The Scream of the Haunted Mask Read online

  “How creepy is this?” Sabrina murmured.

  I didn’t answer. I was staring at two masks near the top.

  My hands gripped the counter. My chest felt fluttery again.

  “Sabrina — up there,” I whispered.

  She saw the masks I was staring at. “The two girls,” she murmured.

  “Yes,” I said. “Those masks look just like Britney and Molly. The two missing girls we saw in that little piece of mirror.”

  “But … that’s impossible,” Sabrina said.

  Sabrina and I stood there, pressed close together, gazing up at the masks of the two girls.

  And as we stared, the girls’ lips quivered. The lips on the masks moved up and down.

  And they both formed the silent words: “You’re next … You’re next …”

  I couldn’t help it. I let out a scream.

  “What’s wrong?” The shopkeeper appeared behind us.

  I pointed to the two masks. “Their lips …” I said. “They moved. The masks talked!”

  The Horror shook her head. “It only looks that way,” she said. “See? The window is open. The wind from the window makes the lips bob up and down.”

  My mind whirred. I knew she was wrong. The masks were talking to us. Warning us.

  The masks appeared to stare down at us. Now their mouths hung open in ugly scowls.

  “Those masks look just like two girls we saw,” Sabrina said.

  “That’s funny,” the Horror said. “Two girls came in here earlier this week. They said the masks looked like them. But I didn’t really think so. Want to try them on?”

  I shuddered. “Uh … no. No thanks,” I stammered. I grabbed Sabrina. “Let’s go.”

  We rushed past the Horror, through the front room of the store, and out to the street.

  “Come back soon, Carly Beth and Sabrina!” the Horror shouted.

  Again, I felt a chill. How did she know our names?

  Sabrina and I jogged across the plaza. I had to get away from that mask store. We hurried past several shops.

  We stopped in front of a big poster. It showed kids on a beach, sinking deep into the sand. They were screaming and laughing. At the bottom it read: QUICKSAND BEACH. DROP IN ANY TIME!

  “We have to find those kids,” Sabrina said. “We have to tell them what the masks said. We have to warn them.”

  I gazed around the plaza. Groups of kids and families were rushing in all directions. They all seemed to be having fun.

  I sighed. “Sabrina, maybe we should just find my parents and go home,” I said. “Maybe —”

  I stopped when I heard voices. Coming from the other side of the big poster.

  I poked my head around. Two Horrors leaned against the other side. They were both licking large black ice cream cones. Black ice cream?!

  One of them was huge, tall and bulging with muscles. He wore a red bandanna on his head, tucked around his horns. His friend was skinny and had purple freckles all over his green face.

  “Our special guests are in for a lot of heavy-duty surprises — aren’t they, Marcus?” the bigger one said.

  I ducked my head back out of sight. Was he talking about us?

  Sabrina started to say something. But I shushed her by pressing my hand over her mouth. We both listened.

  “Yeah, Bubba,” the smaller one replied. “They don’t know how scary things can get.”

  “Things are gonna get a lot scarier, Marcus,” Bubba said. “A lot scarier.”

  “Two are already gone,” Marcus said. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

  “We have no choice — do we?”

  Sabrina and I froze. My heart pounded. I pressed my back against the poster. We didn’t move until the two Horrors walked away.

  “Th-they were talking about us,” I stammered. “Did you hear what they said?”

  Sabrina swallowed. “Every word.”

  “We do have to warn the other kids,” I said. “You were right, Sabrina. They have to know. Those two Horrors want us ALL to disappear!”

  We started back toward the Stagger Inn. We thought maybe the kids had returned to the hotel.

  The frightening words of the two Horrors kept repeating in my mind:

  Two are already gone … We’ll take care of the rest.

  Why did someone want to hurt us or make us disappear? What had they done to Britney and Molly? Why were we invited here?

  I had so many questions. My head felt ready to explode!

  “Carly Beth, I think we got turned around,” Sabrina said. “I think the hotel is back there.” She pointed.

  I saw small yellow-and-brown cottages up ahead of us. To one side of them, a forest of tall trees. A sign on a wooden pole read: WELCOME TO WEREWOLF VILLAGE. A smaller sign read: CURB YOUR WOLF.

  I let out a cry. “Sabrina — look! Is that Billy, Sheena, and Matt? Going into the village?”

  We took off running. A narrow brick path led into the village. The cottage windows were all dark. The tall trees spread a thick shade over everything. I heard wolf howls up ahead.

  Sabrina and I stopped. No sign of the kids. Did I imagine them?

  The cottages ended at the forest. We entered the thick grove. Nothing moved. The trees stood perfectly still. We walked and walked in total silence. Then, suddenly, wolf howls rose up all around us.

  And two big white wolves stepped onto the path. Their mouths were open. Their tongues hung out over their jagged teeth.

  “Oh, no,” I murmured. I took a step back.

  The wolves lowered their heads. They stared at us with cold gray eyes. Hoarse growls escaped their throats.

  “I … I don’t think they’re friendly,” I whispered.

  The wolves took a step closer, walking side by side. They didn’t blink. They kept their cold stares on us as they advanced.

  “They can’t be real,” Sabrina whispered, grabbing my hand. “They wouldn’t let real wolves walk around free — would they?”

  I didn’t answer. The wolves looked ready to pounce.

  I cried out when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around to see a smiling Horror. “Don’t worry, girls,” she said. “They don’t bite till after dark.”

  She made a shooing motion with one hand. The wolves turned and trotted into the woods.

  The Horror trotted after them. “Enjoy Wolfsbane Forest!” she called.

  “Wait —” I shouted. “How do we get out of here?”

  I could hear her footsteps crackling on the blanket of leaves beneath the trees. But she didn’t answer.

  “I don’t see the kids,” Sabrina said, brushing a green caterpillar from her hair. “I don’t see any kids. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I think we came in this way,” I said, pointing. The sun had lowered. Long shadows stretched over the forest floor. Hard to see where we were going.

  We walked for a while in silence. Caterpillars fell from the trees. I pulled a sticky one off my forehead. I saw two more on Sabrina’s shoulder and another one in her hair.

  “Aaaiii!” I cried out when I felt one drop down the back of my shirt.

  “We should have found the path by now,” Sabrina said. “Don’t tell me we’re lost in this awful forest.”

  “Wait. Are those cottages?” I said. “We must be close to the exit.”

  We followed a narrow dirt path out of the trees. I was wrong. They weren’t cottages. They were large metal cages with bars across the front.

  I heard grunts and groans from inside the cages.

  Sabrina and I timidly stepped closer. “It’s … men!” Sabrina whispered.

  In the dim gray light, I could see men hunched inside the cages. Some of them gripped the bars with both hands and grunted at us.

  The men wore baggy brown shorts. No shirts or shoes. They were covered in bristly black hair. Their chests and backs … arms and legs … even their feet had thick tufts of hair.

  “Actors,” Sabrina whispered. “They must work for the park.”

  I was
n’t so sure.

  What was real here in HorrorLand? What could you believe and what was make-believe?

  One of the men tossed back his long mane of hair and began to howl like a wolf. The others began to bang the bars of their cages with their fists.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted, “Can you help us? We can’t find the exit.”

  They howled and pounded. One of the men hunched on all fours and began to drool.

  A man jumped to his feet in the closest cage. He brought his face to the bars. And I saw that he had a wolf snout — not a human nose.

  I screamed.

  He tossed back his head and laughed, a wild, creature laugh.

  The horrible laugh sent chills down my back.

  “Let’s go,” Sabrina said, pulling me with both hands. “They are totally creeping me out.”

  We turned away from the howling, grunting men in their cages. I glanced up at the darkening sky. A pale full moon was rising above the trees.

  “This way,” I said. I pulled Sabrina toward another dirt path.

  I don’t know how long we walked through the forest. It seemed like hours.

  We both shouted for help as we followed the trail. But no one answered.

  “This can’t be happening,” Sabrina muttered. She pulled another caterpillar off her cheek. “This park is supposed to be FUN!”

  “Sabrina — look!” I cried. At the end of the path, I saw a tall wire fence.

  I pulled her toward it. “We’re out of the forest. Look — a gate!”

  My heart thudded in my chest. I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. An exit gate! I was so happy.

  We raced over the dirt. Sabrina got there first. She pushed at the gate. Pushed harder. Tried to pull it open.

  That’s when I saw the lock. A long silvery padlock.

  “It’s locked,” I said, sighing. My knees suddenly felt weak. “We … we’re locked in.”

  With a burst of anger, I grabbed the gate with both hands and shook it. But, of course, it didn’t budge.

  “Aaaaagh!” I uttered a disgusted cry and spun away.

  The full moon was bright yellow now. Wolf howls floated in the air all around us.

  “We’ve got to find another exit,” Sabrina said. She couldn’t keep her voice from trembling. “The wolves really sound hungry. I … I think they’re real! We … can’t spend the night here.”

  “We’ll follow the fence,” I said. “It should lead us out. I —”

  I heard scrambling footsteps. Leaves scraping and crackling. The steps came closer.

  And then Sabrina and I both screamed in horror as a dark creature leaped out of the trees and fell on us with a hungry cry.

  “Ouch!” I swatted a mosquito on my neck. Too late. I could feel a trickle of warm blood under my fingers.

  My hiking boots sank into the muddy ground. I heard a rustling sound in the bushes. Probably a killer coyote getting ready to bite my throat out.

  How much do I enjoy these family camping trips?

  How much would I like to have all my teeth pulled out by a crazed orangutan with rusty pliers?

  “Robby, try to keep up!” my dad called as he led the way along the trail.

  “Yeah, Robby,” my brother, Sam, shouted. “Try to keep up!”

  He hates camping, too. But he pretends he likes it. That’s because he’s the middle kid, so he has to try harder.

  “Stop copying Dad!” I shouted.

  “Stop copying Dad!” Sam repeated, like a stupid parrot.

  “Give me a break,” I moaned.

  “Give me a break,” Sam echoed.

  “Give me a break!” my sister, Taylor, whined.

  Mom and Dad laughed. She’s seven. They think everything Taylor does is the cutest.

  They even laugh when she burps. When Sam and I have a burping contest at the dinner table, Mom always gets angry and makes us stop.

  How fair is that?

  “Whoa!” I let out a cry as my foot caught on a fallen tree limb. I lost my balance, stumbled — and fell into the mud. My backpack landed hard on top of me.

  I heard Sam and Taylor laugh.

  “It isn’t funny,” Mom said. She says that a lot. She’s the only one in our family who isn’t a total joker.

  “Sure it’s funny,” Sam said. “Robby is a superklutz.”

  “Superklutz! Superklutz!” Taylor chanted. She did a crazy dance around Mom and Dad.

  Dad set down the tent and helped pull me to my feet.

  “Hey — a new superhero for your comic strip,” he said. “Superklutz. He trips and falls on the bad guys.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha,” I said. “See me laughing? How funny are you? NOT!”

  My family always gives me lame ideas for my comic strip. I just ignore them. They don’t have a clue how serious I am about my strip.

  Dad tugged my backpack onto my shoulders. Then he rubbed his hand through my hair and messed it up.

  My hair is light brown, almost blond. And I wear it long and wild. I just sweep it back with my hand. I never brush it.

  I have a lot of hair. It doesn’t even fit under a baseball cap.

  I think that’s why Dad is always messing it up. Because he’s as bald as a bowling ball.

  A few weeks ago, I drew a comic character for my strip who looked like Dad. I called him Pink Head. I never showed that one to Dad. He’s kind of sensitive about having a big pink egg for a head.

  I’m the only one who’s blond and pale in my family. Sam and Taylor both have raven-black hair and deep, dark eyes, like Mom. They’re both short, and Sam is a chubster. He hates it when I poke his belly and tell him it’s just baby fat.

  The sun slid behind some clouds. The woods grew darker.

  Dad pointed up ahead. “Let’s set up camp by those tall trees,” he said. “There’s grass there. It should be less muddy.”

  I brushed a swarm of gnats out of my face. What’s the point of gnats, anyway? I mean, do we really need them? I don’t think so.

  We found a nice clear space under the trees. Then we set to work putting up the two tents. Mom and Dad started to unpack the sleeping bags.

  Dad took a long drink from a water bottle. Then he spit a gusher of water at me.

  I ducked out of the way. “Nice try!” I shouted.

  Mom gave Dad a shove. “Norman, give Robby a break.”

  “Do it again, Dad!” Sam shouted.

  Dad laughed. “Hey, Robby, who taught you how to do the perfect water spit? I did — right? The Spritz Master!”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Why can’t anyone in this family ever be serious?” Mom asked.

  I pulled out my laptop and sat down on my backpack. I balanced it on my knees and booted it up.

  After a few minutes, I called to Dad. “I’m trying to upload my comic strip. But there’s no network out here. How am I supposed to get online?”

  “Why don’t you try to enjoy the woods instead?” Mom asked. “This is a camping trip. Put that away.”

  I groaned. “It’s so boring out here! Nothing but nature, nature, nature!”

  Dad grinned at me. “Your mom and I like nature. Fresh air. The great outdoors …”

  “You’re both weird,” I said.

  He pointed to the trees. “You promised not to grumble, remember? The sun is going down. Go help your brother gather firewood.”

  I grumbled some more. Then I put away the laptop and trudged into the woods to help Sam.

  I really wanted to work on my new comic strip. I’ve been drawing comics since I was seven. But my new supervillain is my best one ever.

  Dr. Maniac. The Totally Mental Maniac of Mayhem.

  Awesome, right?

  I tripped again and banged my shoulder against a tree trunk. Leaves shook and shivered above my head. A chipmunk stood up and stared at me. Then it scurried into the woods.

  Dr. Maniac vs. Chipmunk Boy.

  That might work. Dr. Maniac forces a boy to eat a pois
oned acorn and he grows into a giant chipmunk. Dr. Maniac decides to turn a thousand boys into chipmunks….

  I can’t help it. I get these great story ideas everywhere I go. Even in the woods.

  I stopped and glanced around. Where was the path? I was walking over a thick blanket of sticks and dead leaves. The tall trees blocked out the sun.

  How far had I walked? I have a terrible sense of direction. I get lost in my own bedroom!

  “Hey, Sam!” I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted. “Sam? Are you here?”

  No answer.

  “Hey — SAAAAAM!” I shouted louder. “Where ARE you?”

  A bird cawed loudly somewhere in the forest.

  Then I heard footsteps. Behind me.

  I spun around — and gasped as a figure stepped out from behind two trees.

  “No! It c-can’t be!” I stammered. “You — you’re not real! I made you up!”

  A grin spread over Dr. Maniac’s face.

  Yes. Dr. Maniac. The comic villain I created.

  He walked up to me with that crazy grin on his face. He brushed back his leopard-skin cape. “I’ll show you how REAL I am!” he shouted. “Eat this DEAD SQUIRREL!”

  He raised his yellow-gloved hands. He held a decaying dead squirrel. Its eyes had sunk deep into its head. Patches of fur had fallen off its back.

  “EAT it!” Dr. Maniac shouted.

  I tried to move away, but I backed right into a wide tree trunk.

  “You’re crazy!” I cried.

  Dr. Maniac shook his head. “I’m not crazy — I’m a MANIAC!”

  He bumped me with his chest. It had a big gold M on it. “Now, eat it!” he demanded. “EAT it!”

  And he shoved the putrid dead squirrel into my face.

  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.