Escape From Shudder Mansion Page 8

  “You’re crazy!” Carter shouted. “You have to let us out of here!”

  “Let me go!” Scarlet begged, squirming in the chair, struggling with the ropes. “Please!”

  Danitia had her hands pressed to her cheeks. Cheng stood behind her, arms crossed tightly in front of him, as if forming a shield. Mia stood between her parents, a thin smile on her face.

  “Why are you young people unhappy?” Margo demanded. “You are all going to be stars!”

  “Millions will see you die!” the Beast roared. “Millions! You’ll be famous. Just think of it.”

  “We don’t want to be famous,” I said. I pointed to Scarlet. “Why have you tied my sister up? Let her go—now!”

  “Your sister will not be set free,” Margo said, taking a step toward me.

  “The Beast is hungry,” her husband said, stepping up beside her. He had his eyes on Scarlet. “The Beast must be fed!”

  “The Beast must be fed!” Mia began the chant, and her mother joined in. “The Beast must be fed. The Beast must be fed!”

  And as they chanted, the Beast began to change form. He dropped to all fours and grew and stretched. His body made horrible cracking sounds, and he opened his mouth, revealing rows of jagged animal teeth.

  “The Beast must be fed! The Beast must be fed!”

  Like a red-eyed panther, he growled from deep in his belly. Then he rose up over my sister, licking his teeth with a long red tongue and drooling … Gobs of yellow drool oozed onto Scarlet.

  “The Beast must be fed! The Beast must be fed!”

  “Riley—do something!” my sister shrieked in terror.

  I knew I had only a few seconds before the Beast claimed his meal. But … what could I do?

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  I had to get to the coal storage room next to the furnace at the back of the basement. I knew there was something there that might save us.

  If I could get there, maybe … just maybe … there would be a way to rescue Scarlet. And to keep all of us from having to die in this horrifying mansion.

  But how could I get past the roaring, drooling Beast?

  If I took off running, he would grab me in an instant. Then I would become his dinner instead of Scarlet. And I wouldn’t be able to save any of us.

  “Riley—hurry!”

  Scarlet’s shriek broke into my frantic thoughts. How do I get past him? How do I get to the coal storage room?

  And then I spotted it.

  My only hope.

  I saw it on a small table against the wall to my right. It gleamed in the harsh light of the spotlight over my sister’s chair. Squinting across the room, I realized what I was seeing.

  A gold cup.

  A gold trophy cup.

  And I remembered it. I remembered it from the game I had played on the day Mia came to our house.

  I remembered very clearly. I’d thought the gold cup was a prize. Playing the game, I’d moved to pick it up. And to my shock, it wasn’t a prize at all. It was a trap.

  The cup was filled with hundreds of angry spiders.

  That was in the game. Now I was staring at the trophy cup in real life.

  If I grab the cup … If I pour the hungry spiders over the Beast’s head … Will I have a chance?

  Will it distract him long enough for me to get to the coal room at the back?

  I had no choice. I had to try it.

  Without thinking about it any longer, I grabbed Carter with both hands—and I shoved him into Margo.

  “Hey—!” She uttered a startled cry and stumbled to one side.

  It gave me two seconds to move. I lurched across the room. Stretched out my hands—and grabbed the cup.

  Yes! I had it in one hand!

  The Beast tilted back his head in a deafening, angry roar.

  I spun around—and dove quickly back across the room.

  With a groan, I raised the gold cup over the Beast’s head. Raised it high and tilted it over him.

  I stood there with the gold cup tilted over the monster’s head, not moving, not breathing, my entire body stiff with fear.

  And watched as nothing poured out.

  The cup was empty.

  “Huh?” I let out a gasp. The cup trembled in my hand.

  The Beast tossed back his head in a roar of triumph. His red eyes glowed. The drool glistened on his teeth.

  He turned and began to lower his teeth to my sister’s shoulder.

  Scarlet screamed.

  I raised the cup high—and smashed it over his head.

  The Beast uttered a startled whellllp. And to my shock, the big creature flew apart. Burst into a million pieces. Just like that shadow I had seen that day on the back lawn.

  I watched the pieces fly in all directions, like confetti blown by the wind. And then I was moving, faster than I had ever moved.

  Margo and Mia stood in openmouthed shock as I darted past them. The light from the spotlight faded behind me and I ran into darkness.

  I didn’t care. I knew where I was going. I had to get there before Margo and Mia recovered and came after me.

  Squinting into the blackness, I saw the enormous furnace, still and silent. And beside it, a wide doorway to another room.

  The coal storage room. I could still smell the coal even though the room was empty. No one had stoked up this furnace in a hundred years.

  If only I had brought a candle. Some way to see in this total darkness.

  I knew where it was from playing the game. But how would I ever find it without seeing?

  A tiny button. A tiny reset button.

  I remembered it was on the near wall, somewhere near the bottom, almost to the floor.

  I dropped to my knees. I frantically smoothed my hand over the bumpy stone wall.

  If I could find the reset button … If I could push the reset button before anyone stopped me … Maybe this night would totally restart—just like in the video game.

  Maybe we would find ourselves back outside. Maybe I could reset the whole night—and get us out of this terrifying mansion.

  I heard footsteps. Running. Coming closer.

  Shouts. Margo and Mia. Angry cries.

  I spread my hand over the stones. I couldn’t feel a button. I lowered both hands and moved them frantically over the hard bumps of the stone wall.

  And yes … Yes! I found the button. Found it in the smooth molding near the floor.

  I was shaking so hard, I couldn’t keep my finger on it. I couldn’t see. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

  But yes—I pushed the button.

  Please work. Please reset the night. Just like resetting the game. Please. Please work.

  Nothing happened.

  I hunched there in the blackness, my finger still pressed on the button. Nothing moved. Nothing changed.

  And then the darkness was suddenly replaced by a blinding flash of white. So bright, I let out a cry. I shut my eyes against it. But the pain of the sharp light came right through my eyelids.

  Brighter … brighter. Finally, it faded. The pain lingered in my head. I waited for the light to be completely gone. Then I opened my eyes.

  Whoa. I think it worked.

  My dad pulled the car up to the curb. It was a dark, moonless night. Scarlet and I gazed up at Shudder Mansion, rising above the trees.

  I can’t believe we’re going to spend the night in the old mansion, I thought.

  “Don’t forget the cooler,” Mom said. “We brought a lot of drinks and snacks for everyone.”

  Behind us, a long SUV pulled up to the curb. Carter climbed out, followed by his housekeeper. They moved to the back of the SUV and began pulling out all the electronic equipment Carter had promised to bring.

  By eight o’clock, the whole team was gathered in the front entryway. We piled our jackets against one wall. Some of the parents began lighting candles and setting them up around us. Everyone was talking at once.

  My dad began to clap his hands together and shouted, “Quiet, ever
yone. Can we have it quiet? We have a plan.”

  It took a little while for everyone to settle down. Mom and Dad both stepped into the center of the room. Their faces appeared to flicker in and out in the candlelight.

  “We parents got together earlier this week and made a plan,” Dad announced. “You guys are going to have a lot of fun tonight.”

  Fun? I thought. Will it be FUN? I sure hope so.

  Hahahahaha!

  Looks like Riley, Scarlet, and friends are going to live their terrifying night all over again. And again and again and again!

  I think Riley pushed the wrong button. He pushed the RESET button. Maybe he should have pushed GAME OVER. Hahaha!

  And why did all the parents run away screaming? Let’s clear that up. It was their little joke. They planned it all along.

  They didn’t want the kids to get BORED. Hahaha.

  Well, I bet they won’t be bored now—since they’ll be living the rest of their lives in Shudder Mansion!

  I’ll be back soon with some more shudders for you in another Goosebumps book.

  Remember, this is SlappyWorld.

  You only scream in it!

  I stuffed a pair of woolly socks into my duffel bag and frowned at my sister Patti, who plopped on the edge of my bed. “Why are you staring at me? Why are you watching me pack?”

  Her dark eyes flashed behind her glasses. “Because you’re a hoot, Shep.”

  “Huh? I’m a hoot? What is a hoot? What are you talking about?”

  She crawled over and began pawing through the bag. “Did you just pack a bar of soap?”

  I slapped her hands away. “Get your paws off my stuff, Patti.”

  She stuck her round face into mine. “Did you? Did you just pack a bar of soap?”

  “So what?” I said.

  “It’s an overnight in the woods, Shep. No one is going to take a shower.”

  I could feel my face grow a little hot. “Are you going to give me a break? I like to be prepared.”

  Truth is, I didn’t really know what to pack. I’d never been on an overnight in the woods. I hate the woods. I hate the outdoors. And I’m not too crazy about the dark.

  Why couldn’t our sixth-grade class go on an overnight during the day?

  Patti didn’t back away. She sat beside my duffel bag with her arms crossed in front of her. I knew she was waiting to give me a hard time about something else.

  Patti can be a pain. She is nine, three years younger than me. But she thinks she’s the sensible one. Can she be bossy? Three guesses.

  She has stringy black hair that she hates, a face as round as a pumpkin, and she has to wear glasses all the time. So do I. So do Mom and Dad.

  Mom says it makes us look smart. But I think we look like a family of owls.

  I tossed a flashlight into the bag. Patti pushed it deeper into the pile of stuff. “Could you go away?” I asked.

  “Where should I go?”

  “Brazil?” I continued to pack the duffel.

  “You’re a hoot, Shep,” she repeated. “What did you just put in the bag? Was that bug spray?”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “It’s almost November!” she shouted. “It’s cold out. You’re not going to need bug spray.”

  I pulled the can of bug spray out and tossed it on the bed. Sometimes Patti can be right.

  Okay. So I was stressed. I wanted to bring all my blankets and my two soft pillows. I wanted to bring my sweaters and my sweatshirts in case it got really cold. But that seemed like too much.

  Actually, I didn’t want to bring anything. I didn’t want to go. I kept thinking about being there in the dark with the trees rattling and shaking, and the wind howling, and all the wild animals lurking around everywhere.

  And I knew I could not count on our teacher, Mr. Hanson, to help us feel safe. Hanson is a horror freak. Some kids call him “Horrible Hanson” because he loves everything that’s horrible.

  He tells us horror stories in class and talks about all the old movie monsters as if they were real. My friend Carlos Jackson and I know that he’s been saving up ghost stories to tell on the overnight. There’s nothing Horrible Hanson would like better than making us all scream our heads off in fright.

  Carlos likes ghost stories. But I have a real reason for hating them, a reason I can’t tell Carlos.

  I jammed two wool ski caps into the bag. It was getting very full.

  Patti laughed. “You’ve packed everything you own. Is Tootsie in there? You’d better let me look.” Tootsie is our cat.

  Patti jumped to her feet and searched through my stuff again.

  “If you’re so into it, why don’t you go in my place?” I said.

  She shook her head. “I can’t go on a sixth-grade trip. I can only go with the cool kids.”

  “Huh? Fourth-grade kids are cool? Are you kidding me? You only learned to tie your shoes last week!”

  She stuck her chin out. “We don’t tie our shoes. We’re too cool to tie our shoes.”

  I stopped and took a step back. I didn’t want this to turn into a fight. I needed Patti’s help.

  I pushed my glasses up on my nose. “Would you do me a favor?”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “What is it?”

  “My sleeping bag is in the basement. Could you bring it up for me?”

  She squinted at me. “No way.”

  “But, Patti—”

  “Shep, you have to get over this basement thing,” she said. “You have got to stop being afraid of the basement.”

  “I—I can’t,” I stammered. “I told you. That’s where I always run into Annalee.”

  She tossed back her head. “Annalee. How did you ever make up a name like Annalee?”

  I couldn’t help myself. I started to shout. “I didn’t make it up! It’s real. Her name is Annalee.”

  She gave me a shove. “Oh, please. Give it a rest. Like I’m really going to believe that stupid ghost story.” She raised her hands to shove me again, but I backed out of her reach.

  “Annalee—” I started.

  “There’s no Annalee,” Patti said. There’s no ghost named Annalee haunting our house—and you know it. Why do you keep insisting?”

  “Because it’s true?” I said.

  Patti rolled her eyes. “You’re losing it.”

  “I don’t know why she’s haunting our house,” I said. “And I don’t know what she wants. B—but I know she’s real. I saw her the day we moved in. And I’ve seen her again and again. And I have nightmares all the time about her.”

  “You dreamed her in a nightmare,” Patti said. “She’s not real.”

  “YES, SHE IS!” I screamed.

  “Look at you. You’re shaking,” Patti said. She narrowed her eyes at me through her glasses. “You have seriously got to stop making up ghost stories. Ghosts do not exist, Shep. Everyone knows that ghosts don’t exist.”

  I swallowed. “So you won’t go down to the basement for me?”

  She laughed. “You’re a hoot.”

  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 www.RLStine.com.

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