywood hills. The narrow road curved pastredwoodhousesandtree-filledyardscutintothesidesofthehills.

Asweclimbed,theskyturnedevendarker.We’redrivingupintoacloudof fog, I thought. Far in the distance, I could see the HOLLYWOOD sign,stretchinginthehazeacrossadarkpeak.

“Hopeitdoesn’train,”Imuttered,watchingthefogrolloverthesign.Dadchuckled.“YouknowitneverrainsinLosAngeles!”“Which monsters are we going to see?” Marty asked, bouncing in the

backseat.“IsShockroonthetour?DowereallygettowalkonShockStreet?”

Dadsquintedhardthroughhisglasses,turningthewheelastheroadcurvedandtwisted.“I’mnottelling,”hereplied.“Idon’twanttospoilitforyou.Iwantitalltobeasurprise.”

“IjustwantedtoknowsoIcouldwarnErin,”Martysaid.“Idon’twanthertogettooscared.Shemightfaintorsomething.”Helaughed.

Iletoutanangrygrowl.ThenIturnedaroundandtriedtopunchhim.ButIcouldn’treach.

Marty leaned forward andmessed upmy hair with both hands. “Get offme!”Iscreamed.“I’mwarningyou—!”

“Takeiteasy,guys,”Dadsaidsoftly.“We’rehere.”I turned and stared out the windshield. The road had flattened out. Up

ahead,anenormoussignproclaimedSHOCKERSTUDIOSinscary,blood-redletters.

We drove slowly up to the huge iron gates in the front. The gates wereclosed.Aguardinasmallblackboothsatreadinganewspaper.Iglimpsedgoldscriptlettersabovethegate.Theyspelledoutoneword:BEWARE.

Dadpulledrightuptothegate,andtheguardpeeredup.HegaveDadabigsmile.Thenhepressedabutton, and thegates slowly swungopen.Daddrovethecarintothetallwhiteparkinggaragebesidethestudio.Heparkedinthefirstspacenexttotheentrance.Thegarageseemedtostretchonforever.ButIcouldseeonlythreeorfourothercarsinside.

“Whenweopennextweek,thisgaragewillbejammed!”Dadsaid.“Therewillbethousandsofpeoplehere.Ihope.”

“And today,we’re the only ones!”Marty cried excitedly, jumping out ofthecar.

“We’resolucky!”Iagreed.A fewminutes later, wewere standing on the platform outside themain

building, facingawide street,waiting for the tram to takeuson the tour.Thestreet led todozensofwhitestudiobuildings,spreadoutall thewaydownthehill.

Dadpointedtotwoenormousbuildingsasbigasairplanehangars.“Thosearethesoundstages,”heexplained.“Theyfilmalotofmoviescenesinsidethosebuildings.”

“Doesthetourgoinsidethem?”Martydemanded.“WhereisShockStreet?Where are themonsters?Are theymaking amovienow?Canwewatch themmakingit?”

“Whoa!”Dadcried.HeplacedhishandsonMarty’sshouldersasiftokeephimfromflyingofftheground.IhadneverseenMartysototallywired!“Takeit

easy,fella,”Dadwarned.“You’llblowafuse!Youwon’tsurvivethetour!”Ishookmyhead.“Maybeweshouldputhimonaleash,”ItoldDad.“Arf, arf!”Martybarked.Thenhe snappedhis teeth atme, trying to bite

me.Ishivered.Thefogrolledinfromthehills.Theairfeltdampandcold.The

skydarkened.Twomen in business suits came zooming along the street in a golf cart.

Theywerebothtalkingatonce.OneofthemwavedtoDad.“Canwe ride in one of those carts?”Marty asked. “CanErin and I each

haveourowncart?”“No way,” Dad told him. “You have to take the automated tram. And

remember—stayinthetramcar.Nomatterwhat.”“Youmeanwecan’twalkonShockStreet?”Martywhined.Dadshookhishead.“Notallowed.Youhavetostayonthetram.”Heturnedtome.“I’llbewaitingforyouhereontheplatformwhenyouget

back.Iwantafullreport.Iwanttoknowwhatyoulikeandwhatyoudon’tlike.Anddon’tworryifthingsdon’tworkexactlyright.Therearestillafewbugstoworkout.”

“Hey—here comes the tram!” Marty cried, hopping up and down andpointing.

Thetramcamerollingsilentlyaroundthecorner.Icountedsixtramcarsinall.Theywere shaped like roller-coaster cars,openon top—onlymuch longerandwider.Thecarswereblack.Agrinningwhiteskullwaspaintedonthefrontofthefirstcar.

Ayoung,red-hairedwomanwearingablackuniformwasseatedonthefirstbenchinthefrontcar.Shewavedtousasthetramrolleduptotheplatform.Shewastheonlypassenger.

Shehoppedoutasthetramstopped.“Hi,I’mLinda.I’myourtourguide.”Shesmiledatmydad.Herredhairflutteredinthewind.

“Hello,Linda,”Dadsaid,smilingbackather.HegentlyshovedMartyandmeforward.“Hereareyourfirsttwovictims.”

Lindalaughedandaskedusournames.Wetoldher.“Canwerideinfront?”Martyaskedeagerly.“Yes, of course,” Linda replied. “You can sit anywhere you want. This

wholerideisjustforyou.”“Allright!”Martycried.Heslappedmeahighfive.Dadlaughed.“IthinkMartyisreadytobegin,”hetoldLinda.

Lindapushedherredhairoutofherface.“Youcanstartrightaway,guys.Butfirst,there’ssomethingIhavetodo.”

Sheleanedoverthetramcarandtuggedoutablackcanvasbag.“Thiswillonlytakeasecond,guys.”Shepulledaredplasticgunfromthebag.“ThisisaShockerStunRayBlaster.”

Shegrippedtheplasticpistoltightly.ItlookedlikesomethinginaStarTrekmovie. Her smile faded. Her green eyes narrowed. “Be careful with theseblasters,guys.Theycanfreezeamonsterinitstracksfromtwentyfeet.”

Shehandedtheblastertome.ThenshereachedintoherbagtogetoneforMarty. “Don’t fire themunless you have to.” She swallowed hard and bit herlowerlip.“Isurehopeyoudon’thaveto.”

Ilaughed.“You’rekidding—right?Thesearejusttoys—right?”Shedidn’tanswer.Shepulledanotherblaster fromherbagandstarted to

bringittoMarty.Butshestumbledoveracordontheplatform.“Ohh!”Sheletoutastartled

cryastheblasterwentoffinherhand.Aloudbuzz.Abrightrayofyellowlight.AndLindastoodfrozenontheplatform.

6

“Linda!Linda!”Iscreamed.Marty’smouthdroppedopen.Heletoutachokedgurgle.IturnedtoDad.Tomysurprise,hewaslaughing.“Dad—she’s—she’sfrozen!”Icried.ButwhenIturnedbacktoLinda,she

hadabigsmileonherface,too.Ittookusbothawhile,butwesoonrealizedthewholethingwasajoke.“That’sthefirstshockontheShockertour,”Lindaannounced,loweringthe

redblaster.SheputahandonMarty’sshoulder.“I thinkI reallyshockedyou,Marty!”

“Noway!”Martyinsisted.“Iknewitwasajoke.Ijustplayedalong.”“Come on, Marty!” I cried, rolling my eyes. “You nearly dropped your

teeth!”“Erin, Iwasn’tscared,”Marty insistedsharply.“Really. I justwentalong

withthejoke.DoyoureallythinkI’dfallforadumbplasticblastergun?”Martyissuchajerk.Whycan’theeveradmititwhenhe’sscared?“Climbin,youtwo,”Dadurged.“Let’sgetthisshowontheroad.”MartyandIclimbedintothefrontseatofthetram.Ilookedforaseatbelt

orasafetybar,buttherewasn’tone.“Areyoucomingwithus?”IaskedLinda.She shook her head. “No. You’re on your own. The tram moves

automatically.”ShehandedMartyhisStunBlaster.“Hopeyoudon’tneedit.”“Yeah.Sure,”Martymuttered,rollinghiseyes.“Thisgunissobabyish.”“Remember—I’llmeetyoubackhereattheendoftheride,”Dadsaid.He

waved.“Enjoyit.Iwantafullreport.”“Don’tgetoutofthetram,”Lindaremindedus.“Keepyourheadandarms

inside.Anddon’tstandupwhilethetramismoving.”Shesteppedonabluebuttonon theplatform.The tramstartedupwitha

jolt. Marty and I were thrown back against the seat. Then the tram rolledsmoothlyforward.

“FirststopisTheHauntedHouseofHorror!”Lindacalledafterus.“Goodluck!”

I turned back to see herwaving to us, her long red hair fluttering in thewind.Astrongbreezeblewagainstusasthetrammadeitswaydownthehill.

Theskywasnearlyasdarkasnight.Someof thewhite studiobuildingswerehiddenbythefog.

“Stupidgun,”Martymuttered,rollingitaroundinhishands.“Whydoweneedthisplasticgun?Ihopethewholetourisn’tthisbabyish.”

“Ihopeyoudon’tcomplainallafternoon,”I toldhim,frowning.“Doyourealizehowawesomethisis?We’regoingtoseeallthegreatcreaturesfromtheShockermovies.”

“Think we’ll see Shockro?” he asked. Shockro is his favorite. I guessbecausehe’ssototallygross.

“Probably,”Ireplied,myeyesonthelowbuildingswewerepassing.Theyallstooddarkandempty.

“IwanttoseeWolfBoyandWolfGirl,”Martysaid,countingthemonstersoff on his fingers. “And… the Piranha People, and Captain Sick, The GreatGopherMutant,and—”

“Wow!Look!”Icried,poundinghisshoulderandpointing.As the tram turneda sharpcorner,TheHauntedHouseofHorror loomed

darklyinfrontofus.Theroofanditstallstoneturretswerehiddenbythefog.Therestofthemansionstoodgrayagainsttheduskysky.

Thetramtookusnearer.Tallweedschokedthefrontlawn.Theweedsbentand swayed in the wind. The gray shingles on the house were chipped andpeeling. Pale green light, dim, eerie light, floated out from the tallwindow infront.

Aswerodecloser,Icouldseearustyironporchswing—swingingbyitself!—onabroken,rottingporch.

“Cool!”Iexclaimed.“Itlooksalotsmallerthaninthemovie,”Martygrumbled.“It’sexactlythesamehouse!”Icried.“Thenwhydoesitlooksomuchsmaller?”hedemanded.Whatacomplainer.I turned away from him and studied TheHauntedHouse. An iron fence

surrounded the place. Aswemoved around to the side, the rusty gate swungopen,squeakingandcreaking.

“Look!”Ipointedtothedarkwindowsonthesecondfloor.Theshuttersallflewopenatonce,thenbangedshutagain.

Lightscameon in thewindows.Through thewindowshades, I could seethesilhouettesofskeletonshanging,swingingslowlybackandforth.

“That’skindofcool,”Martysaid.“Butnottooscary.”Heraisedhisplasticgunandpretendedtoshootattheskeletons.

WecircledTheHauntedHouseofHorrorsonce.Wecouldhearscreamsofterror from inside. The shutters banged again and again. The porch swingcontinuedtocreakbackandforth,backandforth,asiftakenbyaghost.

“Arewegoinginsideornot?”Martydemandedimpatiently.“Sit back and stop complaining,” I said sharply. “The ride just started.

Don’tspoilitforme,okay?”He stuck his tongue out at me. But he settled back against the seat.We

heardalonghowl,andthenashrillscreamofhorror.Thetrammadeitswaysilentlytothebackofthehouse.Agateswungopen

and we rolled through it. We moved quickly through the overgrown, weed-chokedbackyard.

Thetrampickedupspeed.Webouncedoverthelawn.Uptothebackdoor.Awoodensignabovethedoorread:ABANDONALLHOPE.

We’regoingtocrashrightintothedoor!Ithought.Iduckedandraisedmyhandstoshieldmyself.

Butthedoorcreakedopen,andweburstinside.Thetramslowed.Iloweredmyhandsandsatup.Wewereinadark,dust-

covered kitchen. An invisible ghost cackled, an evil laugh. Battered pots andpanscoveredthewall.Aswepassed,theyclatteredtothefloor.

Theovendooropenedandclosedbyitself.Theteapotonthestovestartedtowhistle.Dishesontheshelvesrattled.Thecacklinggrewlouder.

“Thisisprettycreepy,”Iwhispered.“Ooh.Thrillsandchills!”Martyrepliedsarcastically.Hecrossedhisarms

infrontofhim.“Bor-ring!”“Marty—givemeabreak.”Ishovedhimaway.“Youcanbeabadsportif

youwant.Butdon’truinitforme.”Thatseemedtogettohim.Hemuttered,“Sorry,”andscootedbacknextto

me.The tram moved out of the dark kitchen, into an even darker hallway.

Paintingsofgoblinsanduglycreatureshungonthehallwaywalls.Asweapproachedaclosetdoor,itsprangopen—andashriekingskeleton

poppedoutinfrontofus,itsjawsopen,itsarmsjuttingouttograbus.Iscreamed.Martylaughed.Theskeletonsnappedbackintothecloset.Thetramturnedacorner.Isaw

flickeringlightupahead.We rode into a large, round room. “It’s the living room,” Iwhispered to

Marty. I raisedmyeyes to the flickering lightandsawachandelieraboveourheads,withadozenburningcandles.

Thetramstoppedbeneath it.Thechandelierbegan toshake.Then,withahiss,thecandlesallflickeredoutatonce.

Theroomplungedintodarkness.Thenadeeplaughechoedallaroundus.Igasped.“Welcometomyhumblehome!”adeepvoicesuddenlyboomed.“Whoisthat?”IwhisperedtoMarty.“Whereisitcomingfrom?”Noreply.

“Hey—Marty?”Iturnedtohim.“Marty—?”Hewasgone.

7

“Marty?”Mybreathcaughtinmythroat.Ifroze,staringintothedarkness.Wheredidhego? I askedmyself.Heknowswearen’t supposed to leave

thetramcar.Didheclimbout?No.Ifhehad,Iwouldhaveheardhim.“Marty?”Someonegrabbedmyarm.Iheardasoftlaugh.Marty’slaugh.“Hey—whereareyou?Ican’tseeyou!”Icried.“I can’t see you, either,” he replied. “But I didn’tmove. I’m still sitting

rightnexttoyou.”“Huh?”Ireachedoutandfeltthesleeveofhisshirt.“This is cool!”Marty declared. “I’mwavingmy arms, but I can’t see a

thing.Youreallycan’tseeme?”“No,”Ireplied.“Ithought—”“It’ssomekindoftrickwiththelights,”hesaid.“Blacklightorsomething.

Somekindofneatmoviespecialeffect.”“Well,itcreepedmeout,”Iconfessed.“Ireallythoughtyoudisappeared.”“Sucker,”hesneered.Andthenwebothjumped.Afiresuddenlyblazedinthebigbrickfireplace.Brightorangelightfilled

theroom.Abigblackarmchairspunaroundtorevealagrinningskeleton.Theskeletonraiseditsbonyyellowedhead.Thejawsmoved.“Ihopeyou

likemyhouse,”itsvoiceboomed.“Becauseyouwillneverleave!”Ittossedbackitsheadandletoutanevilcackle.Thetramjoltedtoastart.Werumbledoutofthelivingroom.Intoalong,

darkhallway.Theskeleton’slaughfollowedusintothehall.Ifellbackagainsttheseataswepickedupspeed.Wewhirredaroundacorner.Downanotherlonghall,sodarkIcouldn’tsee

thewalls.Faster.Faster.

Wewhippedaroundanothercorner.Madeanothersharpturn.Wewereclimbingnow.Andthenwetookasharpdipthatmadebothofus

throwupourhandsandscream.Aroundanothersharpturn.Up,up,up.Andthenwecamecrashingdown.Awildroller-coasterrideintotaldarkness.It was awesome. Even better because we didn’t expect it. Marty and I

screamedourheadsoff.WebumpedhardagainsteachotherasthetramwhirledaroundintheblackhallsofTheHauntedHouseofHorrors.Up,up,again—thenwetiltedsharplydown.

Ihungontothefrontofthecarfordearlife.Igrippeditsohard,bothhandsached.Therewasnoseatbelt,nosafetybar.

Whatifwetumbledout?Iwondered.Thecartiltedsharplysideways,asifreadingmyfrightenedthoughts.Ilet

outashriekandlostmygrip.Islidagainstthesideofthecar.Martyfellontopofme.

Ifranticallyreachedoutforsomethingtoholdonto.Thecartiltedbackrightsideup.Itookadeepbreath,slidbackintoplaceon

thelongseat.“Whoa!Thatwasexcellent!”Martycried,laughing.“Excellent!”Grippingthefrontofthecar,Itookanotherdeepbreathandheldit.Iwas

tryingtoslowmyracingheart.Adoorswungopeninfrontofus,andweburstthroughit.Thecarbouncedhard.Isawtrees.Thegray-foggedsky.We were back outside. Racing through the backyard. Both of us were

tossed from side to side aswe roared over theweeds, zigzagging through thedarktrees.

“Whoa! Stop!” I choked out. I couldn’t catchmy breath. Thewind blewhardagainstmy face.The tramclatteredandsquealedaswebumpedover theroughground.

We were out of control. Something had definitely gone wrong with thetram.

Bouncing hard on the plastic seat, holding on tightly, I searched forsomeonewhocouldhelpus.

Nooneinsight.Webumpedontotheroad.Thetramstartedtoslow.IturnedtoMarty.His

hairwasblownoverhisface.Hismouthhungopen.Hiseyesrolledaroundinhishead.Hewastotallydazed.

Thetramslowed,slowed,slowed,untilwewerecreepingsmoothlyalong.“That was great!”Marty declared. He smoothed back his hair with both

handsandgrinnedatme.Iknewhehadbeenscared,too.Buthewaspretendingthatheenjoyedthecrazy,wildride.

“Yeah.Great.” I tried to pretend, too. Butmy voice came outweak andshaky.

“I’mgoingtotellyourdadthattheroller-coasterridethroughthehallswasthebest!”Martydeclared.

“Itwaskindoffun,”Iagreed.“Andkindofscary.”Martyturnedawayfromme.“Hey.Wherearewe?”Thetramhadcometoastop.Ipulledmyselfupandpeeredaround.Wehad

parked between two rows of tall evergreen bushes. The bushes were slender,shapedlikespearsreachinguptothesky.

Aboveus, theafternoonsunwas trying tobreak through the fog.Raysofpalelightbeameddownfromthegraysky.Thetall,thinshadowsofthebushesfelloverourtramcar.

Martystoodupandturnedtothebackofthetram.“There’snothingaroundhere,”hesaid.“We’reinthemiddleofnowhere.Whydidwestop?”

“Do you think—?” I started. But I stopped talkingwhen I saw the bushmove.

Itwiggled.Thenthebushnexttoitwiggled,too.“Marty—”Iwhispered, tugginghis sleeve. I saw twoglowing redcircles

behindthebush.Twoglowingredeyes!“Marty—there’ssomeonethere.”Anotherpairofeyes.Andthenanotherpairofeyes.Staringoutatusfrom

behindtheevergreenbushes.Andthentwodarkclaws.And then rustling sounds. The bush tilted as a dark figure leaped out.

Followedbyanother.Snarling,growling.Igasped.Toolatetorun.Weweresurroundedbytheuglycreatures.Snuffling,wheezingcreatures,

who staggered out from the bushes. Reaching out, reaching out for us, theybegantoclimbintothetram.

8

MartyandIjumpedtoourfeet.“Ohhhhhh.”IheardMartyletoutafrightenedmoan.Istartedtobackaway.IthoughtmaybeIcouldscrambleouttheotherside

ofthecar.Butthesnarling,growlingmonsterscameatusfrombothsides.“L-leaveusalone!”Istammered.Amonster covered in tangled brown fur opened his jaws to reveal long,

jagged rows of yellow teeth.His hot breath exploded inmy face.He steppedcloser. Then he swiped at me with a fat paw and uttered a menacing roar.“Wouldyoulikeanautograph?”hegrowled.

Igapedathim,mymouthhangingdowntomyknees.“Huh?”“Autographedphoto?”heasked.Heraisedhisfurrypawagain.Hehelda

black-and-whitesnapshotinit.“Hey—you’reApeFace!”Martycried,pointing.Thehairycreaturenoddedhishead.HeraisedthephototoMarty.“Wanta

photo?Thisistheautographingpartofthetour.”“Yeah!Okay,”Martyreplied.Thebigapepulledamarkerfrombehindhisearandbenttosignthephoto

forMarty.Nowthatmyheartbeatwasreturningtonormal,Ibegantorecognizesome

of the other creatures. The guy covered in purple slime was The ToxicWildMan.AndIrecognizedSweetSue,thewalking-talkingbabydollwithrealhairyoucanbrush.SweetSuewasreallyamutantmurdererfromMars.

Thefrog-facedguycoveredfromheadtotoewithpurpleandbrownwartswasTheFabulousFrog,alsoknownasTheToadinator.HestarredinPondScumandPondScumII,twoofthescariestmoviesevermade.

“Frog—canIhaveyourautograph?”Iasked.“Grrrbbit. Grrbit.” He croaked and slipped a pen into his wart-covered

hand.Ileanedforwardeagerlyandwatchedhimsignhisphoto.Itwashardforhimtowrite.Thepenkeptslippinginhisslimyfroghands.

Marty and I collected a bunch of autographs. Then the creatures wentsnarlingandwheezingbackintothebushes.

Whentheyweregone,webothburstoutlaughing.“Thatwassodumb!”Icried.“WhenIsawthemcreepingoutfrombehindthebushes,IthoughtI’dhavea cow!” I glanced down at the photos. “But it’s kind of cool to get theirautographs.”

Martymadeadisgustedface.“It’sjustabunchofactorsincostumes,”hesneered.“It’sforbabies.”

“But—but—they looked so real,” I stammered. “It didn’t look as if theywere wearing costumes—did it? I mean, The Toadinator’s hands were reallyslimy.AndApeFace’sfurwassoreal.Themaskswereawesome.Icouldn’ttelltheyweremasks.”

Ibrushedthehairoutofmyeyes.“Howdotheygetintothosecostumes?Ididn’tseeanybuttonsorzippers,oranything!”

“That’sbecausethey’removiecostumes,”Martyexplained.“They’rebetterthanregularcostumes.”

Mr.Know-It-All.Thetramstartedtobackout.Isettleddownintotheseat.Iwatchedthetwo

rowsofevergreenbushesfadeintothedistance.Down the long, sloping hill, I could see the white studio buildings. I

wonderediftheyweremakingamovieononeofthesoundstages.Iwonderedifthetramwouldtakeustowatchthemshoot.

Icouldseetwogolfcartsmovingalongtheroad.Theywerecarryingpeopledowntothesoundstagebuildings.Thesunstillstruggledtoshinethroughthefog.Thetrambouncedoverthe

grass,upthehill.“Whoa!”Icriedoutasweturnedsharplyandheadedbacktowardthetrees.“Please remain in the car at all times.” A woman’s voice burst from a

speaker in the tram car. “Your next stop will be The Cave of The LivingCreeps.”

“The Cave of The Living Creeps? Wow! That sounds scary!” Martyexclaimed.

“Suredoes!”Iagreed.Wehadnoideajusthowscaryitwouldturnouttobe.

9

Thetramzigzaggeditswaythroughthetrees.Theirshadowsrolledoveruslikedarkghosts.

Wemovedsosilently.Itriedtoimaginewhattheridewouldbelikeifthetramwaspackedwithexcitedkidsandadults. Idecided itwouldbea lot lessscarywithacrowd.

ButIwasn’tcomplaining.MartyandIwerereallyluckytobethefirstkidsevertotryoutthisride.

“Wow!”MartygrabbedmyarmasTheCaveofTheLivingCreepsloomedinfrontofus.Themouthofthecavewasahugedarkhole,cutintothesideofthehill.Icouldseepale,silverylightflickeringpasttheentrance.

The tramsloweddownasweapproached thedarkopening.Asignabovetheentrancehadonewordcarvedroughlyintoit:FAREWELL.

The tramcar lurched forward. “Hey—!” I cried out and duckedmy head.Whatatightsqueeze!

Intothedim,flickeringlight.Theair instantlygrewcolder.Anddamp.Asour,earthysmellrosetomy

nostrils,makingmegasp.“Bats!”Martywhispered.“Whatdoyouthink,Erin?Thinktherearebatsin

here?”Heleanedcloseandletoutanevillaughinmyear.MartyknowsthatIhatebats!Iknow,Iknow.Batsaren’treallyevilcreatures.Andtheyaren’tdangerous.

Bats eat mosquitoes and other insects. And they don’t attack people or gettangledinyourhairortrytosuckyourblood.That’sonlyinmovies.

Iknowallthat.ButIdon’tcare.Batsareuglyandcreepyanddisgusting.AndIhatethem.Oneday,ItoldMartyhowmuchIhatebats.Andsohe’sbeenteasingme

aboutthemeversince.Thetrammoveddeeperintothecave.Theairgrewcolder.Thesouraroma

nearlychokedme.“Look—overthere!”Martyscreamed.“Avampirebat!”“Huh?Where?”Icouldn’thelpmyself.Icriedoutinalarm.OfcourseitwasoneofMarty’sdumbjokes.Helaughedlikeamaniac.

Igrowledathimandpunchedhimhardontheshoulder.“You’renotfunny.You’rejustdumb.”

Thatmadehimgiggleevenharder.“I’llbettherearebatsinthiscave,”heinsisted.“Youcan’tgointoadeep,darkcavelikethisonewithoutseeingbats.”

Iturnedawayfromhisgrinningfaceandlistenedhard.Iwaslisteningforflutteringbatwings.Ididn’thearany.

Thecavenarrowed.Thewallsseemedtocloseinonus.Thesideofthecarscrapedagainstthedirtwall.Icouldfeelthatwewereheadingdown.

In the dim, silvery light, I saw a long row of pointy icicle-type thingshangingdownfromthecaveceiling.Iknowtheyhaveaname,butIcanneverrememberwhichoneitis—stalagmitesorstalactites.

Iduckedmyheadagainasthetramshotunderthem.Upclose,theylookedlikepointedelephanttusks.

“We’regettingclosertothebats!”Martyteased.I ignoredhim. I keptmy eyes straight ahead.The cavegrewwide again.

Darkshadowsshiftedanddancedoverthewallsaswerolledpast.“Ohhh.”IutteredagroanasIfeltsomethingcoldandslimydropontothe

backofmyneck.I jerked away and turned sharply toMarty. “Cut it out!” I snapped. “Get

yourcoldhandsoffme!”“Who—me?”Hewasn’ttouchingme.Bothofhishandsgrippedthefrontofthecar.Then what was on the back of my neck? So cold and wet. Icy wet. I

shuddered.Mywholebodyshook.“M-Marty!”Istammered.“H-help!”Martystaredatme,confused.“Erin—what’syourproblem?”“Thebackofmyneck—”Ichokedout.I could feel the cold, wet thing start to move. I decided not to wait for

Martytohelpme.Ireachedbackandpulleditoff.Itfeltstickyandcoldbetweenmyfingers.

Itslitheredandwriggled,andIdroppeditontheseat.Aworm!Ahuge,longwhiteworm.Socold,sowetandcold.“Weird!”Martyexclaimed.Heleanedclosetoexamineit.“I’veneverseen

awormthatbig!Andit’swhite.”“It—it dropped from the ceiling,” I said, watching it wiggle next tome.

“It’sice-cold.”

“Huh?Letmetouchit,”Martysaid.Heraisedhishandandslowlyloweredhispointerfingertotheworm.

Hisfingerpokedtheworminitsmiddle.And then Marty opened his mouth in a scream of horror that echoed

throughthecave.

10

“Whatisit?Marty—what’swrong?”Ishrieked.“I—I—I—”Hecouldn’tspeak.Hecouldonlyutter,“I—I—I—!”Hiseyes

bulged.Histonguefloppedout.Hereachedupandpulledawhitewormoffthetopofhishead.“I—I—Igot

onetoo!”“Yuck!”Icried.Hiswormwasnearlyaslongasashoelace!Webothtossedourwormsoutofthetram.ButthenIfeltasoft,dampploponmyshoulder.Andthenacoldplopon

topofmyhead.Anotheronmyforehead,likeacoldslap.“Ohhh—help!” I moaned. I started thrashing my arms, grabbing at the

worms,strugglingtopullthemoffme.“Marty—please!”Iturnedtohimforhelp.Buthewasbattling them, too.Twistingandducking.Trying tododge,as

moreandmorewhitewormsfellfromtheceiling.Isawonefallonhisshoulder.Isawanotheronebegintowrapitselfaround

hisear.AsfastasIcould,Ipulledthesticky,wetcreaturesoffmeandtossedthem

overthesideoftheslow-rollingtram.Wherearetheycomingfrom?Iwondered.Iglancedup—andafat,wetonefellovermyeyes.“Yeowwww!”Iletoutashriek,grabbedit,flungitaway.The tram turned sharply, sending us both sliding over the seat. The cave

narrowedagainasweenteredadifferenttunnel.Thesilverylightgloweddimlyaroundusaswebouncedforward.

Two white worms, each at least a foot long, wriggled across my lap. Ituggedthemoffandheavedthemoverthetram.

Breathinghard, I searched formore.Mywholebody itched.Thebackofmynecktingled.Icouldn’tstopshaking.

“Theystoppedfalling,”Martyannouncedinashakyvoice.ThenwhydidIstillitch?I rubbed the back of my neck. Stood up and searched the seat, then the

floor. I found one last worm, climbing over my shoe. I kicked it away, then

droppedbackontotheseatwithaloudsigh.“Thatwastotallygross!”Iwailed.Marty scratchedhischest, then rubbedhis facewithbothhands. “Iguess

that’swhytheycallitTheCaveofTheLivingCreeps,”hesaid.Hesweptahandbackthroughhisblackhair.

Ishivered.Icouldn’tstopitching.Iknewthewormsweregone,butIcouldstillfeelthem.“Thosedisgustingwhiteworms—doyouthinktheywerealive?”

Martyshookhishead.“Ofcoursenot.Theywerefakes.”Hesnickered.“Iguesstheyfooledyou,huh?”

“Theysurefeltreal,”Ireplied.“Andthewaytheywriggledaround—”“They were robots or something,” Marty said, scratching his knees.

“Everythinghereisfake.Ithastobe.”“I’mnotsosure,”Isaid,mywholebodystillitchyandtingling.“Well,justaskyourfather,”Martyrepliedgrumpily.Ihad to laugh. IknewwhyMartywassuddenlysogrouchy.Whether the

wormswererealorfake,theyhadscaredhim.AndheknewthatIknewthathehadbeenfrightened.

“Idon’t think littlekidswill like theworms,”Martysaid.“I think they’llgettooscared.I’mgoingtotellthattoyourdad.”

I started to reply—and felt something drop overme. Something scratchyanddry.

Itcoveredmyface,myshoulders—myentirebody.I shotbothhandsupand tried topush it away. It’s somekindof anet, I

thought.Igrabbedatit,desperatetogetitoffmyface.AsIstruggled,Iturnedand

sawMartysquirmingandbattinghisarms,caughtunderthesamenet.The tram bounced through the dim cave tunnel. The sticky net felt like

cottoncandyonmyskin.Martyletoutayelp.“It—it’sabigspiderweb!”hestammered.I tuggedandgrabbedandpulled.But thestickythreadsclungtomyface,

myarms,andmyclothes.“Yuck!Thisissogross!”Ichokedout.AndthenIsawtheblackdotsscurryingthroughthenet.Ittookmeafew

secondstorealizewhattheywere.Spiders!Hundredsofthem!“Ohhhh.”Alowmoanescapedmythroat.I batted the spiderweb with both hands. I rubbed my cheeks frantically,

trying to scrape away the sticky threads. I pulled a spider off my forehead.AnotheroneofftheshoulderofmyT-shirt.

“Thespiders—they’reinmyhair!”Martywailed.Hesuddenly forgotaboutactingcool.Hebegan rakinghishairwithboth

hands,slappinghimselfinthehead,pinchingandswipingatthespiders.Asthetramrolledsilentlyon,webothtwistedandsquirmed,strugglingto

flickawaytheblackspiders. Ipulled threeof themoutofmyhair.ThenI feltoneclimbintomynose!

Iopenedmymouthinahorrifiedscream—andsneezeditout.Martypluckedaspideroffmyneckandsentitsoaringthroughtheair.The

lastspider.Icouldn’tsee—orfeel—anymore.Webothdroppeddownintheseat,breathinghard.Myheartpoundedinmy

chest. “Still think everything is a fake?” I asked Marty, my voice weak andsmall.

“I—Idon’tknow,”herepliedsoftly.“Thespiderscouldbepuppetsmaybe.Youknow.Radio-controlled.”

“Theywerereal!”Icriedsharply.“Faceit,Marty—theywerereal!ThisisTheCaveofTheLivingCreeps—andtheywereliving!”

Marty’seyesgrewwide.“Youreallythinkso?”Inodded.“Theyhadtoberealspiders.”A smile spread over Marty’s face. “That’s so cool!” he declared. “Real

spiders!Thatistotallycool!”Iletoutalongsighandslumpedlowerintheseat.Ididn’tthinkitwascool

atall.Ithoughtitwascreepyanddisgusting.Theseridesaresupposedtobefake.That’swhatmakesthemfun.Idecided

totellmydadthat thewormsandspidersweretooscary.Heshouldgetridofthembeforethestudiotouropenstothepublic.

I crossed my arms in front of me and kept my eyes straight ahead. Iwondered what we would run into next. I hoped there weren’t any otherdisgustinginsectswaitingtofallonusandclimballoverourfacesandbodies.

“I think I hear the bats!”Marty teased.He leaned close tome, grinning.“Hearthoseflutteringsounds?Giantvampirebats!”

I shoved him back to his side of the seat. I wasn’t in anymood for hisjokingaround.

“When dowe get out of this cave?” I asked impatiently. “This isn’t anyfun.”

“Ithinkit’scool,”Martyrepeated.“Ilikeexploringcaves.”Thenarrowtunnelopenedintoawidecavern.Theceilingappearedtobea

milehigh.Thereweregiantrocksscatteredoverthecavernfloor.Rockspiledonrocks.Rockseverywhere.

Somewhereaheadofus,Iheardwaterdripping.Plunkplunkplunk.Eerie green light glowed from the cavewalls. The tram pulled up to the

backwall—andthenstopped.“Nowwhat?”Iwhispered.MartyandIturnedinourseat,lettingoureyesexplorethehugecavern.All

Icouldseewererocks.Smoothrocks,someround,somesquare.Plunkplunkplunk.Waterdrippedsomewheretoourright.Theairfeltcold

anddamp.“Thisiskindofboring,”Martymurmured.“Whendowegetgoing?”I shrugged. “I don’t know.Why didwe stop here? It’s just a big empty

cave.”Wewaitedforthetramtobackupandtakeusoutofthere.Andwaited.Aminutewentby.Thenanotherfewminutes.Webothturnedaroundandgotuponourknees,peeringtothebackofthe

tram.Nothingmoved.We listened to thesteadydripofwater,echoingoff thehighstonewalls.Noothersound.

Leaningforwardagainsttheseatback,Icuppedmyhandsaroundmymouthandshouted.“Hey—cananybodyhearus?”

Iwaited,listening.Noreply.“Cananybodyhearus?”Itriedagain.“Ithinkwe’restuckhere!”Noreply.Justthesteadydripdripdrip.Iwaited,squintinghardintotheglowofgreenlight.Whywouldn’tthetramgetmoving?Haditbrokendown?Werewereally

stuckhere?IturnedtoMarty.“What’supwiththistram?Doyouthinkwe’re—HEY!”IgaspedasIstaredattheemptyseatbesideme.Ireachedbothhandsout.IgrabbedforMarty.Anotherlightingtrick?Anotheropticalillusion?“Marty?Hey—Marty?”Icroaked.Acoldshiverrolleddownmyback.ThistimeMartywasreallygone.

11

“Marty—?”Ascrapingsoundbesidethetrammademejump.IspunaroundandsawMartygrinningatmefromthecavefloor.“Gotcha.”“You creep!” I shouted. I swungmy fist, but he dodged away, laughing.

“You’reTheLivingCreep!”Icried.“Youdeliberatelytriedtoscareme.”“Itisn’ttoohardajob!”heshotback.Hissmilefaded.“Iclimbeddownto

checkthingsout.”“Butthetrammightstartupanysecond!”Itoldhim.“Youknowwhatthat

tourguidetoldus.Shesaidweshouldneverleavethetram.”Marty squatted down and studied the tires. “I think the tram is stuck or

something.Maybeitcameoffitstracks.”Heraisedhiseyestomeandshookhisheadfretfully.“Buttherearen’tanytracks.”

“Marty—get back in,” I pleaded. “If it starts up and leaves you standingthere—”

Hegrabbed thesideof thecarwithbothhandsandshook it.The tramcarbouncedonitstires.Butitdidn’tmove.

“I think it broke down,” Marty said softly. “Your father said that somethingsmightnotwork.”

I felt a stabof fear inmychest. “Youmeanwe’restrandedhere?Allbyourselvesinthiscreepycave?”

Hestepped to the frontof thecarandsqueezedbetween the tramand thecavewall.Thenhetriedtopushthetramback,shovingwithbothhandsashardashecould.

Itwouldn’tbudge.“Oh,wow,”Imuttered,shakingmyhead.“Thisishorrible.Thisisn’tany

funatall.”Igotbackuponmykneesontheseatandtriedshoutingagain,asloudasI

could:“Isanybodyinhere?Doesanybodyworkhere?Thetramisstuck!”Plunkplunkplunk.Thedrippingwaterwasmyonlyreply.“Cansomebodyhelpus?”Ishouted.“Please—cansomebodyhelp?”Noanswer.“Nowwhat?”Icried.

Martywasstillshovingwithallhismightagainstthefrontofthetram.Hegaveonelasthardpush,thengaveupwithasigh.“You’dbetterclimbdown,”hesaid.“Wehavetowalk.”

“Huh?Walk?Inthiscreepydarkcave?Noway,Marty!”Hecamearoundtomysideofthecar.“You’renotafraid—areyou,Erin?”“Yes, I am,” I confessed. “A little.” Iglancedaround thehugecavern. “I

don’tseeanyexits.We’dhavetowalkbackthroughthosetunnels.Withallthespidersandwormsandeverything.”

“We can find a way out,” Marty insisted. “There’s got to be a doorsomewhere.Theyalwaysbuildemergencyexitsinthesethemeparkrides.”

“Ithinkweshouldstayinthetram,”Isaiduncertainly.“Ifwestayhereandwait,someonewillcomeandfindus.”

“Itcould takedays,”Martydeclared.“Comeon,Erin. I’mgoing towalk.Areyoucomingwithme?”

I shook my head, my arms crossed tightly in front of me. “No way,” Iinsisted.“I’mstayinghere.”

I knew he wouldn’t go off by himself. I knew he wouldn’t go unless Ijoinedhim.

“Well. ’Bye then,” he said.He turned and startedwalkingquickly acrossthecavefloor.

“Hey,Marty—?”“’Bye.I’mnotwaitinghereallday.Seeyoulater.”Hewas really leaving.Leavingme alone in the stalled tram, in the scary

cave.“But,Marty—wait!”He turned back to me. “Are you coming or not, Erin?” he called back

impatiently.“Okay,okay,”Imurmured.IsawthatIhadnochoice.Iclimbedoverthe

sideofthetramanddroppedtothecavefloor.Thedirtwassmoothanddamp.IstartedwalkingslowlytowardMarty.“Hurryitup,”hecalled.“Let’sgetoutofhere.”Hewaswalkingbackward

now,motioningformetocatchuptohim.ButIstoppedandmymouthdroppedopeninhorror.“Don’tlookatmelikethat!”heshouted.“Don’tstareatmeasifI’mdoing

somethingwrong!”ButIwasn’tstaringatMarty.IwasstaringatthethingcreepingupbehindMarty.

12

“Uh…uh…uh…”IstruggledtowarnMarty,butonlyfrightenedgruntsescapedmythroat.

Hekeptbackingup,backingrightintotheenormouscreature.“Erin,getamoveon.What’syourproblem?”hedemanded.“Uh…uh…uh…”Ifinallymanagedtopoint.“Huh?”Marty spun around—and saw it, too. “Whoa!” he screamed.His

sneakersslidonthesoftcavefloorashecamerunningbacktome.“Whatisthatthing?”

Atfirst,Ithoughtitwassomekindofmachine.Itlookedlikeoneofthosetallsteelcranesyouseeonconstructionsites.Allsilveryandmetallic.

Butasitroseuponitswire-thinbacklegs,Isawthatitwasalive!It had roundblack eyes the size of billiard balls.They spunwildly in its

skinny silver skull. Two slender antennae bobbed at the top of the head. Itsmouth appeared soft, mushy. A gray tongue darted out between long, bristlywhiskers.

Itslongbodystretchedbacklikeafolded-upleaf.Asitstood,itwaveditsfrontlegs,shortwhitesticks.

Thewhole creature looked like some kind of gross stick figure. Its longbacklegsbentandsprangforward,bentthensprangforward.Thethicktongueswungfromsidetoside.Theblackeyesstoppedwhirlingandfocusedonme.

“Isit—isitagrasshopper?”Ichokedout.MartyandIhadbothbackeduptothetram.Waving its stick arms, the creature sprang closer, its antennae circling

slowlyontopofitshead.Marty and I pressed our backs against the cold cave wall. We couldn’t

movebackanyfarther.“I think it’s a prayingmantis,”Marty replied, staring up at it.The insect

hadtobeatleastthreetimesastallasus.Asitmovedforward,itsheadnearlyscrapedthecaveceiling.

The tongue licked its soft,mushymouth.Themouth puckered andmadeloudsuckingsounds.Mystomachlurched.Thesoundwassosick!

The round black eyes stared down at Marty and me. The giant praying

mantis,itsbodyshininglikealuminum,tookanotherhoppingsteptowardus.Itstartedtoloweritshead.

“Wh-what’s it going todo?” I stammered,pressingmybackhardagainstthecavewall.

Tomysurprise,Martysuddenlystartedtolaugh.Iturnedtohimandgrabbedhisshoulder.Washetotallylosingit?“Marty—areyouokay?”“Ofcourse!”he replied.Hepulledaway frommeand tooka step toward

the towering insect. “Why should we be scared, Erin? It’s a big robot. It’sprogrammedtowalkuptothetram.”

“Huh?But,Marty—”“It’s all on a computer,”he continued, staringupas thebigheadbobbed

loweronitsstickbody.“Itisn’treal.It’spartoftheride.”Istaredupatthecreature.Bigdropsofsalivarolledoffitsfattongueand

hitthecavefloorwithasplat.“It’s…uh…reallylifelike,”Imurmured.“Yourdadisageniusatthisstuff!”Martydeclared.“We’llhavetotellhim

whatagoodjobhedidontheprayingmantis.”Helaughed.“Yourdadsaidtherewerestillsomebugs,remember?Thismustbeoneofthem!”

Theinsectrubbeditsfrontlegstogether.Itmadeashrillwhistlingsound.Icoveredmyears.Thehigh-pitchednotemademyearsache!Iwas still holdingmy ears as a second giant prayingmantis hopped out

frombehindatallrock.“Look—another one!”Marty cried, pointing.He tuggedmy arm. “Wow.

Theymovesosmoothly.Youcan’teventellthatthey’remachines.”The two silvery insects chittered at each other, a sharp shrill, metallic

sound.Theirblackeyestwirled.Theirantennaerotatedrapidly,excitedly.Gobs of saliva rolled off their tongues and splattered to the floor. The

secondoneflashedsilverywingsonitsback,thenquicklyclosedthemupagain.“Great-lookingrobots!”Martydeclared.Heturnedtome.“We’dbetterget

back in the tram. It’llprobably startupagainnow thatwe’ve seen thesegiantbugs.”

Thetwoinsectschitteredtoeachother.Theyhoppedcloser,theirsticklikelegsspringinghard,bouncingoffthesmoothcavefloor.

“Ihopeyou’reright,”ItoldMarty.“Thoseinsectsaretooreal.Iwanttogetoutofhere!”

Istartedtofollowhimtothetramcar.

Thefirstmantisleapedforwardquickly.Ithoppedbetweenusandthetram,blockingourpath.

“Hey—!”Icried.Wetriedtosteparoundit.Butittookabighoptostayinfrontofus.“It—itwon’tletuspass!”Istammered.“Ohhh!”Icriedoutasthebigcreaturesuddenlyswungdownandslammed

itsheadagainstmychest.Thepowerfulhead-buttsentmesprawlingbackward.“Hey—stopthat!”IheardMartyshout.“Thatmachinemustbebroken!”Its black eyes glowing, themantis lowered its head again—and gaveme

anotherhardpushtowardthecenterofthecave.ItspartnermovedquicklytotrapMarty.Itlowereditsbodyandpreparedto

head-buttMarty.ButMartyquicklybackedaway, raisinghishands infrontofhimlikeashield.Hehurriedtojoinme.

Iheardscrapingsounds.Shrillchirpsandchittering.Ispunaroundtodiscovertwomorehuge,uglymantisesclimbingoutfrom

behind rocks.Then twomore, their antennae twistingexcitedly.Their fatgraytonguesrollingaroundtheiropenmouths.

Martyand Ihuddled together in themiddleof thecavernas thecreatureshoppedandscrapedaroundus.Thentheyroseuphighontheirhindlegs,theirblackeyesgleaming,theirshortstickarmswaving.

“We—we’resurrounded!”Icried.

13

The giant insects all began chittering at once. They scraped their front legstogetherexcitedly.Theshrillwhistlerosethroughthecave,echoingoffthestonewalls.

They formed a circle around us, leaning back on their spindly hind legs.Moving closer. Tightening the circle. Their tongues whipped back and forth.Thickgobsofmantissalivahitthefloor.

“They’reoutofcontrol!”Martyshrieked.“Whataretheygoingtodotous?”Icried,coveringmyearsagainst their

excitedchirpsandthedeafeningwhistle.“Maybetheyarevoice-controlled,”Martyshouted.Hetiltedbackhishead

andshoutedupatthem:“Stop!Stop!”Theydidn’tstop.Oneofthemtilteditssilveryhead,openeditsuglymouthwide,andspitout

ablackgob.ItsplatteredontoMarty’ssneaker.Hejumpedback.Hissneakerstucktothefloor.He struggled to tug it free. “Yuck!Watchout!Thatblack stuff—it’s like

glue!”hecried.THOOOM.Another mantis opened its mouth wide and spit out a big black gob of

stickygoo.ItsplotchedtheshoulderofmyT-shirt.“Oww!”Iwailed.Itwassohot—itburnedmerightthroughmyshirt.The others chittered shrilly and scraped their hairy stick arms. Their

tonguesdartingbackandforth,theybegantolowertheirheadstous.“Thestunguns!”Icried,grabbingMarty’sarm.“Maybethegunswillwork

againstthesebugs!”“Thosegunsareonlytoys!”hewailed.THUPPP.AnotherblackgobmissedMarty’sfootbyinches.“Besides,thegunsareinthetram,”Martycontinued,staringupattheugly

creatures.“Nowaythey’llletusgettothetram.”“Thenwhatarewegoingtodo?”Icried.AsIaskedthequestion,anideaflashedintomymind.

“Marty—”Iwhispered.“Howdoyounormallygetridofbugs?”“Huh?Erin—whatareyoutalkingabout?”“Yousteponthem—right?Don’tyouusuallysteponthem?”“But,Erin—”heprotested.“Thesebugsarebigenoughtosteponus!”“It’sworthatry!”Icried.I raisedmy sneaker—and tromped as hard as I could on the foot of the

nearestmantis.Thegiantinsectletoutashrillhissandhoppedbackward.Beside me, Marty stomped on another insect, bringing the heel of his

sneaker downhard on its spindly foot. That creature fell back, too, raising itsheadinashrillhissofpain.Itseyesspunwildly.Itsantennaeshotstraightup.

I stompeddownhardagain.Withahoarsechokingsound, thebigmantisfellontoitsside.Allfoursticklegsthrashedtheair.

“Let’sgo!”Ishouted.Iturnedandburstthroughthecircleofinsects.Ididn’tknowwheretorun.

IonlyknewIhadtogetaway.Thecaveeruptedinhissesandshrillwhistles,angryclutteringandcroaks.I

glimpsedMartylurchingafterme.Iignoredtheechoing,ringingsoundsandran.Rantothetram.Leanedoverthesideandgrabbedbothplasticstungunsintomyarms.ThenIpushedawayfromthetramandhurtledalongthestonecavewall.WherecouldIgo?HowcouldIescape?Theclutteringandhissinggrew louder,more frantic.The tall shadowsof

thegiantinsectsdancedonthewallasIran.Ihadthefeelingthattheshadowscouldreachoutandgrabme.

Iglancedback.Martycamerunningbehindmeatfullspeed.Themantiseswerehopping, scrabbling, limpingacross thedirt floorafter

us.Wheretorun?Where?AndthenIsawthenarrowopeninginthecavewall.Justacrack,really.But I dove for it. Slipped into it. Squeezed myself into the dark hole

betweenthestone.Andburstouttheotherside.Intothemistydaylight.Outside!

Icouldseetreestiltingdownthehill.Theroadthatleddowntothestudiobuildings.

Yes!Outside!Imadeit!Ifeltsohappy.Sosafe.ButIdidn’thavelongtoenjoythefeeling.AsIstartedtocatchmybreath,IheardMarty’sterrifiedcry:“Erin—help!

Help!Theygotme!They’reeatingme!”

14

Withagasp,Ispunaround.HowcouldIhelpMarty?HowcouldIgethimoutofthecave?Tomysurprise,hewasleaningagainstthecavewall,oneelbowagainstthe

rock,hislegscrossed.Abiggrinonhisroundface.“AprilFools,”hesaid.“YAAAIIIII!” I let out an angry scream. Then I dropped the two plastic

pistols and rushed at him, ready to pound himwithmy fists. “You jerk!Youscaredmetodeath!”

HelaughedanddodgedtothesideasIcameathim.Iswungmyfistandhitair.

“Don’t play any more dumb jokes like that!” I cried breathlessly. “Thisplaceistooscary!Thosebiginsects—”

“Yeah.Theywerescary,”heagreed,hissmilefading.“Theyweresoreal!Howdoyouthinktheymadethemspitlikethat?”

Ishookmyhead.“Idon’tknow,”Imuttered.Ihadaheavyfeelinginmystomach.Iknewitwasacrazyidea.ButIwas

beginningtothinkthesecreatureswewereseeingwerereal.MaybeI’veseentoomanyscarymovies.Butthebigprayingmantisesand

thewhiteworms and all the other creatures andmonsters really seemed to bealive.

Theydidn’tmovelikemechanicalcreatures.Theyappearedtobreathe.AndtheireyesfocusedonMartyandmeasiftheycouldreallyseeus.

IwantedtotellMartywhatIwasthinking.ButIknewhewouldonlylaughatme.

He was so sure that they were all robots and that we were seeing someawesomemoviespecialeffects.Ofcourse,thatmadesense.Wewereonamoviestudiotour,afterall.

IhopedMartywasright.Ihopeditwasalltricks.Moviemagic.Mydadwasageniuswhenitcametodesigningmechanicalcreaturesand

buildingthemeparkrides.Andmaybethat’sallwewereseeing.MaybeDadhadreallyoutdonehimselfthistime.

But theheavyfeeling inmystomachwouldn’tgoaway. Ihad thefeeling

thatwewereindanger.Realdanger.Ihadthefeelingthatsomethinghadgonewronghere.Thatsomethingwas

outofcontrol.Isuddenlywishedweweren’tthefirsttwokidstotryoutthetour.Iknewit

wassupposed tobea thrill tobe theonlyoneshere.But itwas tooquiet.Tooempty.Too scary. Itwould be somuchmore fun if hundreds of other peoplewerealongwithus.

IwantedtotellMartyallthis.ButhowcouldI?Hewassoeagertoprovethathewasbraverthanme.Soeagertoprovethat

hewasn’tafraidofanything.Icouldn’ttellhimwhatIwasreallythinking.Ipickedupthetwoplasticstungunsandhandedhimone.Ididn’twantto

carrythemboth.He tucked the barrel of his gun into his jeans pocket. “Hey, Erin—look

whereweare!”hecried.Hejoggedpastme,hiseyesstraightahead.“Checkitout!”

He started running across the grass. I turned and started to followhim. Ididn’twanthimtogettoofarahead.

Theskyhaddarkened.Thesunhaddisappearedbehindaheavyblanketofclouds.Wispsofgrayfoghunglowinthecoolair.Itwasnearlyevening.

Wecrossedtheroadandsteppedintoatown.Imean,itwasamoviesetofa town. A small town with low, one-and two-story buildings, small shops, acountry-lookinggeneralstore.Big,oldhousesintheblockbeyondthestores.

“Doyouthinkthisisasettheyreallyuseinthemovies?”Iasked,hurryingtocatchuptoMarty.

He turned to me, his dark eyes flashing with excitement. “Don’t yourecognizeit?Don’tyouknowwhereyouare?”

And thenmy eyes fell on the crumbling, oldmansion half-hidden by thetwistedtrees.Andacrossfromit,Isawthecrookedpicketfencethatranaroundtheoldcemetery.

AndIknewwewereonShockStreet.“Wow!”Iexclaimed,spinningaround,tryingtotakeitallinatonce.“This

reallyisShockStreet.Thisiswheretheyfilmedallofthemovies!”“Itdoesn’tlookthewayIimaginedit,”Martysaid.“Itlooksevenscarier!”Hewasright.As theskydarkened toevening, longshadowsfellover the

emptybuildings.Thewindmadeamoaningsoundasitsweptaroundthecorner.Marty and Imade ourway down the street, trying to seeeverything.We

keptcrossingfromsidetoside,peeringintoadark,dust-coveredshopwindow

—thenrunningtoexaminethefrontyardofarundown,oldmansion.“Check out that empty lot,” I said, pointing. “That’s where The Mad

Mangler hung out. Remember? In Shocker III? Remember—he mangledeveryonewhowalkedby?”

“Of course I remember,”Marty snapped. He stepped into the empty lot.Tallweedsbent low,blownbythemoaningwind.Shadowsmovedagainst thefenceattheback.

I stayed on the sidewalk and squinted hard, trying to see what cast theshadows.

DidTheMadManglerstilllurkbackthere?Thelotwastotallyempty.Sohowcouldtherebetall,shiftingshadowson

thefence?“Marty—comeback,”Ipleaded.“It’sgettingdark.”Heturnedback.“Scared,Erin?”“It’sjustanemptylot,”Itoldhim.“Let’skeepwalking.”“Peoplealways thought itwas justanempty lot,”Marty replied ina low,

scaryvoice.“UntilTheMadManglerjumpedoutandmangledthem!”Heletoutalong,evillaugh.

“Marty—you’relosingit,”Imurmured,shakingmyhead.Hecametrottingoutof the lot,andwecrossedthestreet.“IwishIhada

camera,”hesaid.“I’dreallylikeapictureofmestandinginTheMangler’slot.”Hiseyeslitup.“Orevenbetter—!”

Hedidn’tfinishhissentence.Instead,hetookoff,runningfullspeed.“Hey—waitup!”Icried.Afewsecondslater,Isawwherehewasheaded.Theoldcemetery.Heranuptothecrackedandpeelingwoodengateandturnedbacktome.

“Even better, I’d like a photo ofme standing in the cemetery. The actual setwheretheyfilmedCemeteryonShockStreet.”

“Wedon’thaveacamera,”Icalledfromthestreet.“Getawayfromthere.”He ignoredmeandstarted toopen thegate.Thebottomwasstuck in the

grass.Marty tugged hard. Finally, the gate started to pull open, creaking andgroaningasitmoved.

“Marty—let’sgo,”Iinsisted.“It’sgettinglate.Dadisprobablywaitingforus,wonderingwhathappenedtous.”

“But this ispartof the tour!”he insisted.He tugged theheavygateopenjustwideenoughtosqueezeinsidethecemetery.

“Marty—please!Don’tgoin!”Ibegged.Iranupbesidehim.

“Erin,it’sjustamovieset,”hereplied.“Youdidn’tusedtobesuchatotalwimp!”

“I—I just have abad feeling about this cemetery,” I stammered. “Averybadfeeling.”

“It’spartofthetour,”herepeated.“Butthisgatewasclosed!”Icried.“Itwasclosedsothatpeopledon’tgo

in.” I raisedmyeyes to thecemetery. I saw theoldgraves tiltingup from thegroundlikecrookedteeth.“Ihavesuchabadfeeling…”

Martyignoredme.Hetuggedthegateopenalittlewiderandslippedintothecemetery.

“Marty—please—!” I gripped the low fence tightly with both hands andwatchedhim.

Hetookthreestepstowardtheoldgraves.Thenhishandsshotstraightupintheair—andhedroppedoutofsight.

15

Istaredintothedarkness,blinkinghard.Iswallowed.Once.Twice.Icouldn’tbelievethathewasgone,thathehadvanishedsoquickly.Thewindmoanedbetweenthejagged,tiltinggravestones.“Marty—?”Myvoicecameoutinachokedwhisper.“Marty?”Igrippedthepicketfencesohard,myhandsached.IknewIhadnochoice.

Ihadtogointhereandseewhathadhappenedtohim.I tookadeepbreathandpushedmyself through theopening.Theground

wassoft.Mysneakerssankintothetallgrass.Itookonestep.Thenanother.IstoppedwhenIheardMarty’svoice.“Hey—becareful.”“Huh?”Igazedaround.“Whereareyou?”“Downhere.”Ipeereddown—intoadeep,darkhole.Anopengrave.Martystaredupat

me.HehaddirtonhischeeksanddownthefrontofhisT-shirt.Heraisedbothhands.“Helpmeout.Ifell!”

Ihadtolaugh.Helookedridiculous,standinginthathole,coveredindirt.“It’snotfunny.Helpmeout,”herepeatedimpatiently.“Iwarnedyou,”Isaid.“Ihadabadfeeling.”“Itsmellsdownhere,”Martycomplained.Ileaneddown.“Whatdoesitsmelllike?”“Likedirt.Getmeout!”“Okay,okay.”Igrabbedhishandsandtugged.Hekickedhisfeet,digging

histoesofhissneakersintothesoftdirt.A few seconds later, he was back on the ground, frantically brushing

himself off. “Thatwas cool!” he declared. “Now I can tell people Iwas in agraveinTheShockStreetCemetery.”

Achillrandownmybackasthewindpickedup.“Let’sgetoutofhere,”Ipleaded.

Something gray floated silently between two old gravestones. A wisp offog?Agraycat?

“Check out these graves,” Marty said, still brushing dirt off his jeans.“They’reallcrackedandfaded.Icanbarelyreadthenames.That’ssocool.Andlookhowtheysprayedcobwebsoverthatrowofstones.Creepy,huh?”

“Marty—canwego?” I begged again. “Dad is probablyworriedbynow.Maybethetramstartedupagain.Maybewecanfindit.”

Heignoredme.Iwatchedhimleanoveratombstonetoreadthewordscutinto it. “Jim Socks,” he read. “Eighteen forty to eighteen eighty-seven.” Helaughed. “JimSocks.Get it?And look at the ones next to it. BenDover. SidUpp.Theseareallfunny!”

Ilaughed.BenDoverandSidUppwereprettyfunny.My laugh was cut short when I heard a soft cry from the back of the

graveyard.Isawanothergraywispdartbehindatombstone.I held my breath and listened hard. The wind whistled through the tall

grass.Risingabovethewindcameanothershrillcry.Acat?Iwondered.Isthecemeteryfilledwithcats?Orisitachild?Martyheardit,too.Hemoveddowntherowofstonesuntilhestoodbeside

me.Hisdarkeyesglowedexcitedly. “This is so cool.Didyouhear the soundeffects?Theremustbeaspeakerhiddenintheground.”

Anothershrillcry.Definitelyhuman.Agirl?I shivered. “Marty, I really think we should try to get back to my dad.

We’vebeenhereallafternoon.And—”“But what about the rest of the tour?” he argued. “We have to see

everything!”Iheardanothercry.Louder.Closer.Acryofterror.I tried to ignore it.Martywasprobablyright.Thecrieshad tobecoming

fromaloudspeakersomewhere.“Howcanwefinishthetour?”Idemanded.“Weweresupposedtostayon

thetram—remember?Butthetram—OHH!”Icriedoutasahandshotupfromthegroundinfrontofus.Agreenhand.

Itslongfingersunfolded,asifreachingforus.“Whoa!”Martycried,stumblingback.Anothergreenhandshotupfromthedirt.Thentwomore.Handsreachingupfromgraves.Iletoutafrightenedgasp.Handswereburstingupthroughthegrass.Hands

allaroundus.Theirfingerstwistingandarching,reachingout.

Martystartedtolaugh.“Thisistotallyawesome!Justlikeinthemovie!”Hestoppedlaughingasahandpokedupbesidehimandgrabbedhisankle.

“Erin—help!”hecried.ButIcouldn’thelp.Two green hands had wrapped around my ankles and were pulling me

down,downintothegrave.

16

“Come dowwwwwnnnnn,” a soft voice moaned. “Come dowwwwwnnnn withus.”

“Nooo!”Ishrieked.My arms thrashed the air. I tried to kick, but the hands gripped me so

tightly,sofirmly.Mywholebodyfrantically jerkedandtiltedbackandforth,asIstruggled

not to fall. If I fell, I knew they would grab my hands, too. And pull mefacedownintotheearth.

“Comedowwwwwwwnnnnnnn.Comedowwwwwnnnnwithus.”Thisisn’tajoke,Ithought.Thesehandsarereal.Theyarereallytryingto

pullmeunderground.“Help!Oh,help!”IheardMarty’scry.ThenIsawhimfall.Hetoppledto

thegrass,ontohisknees.Twohandsgrippedhisankles.Twomoregreenhandspokedup from the

dirttograbhiswrists.“Come dowwwwwwwnnnnnnn. Come dowwwwwnnnn with us,” the sad

voicemoaned.“Noooo!”Ishrieked,tuggingwildly,desperately.Tomysurprise,Ipulledfree.Onefootsankintothesoftgrass.Iglanceddown.Mysneakerhadslidoff.

Thehandstillgrippedthesneaker—butmyfootwasfree.Withahappycry,Ibentdown.Pulledofftheothersneaker.Iwasfreenow.Free!Breathinghard,Ibentandquicklypulledoffmysocks.Iknewitwouldbe

easiertorunbarefoot.Itossedthesocksaway.ThenIhurriedovertoMarty.He was flat on his stomach. Six hands held him down, tugging at him,

tugginghard.Hiswholebodytwistedandshook.Heraisedhisheadwhenhesawme.“Erin—helpme!”hegasped.Idroppedtomyknees.Reachedforhissneakers.Tuggedthemoff.Thegreenhandsgrippedthesneakerstightly.Martykickedhisfeetfreeand

triedtoclimbtohisknees.Igrabbedagreenhandandpulledifoffhiswrist.Thehandslappedatme.

Acold,hardslapthatmademyhandringwithpain.Ignoringit,Igrabbedforanothergreenhand.Martyrolledover.Rolledfree.Jumpedtohisfeet,gasping, trembling,his

mouthhangingopen,hisdarkeyesbulging.“Yoursocks—”Icriedbreathlessly.“Pullthemoff!Hurry!”Heclumsilytorethemoffhisfeet.Thehandsgrabbedwildly forus.Dozensofhandsstretchingup from the

dirt.Hundredsofhandsreachingupforusfromthetallgraveyardgrass.“Come dowwwwwwwnnnnnnn.Come dowwwwwnnnnwith us,” the voice

moaned.“Comedowwwwurwwnnnnnnn.Comedowwwwwnnnn,”adozenothersoft

voicescalledfrombeneaththeground.MartyandI froze.Thesoft, sadvoicesseemed tohypnotizeme.My legs

suddenlyfeltasiftheyweremadeofstone.“Comedowwwwurwwnnnnnnn.Comedowwwwwnnnn.”AndthenIsawagreenheadpopupfromthedirt.Andthenanotherhead.

Another.Baldgreenheadswithemptyeyesocketsandopen,toothlessmouths.I saw shoulders, then arms. More heads poking up. Bright-green bodies

pullingupfrombeneaththeground.“M-Marty—”Ichokedout.“They’recomingupafterus!”

17

Thecemeteryrangoutwithgruntsandgroansas theuglygreenfigurespulledthemselvesupfromtheground.

Itookonelastglanceattheirtattered,shreddedclothing,attheirblackenedeyesockets,theirtoothless,grinningmouths.

AndthenIstartedtorun.MartyandIbothranwithoutsayingaword.Sidebyside,wedartedacross

thetallgrassbetweentherowsofcrookedtombstones.Myheart thuddedinmychest.Myheadthrobbed.Mybarefeetsankinto

thecolddirt,slippedonthetall,dampgrass.Marty reached thewoodengate first.Hewas running sohard, hebanged

intothefence.Heletoutacry—thenslippedthroughthegateontoShockStreet.I could hear moans and groans and eerie calls of the disgusting green

peoplebehindme.ButIdidn’tlookback.Idoveforthegate.Squeezedthrough.ThenIshoveditshutbehindme.

Running into the street, I stopped to catch my breath. I bent over andpressedmy hands against my knees.My side ached. I sucked in breath afterbreath.

“Don’tstop!”Martycriedfrantically.“Erin—keepgoing!”I took a deep breath and followed him down the street. Our bare feet

slappedthepavement.I could still hear themoans and calls behind us.But Iwas too scared to

glanceback.“Marty—whereiseverybody?”Icalledbreathlessly.ShockStreetwasempty,thehousesandshopsalldark.Shouldn’ttherebepeoplearound?Iwondered.Thisisabigmoviestudio.

WherearethepeoplewhoworkforShockerStudios?Wherearethepeoplewhoworkonthestudiotour?

Whyisn’tanyonearoundtohelpus?“Somethingiswrong!”Martychokedout,runningatfullspeed.Wepassed

TheHorrorHardwareStoreandShockCityElectronics.“Therobotsareoutofcontrolorsomething!”

At last! Marty agreed with me. He finally agreed that something was

terriblywrong.“We’vegot tofindyourdad,”Martysaid,runningacross thestreet to the

nextblockofdarkhouses.“We’vegottotellhimthere’saproblem.”“Wehavetofindthetram,”Icalled,strugglingtokeepupwithhim.“Ow!”My bare foot came down on something hard.A rock or something. Pain

shotupmyleg.ButIhobbledon.“Ifwecangetbackonthetram,itwilltakeusbacktoDad,”Icalled.“TherehastobeawayoutofShockStreet,”Martysaid.“It’sonlyamovie

set.”Weranpastatallmansionwithtwoturrets.Itlookedlikeanevilcastle.I

didn’trememberitfromanyoftheShockermovies.Beyondthemansionstretchedabig,emptydirt lot.At thebackof the lot

stoodalowbrickwall,justafootortwotallerthanMartyandme.“Cutthroughhere!”ItoldMarty.“Ifwecanclimbuponthatwall,wecan

probablyseethestudioroad.”Iwasjustguessing.Butitwasworthatry.Webothturnedintotheemptylot.Mybarefeetthuddedoverthesoftdirt.Thedirt feltcoldandwet.Aswecrossed thefield,ourfeet tossedupbig

clumpsofmud.Ipumpedmylegsharderasthemudgrewsofter.Mybarefeetweresinking

intoit.AsIran,thecoldmudroseupovermyankles.MartyandIwerenearlytothebrickwallwhenweranintothesinkhole.“Yaaaaaiiii!”Webothutteredhoarsecriesasthegroundgavewaybeneath

us.Themudmadeasicksplusssshaswesank.Itossedupbothhands.Triedtograbontosomething.Buttherewasnothingtograb.Themudoozedaroundme.Overmyankles.Mylegs.Upovermyknees.It’ssuckingmedown,Ithought.Itriedtocryoutagain—butpanicchoked

mythroat.IglimpsedMartybesideme.Hisarmswerewavingwildly.Hiswholebody

twistedandsquirmedashesank.Themudwasupoverhiswaist—andhewasstillsinkingfast.

Ikickedhard.Triedtoraisemyknees.But Iwas trapped.Trapped and dropping down, down into the dark,wet

ooze.

Mymud-coveredarmsslappedagainstthesurface.Icouldn’tstopmyself.Themudbubbledupovermyneck.AndIwassinkingfast.

18

Iheldmybreath.Themudroseuptomychin.Inasecond,itwillbeovermyhead,Ithought.Asobescapedmythroat.Themudcrepthigher,upovermychin. I started tospitas it reachedmy

mouth.And then I felt something grabmy arm. Strong hands slipped undermy

arms.Ifeltthehandsslideinthemud.Theygrippedmeharder.Ifeltmyselfbeingtuggedup,tuggedbysomeoneverystrong.ThemudmadealoudplopasIroseup.Ifeltthemudrolldownmychest,

mylegs,myknees.And then I was standing on the surface, still held by the two powerful

hands.“Marty—!”Icalled,tastingthesourmudonmylips.“Areyou—?”“I’mup!”Iheardhishoarsereply.“Erin,I’mokay!”Thestronghandsfinallyletgo.Mylegstrembled.Iwobbledbutremained

standing.Iturnedtoseewhohadrescuedme.Andstaredintotheglowingredeyesofawolf.A humanwith the face of awolf.Clawed hands covered in black fur.A

long,brownsnoutcurved inanopen, toothygrin.Sharp,pointedearsaboveathicktuftofblackwolffur.

Afemale.Sheworeasilverycatsuit.Sleekandtight-fitting.AsIstaredinshock,sheopenedhermouthinathroatygrowl.

Irecognizedheratonce.WolfGirl!Iturnedtoseehercompanion—WolfBoy.HehadpulledMartyoutofthe

mudhole.Marty’swholebodywascakedinmud.Hetriedtowipehisface,butonlymanagedtosmearmoremudoverhischeeks.

“You—savedus!Thankyou!”Icried,finallyfindingmyvoice.Thetwowerewolvesutteredlowgrowlsinreply.“We—welost the tram,”Iexplained toWolfGirl.“Weneed togetback.

Youknow.Backtowheretheridebegan.”

Sheletoutasharpgrowl.Thenshesnappedhertoothyjawhard.“Please—” Ibegged. “Canyouhelpusgetback to the tram?Orcanyou

takeustothemainbuilding?Mydadiswaitingformethere.”WolfGirl’sredeyesflashed.Shegrowledagain.“We know you’re just actors!”Marty blurted out shrilly. “But we don’t

wanttobescaredanymore.We’vehadenoughscaresfortoday.Okay?”The twowerewolves growled.A longwhite string of saliva drooled over

WolfBoy’sblacklips.Somethinginsidemesnapped.Itotallylostit.“Stopit!”Iscreamed.“Just

stopit!Martyisright!Wedon’twanttobescarednow.Sostopthewerewolfact—andhelpus!”

Thewerewolvesgrowledagain.WolfGirl snappedher jaws.A longpinktongueslidout,andshelickedherjaggedteethhungrily.

“That’senough!”Ishrieked.“Stoptheact!Stopit!Stopit!”Iwassoangry,sofurious—Ireachedupwithbothhands.Igrabbedthefur

onthesidesofWolfGirl’smask.AndItuggedthemaskwithallmystrength.Tugged.TuggedwithbothhandsashardasIcould.Andfeltrealfur.Andwarmskin.Itwasn’tamask.

19

“Ohh.”Iletoutagasp,andjerkedmyhandsaway.The werewolf’s red eyes glowed. Her black lips parted. Once again, her

tongueflickedhungrilyoverheryellow,pointedteeth.MywholebodytrembledasIbackedupagainstthebrickwall.“M-Marty

—”Istammered.“It’snotanact.”“Huh?”MartystoodstifflyinfrontofWolfBoy,hisdarkeyeswideinhis

mud-cakedface.“They’renotactors,”Iwhispered.“Somethingiswronghere.Somethingis

terriblywrong.”Marty’smouthdroppedopen.Hetookastepback.Both werewolves uttered low growls. They lowered their heads as if

preparingtoattack.“Doyoubelieveme?”Icried.“Doyoufinallybelieveme?”Martynodded.Hedidn’tsayaword.Ithinkhewastooterrifiedtotalk.Salivapouredfromthewerewolves’mouths.Theireyesglowedlikefirein

thedarkness.Their furrychestsbegan toheave inandout.Theirbreathscameloudandhoarse.

I jumpedbackagainst thewallasbothwerewolvesraised theirheadsandletoutlong,frighteninghowls.

Whatweretheygoingtodotous?IgrabbedMartyandtuggedhimtothewall.“Up!”Icried.“Getup!Maybe

theycan’treachusupthere!”Martyleapedhigh,stretchinguphisarms.Hishandsslappedthetopofthe

wall,thenslidbackdown.Hetriedagain.Hebenthisknees.Jumped.Grabbedforthetopofthewall.Slippedbackdown.

“Ican’t!”hewailed.“It’stoohigh.”“We’vegotto!”Ishrieked.Iturnedbackandsawthetwowerewolvesleanbackontheirhindlegsand

then spring up. They were snarling and growling now, thick gobs of salivarunningovertheirsnappingteeth.

“Up!”Icried.AsMartyleapedforthewallagain,Ireacheddownandgrabbedhismuddy

foot.“Up!”Igavehimahardboost.Hishandsthrashedtheair.Caughtthetopofthebrickwall.Heldon.Hisbarefeetkickedtheair.Butheheldonandtuggedhimselfup.Onhiskneesontopofthewall,heturnedandgrabbedmyhands.Hepulled

andIjumped.Istruggledtoscrambleupbesidehim.ButIcouldn’tgetmykneesup.Couldn’tgetthemontothewall.Mybarefeetthrashedwildly.MykneesscrapedagainstthewallasMarty

tugged.“Ican’tdoit!Ican’t!”Igasped.Thewerewolveshowledagain.“Keeptrying!”Martychokedout.Hetuggedmyarms.Tuggedwithallhis

strength.Iwasstillstrugglingasthetwowerewolvesleaped.

20

Iheardthesnapofjaws.Ifelthotbreathonthebottomofmyfoot.Thetwowerewolvesthuddedagainstthewall.Withadesperatecry,Isprangtothetop.Gaspingforair,Ipressedmyself

flatagainstthebricks.I raisedmy head in time to see the two snarlingwerewolves leap again.

Jawssnappedinfrontofmyface.Redeyesgleamedhungrilyatme.“No!”Withacry,Iscrambledtomyfeet.Thewerewolves raised their heads in angryhowls andprepared to attack

again.MartyandIstoodpressedclosetogether,staringdownatthem.Theyjumped.Theirclawsscrapedagainstthebricks.Theshrillscreechsentchillsdown

myback.Theirteethsnapped.Theydroppeddown.Preparedanotherleap,snarlingexcitedly.“Wecan’tstayuphereforever!”Martycried.“Whatdowedo?”Isquinted into thedarkness.Wasthat thestudioroadontheothersideof

thewall?Toodarktotell.Thewerewolvesleapedagain.Jaggedteethscrapedagainstmyankle.Ijumpedback.Nearlytoppledoffthewall.MartyandIbumpedintoeachother,oureyesonthetwogrowlingcreatures

preparinganotherleap.Thegun!Theplasticstungun!Minehadfallenfrommyhand.Itwasprobablyburiedinthatmudhole.But

myeyesfellonMarty’sgun.Itshandlepokedoutfromhisjeanspocket.Withoutsayingaword, Igrabbed thehandleand tugged theplasticpistol

fromMarty’sjeans.“Hey—!”hecried.“Erin—whatareyoudoing?”“They gave us the guns for a reason,” I explained, shouting over the

frighteninghowlsofthetwowerewolves.“Maybethiswillstopthem.”“It—it’sonlyatoy!”Martystammered.

Ididn’tcare.Itwasworthatry.Maybeitwouldfrightenthem.Maybeitwouldhurtthem.Maybeitwould

chasethemaway.Iraisedtheplasticgun.Aimeditasthetwowerewolvesmadeanotherleap

of attack. “One—two—three—FIRE!” I squeezed the trigger. Again. Again.Again!

21

Thegunmadealoudbuzzingsound.Itshotoutabeamofyellowlight.Yes!Ithought.Yes!Iprayed.Thelightwillstopthem.It’s a stun gun—right? The buzzing sound and the bright light will stun

them.ItwillfreezetheminplacesoMartyandIcanmakeourescape.Isqueezedthetriggerhard.Again.Again.Itdidn’tstopthewerewolves.Itdidn’tevenseemtosurprisethem.Theyleapedhigher.Ifeltsharpclawsscrapemyleg.Icriedoutinpain.Andtheplasticgunflewoutofmyhand.Itclatteredagainstthetopofthewall,thenslidtotheground.Justatoy.Martywasright.Itwasn’tarealweapon.Itwasjustastupidtoy.“Look out!” Marty opened his mouth in a shrill shriek as the snarling

creaturesmadeanotherhighleapatthewall.Clawsscrapedthebrick—andheldon.Redeyesglaredupatme.Hotwolf

breathtingledmyskin.“Ohhh.”MyarmsflewupasIlostmybalance.Istruggledtostayup.But

mykneesbent.Myfeetslipped.IgrabbedforMarty.Missed.Andtoppledoff.Landedhardonmybackontheothersideofthewall.Gazingupinhorror,IsawMartyleapdownbesideme.Thetwowerewolveswereonthetopofthewallnow.Theyglareddownat

us,redeyesglowing,tonguesout,breathinghard.Preparingtopounce.Martydraggedmetomyfeet.“Run!”hecriedhoarsely,hiseyeswidewith

panic.Thewerewolvesgrowledaboveus.Theground tilted. I still felt dizzy, a little dazed frommy fall. “We—we

can’toutrunthem!”Imoaned.Iheardarumblingsound.Aclatter.Marty and I both turned.And saw two yellow eyes, glowing against the

darksky.Yelloweyesofacreatureroaringtowardus.

No.Notacreature.Asitdrewnearer,Icouldmakeoutitslong,sleekshape.Thetram!Thetrambouncingovertheroadbehindyellowheadlights.Comingcloser.

Closer.Yes!IturnedtoMarty.Didheseeit,too?Hedid.Withoutsayingaword,webothbeganrunningto theroad.Thetramwas

rollingfast.Somehowwehadtoclimbonit.Wehadto!Behindus,Iheardthewerewolveshowl.Iheardahardthump,thenanother

astheydroppedoffthewall.Thetwinyellowheadlightsofthetramsweptoverus.Thewerewolvessnarledandhowledangrilyastheychasedafterus.A few feet aheadofme,Martywashurtling forward, his headdown, his

legspumpingfuriously.Thetrambumpedcloser.Closer.Thehowlingwerewolveswere inchesbehindus. I couldalmost feel their

hotbreathonthebackofmyneck.Afewmoreseconds.Afewmoreseconds—andMartyandIwouldmake

ourjump.Iwatched the tram speed around a curve, the yellow headlightswashing

overthedarkroad.Ikeptmyeyesonthefrontcar.Tookadeepbreath.Preparedtojump.

AndthenMartyfell.Isawhishandsshootout.Sawhismouthopenwideinsurprise.Inhorror.He stumbled over his own bare feet and dropped to the ground, landing

hardonhisstomach.Icouldn’tstopintime.Iranrightintohim.Stumbledoverhim.Fellheavilyontopofhim.Andwatchedthetramspeedpastus.

22

“Owoooooooo!”Thetwowerewolvesutteredlonghowlsoftriumph.Myheartpounding, I scrambled tomyfeet.“Getup!” I franticallypulled

Martyupbybotharms.Wetookoffafter thetram,ourbarefeetpoundingthehardroad.Thelast

carbouncedafewfeetaheadofus.Ireacheditfirst.Shotoutmyrighthand.Grabbedthebackofthecar.Withadesperateleap,Ihoistedmyselfup.Up.Andintothelastseat.Strugglingtocatchmybreath,IturnedbacktofindMartyrunningbehind

thetram.Hishandsreachedforthebackofthetramcar.“I—Ican’tmakeit!”hegasped.

“Run!You’vegotto!”Iscreamed.Behindhim,Icouldseethewerewolvesscamperingclosebehind.Marty put on a burst of speed.Hegrabbed the backof the carwith both

hands. It dragged him for several feet—until he swung himself around anddroppedintotheseatbesideme.

Yes! I thought happily. We made it! We got away from those howlingwerewolves.

Ordidwe?Wouldtheyjumpintothetramafterus?I spunaround,mywholebody trembling.And Iwatched thewerewolves

fadeintothedistance.Theyranforawhile,thengaveup.Theybothstoodintheroad,hunchedoverindefeat,watchingusescape.

Escape.Whatawonderfulword.MartyandIgrinnedateachother.Islappedhimahighfive.We were both breathing hard, covered in mud. My legs ached from

running. My bare feet throbbed. My heart still thudded from the frighteningchase.

Butwehadescaped.Andnowweweresafeinthetram,onourwaybacktothestartingplatform.Backtomydad.

“We’ve got to tell your dad that this place is messed up,” Marty said

breathlessly.“Somethingishorriblywronghere,”Iagreed.“Those werewolves—they weren’t kidding around,” Marty continued.

“They—theywerereal,Erin.Theyweren’tactors.”Inodded. I felt soglad thatMarty finallyagreedwithme.Andhewasn’t

pretendingtobebraveanymore.Hewasn’tpretendingthatitwasallrobotsandspecialeffects.

Webothknewthatwehadfacedrealdangers.Realmonsters.Something was terribly wrong at Shocker Studios. Dad had told us he

wantedafullreport.Well,hewasgoingtogetone!Isettledbackintheseat,tryingtocalmdown.But I shot straight up againwhen I realizedweweren’t alone. “Marty—

look!”Ipointedtothefrontofthetram.“Wearen’ttheonlypassengers.”Infact,everytramcarappearedtobefilledwithpeople.“What’s going on?”Martymurmured. “Your dad saidwewere the only

onesonthetour.Andnowthetramis—OH!—”Martyneverfinishedhissentence.Hismouthfellopeninagasp.Hiseyes

bulgedopenwide.Igasped,too.Theotherpassengersonthetramallturnedaroundatthesametime.AndI

saw theirgrinning jaws, theirdark, emptyeye sockets, thegraybonesof theirskulls.

Skeletons.Theotherpassengerswereallgrinningskeletons.Their jaws opened in dry laughter. Cruel laughter that sounded like the

wind screeching through bare trees. Bones rattled and clattered as they raisedtheiryellowed,skeletalhandstopointatus.

Their skulls bobbed and bounced as the tram carried us, faster, faster,throughthedarkness.

Marty and I slumped low in the seat, trembling, staring at the grinningskulls,thepointingfingers.

Whowerethey?Howdidtheygetonthistram?Whereweretheytakingus?

23

The skeletons laughed their wheezing laugh. Their bones clanked and rattled.Theiryellowedskullsbouncedlooselyontheirclatteringshoulderbones.

Thetrampickedupspeed.Wewereflyingthroughthedarkness.I forced myself to turn away from the grinning skulls and peered out.

Beyondthetrees,Icouldseethelowbuildingsofthemoviestudio.AsIstared,theygrewsmaller,fadedintotheblacknessofthenight.

“Marty—we’renotgoingbacktothemainplatform,”Iwhispered.“We’reheadingthewrongway.We’regoingawayfromallthebuildings.”

Heswallowedhard.Icouldseethepanicinhiseyes.“Whatcanwedo?”hechokedout.

“We’vegottogetoff!”Ireplied.“We’vegottojump.”Martyhadslumpedallthewaydownintheseat,aslowashecouldget.I

thinkhewastryingtohidefromtheskeletons.Nowhe raisedhishead andpeekedover the sideof the tram. “Erin—we

can’tjump!”hecried.“We’regoingtoofast.”Hewasright.Wewererocketingalongtheroad.Andthetramkeptpickingupspeed.The

treesandshrubswhirredpastinadarkblur.Andthenaswesquealedintoasharpcurve,atallbuildingseemedtojump

intoourpath.A castle, bathed in swirling spotlights. All gray and silver. Twin towers

reacheduptothesky.Asolidstonewallroseupfromtheroad.Theroad.Itcurvedstraightintothecastlewall.Theroadendedatthewall.Andwewereroaringdowntheroad,stillpickingupspeed.Roaringtowardthecastle.Theskeletonsrattledandclatteredandlaughedtheirdry,screechinglaugh.

They bounced in their seats, bones cracking, jumping in excitement as wezoomedatthecastle.

Closer.Closer.Rightuptoitnow.Uptothesolidstonewall.Abouttosmashrightintoit.

24

Mylegs trembled.Myheartpounded.ButsomehowImanaged tostandupontheseat.

Itookadeepbreath.Heldit.Closedmyeyes—andjumped.Ilandedhardonmyside,androlled.IsawMartyhesitate.Thetrambounced.Martydoveovertheside.Hehitthegroundonhisstomach.Rolledontohisback.Andkeptrolling.Icametoastopunderatree.Andturnedtothecastle—intimetoseethe

tramplungeintothestonewall.Withoutasound.Thefirsttramcarhitthecastlewallandflewthroughit.Silently.Icouldseetheskeletonsbobbingandbouncing.AndIsawthenextcarandthenextandthenext—allshootintothecastle

wallanddisappearthroughitwithoutmakingasound.Afewsecondslater,thetramdisappeared.Aheavysilencefellovertheroad.Thespotlightsonthecastlewalldimmed.“Erin—areyouokay?”Martycalledweakly.Iturnedtofindhimonhishandsandkneesontheothersideoftheroad.I

scrambledtomyfeet.Ihadscrapedmyside,butitdidn’thurttoobadly.“I’mokay,”Itoldhim.Ipointedtothecastle.“Didyouseethat?”“Isawit,”Martyreplied,standingupslowly.“ButIdon’tbelieve it.”He

stretched.“Howdidthetramgothroughthewall?Doyouthinkthecastleisn’treallythere?Thatit’sanopticalillusion?Somekindoftrick?”

“There’saneasywaytofindout,”Isaid.Wewalked side by side on the road. Thewind rustled the trees,making

themwhisperallaroundus.Thepavementfeltcoldundermybarefeet.“We’ve got to find my dad,” I said quietly. “I’m sure he can explain

everythingtous.”“Ihopeso,”Martymurmured.Westeppeduptothecastlewall.Istuckoutbothhands,expectingthemto

gorightthrough.

Butmyhandsslappedsolidstone.Marty lowered his shoulder and shoved it against the castle wall. His

shoulderhitthewallwithathud.“It’ssolid,”Martysaid,shakinghishead.“It’sarealwall.Sohowdidthe

tramgothroughit?”“It’saghosttram,”Iwhispered,rubbingmyhandagainstthecoldstone.“A

ghosttramfilledwithskeletons.”“Butwerodeinit!”Martycried.I slapped the wall with both hands and spun away from it. “I’m sick of

mysteries!” I wailed. “I’m sick of being scared! I’m sick of werewolves andmonsters!I’mnevergoingtoanotherscarymovieaslongasIlive!”

“Your fathercanexplain itall,”Martysaidsoftly,shakinghishead.“I’msurehecan.”

“I don’t want him to explain it!” I cried. “I just want to get away fromhere!”

Keepingclosetogether,wemadeourwayaroundtothesideofthecastle.Icould hear strange, animal howls behind us. And a frightening cackle cutthroughtheairsomewhereaboveourheads.

I ignored all the sounds. I didn’t want to think aboutwhether theywerebeing made by real monsters or fakes. I didn’t want to think about thefrighteningcreatureswehadruninto—ortheclosecallsMartyandIhadhad.

Ididn’twanttothink.Atthebackof thecastle, theroadappearedagain.“Ihopewe’regoingin

therightdirection,”Imurmured,followingitasitcurvedintothehill.“Me,too,”Martyrepliedinatinyvoice.Wepickedupourpace,walkingquicklyinthemiddleoftheroad.Wetried

not to pay attention to the sharp animal calls, the shrill cries, the howls andmoansthatseemedtofollowuseverywhere.

The road sloped uphill.Marty and I leaned forward as we climbed. Thefrighteningcriesandhowlsfollowedusupthehill.

Aswenearedthetop,Isawseverallowbuildings.“Yes!” I cried. “Marty—look! We must be heading back to the main

platform.”Istartedjoggingtowardthebuildings.Martytrottedclosebehind.Webothstoppedwhenwerealizedwherewewere.BackonShockStreet.Somehowwehadmadeacircle.Pasttheoldhousesandsmallshops,TheShockStreetCemeterycameinto

view. Staring at the fence, I remembered the green hands poking up from theground.Thegreenshoulders.Thegreenfaces.Thehandspullingus,pullingusdown.

Mywholebodyshuddered.I didn’twant to be back here. I neverwanted to see this terrifying street

again.But I couldn’t turn away from the cemetery. As I stared at the old

gravestonesfromacrossthestreet,Isawsomethingmove.Awispofgray.Likeatinycloud.Itroseupbetweentwocrooked,oldstones.Floatedsilentlyintotheair.Andthenanotherpuffofgrayliftedofftheground.Andanother.I glimpsedMarty. He stood beside me, hands pressed against his waist,

staringhard.Hesawthem,too.The gray puffs rose silently, like snowballs or cotton. Dozens of them,

floatingupfromthegraves.Floatingoverthecemeteryandoutoverthestreet.FloatingaboveMartyandme.Hoveringsolow.Andthenaswestaredupatthem,theystartedtogrow.Toinflate,likegray

balloons.AndIsawfacesinsidethem.Darkfaces,etchedinshadowliketheManin

theMoon.Thefacesscowledatus.Oldfaces,linedandcreased.Eyesnarrowedtodarkslits.Frowningfaces.Sneeringfacesinsidethebillowing,whitepuffs.

IgrabbedMarty’sshoulder. Iwanted to run, togetaway, togetout fromunderthem.

But, like smoke, the wisps of mist with their evil faces, swirled down,swirledaroundus.Trappedus.Trappedusinside.

The faces, the ugly, scowling faces, spinning around us. Spinning faster,faster,holdingusintheswirling,chokingmist.

25

Ipressedmyhandsovermyeyes,tryingtoshutthemout.Ifrozeintotalpanic.Icouldn’tthink.Icouldn’tbreathe.Icouldheartheshrillrushofwindastheghostlycloudsswirledaroundus.And then I heard aman’svoice, shoutingover thewind: “Cut!Print that

one!Goodscene,everyone!”I loweredmyhands slowlyandopenedmyeyes. I letoutmybreath ina

longwhoosh.A man came striding up to Marty and me. He wore jeans and a gray

sweatshirtunderabrown leather jacket.Hehadablue-and-whiteDodgerscapsidewaysonhishead.Ablondponytailtumbledoutfromunderit.

Hecarriedaclipboardinonehand.Hehadasilverwhistlearoundhisneck.HesmiledatMartyandmeandflashedusathumbs-up.

“Hey, what’s up, guys? I’m Russ Denver. Good job! You looked reallyscared.”

“Huh?”Icried,mymouthdroppingopen.“Wewerereallyscared!”“I’msogladtoseeareallivehuman!”Martycried.“This tour—it’s totally messed up!” I shrieked. “The creatures—they’re

alive!Theytriedtohurtus!Theyreallydid!Itwasn’tanyfun!Itwasn’tlikearide!”Thewordsspilledoutofmeinarush.

“It was really gross! The werewolves snapped at us and chased us up awall!”Martyexclaimed.

The two of us started talking at once, telling this guy Denver all of thefrighteningthingsthathadhappenedtousonthetour.

“Whoa! Whoa!” A smile crossed his handsome face. He raised hisclipboard as if to shieldhimself fromus. “It’s all special effects, guys.Didn’ttheyexplaintoyouthatwe’remakingamoviehere?Thatwewerefilmingyourreactions?”

“No. No one explained that, Mr. Denver!” I replied angrily. “My dadbroughtushere.Hedesignedthestudiotour.Andhetolduswewerethefirsttotryitout.Buthedidn’ttellusaboutanymoviebeingfilmed.Ireallythink—”

IfeltMarty’shandonmyshoulder. IknewMartywas trying tocalmmedown.ButIdidn’twanttobecalmeddown.

Iwasreallyangry.Mr. Denver turned back to a group of crewmembers behind him in the

street.“Takethirty,guys.Let’sbreakfordinner.”Theymovedaway, talkingamong themselves.Mr.Denver turnedback to

us.“Yourfathershouldhaveexplainedtoyou—”“It’sokay.Really,”Marty interrupted. “We justgot a little scared.Allof

the creatures seemed so real. And we didn’t see any other people anywhere.You’rethefirstrealpersonwe’veseenallafternoon.”

“Mydadmustbereallyworried,”Itoldthemoviedirector.“Hesaidhe’dbewaitingforusonthemainplatform.Canyoutellushowtogetthere?”

“Noproblem,”Mr.Denverreplied.“Seethatbighousetherewiththeopendoor?”Hepointedwithhisclipboard.

MartyandIstaredat thehouseacross thestreet.Anarrowpath ledup tothehouse.Apaleyellowlightshoneinsidetheopenfrontdoor.

“That’sShockro’sHouseofShocks,” thedirector explained. “Go right inthatdoorandstraightthroughthehouse.”

“But won’t we get shocked in there?” Marty demanded. “In the movie,anyonewhogoesintoShockro’shousegets joltedwithtwentymillionvoltsofelectricity!”

“That’sjustinthemovie,”Mr.Denverreplied.“Thehouseisjustaset.It’sperfectlysafe.Gothroughthehouse.Thenout

theback,andyouwillseethemainbuildingontheothersideofthestreet.Youcan’tmissit.”

“Thankyou!”MartyandIcalledoutatonce.Martyturnedandstartedrunningfullspeedtowardthehouse.IturnedbacktoMr.Denver.“I’msorryforyellingbefore,”I toldhim.“I

wasjustsoscared,andIthought—”Igasped.Mr.Denverhadturnedaway.AndIsawthe longpowercord—thepower

cordthatwaspluggedintohisback.Hewasn’tarealhuman.Hewasn’tamoviedirector.Hewassomekindof

robot.Hewasfakelikealltheothers.Hewaslyingtous.Lying!Iturnedandcuppedmyhandsaroundmymouth.Istartedtorun,frantically

callingafterMarty:“Don’tgointhere!Marty—stop!Don’tgointhathouse!”Toolate.Martywasalreadyrunningthroughthedoor.

26

“Marty—wait!Stop!”IshoutedasIran.Ihadtostophim.Thedirectorwasafake.Iknewhewasn’ttellingthetruth.“Marty—please!”Mybarefeetpounded thehardpavement. Iplungedup thepathasMarty

trottedintothedoorway.“Stop!”Iflewtothedoorway.Reachedoutbothhands.Madeawilddivetotackle

him.Andmissed.Iskiddedacrossthewalkonmystomach.AssoonasMartyenteredthehouse,Isawtheflashofwhitelight.Ihearda

loudbuzz.Thenthesharpcrackleofelectricity.The room exploded in a flash of lightning. So bright I had to shieldmy

eyes.When I opened them, I saw Marty sprawled facedown on the floor.

“Nooooo!”Iletoutaterrifiedwail.Scramblingtomyfeet,Idoveintothehouse.WouldIgetshocked,too?Ididn’tcare.IhadtogettoMarty.Ihadtohelphimoutofthere.“Marty!Marty!”Iscreamedhisnameagainandagain.Hedidn’tmove.“Marty—please!”Igrabbedhisshouldersandstartedtoshakehim.“Wake

up,Marty!Snapoutofit!Marty!”Hedidn’topenhiseyes.Isuddenlyfeltachill.Adarkshadowslidoverme.AndIrealizedIwasn’taloneinthehouse.

27

Ispunaroundwithagasp.WasitShockro?Someotherscarycreature?Atallfigureleanedoverme.Isquintedintothedarkness,strugglingtosee

hisface.“Dad!”Icriedashecameintofocus.“Dad!Oh,I’msogladtoseeyou!”“Erin,whatareyoudoinghere?”heaskedinalowvoice.“It—it’sMarty!” I stammered. “You’ve got to help him,Dad.He’s been

shockedandhe—he—”Dad leaned closer.Behind his eyeglasses, his brown eyeswere cold.His

facesetinatroubledfrown.“Dosomething,Dad!”Ipleaded.“Martyishurt.Heisn’tmoving.Hewon’t

open his eyes. The studio tour was so awful, Dad! Something is wrong.Somethingisterriblywrong!”

Hedidn’treply.Heleanedcloser.Andashisfacecameintothesoftlight,Isawthathewasn’tmyfather!“Whoareyou?”Ishrieked.“You’renotmydad!Whyaren’tyouhelping

me?Whyaren’tyouhelpingMarty?Dosomething—please!Where’smydad?Where is he? Who are you? Help me! Somebody? Help meAAAAAARRRRRRRRR. Help MRRRRRRRRRRRR. Dad—MARRRRRRRRRRRRRR.DRRRMMMMMMMMmmmmm.”

28

Mr.WrightstoodstaringdownatErinandMarty.Heshookhisheadunhappily.Heshuthiseyesandletoutalongsigh.

JaredCurtis,oneofthestudioengineers,camerunningintoTheHouseofShocks.“Mr.Wright,whathappenedtoyourtwokidrobots?”hedemanded.

Mr.Wrightsighedagain.“Programmingproblems,”hemuttered.HepointedtotheErinrobot,frozeninplaceonherkneesbesidetheMarty

robot.“Ihadtoshutthegirloff.Hermemorychipmustbebad.TheErinrobotwas supposed to thinkofmeasher father.But just now, shedidn’t recognizeme.”

“AndwhatabouttheMartyrobot?”Jaredasked.“It’s totally down,” Mr. Wright replied. “I think the electrical system

shortedout.”“Whatashame,”Jaredsaid,bendingtorolltheMartyrobotover.Hepulled

uptheT-shirtandfiddledwithsomedialsontheback.“Hey,Mr.Wright,itwasagreatideatomakerobotkidstotestthepark.Ithinkwecanfixthem.”

JaredopenedupapanelonMarty’sbackandsquintedattheredandgreenwires.“Alltheothercreatures,andmonsters,androbotsworkedperfectly.Notasinglebug.”

“I should have known therewas a problem yesterday,”Mr.Wright said.“Wewereinmyoffice.TheErinrobotaskedabouthermother.Ibuilther.Shedoesn’thaveamother.”

Mr.Wright tosseduphishands.“Oh,well.Noproblem.We’ll reprogramthesetwo.Putinnewchips.They’llbegoodasnewinnotime.Thenwe’lltrythemoutonceagainontheShockerStudioTour,beforeweopentheparktorealkids.”

HetooktheMartyrobotfromJaredandslungitoverhisshoulder.ThenhepickeduptheErinrobot.Hetosseditoverhisothershoulder.Then,hummingtohimself,hecarriedthemtotheengineeringbuilding.

Scanning,formattingandproofingbyUndead.

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