Revenge of the Living Dummy Read online

  After about twenty minutes of searching, I pulled out a heavy file marked VENTRILOQUISM. “Molly — check it out!” I said. I lugged it to the desk, spread it open, and Molly and I began sifting through all the papers.

  Molly wrinkled her forehead. “What exactly are we looking for?”

  I sighed. “Anything that will help me prove to my parents that Mr. Badboy has to be destroyed. I — I —”

  My words caught in my throat. I stared at the wrinkled and faded black-and-white photo in front of me.

  “I don’t believe it!” I gasped. “It’s Ethan’s dummy. Look!”

  Molly lowered her face to the photo and studied it. “The same chip on its bottom lip,” she murmured. “The same wicked smile.”

  “The same ugly grin,” I said. My hand trembled as I picked up the photo and turned it over. The back was covered in tiny type. I squinted to read it.

  “It says the dummy’s real name is Slappy,” I told Molly. “And — and I was right! He’s totally evil!”

  My heart pounded as I scanned the words. “It says Slappy was made by a magician sometime in the late 1800s,” I said. “An evil sorcerer. The wood he used was cursed. He built the dummy from a stolen coffin.”

  Molly blinked. “Oh, wow. I wish Dad was here….”

  “It says the dummy turns its owners into slaves,” I continued. “It’s power mad. It wants to enslave everyone it meets. And — and —”

  My eyes skipped to the bottom. I gasped and grabbed Molly’s arm. “Listen to this, Molly! It has a bunch of weird words at the bottom of the page. It says, ‘Say these six ancient words to wake him up. And to put him to sleep.’ ”

  “You’re kidding!” Molly grabbed the photo from my hands and stared at it. “This is excellent, Britney. What are we waiting for?”

  She handed the photo back to me. Then she unwound the towel from her head and began drying her coppery hair.

  “Come on — hurry, Brit. Let’s do it. Let’s shout the words in front of Slappy and put him back to sleep forever. You said Ethan is away at a hockey game — right?”

  As we raced down the attic stairs, I raised the photo and read the ancient words silently one more time.

  Were my worries over?

  Would the words put Slappy to sleep?

  I slipped into my house through the back door. I signaled to Molly to be quiet. Then we tiptoed across the kitchen to the front hall.

  I heard the thud of dance music from the den and glimpsed Mom on the couch with a magazine in her lap. Mom doesn’t dance, but she loves disco music, the louder the better.

  So she didn’t hear Molly and me as we hurried up the stairs and then made our way into the attic.

  Ethan had left all the lights on in his room. The place was a mess. He had dirty clothes heaped everywhere, PlayStation game disks and manga comics scattered over the floor, an open bag of Cheez Doodles on his computer keyboard, empty soda cans and balled-up jeans on his bed.

  Molly and I stepped through the mess to the far end of the room. Slappy was propped up in the brown leather armchair by the window. The dummy’s hands rested on the chair arms. He stared straight ahead.

  “We know your secret, Slappy,” I said. My voice sounded funny — shrill and tight. My chest felt all fluttery. I tapped the dummy’s wooden head. “See? I even know your real name.”

  I expected him to move or speak. But he just kept staring at the other wall.

  Molly dropped down on the edge of Ethan’s cluttered bed. I could see she was frightened, too. “Don’t mess around,” she said softly. “Read the words. Before he does something horrible.”

  I held the photo tightly in both hands to keep them from shaking. “Good-bye forever, Slappy,” I said.

  And then slowly I whispered the ancient words….

  “ ‘Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.’ ”

  Silence.

  I could hear the blood throbbing in my ears.

  And then I gasped as the dummy’s hands slipped off the chair arms. And he slumped forward until his head rested in his lap.

  He stayed there, limp and lifeless.

  I stood waiting … waiting and watching. But he didn’t move again.

  Then I spun around and pumped both fists in the air. “We did it, Molly!” I cried happily. “We put him to sleep!”

  I expected Molly to jump up and celebrate, too.

  But she didn’t move. She stared hard at something on the bed.

  “Molly? What’s your problem?” I cried. “We did it! We’re okay now. We put him to sleep!”

  “Uh … wait a sec, Brit,” Molly murmured. “There’s something here I think you should see.”

  Molly reached into the pocket of Ethan’s crumpled jeans and pulled out a small rectangular object.

  It looked like a TV clicker. She dropped it onto the bed.

  “Why was this hanging out of Ethan’s pocket?” Molly asked.

  I picked it up and rolled it around in my hand. It had at least a dozen red buttons on the front but no words. No words anywhere on it.

  I pushed the top button. Then I gasped as Slappy began to move. He raised his head and laughed.

  “Weird!” Molly said. “Push it again.”

  I pushed the same button. Slappy raised his head and laughed again.

  “What’s up with this?” I cried.

  I aimed the clicker at Slappy and pushed another button.

  “I’M ALIVE!” the dummy screamed in its tinny rasp of a voice. “DON’T YOU GET IT, BRITNEY? I’M ALIVE!”

  I pushed another button.

  “Don’t ever snitch on me again!” the dummy said in a whisper.

  I pushed it again.

  “Don’t ever snitch on me again!”

  My hand shook as I aimed the controller at Slappy and pushed another button.

  “I don’t like you, Britney.”

  “AAAAAGH!” I let out an angry cry and heaved the clicker to the bed. “He did it again!” I screamed. “That creep Ethan did it to me again!”

  I grabbed up the jeans and threw them across the floor. I turned over the Cheez Doodles bag and emptied it on his keyboard. I knew I was totally losing it. But I couldn’t control my … my FURY.

  “He must be some kind of electronics genius,” Molly said. “The dummy has a computer chip, right? Ethan recorded all those things it said. He deliberately did it all to scare you.”

  “It … it’s so totally mean,” I said, fighting back tears. “Ethan spilled the paint on that woman at Sunset House. And insulted those people. And … ripped my poster in half. And he acted so frightened, like he didn’t have any control over the dummy. All an act. All a stupid act!”

  I tore at both sides of my hair. “AAAAAGGGH. I knew Ethan was trouble,” I said. “But I never dreamed he was so mean and vicious.”

  Molly climbed to her feet. “What are you going to do now?”

  I let out a long sigh. “I … don’t know.”

  “Are you going to tell him you know what he did?” Molly demanded. “Are you going to tell your parents? Or are you going to wait a while and get your revenge?”

  “I … don’t know,” I repeated, my mind spinning.

  A smile slowly spread across my face. “But I know one thing for sure, Molly. I’m going to get a good night’s sleep tonight. No more reason to be scared. I’m never going to worry about that stupid dummy again.”

  * * *

  I felt a soft tap on my shoulder.

  “Huh?” I blinked.

  Another tap.

  I was having the nicest dream. But it vanished as my eyes opened. My brain slowly woke up.

  Yawning, I glimpsed my bed-table alarm clock. It was 2:35 in the morning.

  I felt another tap on my shoulder, harder this time.

  Now I was fully awake. I rolled around and squinted into the darkness. “Ethan? What do you want?”

  And then I opened my mouth in a frightened cry. “Slappy —!”

  The dummy lowered his grinning face.
The big blue eyes locked on mine. His wooden hand shot out — and grabbed my wrist.

  “Thanks,” he whispered in my ear. “Thanks for waking me up, SLAVE!”

  The wooden fingers tightened around my wrist. Tighter … until I wanted to scream. Pain shot up my arm.

  “Let go of me!” I cried.

  The dummy lowered his face over me until our noses nearly touched. “Thank you, slave,” he rasped. “You called out the words to wake me up.”

  “No —!” I gasped. “I didn’t mean to. I —”

  He snickered an ugly laugh from deep in his throat. “You’re my slave now, Britney. You’ll do whatever I say.”

  “Why should I?” I choked out, struggling to pull my wrist free. “My mom and dad will —”

  “Go ahead. Tell your parents,” he said. He snickered again. “Go ahead. I’d like that. Know what they’ll think? They’ll think you’ve gone crazy. They won’t believe a word. They’ll take you to a doctor.”

  He released my wrist. His painted grin appeared to grow wider. “Are you ready for your first task?”

  “N-no,” I stammered. “Go away. You can’t force me to do anything.”

  He uttered a low growl and straightened up. Then he raised both fists in front of me. “I can hurt you, Britney,” he snarled. “I’m not playing games. Get up and get dressed.”

  “Why? Wh-what do you want?” I stammered.

  “You’re going to take a short trip,” Slappy said. “Back to that graveyard. I heard that little freak Ethan talking about the Mind Stealer you buried. I WANT it! I NEED it!”

  He gave me a hard shove with both wooden hands. “Go get it, Britney. Dig it up and bring it to me.”

  I rolled out of bed and landed on my feet. My heart thudded in my chest. But I suddenly felt more angry than afraid.

  No way I was going to take orders from a wooden dummy!

  “Out of my face!” I shouted. I lowered my shoulder and grabbed Slappy around the waist. My plan was to lift him off the floor and heave him out of my room.

  “Ooooh!” I uttered a groan as I strained to pull him up.

  He wouldn’t budge.

  “Nice try, Brit,” he said. “Here. Hit me in the stomach. Hit me as hard as you can.” He stuck out his skinny stomach and giggled.

  I took a step back. I tried to remember the six ancient words to put him to sleep forever.

  Think, Britney. Think, I told myself.

  It was useless. I couldn’t remember them.

  Maybe this was more evil than I could handle, but I wasn’t going back to that graveyard. I wasn’t going to be his slave. No way.

  I crossed my arms in front of me. “I’m … not … going … back … to … that … graveyard,” I said slowly, through gritted teeth.

  He froze there and stared at me for the longest time. Long enough for chill after chill to shiver my body.

  “No problem,” he whispered finally. “Fine with me, Brit. I’ll go get it. But when I have that doll, your mind will be the first to be sucked dry. Then you’ll be a perfect slave, won’t you, my dear!”

  He spun away from me and started walking out of my room. He walked stiffly, not bending his knees, his shoulders teetering from side to side — like a zombie in a horror movie.

  Frozen in terror, I couldn’t move.

  Clump. Clump. Clump.

  I listened to him thump down the stairs. A few seconds later, I heard the front door close behind him.

  He’s really doing it. He’s going to the graveyard to get the doll, I realized.

  I had to stop him. I bolted into the hall — then stopped. I realized I was in my nightshirt.

  I lurched back into my room, grabbed jeans and a sweatshirt, pulled on my sneakers, and hurried out of the house.

  It was a cool, clear night. Thin snakes of black cloud curled over a full moon. My shoes squished over the slippery grass as I ran to the street.

  It must have rained earlier. Puddles of silver moonlight glowed in the street.

  I saw Slappy clumping through the puddles. He swung his arms as he stormed up the low hill that led to the graveyard. He kept his back straight and tall, his head straight forward as he staggered up the middle of the road.

  The cool night air helped wake me up. I started to trot. I didn’t want to catch up with him. But I didn’t want to lose sight of him, either.

  My heart thumped loudly. In the late-night silence, nothing moved. No wind. No cars or voices. The houses all dark. As if Slappy and I were the only two creatures on earth.

  Stepping over the silvery puddles, I followed Slappy to the little graveyard. I watched from the other side of the picket fence as he made his way quickly through the rows of crooked gravestones.

  He stopped at the spot where we buried the Mind Stealer doll. And dropped to his knees.

  My breath caught in my throat. I watched him start to scoop up dirt. His wooden hands made good shovels. The dirt flew up in front of him.

  I knew I should leap over the fence. Drop him. Smother him. Crush him. Do anything to keep him from pulling up that dangerous doll.

  But my fear held me there against the fence. My legs felt trembly and weak. And I had to force myself to breathe as I watched the hole grow larger and larger under the dummy’s shoveling hands.

  He giggled as he bent over the hole and pulled out the glass case. He whipped his head around once, making sure no one was watching.

  I ducked behind the fence and held my breath.

  Had he seen me? No.

  I raised myself high enough to watch him. He pulled himself quickly to his feet and began brushing dirt off the case with one hand.

  In the eerie silver moonlight I could see the doll. I could see its shrunken human head bouncing against the glass bottom as Slappy cleaned the case.

  And then, Slappy set the case down gently on the ground and began to pull off the lid.

  I gripped the top of the fence so tightly, my hands ached. And suddenly, I heard a voice in my head — my voice:

  If he gets that doll, he’ll wipe your mind clean.

  And before I even realized what I was doing, I leaped over the fence. And tore through the gravestones.

  I tackled Slappy around the waist. I shoved him hard, away from the doll case. And with a burst of strength, I lifted the thrashing, kicking dummy high above my head.

  “You’re DEAD MEAT, slave!” he screamed. “You’ll be punished for this!”

  And then it was my turn to scream.

  As a powerful wave of white light blinded me — and wrapped itself around me, trapping me in its beam.

  I blinked. And blinked again, struggling to fight the light. It divided in two. Two beams of light.

  Car headlights!

  My eyes slowly adjusted. And I recognized my parents’ car.

  Dad pushed open the driver’s door and slid out. He was in his striped pajamas. “Britney?” he called, shielding his eyes with one hand. “We saw you leave. We followed you. What are you doing here with Ethan’s dummy?”

  Slappy had gone limp. I still held him above my head.

  “Why are you burying Ethan’s dummy?” Mom called. She stepped out of the car, wrapping her brown robe around her. “Have you gone crazy? Out here in the middle of the night?”

  “You know how important that dummy is to Ethan,” Dad said. “How could you bury it? How could you do such a mean thing?”

  “You — you don’t understand!” I gasped. “I … I’m not burying it. I … I … I was trying —”

  I let out a frustrated cry. “Oh, I can’t explain it to you! You wouldn’t understand!”

  “We have eyes, Britney,” Mom said. “We can see the hole you dug. We can see you putting Ethan’s dummy into the hole.”

  Dad motioned for Mom to be quiet. “It’s okay,” he said softly. He climbed over the fence and started walking toward me, a step at a time.

  “It’s okay, Brit. Just stay there, sweetie. Don’t move. We’ll get you to the doctor first thing in the mo
rning. We’ll get you the help you need.”

  “Give Dad the dummy, dear,” Mom said. “And come get in the car. We’ll take care of you. You know we will.”

  Lying limp in my hands, Slappy giggled. “You’re a big loser,” he whispered. “Guess we’re going home together — slave. I’ll come back tomorrow for the doll. Then Slappy wins for good!”

  I couldn’t take that. I couldn’t let him win.

  My anger exploded in a scream that echoed off the granite tombstones: “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  I knew what I had to do. I jerked Slappy high over my head — and with all my strength, heaved him headfirst into the glass case.

  I heard a deafening craaaaack as the glass split. I saw the case shatter under the dummy’s hard wooden head.

  Slappy uttered a sharp groan as his face slammed into the doll.

  Yes! Yesssss!

  The dummy’s head smashed against the shriveled, green shrunken head. They were nose to nose!

  I uttered a cry and staggered back as the doll began to glow.

  The shrunken head glowed with a white light. And the doll began to buzz.

  Slappy’s arms and legs jerked straight out, as if struck by lightning. The dummy’s body jolted once. Twice.

  Then Slappy collapsed in a lifeless heap on top of the doll case.

  I waited … waited.

  Slappy didn’t move.

  The Mind Stealer doll had claimed another victim.

  I suddenly realized that tears were rolling down my cheeks. My whole body trembled. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.

  “Britney, what’s going on?” Dad asked, stepping up beside me.

  “It … it’s okay,” I choked out. “Really. It’s all over. No more crazy dummy stories. I promise. It’s all over.”

  Mom stepped up beside me and put her arm around my waist. “I hope you’re telling the truth,” she said.

  “I am,” I insisted. “Here.” I gathered up the lifeless dummy and handed it to Dad. “Here. Let’s take it back to Ethan. Everything will be fine from now on.”