I Live In Your Basement Page 6

  I tried to kick the creature.

  But my sneakers sank into the soft, gooey slime.

  I punched with both fists. And tried butting it with my head.

  My punches made wet SQUISH SQUISH sounds as my hands disappeared into the spongy body.

  It was like battling a slimy, sticky sponge.

  I tried wrestling it. Bending it back. Back …

  But the foul-smelling goo stretched.

  Stretched over me. Over my face.

  So warm and sticky. Pulsing.

  It wrapped around my head.

  Covered my face. Covered my nose.

  The warm, sticky slime slid up my nostrils.

  I—I can’t breathe! I realized.

  I’m going to suffocate inside this thing!

  I knew I didn’t have much time to free myself. With a burst of strength, I swung my head back.

  But the warm goo moved with me. Pressed tighter against my face. I could feel the sticky slime climbing up my nose, into my mouth.

  I had to get help. But how?

  I stumbled forward. Could I walk? Could I push the heaving, spongy creature with me?

  If I could get downstairs …

  My heart pounding, I forced myself forward.

  Butting against the heavy blob, pushing, digging my knees into its flesh as I struggled to move.

  Yes! I took a step. Then another.

  Was I through the bedroom door?

  I stared through the creature’s milky flesh. Stared right through its thick body.

  The house was a shadowy blur on the other side.

  I couldn’t breathe. My chest began to burn. I couldn’t hold my breath much longer.

  I had to keep going!

  Pushing, butting it, forcing my legs to take another step … another step … I made my way down the hall with the creature over me.

  Yes. Yes. Every step taking me closer to help.

  Yes …

  And then suddenly my feet lifted off the floor. I tumbled forward.

  Falling! I was falling down the stairs.

  The sticky creature bounced beneath me, cushioning me like a foam rubber pillow.

  Down … all the way down the stairs.

  We bounced hard together at the bottom.

  My head jerked free from the sticky goo.

  I gasped in a mouthful of air. So cool and sweet. My lungs about to explode.

  I sucked in another long breath.

  And then the slime covered my face again.

  I tried to roll free. But it stuck to the front of my body, wrapping itself tightly around me again.

  I kicked off from the wall. Bounced forward.

  Through the hall. Into the kitchen.

  Mom—where are you? My desperate question.

  Mom—are you home? Don’t you hear me?

  The creature clung to my face, to my chest. Its foul odor swept over me. A wave of dizziness made me slump to my knees.

  No!

  I forced myself up, carrying the weight of the spongy wet creature.

  Across the kitchen. Peering through its glassy body.

  Up to the kitchen counter.

  And slammed it into the sharp counter edge.

  I backed up—and pushed forward again. As hard as I could.

  SLAM!

  I drove the slimy creature into the edge of the counter.

  Again. Again.

  Pushing with all my strength. Then backing up and shooting forward again.

  SLAM! SLAM!

  Its body made a sharp squishy sound with each blow.

  But it clung to me tightly, clung to my face, shutting off my air. Clung to me until I could feel my strength fade away.

  One more try. One more slam into the counter.

  I shot forward as hard as I could.

  I heard a loud SPLAAAT.

  And to my shock, the spongy warm goo fell off my face.

  Dropped from my chest. Dropped to the floor with a heavy PLOP.

  Gasping, sucking in air, panting so hard, my chest ached, I stared down.

  And saw two of the milky slime creatures.

  I had cut it in two.

  The two halves throbbed wetly on the kitchen linoleum. They bobbed helplessly like fat insects on their backs.

  “Mom—” I choked out. In only a whisper.

  “Mom …” No sound. I couldn’t force out a sound.

  I reached my fingers into my throat—and pulled out a thick chunk of slimy goo. Gagging, I heaved it into the sink.

  “Mom—!”

  Where was she?

  I heard a voice from somewhere in the house. From the den?

  “Mom?”

  Was she talking on the phone?

  Couldn’t she hear me battering the slime creature against the counter? Couldn’t she hear me calling to her?

  “Mom—?”

  I staggered toward the door.

  But I took only a step.

  Before I could move farther, I felt something tighten around the legs of my jeans.

  “Ohhhh!” I lowered my gaze—and saw both halves of the spongy slime creature wrapping around me.

  I kicked out one leg. Then the other. But they clung tightly. And stretched.

  Two of them now. Spreading their sticky, warm bodies up my jeans, up the front of my shirt.

  I grabbed at them with both hands. And pulled.

  But my hands slid off their shimmering wet flesh.

  “Mom—! Gwynnie—! Somebody—help!”

  They swept over my face. Two of them. Two of them now.

  So heavy.

  I fell to my knees. Then sank onto my back.

  So heavy … the two of them were weighing me down.

  As I thrashed and slashed at them, squirming and kicking, they melted. Melted back into one.

  And spread around me. Pressing me inside.

  Until I was trapped inside.

  No air left … no air.

  And then, staring helplessly through the thick slime, I saw something move across the kitchen.

  Someone moving quickly. A blur of color.

  Mom?

  Was she in time?

  Could she pull me out of this disgusting creature?

  I gazed up at her from inside the thick, milky body.

  Hurry, Mom.

  I can’t breathe.

  Don’t you see me here, trapped inside this goo?

  Hurry.

  Staring hard at the blur of color, I saw her run up to the creature. Saw her stare down, hands raised to the sides of her face.

  Pull me out, Mom! I urged silently.

  Pull me out—now! I pleaded.

  But, no.

  She just stood there.

  Stood there and watched as my last bit of breath escaped my lungs.

  “Get up, Marco,” Mom ordered. She lowered her hands and pressed them against her waist.

  “Get up, Marco,” she repeated sternly. “What are you doing on the floor?”

  “Huh?” I gasped. “Mom—help! I’m trapped inside this thing! I can’t breathe!”

  She stared down at me, frowning and shaking her head. “Marco, this really isn’t the time for dumb games. Will you please get up off the floor?”

  Games?

  “Don’t you see?” I cried. “Keith’s head disappeared, and he turned into a big hunk of slime. I tried to get away, but he swallowed me and—”

  She turned away from me and walked to the sink. I heard the water start to run.

  “Mom—?”

  “I’m starting to worry about you, Marco,” Mom said in a low, steady voice. “You’re not making any sense. Now, get up. I don’t want you rolling on the floor like a baby!”

  I sat up and gazed around.

  “Hey—!” I let out a startled cry.

  No slime creature.

  I rubbed the floor with both hands. The floor was perfectly dry.

  I’m having another dream, I told myself.

  The glob of slime wasn’t real. Our wrestling
match down the stairs didn’t happen. The whole thing was another disgusting dream.

  I’m not sitting on the floor in the kitchen. I’m asleep in my bed, dreaming this.

  And now I’m going to wake up and end it.

  Wake up!

  Wake up, Marco! I ordered myself.

  I climbed to my feet. Mom was at the sink, drinking a tall glass of water.

  Wake up, Marco!

  If this was a dream, why couldn’t I escape from it?

  I turned—and slammed my forehead into a cabinet.

  “Owww!” The pain exploded in my head, shot down my neck, my back.

  “I’m not dreaming,” I murmured out loud.

  Mom turned from the sink. “What did you say?”

  “I’m not dreaming,” I repeated, feeling dazed.

  “At least you are standing up,” Mom replied. She studied me. “Does your head hurt, Marco?”

  Yes. It hurt because I slammed it into a cabinet.

  But I said, “No. I’m fine, Mom.”

  And then I ran out of the kitchen. I had to get out of there. I had to think. I had to be alone and figure this out.

  “Marco—?” Mom called after me.

  But I didn’t turn back. I ran up the stairs and into my room. And I slammed the bedroom door behind me.

  “Marco, take it easy,” a voice said.

  I gasped and raised my eyes to the bed. Keith sat cross-legged on the blanket, the pillow between his hands.

  “Sit down,” he said, motioning to my desk chair. “Take a deep breath. Relax. We’re going to spend a long time together. The rest of your life.”

  “Am I dreaming?” I asked in a tiny voice.

  Keith didn’t reply. He pointed to the chair. “Sit down,” he ordered.

  I glanced at the door. I thought about escaping.

  But I suddenly felt so tired, so totally weak and weary.

  My legs started to give way. My whole body trembled.

  “I’m sooooo tired,” I moaned. I turned back to Keith. “You win,” I murmured. “You’ve beaten me.”

  He smiled and pointed again to the chair.

  I slumped into it with a long sigh. “I can’t fight you,” I told him wearily. “I don’t know if I’m dreaming or awake. And I don’t have the strength to find out.”

  His smile grew wider. A victory smile, I guess. His dark eyes flashed.

  “You win,” I repeated sadly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  He jumped to his feet and crossed the room. Then he patted me on the shoulder, as if I were his puppy dog. “Smart boy,” he said.

  He stood in front of me and crossed his arms. His grin was frozen on his face. “I knew you’d see it my way,” he said. “Because you are a very smart boy, Marco.”

  I lowered my head. I couldn’t stand seeing that sick grin on his face.

  “I know you will take very good care of me,” Keith continued. “I know you will do whatever I tell you to. For as long as you live.”

  He suddenly spun away and started to the door.

  “Where are you going?” I demanded weakly.

  “I’m going down to the basement,” he replied. “Where I live. And do you know what I’m going to do?”

  “No,” I choked out.

  “Guess,” he demanded.

  “I can’t guess,” I snapped. “Give me a break.”

  “I’m going down to the basement and make a list of all the things you can do for me right away,” Keith said. “You wait here, Marco. When I finish my list, I will come back and we can go over it together.”

  “Right,” I muttered under my breath. I rolled my eyes.

  Was he serious about this? Did he really expect me to do this—forever?

  He stopped at the door and turned back to me. “Before I go, there’s just one thing I want to show you,” he said.

  He took a few steps back into the room. Then he opened his mouth wide.

  Shiny pink stuff poured out of his mouth. For a second, I thought he was blowing a bubblegum bubble.

  But I quickly realized what was happening.

  His glistening, wet insides poured out of his mouth. Yellow organs clung to the pink flesh. His purple heart plopped out from between his teeth, pulsing inside a thick web of blue ropelike veins.

  I stared in horror, watching him turn inside out.

  Then I started to scream.

  And Keith opened his mouth—teeth on the outside—and he screamed too.

  I opened my eyes and blinked. My eyes were dry and caked. My mouth felt as dry as cotton.

  I must have been sleeping a long time, I told myself.

  Still lying flat, I stretched my arms out. The muscles ached.

  My head ached.

  With a groan, I lifted my head off the pillow. Then I raised myself up onto both elbows.

  “Whoa … ,” I murmured. The basement slowly came into focus. I felt so dizzy … dizzy and weak.

  “Keith—you’re awake!”

  I heard Mom’s voice. And then she popped into view.

  I opened my mouth to greet her, but only coughed. I cleared my throat.

  “You’re finally awake, Keith,” Mom said. “I’ve been waiting for so long.”

  I shook my head hard, trying to shake away my confusion. I glanced around, struggling to focus my eyes.

  Yes. Here I was. Safe and sound in the basement, where Mom and I live.

  But what had happened to me? Why had I been asleep for so long?

  Strange pictures floated through my mind.

  “Mom—” I choked out. “Mom, I had such terrible nightmares.”

  She tenderly brushed my hair off my forehead. Her hand felt warm and smooth. “What did you dream?” she asked softly.

  “I—I dreamed that Marco was hit in the head with a baseball bat,” I stammered.

  Mom bit her bottom lip. “You dreamed about Marco?” she asked, staring hard at me.

  I nodded. “Yes. Marco was hit by a bat, and I—”

  “But you were hit by a bat, Keith,” Mom interrupted. “Not Marco.”

  “Everything was turned around in the dream,” I told Mom. “I dreamed that I went up to Marco’s room. And I told him who I was. I told him I live in his basement.”

  Mom sat down on the edge of my cot. “Then what happened?” she asked.

  “He started fighting me,” I told her. “Marco was horrible to me. He started wrestling me. And he pulled me down the stairs. I was so frightened!”

  Mom narrowed her eyes at me sternly. “Keith, I warned you—didn’t I? I warned you never to play with humans.”

  “Yes, but—” I started.

  She raised a hand to silence me.

  “Never play with humans, Keith,” Mom scolded. “You’re a monster. You should never forget it.” She sighed. “Just because you look exactly like a human doesn’t mean you can be friends with the humans.”

  “I know. I know,” I grumbled.

  How many times had I heard this boring lecture before? At least a hundred!

  “I warned you never to play ball with Marco and the other humans,” Mom continued. “But you didn’t listen to me. And look—look what happened.”

  I raised my hand and felt the bandage on the side of my head.

  “You were hit in the head with a bat, Keith,” Mom said, her voice trembling. “You were badly hurt. It’s no wonder you had terrible nightmares.”

  “Mom, please—” I tried to sit up.

  But she gently forced me back onto my back. “You can’t go up and play with the humans,” she continued her lecture. Once Mom starts, it’s impossible to stop her. “We have to be so careful, Keith. So careful.”

  “I know! I know!” I cried. “I know the whole lecture, Mom. We’re monsters, and we live in Marco and Gwynnie’s basement. And if they ever find out we’re down here, they’ll get frightened and chase us away.”

  Mom frowned at me. “I know it’s tempting to go up there and play with them,” she said. “But I hope you’ve l
earned your lesson. You had me so worried this time, Keith.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll be careful from now on,” I promised.

  That seemed to make her happy. She smiled at me.

  “Okay,” she said. “You need your rest. Turn inside out and get some sleep.”

  “Okay,” I agreed.

  I said good-night to her and watched her disappear to the other side of the basement.

  Then I opened my mouth and began to turn inside out. It felt so good to let my insides pour out. So clean and refreshing.

  My heart and arteries slid from between my teeth. My stomach was halfway out my mouth—when I heard a sound.

  No!

  A sound on the basement stairs!

  I glanced up—and saw Marco standing there.

  Did he see me?

  Staring hard at the figure on the basement stairs, I quickly sucked up my insides. My heart and veins slid back into my body. Then I swallowed my lungs.

  Did Marco see me?

  Yes.

  His eyes bulged with shock. His mouth hung open.

  A wave of panic swept over me. A chill ran down my back.

  This is our worst nightmare, I thought. I’ve been caught. I’ve been seen by a human.

  Now what?

  I stared back at Marco and waited for him to speak.

  It took him a long time. He gripped the banister and held on to it tightly. He squinted across the gray basement at me, squinted hard as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing.

  “Who are you?” he asked finally in a small, frightened voice.

  I swallowed hard.

  What should I say? How should I answer?

  I had to think fast.

  “Who are you?” he repeated, a little louder, a little stronger.

  “Uh … you’re dreaming!” I called to him.

  He squinted harder at me.

  “Go back upstairs,” I told him. “It’s just a dream.”

  Would he believe me?

  R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at RLStine.com.