Bad Dreams Read online

  Bad Dreams

  Bad Dreams

  R. L. STINE

  SIMON PULSE

  Dead End …

  Maggie turned a corner and slammed into a wall. Her hand touched something wet and slimy.

  And then she heard a dry fluttering overhead, like hundreds of tiny umbrellas opening all at once.

  Something brushed her face. Something furry. She screamed!

  “Help me! Somebody—help me! Get me out of here!”

  The tunnel vibrated with the sound of a thousand flapping wings.

  The footsteps crunched closer.

  Screaming for help. Maggie ran into another cold, wet wall.

  I’m trapped, she realized.

  DON’T MISS A SINGLE NIGHT

  #1: Moonlight Secrets

  #2: Midnight Games

  #3: Darkest Dawn

  AND THESE OTHER CHILLING TALES FROM FEAR STREET:

  All-Night Party

  The Confession

  Killer’s Kiss

  The Perfect Date

  The Rich Girl

  The Stepsister

  A Parachute Press Book

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIMON PULSE

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  http://www.simonandschuster.com

  Copyright © 1994 by Parachute Publishing, L.L.C.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Archway Paperback edition March 1994

  First Simon Pulse edition June 2005

  20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11

  ISBN-13: 978-0-671-78569-7

  ISBN-10: 0-671-78569-9

  eISBN-13: 978-1-439-12038-5

  prologue

  “No … no …”

  The girl tossed fitfully in the large canopy bed, mumbling in her sleep. “Please—no—stay away.”

  If only she could wake up. If only she could open her eyes, then she’d be safe. Safe in her bed, safe in her house on Fear Street.

  But she couldn’t wake up.

  “No … no …” Her moans grew louder.

  “NOOO!”

  Suddenly, the girl sat straight up in bed, wide awake. She shuddered, gasping for breath. Grabbing the covers, she glanced around her dark, familiar bedroom.

  No one here. Just a bad dream.

  Just a bad dream. She repeated the words over and over like a lullaby.

  From her bed, she could see out the window. She peered out at another cold fall night. The large old maple shivered in the icy breeze, dropping its last leaves. Through the bare branches of the tree, she could see the streetlight, casting an eerie yellow glow.

  She sank back against the pillows, wet with sweat. Her long blond hair was matted to her head.

  I’d be better off not sleeping at all, she told herself. She sighed softly, feeling a little better now. She closed her eyes.

  Which is when she felt the presence.

  Felt that she wasn’t alone in the room, after all.

  Her eyes snapped back open. She had never been so alert in her whole life.

  What made her so sure there was someone there?

  She didn’t know.

  “Who is it?” she whispered.

  No answer. She sat up slowly, clutching the bedsheet to her. She stared into the room’s dark corners, studied the shadows.

  Then she saw it.

  A glint of light in the far corner.

  She opened her mouth to speak but was too frightened. For she was now able to make out the human figure who lurked in the corner of her room.

  She heard an angry growl.

  Then the darkness exploded. The other girl rushed out at her so quickly, she didn’t have time to react.

  The knife came down.

  The first blow missed. She struggled desperately, trying to twist away.

  But she was tangled in the covers now, and the girl was holding her down.

  “Sister—!” she protested, trying to push her away. “But you’re my sister!”

  She tried to scream but hadn’t enough breath.

  She forced herself up, but her attacker shoved her back, smashing her skull hard against the headboard.

  For a moment everything went black.

  Then she felt a searing stab of pain.

  And again.

  And again.

  And then darkness closed in on her from all sides.

  In the eerily silent room, nothing moved now except for the trembling canopy over the bed.

  chapter

  1

  Maggie Travers’s bad dreams didn’t start until the night she slept in the canopy bed for the first time.

  The bed was just one of the surprises awaiting Maggie and her family at their new house on Fear Street.

  But for a while, it appeared the Travers family would never find the house.

  Maggie had stared at the map in her lap, trying to trace the route to Fear Street with her finger. She pushed a strand of long red hair behind one ear. It fell right back again. “I guess we turn left here,” she told her mother.

  Mrs. Travers slowed the car to a crawl. She peered through the windshield into the glare of the sunny spring afternoon. “Are you sure?”

  “No, she’s not sure,” Andrea grumbled from the backseat. “I told you, Mom—we should have turned right on Canyon Road. But, nooo, Maggie says go straight, so you go straight. It’s so stupid!”

  Maggie kept quiet. She didn’t want to start a fight with her sister. Starting a fight with Andrea was one of the easiest things in the world. Not starting a fight with Andrea—now that was tricky.

  Gus, Maggie’s old golden retriever, was sharing the backseat with Andrea. The dog had his head out the window. He gave a low, pitiful growl.

  Maggie glanced in her side mirror. Gus was wearing the forlorn look he always had on during car trips. I know how you feel, Maggie told him silently.

  It was Saturday. The day of their big move had finally arrived. We’re off to a terrific start, Maggie thought grimly.

  They were supposed to follow the huge white whale of a moving van. But then Andrea had insisted on stopping at a 7-Eleven for Cokes. They had lost the van, Maggie misread the map, and now they were wandering through a maze of streets that circled north of town toward the Fear Street woods for almost—

  Maggie glanced at her watch. Ten after three! She would never get to practice now! The other girls on the Shadyside High swim team must be wondering where they were.

  “We’re missing practice,” she informed her sister.

  Andrea rolled her eyes. “Naturally,” she muttered unhappily.

  “If only we could find someone out walking,” Mrs. Travers said, nervously brushing her reddish gray hair back with her hand. “We could ask where we are.”

  “We’re lost,” Andrea said. “That’s where we are. Thanks to you-know-who.”

  “We were supposed to be following the moving van,” Maggie reminded her sister as
calmly as she could.

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Andrea shot back.

  Maggie sighed. It seemed as if Andrea wanted to argue no matter what. “Look,” Maggie said, “I’m just saying it’s not all my fault, okay?”

  “Who said to go straight?” Andrea demanded. “Gus?”

  Maggie tried to keep her face blank, but she could feel her anger mounting. It always worked this way. No matter how many times she told herself not to let Andrea get her angry, she got angry.

  Maggie tried to push the large, unwieldy street map back to her sister. “You want to take over?” she asked. “Here. If you think you can do better, be my guest.”

  “No thanks,” Andrea muttered. “I’m sure I couldn’t do it as well as you. You do everything better.”

  “Well—” Maggie began.

  Mrs. Travers gave her older daughter a warning glance. “Maggie,” she said. “Please.”

  Maggie felt her face flush. It seemed as if Mrs. Travers was always warning her to go easy on Andrea. Always explaining how Andrea had it much harder than Maggie did.

  Maggie was seventeen, Andrea sixteen. But the way their mom acted, you’d think Andrea was five.

  Maggie glanced back at her sister, who was now staring out the window, scowling, her jaw jutting forward in that way she had when she was frustrated. Maggie felt her anger easing, a rush of pity taking its place. Mom was right. She should go easy on Andrea.

  With their red hair and green eyes, she and Andrea looked a lot alike. But the same features that made Maggie pretty—the green eyes, the red hair, the high cheekbones—just didn’t fit together right on Andrea.

  Maggie was tall and thin; Andrea shorter with a broadness in her shoulders that bordered on stocky. Also, Maggie’s long red hair was thick and wavy. Andrea’s shoulder-length hair was fine and always hung limp and straight, no matter what she did.

  Looks weren’t Maggie’s only advantage. Maggie had always been one step ahead of her sister in everything—grades, sports, guys.

  There was no doubt about it, she thought sadly. This move was going to be harder on Andrea than any of them.

  After all, Andrea had never been very popular at school, and the one thing she felt she had going for her was that she was a North Hills girl.

  North Hills was the most exclusive section of Shadyside. Andrea liked the status of North Hills. She loved hanging out at the country club. Maggie winced when she remembered how Andrea and her friends had snubbed kids from other parts of town.

  Well, now they were leaving North Hills far behind. And all the kids Andrea had snubbed over the years would have the last laugh.

  I will not argue with my sister, Maggie told herself. I will not, I will not, she thought, as if her mind were a blackboard and some teacher had assigned her to write the words over and over.

  Maggie still felt guilty. And the feeling came back every time she argued with Andrea.

  She’d been arguing with Andrea the day their dad died.

  So dumb. There wasn’t any milk for cereal that morning.

  Andrea blamed Maggie for finishing the milk the night before. Maggie protested that she hadn’t touched the milk. Then Andrea called her a liar.

  They were off in an angry torrent of words. Maggie found herself reminding Andrea of things that had happened years before. Like the time when Andrea was seven and she had set fire to the hair on Maggie’s favorite Barbie doll.

  Then Andrea started yelling that Maggie had ruined her life. She sputtered angry nonsense about how Maggie stole any guy she was interested in.

  By then, they were shrieking at each other and Andrea was crying. And then Mr. Travers told Maggie to stop picking on her sister. That made Maggie so mad, she dumped her bowl of dry cereal on the floor.

  It was one of the great injustices in Maggie’s life. Andrea could have a tantrum, scream, cry, break plates, whatever. Everyone was used to her fits.

  But let Maggie lose it one little bit, and her parents acted as if the whole house had blown up.

  Right after she had dumped the cereal, Maggie felt ashamed.

  Her dad’s face turned bright red. “I am so fed up with this bickering!” he yelled. “Really, Maggie. Why can’t you act your age?”

  Then he scooted his chair back, tossed down his newspaper, and stormed out of the house.

  That was the last time Maggie saw him.

  Mr. Travers had a stroke that afternoon in his office while sitting at his desk. When his secretary found him, he was already dead.

  I never even got a chance to apologize, Maggie thought bitterly.

  They were still sitting at the intersection. “Well,” Mrs. Travers said, sighing, “we should try something.” She turned left.

  “Of course you listen to Maggie,” Andrea griped.

  Gus barked twice.

  “That’s right, Gus,” Mrs. Travers said, “you tell them.” To her daughters, she added, “Gus wants you two to stop bickering.”

  Despite the tension between them, Maggie and Andrea shared a quick grin. Their mother’s belief in the knowledge and wisdom of animals was legendary in the Travers family.

  The Traverses’ mailbox was always stuffed with mailings from all the animal rights groups Mrs. Travers had once given money to. She was always telling them what Gus was thinking.

  “I hope we’re not getting close to our new house,” Andrea murmured, staring out the window. “Please tell me this isn’t where we’re going to be living.”

  Andrea was right, Maggie thought. The house had looked pretty bad the day Mom drove them over to see it. But that day it had been pouring, and they figured it was the rain that made the house and the neighborhood so gloomy.

  Somehow today’s bright sunshine just made the neighborhood seem even drearier. All the houses needed to be painted. They were all so shabby, so run-down.

  “Welcome to burglar city,” Andrea joked, pretending to do a tour-guide voice. “Our neighborhood is proud to announce we have one of the highest crime rates in the country.”

  Maggie laughed, but she could feel her heart fluttering. The thought of burglars had always terrified her, even when they were living in North Hills, where break-ins were almost unheard of.

  Mrs. Travers frowned. “I know this part of town isn’t the greatest, girls,” she said, “but it’s all we can afford now.” She forced a smile. “Anyway, we’ve got old Gus to protect us.”

  Right, thought Maggie. If a robber broke in, Gus would be all over him. But the only danger for the robber would be that Gus might lick him on the lips and gross him out!

  “Look!” Maggie cried suddenly, pointing to the green sign tilted into the intersection. “Fear Street! We found it! We’re not lost after all!”

  Mrs. Travers cheered. Maggie felt a surge of relief. Her good mood lasted until she saw the house.

  Twenty-three Fear Street seemed even more ramshackle and neglected than it had the last time. Two of the green shutters were now hanging by single rusty hinges. The lawn had huge brown patches and looked dead. As did the whole place.

  Maggie shivered.

  The big white moving van was parked out front, and men were carrying furniture up the front walk. Maggie watched two burly men in green uniforms disappear through the front door, struggling with her dresser. She wanted to tell them to turn around, to bring everything back to North Hills. But this was home now.

  Mrs. Travers turned in her seat to face her daughters. She was smiling, but under the smile Maggie saw worry. “Girls,” she said, “I know it doesn’t look like much, but when we have more money, we can paint it and fix it up and plant some flowers and it really will look quite nice. You wait and see. Besides, fixing it up will be fun.”

  Maggie forced a smile. The move was hard on her mom too, she knew. “Well,” Maggie said, clapping her hands together, “let’s get started.”

  She climbed out of the car and stretched. Gus was thumping his tail against the backseat, watching her every move. “Just a second
, Gus,” she told him.

  Mrs. Travers waved to the moving men. “We got a little lost,” she called.

  The workers didn’t even nod back. “Mom,” Maggie said, tugging on her arm, “I need the trunk key.”

  They had brought their valuables and clothes in the car. Maggie inserted the key into the lock, popped open the trunk, and started unloading suitcases. She pulled out her green bag and carefully set it down on the sidewalk.

  Gus was barking like crazy. Andrea leaned against the car, staring into space. “Andrea, you going to give us a hand here?” Mrs. Travers asked sharply.

  Making a face, Andrea walked over and selected the smallest—and lightest—bag. She instantly thumped it back down on the sidewalk. “Oh, poor Gus,” she said, opening the car door. “You must be dying of the heat in there.”

  “Wait, Andrea, not yet,” Maggie warned.

  Too late.

  Gus burst out of the car. He started running in circles around Andrea’s legs. Then he raced over to Mrs. Travers, jumping up on her, then over to Maggie.

  “Easy, Gus,” Maggie told him. The next thing she knew, Gus was running off down the block. Maggie had her hands full of suitcases. “Gus!” she yelled.

  The dumb dog didn’t stop.

  “Quick, Andrea. Go get him!” cried Mrs. Travers.

  “It’s Maggie’s dog,” replied Andrea peevishly. “Let Maggie get him.”

  Maggie started to point out that Andrea was the one who had let Gus out. But she saw the annoyance on her mother’s face. “I’ll get him,” she said, sighing.

  She dropped the suitcases and started to run after Gus. He was down at the end of the block, “decorating” somebody’s hedge. “Gus!” she yelled again.

  He didn’t even pick his head up to listen. He trotted on.

  She ran faster.

  She was running flat out, her sneakers smacking the pavement hard.

  Gus had turned the corner, out of sight. “Gus!” she yelled again.

  Then she reached the corner. And slid to a halt.

  Gus was ambling across a lawn on the other side of the street. But when he saw Maggie, he started running straight toward her.