by R. L. Stine
The beast stopped a few feet from our hiding place.
Its tail brushed my arm. The fur felt rough and scratchy.
I jerked my arm away. Could he feel me? Was I like a tiny animal to him? One he could pick up and squeeze the way my brothers teased our dog?
The beast rose up on its hind legs and sniffed. It towered over the cabbage plant. It had to be at least eight feet tall!
It picked at its fur with a clawed thumb—and placed whatever it found in his mouth.
A pleased grin formed under its twitching snout. It peered around the clearing.
Don’t look down, I prayed. Don’t see us.
My body tensed.
The creature growled and ran its long tongue over its fang. Then it tromped off into the trees.
I let out a sigh of relief.
“We’d better wait a few minutes,” I told my brothers. I counted to one hundred. Then I crawled out from behind the plant. No sign of the creature.
But then I felt the earth shake.
“Oh, no!” I gasped. “Here it comes again!”
5
The beast’s enormous blue head bobbed up between the trees. How had it come back so fast? And from the other direction?
We scrambled back to our hiding place behind the huge cabbage plant.
“We have to get away from here,” I whispered. “If it keeps searching back and forth, it’s bound to find us.”
“How do we get away?” Nat demanded.
I picked up a gourd from the ground. “I’ll throw this gourd. The beast will turn its head to see what the noise is. Then we’ll run—in the other direction.”
“But, what if it sees us? What if it chases us?” Nat asked. He didn’t seem happy about my plan.
Nat and Pat exchanged nervous glances.
“Yeah. What if it runs faster than us?” Pat demanded.
“It won’t,” I said. I was bluffing. But my brothers didn’t know that.
I peeked over the top of the cabbage. The creature stood closer than ever. It sniffed the air, its pink snout coiling like a snake.
I glanced at the gourd in my hand, then brought my arm back, ready to throw.
“Wait!” Pat whispered. “Look!”
My arm froze where it was. Another beast had tromped into the clearing.
And another.
And another.
I gulped. More blue beasts clomped into the clearing.
No way could we make a run for it now.
The enormous creatures tromped around the clearing. They growled and grunted to each other.
One stopped and jabbered loudly in a deep and gravelly voice. The folds of hairless skin under its chin wobbled back and forth.
“Look at them all!” Nat murmured. “There must be at least two dozen.”
A small beast jogged into the clearing. Its fur shone a brighter blue than the rest. It stood only about three feet tall.
Was it a child? A young beast?
The tiny beast placed its short, pink snout on the ground and sniffed. Dirt and dried-up bits of leaves stuck to its snout.
“It looks hungry,” Pat whispered.
“Shhh!” I warned.
The tiny beast glanced up eagerly. In our direction.
It did look hungry. But for what?
I held my breath.
The small beast suddenly scooped a gourd off the ground. It shoved the whole thing into its mouth and crunched down. Yellow juice squirted between its lips and soaked down its shaggy blue fur.
It eats fruit! I cheered silently. That was a good sign. Maybe they are vegetarians, I thought. Maybe they don’t eat meat.
I knew that most wild animals ate only one type of food. Either meat, or else fruits and vegetables.
Except for bears, I suddenly remembered. Bears will eat both.
A large beast thudded over to the kid. It yanked the little creature to its feet and began jabbering angrily at it. It dragged the kid back toward the woods.
The beast with the hairless folds of skin stepped into the center of the clearing.
“Ghrugh!” It snorted at the others. It waved a furry paw in a circle. It waved and grunted and jabbered.
The other creatures nodded and grunted to one another. They seemed to understand each other. They seemed to be grunting some kind of language.
The big beast gave a final grunt. The other creatures turned back toward the woods. They spread out and began to creep silently into the trees. I felt the earth trembling under the pounding of their feet. Twigs and leaves crackled and cracked.
In a few seconds, they had vanished. The clearing stood empty.
I let out another long sigh of relief.
“What are they doing, anyway?” Pat asked.
Nat wiped sweat off his forehead. “They act as if they’re searching for something,” he answered. “Hunting.”
I swallowed hard.
I knew what they were hunting for.
They were hunting for us.
And now there were so many of them. Spreading out in every direction.
We don’t stand a chance, I realized.
They’re going to catch us.
And then what?
6
I stood up slowly. I turned in a full circle, checking everywhere for a sign of the hairy creatures.
Their low grumbles and growls faded into the distance. The ground stopped shaking.
A gust of cool wind blew through the clearing. It made the gourds in the trees knock against each other. An eerie melody whistled through the trees.
I shuddered.
“Let’s get out of here. Now!” Nat cried.
“Wait!” I told him. I grabbed his arm and held him back. “Those beasts are too near. They’ll hear us or see us.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to stick around. I’m going to run as hard as I can. I’m outta here!”
“I’m with you.” Pat leaped to his feet. “But which way do we go?” he asked.
“We can’t go anywhere now,” I argued. “We’re lost. We don’t know which way to go. So we have to stay right here. Mom and Dad will come find us. I know they will.”
“And what if they don’t? What if they’re in trouble, too?” Nat asked.
“Dad knows how to survive in the woods,” I said firmly. “And we don’t.”
At least I didn’t. If only I had listened at that outdoors camp.
“I do, too!” Pat whined. “I can take care of myself. Right Nat? Let’s get going!”
Who was he kidding? Pat didn’t even like the woods.
But he’s stubborn. When he gets an idea, no one can change his mind. And Nat always agrees with him. Twins!
“Ginger—are you coming or not?” Pat demanded.
“You’re crazy,” I told him. “We have to stay here. That’s the rule, remember?”
Mom and Dad always told us, if we ever get lost, stay where we are.
“But there are only two of Mom and Dad—and there’s three of us,” Pat argued. “So we should go find them.”
“But they’re not the ones who are lost!” I cried.
“I think we should go,” Pat repeated. “We have to get away from those ugly creatures!”
“Okay,” I told them. “We’ll go. At least we’ll be together.”
I still thought they were wrong. But I couldn’t let them go off without me. What if something horrible happened to them?
Besides, I didn’t want to stay in these strange woods alone.
As I turned to follow them, I glimpsed something move in the tall grass.
“It’s… it’s… them!” Nat stammered. “They’re back!”
I stared at the grass in horror.
“Run!” Pat shrieked. He bolted across the clearing.
A squirrel scurried out of the grass.
“Pat, wait!” Nat yelled.
“It’s only a squirrel!” I shouted.
He didn’t hear us.
Nat and I took off, chasing after Pat.
&nb
sp; “Pat! Hey—Pat!”
I didn’t see the thick, twisted root that poked out of the ground. I tripped over it and hit the ground hard. I lay there stunned.
Nat knelt down beside me. He grabbed my arm and helped me to my feet.
I glanced up ahead. Pat had already vanished into the woods. I couldn’t see him anywhere.
“We have to catch up to him,” I told Nat breathlessly. I straightened up, brushing dirt off my knees.
The earth started to tremble again.
“Oh, no!” Nat moaned.
The creatures were back.
I whirled around. Big blue beasts pushed back through the trees. I counted four behind us. Three on my left. Five to our right.
I gave up counting.
There were too many of them.
The big one grunted and raised its furry paws high in the air. It pointed at us. The other creatures grunted and uttered cries of excitement.
“They’ve caught us!” I groaned.
“Ginger…” Nat whimpered. His eyes opened wide with terror. I clutched at his hand and held it tight.
The beasts drew closer. And formed a circle around us.
Nowhere to run now.
“We’re trapped,” I whispered.
The beasts began to growl.
7
Over the drone of their low growls, I heard the eerie melody whistling through the gourds again.
Nat huddled close to me. “They’ve got us,” he whispered. “Do you think—do you think they got Pat?”
I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t talk.
I felt weak and helpless. Sweat ran down my face into my eyes. I wanted to wipe the sweat away, but I couldn’t lift my hand to do it.
I was too scared to move.
Then the beast with the flabby chin stepped forward. It stopped a few inches away from me.
I slowly raised my eyes. I stared at its furry belly. Then its broad chest. I saw shiny, black insects crawling in its fur.
I raised my eyes to its face. Its green eyes glared down at me. It opened its mouth. I stared helplessly at its long fang, chipped on the end.
You don’t need a tooth like that for eating fruit! I thought.
The beast stretched to its full height. It raised a furry paw high above us. Ready to strike.
Nat huddled closer to me. I could practically feel his heart beating through his T-shirt. Or maybe it was my own heart that was pounding.
The creature growled and swung.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I felt a slap on my shoulder—so hard it knocked me backwards.
“You’re It!” the creature bellowed.
8
Huh? My mouth dropped open in astonishment.
“You’re It,” the beast repeated.
I gaped at Nat. His eyes bulged in surprise.
“It… it talked!” Nat stammered to me. “In our language.”
The creature scowled at Nat. “I talk in many languages,” he growled. “We have a universal language adaptor.”
“Oh,” Nat said weakly. He and I exchanged stunned glances.
The creature growled again and took a step closer to me. “Did you hear me?” he growled. “You’re It!”
His marble eyes glared into mine. He tapped a paw impatiently on the ground.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
The creature grunted. “You’re the Beast from the East,” he said.
“What are you talking about? I’m not a beast. I’m a girl!” I declared. “Ginger Wald.”
“I am Fleg,” the beast replied, pounding himself on the chest. He waved a paw at the creature beside him, a beast with one eye missing. “This is Spork,” Fleg announced. Fleg pounded the other beast on the back.
Spork grunted at Nat and me. I stared at his dark, empty eye socket. And I spotted a deep black scar on the side of Spork’s nose.
An eye missing and a scar. The big creature had been in a pretty nasty fight. I hoped it wasn’t a fight with a human. Because if Spork was the winner, I would hate to see the loser!
Nat gaped at Spork.
“Uh, this is my brother Nat,” I said quickly.
Spork growled in reply.
“Have you seen our mom and dad?” I asked Fleg. “See, we’re all here camping, and we got separated. But we’re trying to get back together and go home. So, we’d better go—”
“There are others?” Fleg glanced sharply around the clearing. “Where?”
“That’s the problem,” Nat answered. “We can’t find them.”
Fleg grunted. “If you can’t find them, they can’t play.”
“Right. That’s the rule,” Spork agreed. He scratched at the insects that climbed around in his fur.
“Now start moving,” Fleg demanded. “It’s getting late. And you’re It.”
I stared at Nat. This was too weird. What did he mean—they can’t play? And why did he keep saying I was It? Did they want to play tag or something?
The circle of beasts began stomping their paws, shaking the forest ground. “Play… play…” they chanted.
“Play what?” I demanded. “Is this really some kind of game?”
Spork’s eye bulged and a big smile spread under his ugly, pink snout. “The best game,” he said. “But you are too slow to win.”
Spork rubbed his paws together. He ran his tongue over the tops of his teeth. “You should run.” He grunted.
“Yes, run,” Fleg ordered. “Before I count to trel.”
“Hold on,” I protested. “What if we don’t want to play?”
“Yeah—why should we?” Nat demanded.
“You have to play,” Fleg replied. “Read that sign over there.”
He pointed to a cardboard sign tacked to one of the gourd trees. The sign read: GAME IN SEASON.
Fleg stared down at me. His eyes narrowed menacingly. His wet nose flared.
He grinned. Not a friendly grin.
“Game in season?” Nat read the sign in a trembling voice.
“You have to tell us how to play,” I declared. “I mean, we can’t play a game without knowing what it is.”
Spork growled deep in his throat and moved closer to me. So close I could smell his fur. What a sour stench!
Fleg reached out a paw and held Spork back.
“It’s a good game,” Fleg told us. “It’s very exciting.”
“Uh… why is it so exciting?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed. “It’s a game of survival!” he replied with a grin.
9
Survival?
Oh, no! No way I wanted to play!
“You have until the sun sinks behind the Gulla Willow,” Fleg declared.
“What’s a Gulla Willow?” Nat asked.
“And where is it?” I wanted to know.
“At the edge of the woods,” Fleg replied. He waved a paw to the trees.
“Which edge? Where? How will we know which tree?” I demanded.
Fleg flashed Spork a grin. They both made weird choking sounds in their throats.
I could tell they were laughing. All the other creatures started laughing, too. Such an ugly sound. More like gagging than laughing.
“We can’t play the game unless we know more,” I shouted.
The laughter stopped.
Spork scratched the bugs on his chest. “It’s simple. If you’re It when the sun goes down, you lose,” he told me.
The others grunted in agreement.
“And what happens to the losers?” I asked in a trembling voice.
“We nibble on them,” Fleg replied.
“Excuse me?” I asked. “You nibble?”
“Yes, we nibble on them. Until dinnertime. Then we eat them.”
10
The creatures around us exploded into more laughter. The sick gagging sound made me feel like puking.
“It’s not funny!” Nat shrieked.
Fleg narrowed his eyes at us. “It’s our favorite game.”
“Well, I don’t like y
our game!” Nat cried.
“We’re not going to play. We don’t want to,” I added.
Spork’s eye lit up. “You mean you surrender? You give up?” He smacked his lips hungrily.
“NO!” I shouted. Nat and I jumped back. “We’ll play. But by the rules. You have to tell us the rules. All of them.”
A cloud rolled overhead. It cast a shadow over the clearing. I shivered.
Were they going to attack us because we didn’t want to play?
“Made in the Shade!” Spork cried suddenly.
“Made in the Shade,” Fleg repeated.
Huh?
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
The cloud slowly passed.
“No time to explain,” Fleg said. He waved a paw at the other creatures. “Let’s go,” he insisted. “This time-out has been too long.”
“This isn’t fair!” Nat protested. “Please. We need to know the rules.”
“Okay,” Fleg said as he turned to go. “Gling—you must always attack from the east.”
“The east,” I mumbled. I raised a hand to shade my eyes as I scanned the clearing.
East. North. South. West. I pictured a map. East was to my right. West to my left. But which direction was east out here in the woods? Why hadn’t I listened at that outdoors camp?
“Proo—the brown squares are Free Lunch squares,” Fleg continued.
“You mean they’re for resting? They’re safe?” I asked. I liked that rule. Maybe we could find a brown square and stay there until sunset.
Fleg snorted.
“No. Free Lunch. It means anyone can eat you!” He glared down at me. “Rule Zee,” he announced. “You must be three feet tall to play.”
I glanced at the beasts. They were at least ten feet tall! So much for Fleg’s rules.
“Well, thanks for explaining,” I said, shaking my head. “But we really can’t play this game. We have to find our parents and—”
“You must play,” Fleg growled. “You’re It. You’re the Beast from the East. Play—or surrender.”
“The sun will be down soon,” Spork added, licking his fang.
“You have until the sun goes down behind the Gulla Willow tree,” Fleg said. “Then, the Beast from the East is the loser.”
