by R. L. Stine
Before I realized it, I had made a complete circle.
I was back where I had started. And there was no opening. No doorway.
No way out.
“Hey! I’m trapped in here!” Clay called shrilly.
“So am I,” I told him.
“There’s got to be an opening,” Luke said. “How did we get in?”
“You’re right,” I replied fretfully. “We should be able to get out the way we came in.” I began to search along the walls again, moving quickly.
My heart began to pound. I had a fluttering feeling in my chest. There had to be a way out. There had to be.
Luke pounded hard on the glass. In the other room, I could see Clay jogging frantically around his room, pushing on the walls as he moved.
I went all the way around twice, then stopped.
There was no way out.
“I — I’m trapped,” I stammered. “It’s like a box. A glass box.”
“We’re all trapped!” Clay cried.
Luke was still pounding frantically on the glass with his fists. “Luke — stop!” I cried shrilly. “That isn’t helping!”
He lowered his fists to his sides. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered. “There’s got to be a way out.”
“Maybe there’s a trapdoor or something,” I suggested. I began to search the mirrored floor. It was too dark to see well. The floor appeared solid to me.
I returned to the glass wall. “This isn’t much fun,” I said glumly.
Luke and Clay nodded. I could see they were both really frightened. So was I. But I decided I was two years older than them, so I had to try to be the brave one.
I wasn’t feeling very brave, though. Uttering a worried sigh, I leaned against the wall that separated Luke and me.
And as I leaned, the wall started to move.
I jumped back with a sharp cry.
The wall was sliding toward me, closing in on me.
I took another step back.
Glancing around frantically, I saw that all the walls were sliding in.
“Luke!” I cried. I turned to see him backing up, too.
“The walls!” Clay called. “Help me!”
“They’re sliding in on me, too!” Luke screamed. “Each room must have its own glass walls!”
All three of us were trapped.
With a desperate groan, I threw myself against one of the walls and tried to push it back.
But I couldn’t stop it.
The box was closing in, growing smaller. Smaller.
“We’re going to be crushed!” I cried.
11
“Do something! Please — do something!” Clay was screaming.
Luke lowered his shoulder to the glass and struggled to stop it from moving. But he wasn’t strong enough. The walls kept sliding in on him. I backed up, my hands raised like a shield. Closer, closer. The glass walls moved slowly, silently.
I backed up until my back hit the wall behind me. There was nowhere to go. “Do something! Somebody — do something!” Clay’s terrified screams rang in my ears.
“The glass — it’s squeezing me!” Luke shrieked. “Lizzy!”
“I — I can’t move!” I shouted to him. The panes of glass began to press in on me from all sides. Above and below, too. I suddenly pictured one of those crushed cars. You know. The cars that are crunched into a perfect square in those big compactor machines.
My entire body shuddered as I realized I was going to be crushed into a perfect square, too.
“Ow!” I cried out as the glass pressed down on me. “Somebody — help!” I tried to scream, but my voice came out a muffled yelp.
It was getting hard to breathe.
The glass panes moved in. Tighter. Tighter.
I gasped for air.
I tried to push with all my might against the glass.
But it was no use.
I was being crushed into a human square.
12
I couldn’t hear Luke or Clay anymore.
I could only hear my gasping, choked breath.
I shut my eyes.
And felt the floor drop away.
And before I realized what was happening, I was falling, falling rapidly down.
I opened my eyes in time to see the glass walls roll above me as I slid down, down, down through an open chute.
And in a few seconds, I was back outside. I landed sitting up on the grass with a gentle thud.
Luke and Clay came sliding out beside me.
For a long moment, we sat on the grass, blinking in the bright sunlight, staring at each other in disbelief.
“We’re okay,” Clay said uncertainly, finally breaking the silence. He slowly climbed to his feet. His round face was bright red, and his glasses were crooked and nearly falling off his nose. “We’re okay!”
Luke let out a laugh. A gleeful laugh. He stood up and began jumping up and down for joy.
I didn’t exactly feel like jumping up and down. I was still picturing the crushed car.
Luke reached down, grabbed both of my hands, and pulled me to my feet. “What should we do next?” he demanded, grinning.
“Huh? Next?” I cried. “Are you for real?”
“That was really scary,” Clay said, his face still red. “I thought we were going to be scrunched flat.”
“It was awesome!” Luke declared.
Once again, he was forgetting that a few seconds before, he’d been screaming in total panic.
“It was way too scary,” Clay murmured, shaking his head.
“Clay’s right,” I greed. “It was too scary to be fun. One more second, and …”
“Don’t you see? That’s the whole idea!” Luke cried. “That’s how they scare you here. It’s so awesome! They make you think that one more second and you’re a goner. But it’s all perfectly timed. They want you to be terrified — and then — poof — you’re okay!”
“I guess you’re right,” said Clay doubtfully. He pushed up his glasses, then rubbed his chin.
“We’re not really going to get hurt or anything,” Luke continued. “This is an amusement park, remember? They want you to come back again and again. So they’re not going to really hurt anybody.”
“Maybe,” Clay said.
“But, Luke, what if they mess up?” I asked him. “What if the machines get goofed up? What if the timing gets off? Let’s say the floor underneath us got stuck. Then what?”
Luke didn’t reply. He stared back at me thoughtfully.
“What would have happened to us if the floor hadn’t dropped away at the right moment?” I demanded.
Luke shrugged. “They make sure everything works okay,” he answered finally.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Is it possible to really be scared to death?” Clay asked me, a solemn expression on his face. “I mean, I know it happens in books and movies. But does it happen in real life?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I replied.
“I’ll bet people could get scared to death in that House of Mirrors,” Clay continued seriously.
“No way!” Luke insisted. “Listen to me. This is just a place for fun. Scary fun.”
He was watching something over my shoulder. I turned to see one of the guys in a green Horror costume walking by, carrying a huge bouquet of black balloons.
Luke hurried up beside the Horror. “Hey, has anyone ever died here in this park?” Luke asked.
The Horror kept walking. The black balloons bobbed above his head. “Only once,” he told Luke.
“One person died here?” Luke asked.
The Horror shook his big green head. “No. Not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” Luke demanded.
“A person can only die once here,” the Horror said. “No one has ever died twice.”
13
“Do you mean people have really died here?” I shouted.
But the Horror walked quickly on, the black balloons bouncing against each other, f
loating darkly against the clear blue sky.
The Horror’s answer made me shiver. It wasn’t just his words. It was the cold tone of his voice, the way he made it sound like a warning.
“He was joking — right?” Clay asked in a trembling voice. He scratched his blond hair nervously.
“Yeah. I guess,” I replied.
A family walked past us, heading toward the House of Mirrors. They had two little boys with them, both about five or six, and both of them were crying.
“I’ve seen so many crying kids in this park!” I commented.
“They’re just wimps,” Luke replied. “Scaredy-cats. Let’s go find another ride or something.”
“No, I really think we should find Mom and Dad,” I told him.
“Yeah. Let’s go find them,” Clay said eagerly. The poor kid. I think he was really scared. But he was trying his best not to let my brother see how frightened he was.
“Aw, what’s the hurry?” Luke protested. “Let them find us.”
“But they’re probably really worried,” I insisted. I started walking toward the front gate.
“Dad will only make us leave,” Luke grumbled. But he followed anyway. And Clay gratefully came along, keeping close to my side.
Following the trail, we passed by a rickety old wooden roller coaster. It rose up as high as a four-story building, casting a wide, dark shadow over the walk. A sign in front read: OUT OF ORDER. DO YOU DARE TO RIDE IT ANYWAY?
The gate was open. There was no attendant.
“Hey, Lizzy, want to ride it?” Luke asked, staring at the beat-up old cars parked at the bottom of the tracks.
“No way!” Clay and I replied in unison. We kept on walking.
The trail curved under thick trees, and we were suddenly in the shade. A sign read: BEWARE OF TREE SNAKES.
Clay covered his head with his hands. All three of us raised our eyes to the trees.
Were there really snakes up there?
It was too dark to see anything. The leaves were so thick, no sunlight filtered through.
Suddenly, I heard a gentle hissing sound.
At first I thought it was just the rustle of the leaves.
But then the hissing grew louder — until all of the trees seemed to be hissing down at us.
“Run!” I cried.
The three of us started running along the trail, ducking low, our sneakers thudding hard on the pavement. The hissing in the trees above us grew louder, angrier.
I thought I saw a long, dark snake slithering in the grass beside the trail. But it might have just been a shadow.
We kept running even after the trees ended and we were in sunlight again. The trail curved past a row of evil-looking statues. They were made of stone. They were statues of grinning monsters, eyes narrowed menacingly, fangs lowered from their twisted mouths. Their arms were outstretched, ready to grab anyone who came close.
I slowed to a trot, my eyes on the ugly statues. Suddenly, I heard low, evil laughter.
“It — it’s coming from the statues!” Clay exclaimed. “Keep running!”
Did the statues move toward us? Did they raise their arms higher? Did they beckon to us to come closer?
I’m not sure. With their evil laughter in my ears, I lowered my head and turned on the speed.
All three of us were panting hard as we ran along the trail. I didn’t see any other people. I didn’t see anyone in a Horror costume, either.
We slowed as we came to another sign. This one had an arrow pointing in the direction we were running. It read: FRONT EXIT. DON’T BOTHER. YOU WILL NEVER ESCAPE.
I caught the worried expression on Clay’s face as he read the sign. “It’s only a joke,” I told him. “The signs are supposed to be funny.”
“Ha-ha,” he said weakly. He was panting hard, struggling to catch his breath.
Without warning, Luke jumped on Clay’s shoulders. “Hey, Clay — how about a ride?”
Clay cried out angrily, “Get off!”
Luke laughed and hung on. Clay dropped to his knees, trying to throw Luke off.
“Come on, guys,” I pleaded. “Luke, stop being such a goof. We’re trying to find Mom and Dad.”
But now they were laughing and wrestling on the ground.
“Come on, guys!” I shouted, rolling my eyes. “Let’s go!” I tugged my brother to his feet.
Clay’s glasses had flown off. He stopped to pick them up from the grass. Then we continued on our way.
The path led past a rectangular flower garden — filled with black flowers! Then it suddenly came to a stop in front of a large red barn.
The boys walked up to the open doorway of the barn. I stayed back, searching for a path that led around the barn. I couldn’t see one.
“The path goes right through the barn to the other side,” Luke called to me. “Come on, Lizzy!” He motioned for me to join them.
I spotted a small sign painted to the right of the barn’s double doors. It read: BAT BARN.
“Hey — are there bats in there?” I called, feeling a cold shudder run down my back. I like most animals. But bats really give me the creeps.
Luke stepped inside the barn. Clay hung back, standing just outside the door. “I don’t see any,” Luke called out to me. “It’s kind of dark.”
A strange odor invaded my nostrils. It was strong and sour. It came from the barn.
I didn’t want to go in there.
“Come on, Lizzy!” Luke called. “The path goes right out the other side. Don’t be chicken. You can run straight through.”
I stepped up beside Clay at the doorway and peered inside the barn.
“It looks okay,” Clay said quietly.
The sour odor was much stronger. “Yuck,” I said, making a face. It really stinks.”
Luke stood inside the barn, his eyes raised to the rafters. “I don’t see anything up there,” he reported.
Doors on the opposite wall were wide open. It would only take ten seconds to run through the barn and out the other side, I realized.
“Let’s go,” I told Clay.
He and I stepped into the barn. The sour smell was overpowering. I held my breath and pinched my fingers over my nose.
We started running to the doors on the opposite wall — and they slammed shut.
With a gasp of surprise, I turned back to the doors we had entered. They slammed shut, too.
“Hey!” I shouted angrily.
“What’s going on?” Clay cried in a whisper.
We were in total darkness, blacker than black.
The sour odor swept over me. I started to feel sick.
And then I heard the rapid flutter of wings. Soft at first, then louder, closer.
I screamed as I felt something brush against the back of my neck.
14
“Go away!” I let out a low moan of horror and swung my hands wildly above my head.
The rapid fluttering retreated, then returned.
“Bats!” Clay cried in a terrified, tiny voice. I felt him grab my arm.
“I can’t see!” Luke shouted. “It’s so dark!”
“I — I hate bats!” I stammered.
I felt a cold whoosh of air as a bat flapped over my head.
I swung my hands wildly.
The flapping, fluttering sounds were all around us.
As my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, I began to see shadowy shapes shooting past. Back and forth. Faster and faster.
I felt one brush my shoulder.
“Oh, help!” I cried.
Clay started to shriek. “Help us! Help us!”
“They’re zooming right at me!” Luke wailed.
Something bumped into my shoulder. I screamed.
“Help us! Help us!” Clay continued to plead at the top of his lungs. His shouts were nearly drowned out by the flapping of wings.
I felt another bat brush against my shoulder. Covering my face, I tried to make my way blindly to the door.
The sour odor choked me. My terro
r made my legs shaky. I could barely walk.
And then I felt a hard tug in my hair.
Another tug. Loud flapping right on my head.
A shrill whistling hiss. So close, it could have been coming from me.
I screamed. I screamed again.
“It — it’s caught in my hair!” I cried, falling to my knees.
Another shrill hiss. Another tug of my hair.
I swung my hands. I hit it. I felt a warm body, felt the brush of fluttering wings.
I shoved it hard — shoved it from my hair.
“Ohhh, help!” I cried.
The flapping wings and shrill whistles surrounded me. I could hear Luke and Clay shouting. But they seemed far, far away.
Another one brushed my cheek. Another one bumped my shoulder.
The shadows darted back and forth. The barn was alive with flying, chittering bats.
“Ohh, help! Help us, please!” Another one brushed my face. I felt a rush of air, beating wings on the top of my head. “Help us! Help us!” But there was no one around to help.
15
I covered my eyes with one hand and thrashed out wildly with the other hand, trying to beat the bats away.
Choking and sobbing, I could barely breathe.
I heard Luke calling far, far away. He seemed to be behind a curtain of flapping, chittering bats.
And then, suddenly, sunlight invaded the barn.
On my knees, I lowered my hand from my eyes and saw that the barn door had slid open.
Luke, standing at the door, his mouth open in shock, turned back to Clay and me. “I — I touched the door, and it opened,” he explained.
Clay’s glasses were hanging off one ear. His blond hair was totally messed up. His eyes darted around the barn. “Where are the bats?” he cried.
I raised my eyes to the rafters. “Hey!” I cried out. No bats. No sign of any bats anywhere.
I climbed to my feet, pulling my hair back with both hands. “Let’s get out of here!” I cried.
Clay and I followed Luke out of the barn. The warm sunshine felt so good!
