by Bruce Hale
“No, really,” I said, playing my own flashlight beam over cobwebs big enough to snare a Buick. “What kind of fool deliberately risks supernatural danger, just on a dare?”
Benny smirked. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
He was right, so I ignored him.
I turned slowly, taking in the room. It was chilly and grim, smelling of dust, oil, and that funky wet-cat-with-gas odor we’d come to associate with whatever was haunting our school. The room was packed with pipes and ducts and mysterious machines. Darkness enfolded it, except for our lights and a faint red glow from the control boards.
The perfect place for a paranormal ambush.
The tiny hairs on my neck raised as my imagination kicked into gear. I pictured headless skeletons, leering monsters, creatures made of ectoplasm and raw, bloody flesh. (Yes, I watch too many movies.)
Something skittered behind a boiler.
“What was that?” I whipped around, aiming my flashlight toward the noise.
In the purplish-black light, Benny’s eyes glowed as huge and white as brand-new volleyballs. “I d-dunno,” he whispered. “Do ghosts make that kind of noise?”
“You’ve known me since kindergarten. Have I ever mentioned meeting a ghost?”
Slowly, ever so carefully, we crept past thick conduit pipes that would’ve looked right at home in Dr. Frankenstein’s laboratory. At the far edge of the boiler, Benny and I paused, gathering our courage.
He nodded, and together we peeked around the corner.
I gasped.
“Whoa!” cried Benny.
The creature captured in our flashlight beams was no ghost. No animated skeleton. In fact, it was so strange I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
The thing looked…wrong, somehow.
Roughly the size of a pit bull, it glowered up at us with the hungry amber stare of a big cat. Its head and muscular body resembled a lion, but two thick pincers, like those of a crab, curved forward from its chest, clicking and snapping. Segmented armor plates along the spine led to a thick scorpion tail, which arched forward, dripping poison.
Not exactly the kind of thing you want to meet in a dark room. Or even a well-lit one. My heart thudded so irregularly, it felt like it was beat-boxing.
The creature hissed, tail twitching.
Benny and I stumbled back.
“What the heck?” he rasped.
I backed into a pipe with a thunk. Behind us, another hiss.
“I’m not sure,” I said, shining my light toward the sound, “but I think it’s got a friend.”
My beam found a second monster, right behind me. It snarled, bared some serious fangs, and bowed its chest to the ground like a playful puppy. But this thing was no puppy.
“¡Hijole!” I swayed, off balance.
“Look out, Carlos!” cried Benny.
The creature’s tail lashed forward at me. My feet seemed frozen in place, as its knife-sharp stinger plunged down, down…
Ugh, I’ve done it again. I started my story at an exciting spot, like our teacher always says to, but I forgot to mention a few important things. Like who Benny and I are. Like what’s going on. And like how we ended up in a room full of monsters in the first place.
I don’t know how authors do it; this writing stuff is hard.
Maybe I should take you back to the beginning. No, not to the day I was born. The day we realized that someone, or something, was terrorizing Monterrosa Elementary, and that someone (namely Benny and I) had to do something about it.
ALSO BY BRUCE HALE
The School for S.P.I.E.S. Series
Playing with Fire
Thicker Than Water
Ends of the Earth
Monstertown Mystery Book 1
Curse of the Were-Hyena
Raised by wolves just outside Los Angeles, BRUCE HALE began his career as a writer while living in Tokyo, and continued it when he moved to Hawaii. Before entering the world of children’s books, he worked as a magazine editor, toymaker, surveyor, corporate lackey, gardener, actor, and DJ.
From picture books to novels and graphic novels, Bruce has written and illustrated more than thirty-five books for kids, including his Chet Gecko Mysteries series and his School for S.P.I.E.S. trilogy: Playing with Fire, Thicker Than Water, and Ends of the Earth.
When not writing and illustrating, Bruce loves to perform. He has appeared onstage, on television, and in an independent movie called The Ride. Bruce is a popular speaker and storyteller for audiences of all ages. He has taught writing workshops at colleges and universities, and spoken at national conferences of writing, publishing, and literacy organizations. On top of that, Bruce has visited elementary schools across the country and internationally. (You’d never guess he loves to travel.)
These days, Bruce lives in Santa Barbara, California, with his wife, Janette, and his sweet mutt, Riley. When he’s not at the computer or drawing board, you’ll find him hiking the hills, bicycling, or riding the waves (when it’s warm enough, that is). He also likes going to movies and performing jazz music.
