A Shocker on Shock Street Read online

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

  Bouncing hard on the plastic seat, holding on tightly, I searched for someone who could help us.

  No one in sight.

  We bumped onto the road. The tram started to slow. I turned to Marty. His hair was blown over his face. His mouth hung open. His eyes rolled around in his head. He was totally dazed.

  The tram slowed, slowed, slowed, until we were creeping smoothly along.

  “That was great!” Marty declared. He smoothed back his hair with both hands and grinned at me. I knew he had been scared, too. But he was pretending that he enjoyed the crazy, wild ride.

  “Yeah. Great.” I tried to pretend, too. But my voice came out weak and shaky.

  “I’m going to tell your dad that the roller-coaster ride through the halls was the best!” Marty declared.

  “It was kind of fun,” I agreed. “And kind of scary.”

  Marty turned away from me. “Hey. Where are we?”

  The tram had come to a stop. I pulled myself up and peered around. We had parked between two rows of tall evergreen bushes. The bushes were slender, shaped like spears reaching up to the sky.

  Above us, the afternoon sun was trying to break through the fog. Rays of pale light beamed down from the gray sky. The tall, thin shadows of the bushes fell over our tramcar.

  Marty stood up and turned to the back of the tram. “There’s nothing around here,” he said. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Why did we stop?”

  “Do you think —?” I started. But I stopped talking when I saw the bush move.

  It wiggled. Then the bush next to it wiggled, too.

  “Marty,” I whispered, tugging his sleeve. I saw two glowing red circles behind the bush. Two glowing red eyes!

  “Marty — there’s someone there.”

  Another pair of eyes. And then another pair of eyes. Staring out at us from behind the evergreen bushes.

  And then two dark claws.

  And then rustling sounds. The bush tilted as a dark figure leaped out. Followed by another.

  Snarling, growling.

  I gasped. Too late to run.

  We were surrounded by the ugly creatures. Snuffling, wheezing creatures, who staggered out from the bushes. Reaching out, reaching out for us, they began to climb into the tram.

  Marty and I jumped to our feet.

  “Ohhhhhh.” I heard Marty let out a frightened moan.

  I started to back away. I thought maybe I could scramble out the other side of the car.

  But the snarling, growling monsters came at us from both sides.

  “L-leave us alone!” I stammered.

  A monster covered in tangled brown fur opened his jaws to reveal long, jagged rows of yellow teeth. His hot breath exploded in my face. He stepped closer. Then he swiped at me with a fat paw and uttered a menacing roar. “Would you like an autograph?” he growled.

  I gaped at him, my mouth hanging down to my knees. “Huh?”

  “Autographed photo?” he asked. He raised his furry paw again. He held a black-and-white snapshot in it.

  “Hey — you’re Ape Face!” Marty cried, pointing.

  The hairy creature nodded his head. He raised the photo to Marty. “Want a photo? This is the autographing part of the tour.”

  “Yeah! Okay,” Marty replied.

  The big ape pulled a marker from behind his ear and bent to sign the photo for Marty.

  Now that my heartbeat was returning to normal, I began to recognize some of the other creatures. The guy covered in purple slime was The Toxic Wild Man. And I recognized Sweet Sue, the walking-talking baby doll with real hair you can brush. Sweet Sue was really a mutant murderer from Mars.

  The frog-faced guy covered from head to toe with purple and brown warts was The Fabulous Frog, also known as The Toadinator. He starred in Pond Scum and Pond Scum II, two of the scariest movies ever made.

  “Frog — can I have your autograph?” I asked.

  “Grrrbbit. Grrbit.” He croaked and slipped a pen into his wart-covered hand. I leaned forward eagerly and watched him sign his photo. It was hard for him to write. The pen kept slipping in his slimy frog hands.

  Marty and I collected a bunch of autographs. Then the creatures went snarling and wheezing back into the bushes.

  When they were gone, we both burst out laughing. “That was so dumb!” I cried. “When I saw them creeping out from behind the bushes, I thought I’d have a cow!” I glanced down at the photos. “But it’s kind of cool to get their autographs.”

  Marty made a disgusted face. “It’s just a bunch of actors in costumes,” he sneered. “It’s for babies.”

  “But — but — they looked so real,” I stammered. “It didn’t look as if they were wearing costumes — did it? I mean, The Toadinator’s hands were really slimy. And Ape Face’s fur was so real. The masks were awesome. I couldn’t tell they were masks.”

  I brushed the hair out of my eyes. “How do they get into those costumes? I didn’t see any buttons or zippers, or anything!”

  “That’s because they’re movie costumes,” Marty explained. “They’re better than regular costumes.”

  Mr. Know-It-All.

  The tram started to back out. I settled down into the seat. I watched the two rows of evergreen bushes fade into the distance.

  Down the long, sloping hill, I could see the white studio buildings. I wondered if they were making a movie on one of the sound stages. I wondered if the tram would take us to watch them shoot.

  I could see two golf carts moving along the road. They were carrying people down to the sound-stage buildings.

  The sun still struggled to shine through the fog. The tram bounced over the grass, up the hill.

  “Whoa!” I cried out as we turned sharply and headed back toward the trees.

  “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 Living Creeps.”

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

  “Sure does!” I agreed.

  We had no idea just how scary it would turn out to be.

  The tram zigzagged its way through the trees. Their shadows rolled over us like dark ghosts.

  We moved so silently. I tried to imagine what the ride would be like if the tram was packed with excited kids and adults. I decided it would be a lot less scary with a crowd.

  But I wasn’t complaining. Marty and I were really lucky to be the first kids ever to try out this ride.

  “Wow!” Marty grabbed my arm as The Cave of The Living Creeps loomed in front of us. The mouth of the cave was a huge dark hole, cut into the side of the hill. I could see pale, silvery light flickering past the entrance.

  The tram slowed down as we approached the dark opening. A sign above the entrance had one word carved roughly into it: FAREWELL.

  The tramcar lurched forward. “Hey!” I cried out and ducked my head. What a tight squeeze!

  Into the dim, flickering light.

  The air instantly grew colder. And damp. A sour, earthy smell rose to my nostrils, making me gasp.

  “Bats!” Marty whispered. “What do you think, Erin? Think there are bats in here?” He leaned close and let out an evil laugh in my ear.

  Marty knows that I hate bats!

  I know, I know. Bats aren’t really evil creatures. And they aren’t dangerous. Bats eat mosquitoes and other insects. And they don’t attack people or get tangled in your hair or try to suck your blood. That’s only in movies.

  I know all that. But I don’t care.

  Bats are ugly and creepy and disgusting. And I hate them.

  One day, I told Marty how much I hate bats. And so he’s been teasing me about them ever since.

  The tram moved deeper into the cave. The air grew colder. The sour aroma nearly choked me.

  “Look — over there!” Marty screamed. “A vampire bat!”

  “Huh?
Where?” I couldn’t help myself. I cried out in alarm.

  Of course it was one of Marty’s dumb jokes. He laughed like a maniac.

  I growled at him and punched him hard on the shoulder. “You’re not funny. You’re just dumb.”

  That made him giggle even harder. “I’ll bet there are bats in this cave,” he insisted. “You can’t go into a deep, dark cave like this one without seeing bats.”

  I turned away from his grinning face and listened hard. I was listening for fluttering bat wings. I didn’t hear any.

  The cave narrowed. The walls seemed to close in on us. The side of the car scraped against the dirt wall. I could feel that we were heading down.

  In the dim, silvery light, I saw a long row of pointy icicle-type things hanging down from the cave ceiling. I know they have a name, but I can never remember which one it is — stalagmites or stalactites.

  I ducked my head again as the tram shot under them. Up close, they looked like pointed elephant tusks.

  “We’re getting closer to the bats!” Marty teased.

  I ignored him. I kept my eyes straight ahead. The cave grew wide again. Dark shadows shifted and danced over the walls as we rolled past.

  “Ohhh.” I uttered a groan as I felt something cold and slimy drop onto the back of my neck.

  I jerked away and turned sharply to Marty. “Cut it out!” I snapped. “Get your cold hands off me!”

  “Who — me?”

  He wasn’t touching me. Both of his hands gripped the front of the car.

  Then what was on the back of my neck? So cold and wet. Icy wet. I shuddered. My whole body shook.

  “M-Marty!” I stammered. “H-help!”

  Marty stared at me, confused. “Erin — what’s your problem?”

  “The back of my neck —” I choked out.

  I could feel the cold, wet thing start to move. I decided not to wait for Marty to help me.

  I reached back and pulled it off. It felt sticky and cold between my fingers. It slithered and wriggled, and I dropped it on the seat.

  A worm!

  A huge, long white worm. So cold, so wet and cold.

  “Weird!” Marty exclaimed. He leaned close to examine it. “I’ve never seen a worm that big! And it’s white.”

  “It — it dropped from the ceiling,” I said, watching it wiggle next to me. “It’s ice-cold.”

  “Huh? Let me touch it,” Marty said. He raised his hand and slowly lowered his pointer finger to the worm.

  His finger poked the worm in its middle.

  And then Marty opened his mouth in a scream of horror that echoed through the cave.

  “What is it? Marty — what’s wrong?” I shrieked.

  “I — I — I —” He couldn’t speak. He could only utter, “I — I — I —!” His eyes bulged. His tongue flopped out.

  He reached up and pulled a white worm off the top of his head. “I — I — I got one, too!”

  “Yuck!” I cried. His worm was nearly as long as a shoelace!

  We both tossed our worms out of the tram.

  But then I felt a soft, damp plop on my shoulder. And then a cold plop on top of my head. Another on my forehead, like a cold slap.

  “Ohhh — help!” I moaned. I started thrashing my arms, grabbing at the worms, struggling to pull them off me.

  “Marty — please!” I turned to him for help.

  But he was battling them, too. Twisting and ducking. Trying to dodge, as more and more white worms fell from the ceiling.

  I saw one fall on his shoulder. I saw another one begin to wrap itself around his ear.

  As fast as I could, I pulled the sticky, wet creatures off me and tossed them over the side of the slow-rolling tram.

  Where are they coming from? I wondered.

  I glanced up — and a fat, wet one fell over my eyes.

  “Yeowwww!” I let out a shriek, grabbed it, flung it away.

  The tram turned sharply, sending us both sliding over the seat. The cave narrowed again as we entered a different tunnel. The silvery light glowed dimly around us as we bounced forward.

  Two white worms, each at least a foot long, wriggled across my lap. I tugged them off and heaved them over the tram.

  Breathing hard, I searched for more. My whole body itched. The back of my neck tingled. I couldn’t stop shaking.

  “They stopped falling,” Marty announced in a shaky voice.

  Then why did I still itch?

  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 dropped back onto the seat with a loud sigh.

  “That was totally gross!” I wailed.

  Marty scratched his chest, then rubbed his face with both hands. “I guess that’s why they call it The Cave of The Living Creeps,” he said. He swept a hand back through his black hair.

  I shivered. I couldn’t stop itching. I knew the worms were gone, but I could still feel them. “Those disgusting white worms — do you think they were alive?”

  Marty shook his head. “Of course not. They were fakes.” He snickered. “I guess they fooled you, huh?”

  “They sure felt real,” I replied. “And the way they wriggled around —”

  “They were robots or something,” Marty said, scratching his knees. “Everything here is fake. It has to be.”

  “I’m not so sure,” I said, my whole body still itchy and tingling.

  “Well, just ask your father,” Marty replied grumpily.

  I had to laugh. I knew why Marty was suddenly so grouchy. Whether the worms were real or fake, they had scared him. And he knew that I knew that he had been frightened.

  “I don’t think little kids will like the worms,” Marty said. “I think they’ll get too scared. I’m going to tell that to your dad.”

  I started to reply — and felt something drop over me. Something scratchy and dry.

  It covered my face, my shoulders — my entire body.

  I shot both hands up and tried to push it away. It’s some kind of a net, I thought.

  I grabbed at it, desperate to get it off my face. As I struggled, I turned and saw Marty squirming and batting his arms, caught under the same net.

  The tram bounced through the dim cave tunnel. The sticky net felt like cotton candy on my skin.

  Marty let out a yelp. “It — it’s a big spiderweb!” he stammered.

  I tugged and grabbed and pulled. But the sticky threads clung to my face, my arms, and my clothes. “Yuck! This is so gross!” I choked out.

  And then I saw the black dots scurrying through the net. It took me a few seconds to realize what they were. Spiders! Hundreds of them!

  “Ohhhh.” A low moan escaped my throat.

  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. Another one off the shoulder of my T-shirt.

  “The spiders — they’re in my hair!” Marty wailed.

  He suddenly forgot about acting cool. He began raking his hair with both hands, slapping himself in the head, pinching and swiping at the spiders.

  As the tram rolled silently on, we both twisted and squirmed, struggling to flick away the black spiders. I pulled three of them out of my hair. Then I felt one climb into my nose!

  I opened my mouth in a horrified scream — and sneezed it out.

  Marty plucked a spider off my neck and sent it soaring through the air. The last spider. I couldn’t see — or feel — any more.

  We both dropped down in the seat, breathing hard. My heart pounded in my chest. “Still think everything is a fake?” I asked Marty, my voice weak and small.

  “I — I don’t know,” he replied softly. “The spiders could be puppets maybe. You know. Radio-controlled.”

  “They were real!” I cried sharply. “Face it, Marty — they were real! This is The Cave of The Living Creeps — and they were living!”

  Marty’s eyes grew wide. “You real
ly think so?”

  I nodded. “They had to be real spiders.”

  A smile spread over Marty’s face. “That’s so cool!” he declared. “Real spiders! That is totally cool!”

  I let out a long sigh and slumped lower in the seat. I didn’t think it was cool at all. I thought it was creepy and disgusting.

  These rides are supposed to be fake. That’s what makes them fun. I decided to tell my dad that the worms and spiders were too scary. He should get rid of them before the studio tour opens to the public.

  I crossed my arms in front of me and kept my eyes straight ahead. I wondered what we would run into next. I hoped there weren’t any other disgusting insects waiting to fall on us and climb all over our faces and bodies.

  “I think I hear the bats!” Marty teased. He leaned close to me, grinning. “Hear those fluttering sounds? Giant vampire bats!”

  I shoved him back to his side of the seat. I wasn’t in any mood for his joking around.

  “When do we get out of this cave?” I asked impatiently. “This isn’t any fun.”

  “I think it’s cool,” Marty repeated. “I like exploring caves.”

  The narrow tunnel opened into a wide cavern. The ceiling appeared to be a mile high. There were giant rocks scattered over the cavern floor. Rocks piled on rocks. Rocks everywhere.

  Somewhere ahead of us, I heard water dripping. Plunk plunk plunk.

  Eerie green light glowed from the cave walls. The tram pulled up to the back wall — and then stopped.

  “Now what?” I whispered.

  Marty and I turned in our seat, letting our eyes explore the huge cavern. All I could see were rocks. Smooth rocks, some round, some square.

  Plunk plunk plunk. Water dripped somewhere to our right. The air felt cold and damp.

  “This is kind of boring,” Marty murmured. “When do we get going?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Why did we stop here? It’s just a big empty cave.”

  We waited for the tram to back up and take us out of there.

  And waited.

  A minute went by. Then another few minutes.

  We both turned around and got up on our knees, peering to the back of the tram. Nothing moved. We listened to the steady drip of water, echoing off the high stone walls. No other sound.