Nightmare in 3-D Read online

  I stood up and stabbed my finger at the Mystery Stereogram. Clawd jumped down and darted to a corner in the kitchen.

  Mom and Vicky studied the poster. I could see Vicky crossing one eye again.

  Mom shook her head. “No. I can’t do that one.”

  Vicky’s face was practically touching it. “Yuck!” she cried, backing away. “This thing smells like something rotten.”

  “Hah! You can’t see it, either!”

  “Let Clawd try,” Vicky suggested. She carried it over to Clawd’s corner, where he was licking a paw.

  She held the poster up in front of him. He stopped licking his paw, but for a second he didn’t put it down. He just kind of froze in place. And stared.

  Then all his fur stood out. He looked as if he’d been in the clothes dryer or something. He arched his back and opened his mouth so wide that I could see every single one of his teeth. Even the ones all the way in the back.

  Then he hissed and tore through the catflap faster than I’d ever seen him move.

  Vicky shrugged. “Guess he didn’t like it.”

  I rolled up the poster and said I was going upstairs to my room to do my homework. But instead of studying, I took my Shaquille O’Neal poster down from the wall by my bed and hung up the Mystery Stereogram in its place.

  Now I could stare at it last thing at night, first thing in the morning.

  I was determined to see 3-D. I was determined to win the contest.

  I was going to beat those horrible twins.

  “I’ll start practicing this minute,” I said aloud. “Homework will have to wait.”

  I sat cross-legged on my bed. First I’ll try Vicky’s way, I thought. The one-eye-crossed method.

  But I quickly found out that I’m not very good at crossing one eye. I can cross two okay. But I could tell that crossing one at a time was going to take a lot of practice. And I didn’t have that much time—if I was going to beat the twins.

  Then I did what the cereal box said. I moved up real close to the poster. The tiny bright dots grew into a blur. Then I slowly inched backward on my bed.

  I kept my eyes wide open.

  I didn’t blink.

  My eyes started to burn. They were trying hard to focus.

  I backed up a little more.

  A little more.

  Then—I fell out of bed.

  “Wesley? What are you doing up there?” Dad was home from work.

  “Just practicing my kung fu,” I joked.

  “Well, cut it out.” Not a joke.

  Clawd popped his head in the doorway.

  “Come here, Clawd.” I patted the bed.

  The cat took a small step into the room. Then he noticed the poster. His ears flattened. His eyes narrowed. Then he turned and ran.

  I flopped down on my bed and slipped off my glasses. I rubbed my eyes. They felt tired. I gazed blankly at my wallpaper. The same wallpaper I’ve had since I was three years old. Rows and rows of toy soldiers.

  Then I saw it! I couldn’t believe it!

  I rubbed my eyes and stared again.

  Yes! One of the soldiers was moving. He was marching.

  Marching off the wallpaper.

  Marching toward me.

  4

  I bolted straight up in bed and jerked my head from the wallpaper.

  I felt so dizzy. Did I really see what I thought I saw? Only one way to find out.

  I slowly turned to face the wall and . . .

  Nothing.

  The toy soldier stood flat and still.

  No marching.

  No 3-D.

  Same as always.

  But I had seen a soldier move. I knew it.

  I rubbed my eyes hard and concentrated—this time on the Mystery Stereogram. I felt my eyes relax.

  Slowly all the tiny dots began to swirl. Orange, green, yellow, and pink dots flowed around the poster. Like lava spewing from a volcano.

  I started to feel a little sick. The way I feel on a Ferris wheel. But I kept staring, not daring to blink.

  I felt myself falling forward. As if something were trying to pull me into the poster. I grabbed a fistful of covers with each hand to anchor myself. But I didn’t blink.

  The dots spun around even faster. They seemed to surround me, trying to suck me in with the power of a huge vacuum cleaner.

  Still—I didn’t blink. And now the dots were forming a shape. A tree?

  Yes! A tree!

  And then I saw something in the tree. A bird?

  No, not a bird.

  Something with a really long, skinny body. And two huge feelers.

  And a big triangular head. And eyes! Two huge black eyes.

  And finally I could see two long front legs forming out of the dots. Two long legs with pincers on the ends!

  A praying mantis!

  That was it! I could see it! I could see in 3-D!

  A praying mantis! Now I could claim the prize. I beat the twins!

  I tried to blink, but my eyelids felt glued open. I couldn’t break away.

  I noticed even more details.

  The mantis’s jaws were large and powerful.

  The eyes were wet and shiny.

  It looked alive!

  Something brushed against my neck. Then I felt tiny legs crawling over my cheek.

  I dropped the covers and brushed the side of my face. My fingers touched something soft and fluttery. Ewww!

  I swatted at it. I jerked my head back as it darted past my eyes.

  A moth?

  A sigh of relief escaped my lips. Get a grip, Wes, I told myself. This 3-D thing is making you jittery.

  I watched the moth flutter around the room. And circle back. And hover in front of the poster.

  Then something else caught my eye.

  Nah. It couldn’t be. No way.

  I thought I saw the mantis twitch. I really was losing it.

  I reached out and snatched the moth in midair. I held it in my fist. I could feel its wings beating against the palm of my hand.

  Slowly I moved my fist to the left side of the poster.

  Slowly I uncurled my fingers.

  I could feel the moth crawl up my little finger. But I never tore my eyes from the mantis.

  I watched it carefully.

  I watched as it twisted its head to the left. I watched as it peered at the moth.

  It peered at the moth!

  The mantis really was alive!

  Suddenly I heard Sal’s words as clearly as if he stood in the room with me. “Some things are better left in two dimensions.”

  The moth flew from my hand and landed on the poster. Then it started crawling up the tree. Up to where the mantis lurked. Waiting.

  I held my breath. My eyes began to water but I didn’t dare blink. Not now.

  The mantis’s head moved slightly. Its feelers twitched. It held its front legs together. Just as if it were praying.

  The moth climbed up the tree. Moved nearer and nearer to the mantis. Then one of the mantis’s long front legs lashed out from the picture!

  In one swift motion its huge pincers closed down on the moth and jerked it into the poster.

  And I watched in horror as the mantis shoved the moth—wings and all—straight into its waiting mouth.

  The mantis swallowed with a wet gulp.

  Then its big eyes rolled hungrily toward me.

  5

  “Dinner!” Mom shouted from downstairs.

  I blinked.

  “Wes, are you coming?” Dad hollered.

  “Uh, yeah,” I croaked.

  My pulse raced. Something tickled my forehead. I jerked my hand up to swipe at it. Only tiny beads of perspiration dripping down my face.

  I slid away from the poster and tried to stand up. My knees shook so badly I had to sit back down on the bed.

  But I didn’t look at the poster again. I wasn’t ready.

  I fumbled for my glasses and put them on with trembling hands. Calm down, I told myself. Just calm down.
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br />   When my breathing began to slow and my hands stopped shaking, I knew I had to take another peek at the poster.

  Okay, here I go, I told myself firmly, trying to build up my confidence.

  I slowly turned to face the poster, and my gaze was met with . . .

  Colored dots.

  Only colored dots.

  No mantis.

  And no moth.

  I tried to think of a logical explanation. That’s what Mr. Gosling, my science teacher, always tells us to do. But I couldn’t come up with one. I decided I had to tell Mom and Dad. They were logical. Usually.

  I joined my family at the dinner table. Mom had made spaghetti and garlic toast. My favorite. Too bad I wasn’t hungry.

  “Pass the Parmesan cheese, please,” Dad said. He smiled. “Hey, I’m a poet and I don’t even know it!”

  “But your feet show it. They’re Longfellows,” Vicky finished for him. It was a silly game they always played.

  “Uh, something strange just happened in my bedroom,” I began.

  “Mom, what’s for dessert?” Vicky asked. “Can I have some more milk?”

  “Frozen yogurt. Yes,” Mom said, reaching for the milk.

  “Is there any more spaghetti?” Dad asked.

  They weren’t paying attention to me. I had to make them listen.

  “Here you go,” Mom said, passing the bowl.

  “I think my 3-D poster is coming alive!” I blurted out. That ought to get them.

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean, Wes?” he asked as he twirled his fork on his spoon, winding the spaghetti.

  I cleared my throat. “I found a praying mantis in my poster, and it ate a moth that was flying around in my room.”

  “Yuck!” Vicky uttered, spitting out a mouthful of spaghetti. “That’s disgusting!”

  “So is that,” Dad warned Vicky. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Wes, you probably just stared at it too hard. Your eyes can do funny things when they’re tired.”

  “No, you don’t understand,” I protested. “I saw—”

  Yeoow! Clawd raced through the catflap at full speed with a high-pitched screech.

  Right behind him came Fluffums.

  Our eyes followed the two crazed animals, but no one at the table moved. I don’t think any of us could believe it. Fluffums. In our house.

  Then someone pounded on the kitchen door. “Give us our dog back!” I heard one of the twins yell.

  Hah! As if we’d invited the furry little rat in! For a second I didn’t know whether to chase after the animals or go to the door and tell them off.

  “I’ll get the door,” my father said.

  “Wes, find Clawd,” Mom ordered.

  I searched the downstairs. Clawd wasn’t there. So I dashed upstairs. Now I could hear Clawd yowling and Fluffums yipping. The sounds were coming from my bedroom.

  When I hit the top step I froze. An agonizing yelp of pain echoed in my ears.

  I tore down the hall, straight for my room. The first thing I spotted was Clawd, perched on my tall dresser. His back was arched and his fur stood straight out.

  I gazed around the room for Fluffums. I couldn’t find him.

  Then I heard whimpering from the corner. The dog cowered there, his ears and tail down, his little body trembling.

  Before I could make a move, the twins barreled in.

  “Where’s Fluffums?” Corny demanded. She shoved me out of the way. In my own room!

  “Look! There! In the corner!” Gabby shouted. “I’ll get him.” She pushed past me, too, and reached down for the dog.

  He growled. “I hope he bites her,” I muttered under my breath.

  “What’s the matter, little Fluffums?” Gabby cooed in baby talk.

  Fluffums whined and backed farther into the corner.

  “Did that nasty old cat tease you again?” Corny added. She glared at Clawd—then at me.

  I scooped Clawd up off the dresser. He clung to my shoulder. “Ouch!” I cried out as his claws sunk right through my shirt. He was in a real panic.

  “Nasty cat.” Gabby sneered, petting her dog. “He even claws his owner.”

  “Only when he’s scared to death,” I shot back.

  “Come on, Baby Fluffy,” Corny crooned. She swept the furball into her arms. She held him cradled in front of her like a baby.

  “Oh, no!” Gabby shouted, pointing to the dog. “Look at his side! There’s a patch of fur missing!”

  “It was torn out!” Corny exclaimed. “By that horrible cat.”

  I stared at the dog’s side. There was some fur missing. “Are you sure it wasn’t missing before?” I asked. “Maybe he’s going bald or something.”

  The twins went ballistic.

  “He’s not going bald, you jerk. Your stupid cat attacked him!” Corny shouted.

  “We’re going to tell our parents,” Gabby threatened. “They’ve got a lawyer and he’ll sue you. You and your cat and your whole family.”

  They stomped out of my room.

  I stroked Clawd behind the ears. “You didn’t do that—did you, Clawd?” I whispered. “You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

  Clawd started to squirm out of my arms. I let him go. He charged out of the room.

  My eyes moved across the room to the poster.

  What was that spot on the front?

  I walked over and touched it.

  Then a cold chill ran down my body.

  6

  The spot—it was white and soft.

  Furry.

  A clump of Fluffum’s fur!

  But that was impossible!

  How did it get there?

  Did the praying mantis . . .

  No! Impossible!

  I sprinted out of my room to tell Mom and Dad.

  But on the way downstairs I overheard Mom say something so awful I had to stop and listen.

  “I can’t imagine how Clawd would cope.” Mom sounded sad. “He’s not a house cat. He loves to curl up in the backyard. Don’t you think it would be cruel to lock him inside?”

  Dad didn’t answer right away.

  What is he waiting for? He knows Clawd would hate being cooped up in the house.

  “We have to think about it,” he said finally. “This dog and cat situation has been the cause of a lot of problems.”

  I felt my face get hot. I’ll straighten this out, I decided. All I have to do is tell them that Clawd didn’t touch the twins’ dumb little dog. All I have to do is tell them that it was the mantis.

  Yeah, right. A 3-D mantis. Like they’ll really believe me. Anyway, they’d probably think I was making the whole thing up to get Clawd out of trouble.

  I turned around and crept back up the stairs to my room. My eyes darted to the mystery poster hanging over my bed. No way did I want to go to sleep anywhere near that, I thought.

  My fingers shook as I reached over the bed toward the poster. What if one of those sharp green pincers shot out and grabbed me?

  I tugged all four thumbtacks out as fast as I could. Then I grabbed the poster and rolled it up—tight.

  Whew! Getting it off the wall felt good. I put my Shaq poster back up and felt even better. Maybe everything would turn back to normal now.

  I decided to put the poster in my closet. I stuck it behind one of my failures—the hula hoop. The twins were hula hoop champions—of course. I could never get that thing to stay up.

  But I didn’t fail with the poster, I reminded myself. I could claim the prize from the poster company. I’d won it fair and square. For once, I’d beaten the twin monsters of Fear Street!

  I rummaged around in my top desk drawer and found a postcard. “It’s a mantis,” I wrote on the card. Then I addressed it to the poster company. I printed my name and address in one corner and stuck a stamp on the other.

  I decided to mail the postcard right away. I jumped down the stairs two at a time, told my parents I’d be right back, and jogged to the mailbox on the corner.

  As I dropped the postcar
d in, I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d solved the Mystery Stereogram and mailed in the answer. I was finished with the poster. I felt great!

  I glanced over at the twins’ house as I walked back home. I couldn’t wait to see their faces when my prize arrived.

  I imagined their reaction again and again as I climbed the stairs to my room. I could hear their angry little squeals. I could see their faces getting all red and scrunched up.

  I sat down to do my homework, and before I knew it, it was time for bed. I was so tired! What a day!

  I placed my glasses on the small table next to my bed. Then I punched my pillow a few times and turned off the bedside light. I wanted to dream about the moment the twins realized I’d beaten them.

  But I couldn’t fall asleep.

  What was that strange light?

  I sat up and glanced around.

  I saw a faint glow. It came from under the closet door.

  Did I leave the light on in my closet when I put the poster away?

  I threw back the covers to hop out of bed. But I stopped when I saw the crack under the door begin to glow brighter and brighter.

  With my eyes trained on the strange glow, I reached back, fumbled for the lamp switch—and sent the lamp crashing to the floor. The lightbulb shattered into a million razor-sharp pieces.

  I quickly turned back to the closet door—and gasped!

  A few bright fluorescent dots floated out from beneath it.

  They shimmered like lightning bugs. Green, pink, orange, and yellow lightning bugs. They circled slowly, chasing one another.

  Huh? Am I seeing things? I wondered. I knelt on the edge of my bed. Were my eyes playing tricks on me the way Dad thought? Had I fooled around with 3-D too much?

  More dots floated out. More and more and more. Thousands of the dots streamed from under the closet door.

  They bounced off the walls.

  Careened off the furniture.

  They swirled in lazy circles.

  I gaped at them, frozen in horror. In disbelief.

  Swirling. Swirling.

  And then, without warning, they started swirling around me!

  And buzzing—an angry, grating buzz—the sound of a thousand hungry insects!