The Beast from the East

by R. L. Stine

  “I’m not Nat. It’s me. Pat.”

  “Pat?” I stared at him in confusion. Then I threw my arms around his neck. I’d never been so happy to see him.

  “Where have you been?” I demanded.

  “Where have I been?” Pat cried. “Where have you been? I’ve been searching everywhere for you guys. These woods are creepy.”

  He glanced around. “Where’s Nat, anyway?”

  “Trapped.” I started to explain. “See, the beasts got him. After you ran into the woods, we had to play this game and …”

  “A game?” Pat cried. He shook his head in disbelief. “I was lost in the woods—and you two are playing a game?”

  “It’s not what you think,” I said.

  I checked the trees around us for any sign of the creatures.

  “They forced us to play,” I told Pat, lowering my voice to a whisper. “It’s like tag—only they play for keeps. I was the Beast from the East and—”

  “Right.” Pat rolled his eyes.

  “Really,” I insisted. “This game is deadly. You have to believe me.”

  “Why?” Pat shrugged. “You never believe me. Why should I believe you?”

  “Because if we lose, they’ll eat us!” I told him.

  Pat burst out laughing.

  “I’m serious!” I grabbed Pat’s shoulders and shook him hard. “I’m telling the truth! It’s dangerous here. Fleg and Spork are after me, right now.”

  Pat twisted out of my grasp. “Right. Fleg and Spork. Woof woof!” Pat barked.

  “Shhh,” I hissed. “Keep quiet!” I pulled him behind an umbrella plant. “Pat, you have to believe me. They’re all around us. They could get us if we’re not careful.”

  “And I suppose this game was their idea?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “And I suppose they can talk,” Pat went on. “In English.”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes,” I insisted.

  “You’re weirder than I thought,” Pat said, shaking his head. “So where’s Nat? For real?”

  “Grrraugh!”

  A deep growl echoed off the nearby rocks. “This way!” A beast bellowed. “Near the tunnel!”

  Heavy footsteps pounded closer. The ground shook under our feet.

  Pat’s eyes widened in shock. He reached for my arm.

  “It’s them!” I exclaimed. “Now do you believe me?”

  Pat swallowed hard and nodded his head. “Yes. I believe you,” he choked out.

  “She’s over here!” a beast shouted.

  “He heard us,” I whispered in Pat’s ear. “Run!”

  Pat and I took off.

  We raced through the woods, leaping over fallen logs, pushing sharp branches out of our faces.

  “This way!” I called. I grabbed Pat’s hand. “Stay low.”

  We ducked into a thick clump of trees.

  Spork thudded past us.

  I could hear him sniffing the air.

  “Can he smell us?” Pat asked in a whisper.

  “Sshh!” I pressed my finger to my lips.

  We crept between the bushy plants.

  Fleg appeared, stomping in our direction.

  I dropped to my hands and knees. I pulled Pat down beside me.

  Fleg thudded past us.

  I knew we weren’t safe. More beasts would follow. And one of them might find us.

  I motioned for Pat to follow me.

  We scrambled deeper into the woods.

  The trees were close together here. The bushes were so thick I couldn’t see between them. I flung out an arm, feeling my way.

  My hand brushed against something.

  Something big.

  And warm.

  And furry.

  I leaped back. Crashed into Pat.

  What had I touched?

  The bushes parted and a strange creature bounced out.

  I had never seen anything like it.

  It had the body of a dog, as big as a German shepherd, and the face of a squirrel.

  I don’t believe this! I thought.

  It could talk, too. “In here! Quick!” the creature urged in a scratchy, squeaky voice.

  Its squirrel-nose twitched. Its bushy dog tail thrashed from side to side.

  Could we trust it?

  “In here!” it squeaked.

  It waved a paw in the air. Pointed to a bush of big orange leaves.

  Pat held back, but I crept forward. I spotted the entrance to a cave hidden behind the leaves.

  “It’s a good hiding place,” I told Pat.

  “It’s the Hiding Cave,” the squirrel-dog announced. “The Hiding Cave is the place to hide. Quick!” The animal held the leaves aside for us.

  The ground shook. I turned and saw furry blue beasts in the distance. They were moving quickly toward us.

  “Better do it, Pat,” I said.

  Pat hesitated.

  I yanked his hand and pulled him after me. I bent down to enter the Hiding Cave.

  I suddenly remembered what happened when Nat touched the penalty rock. The thought made me shiver. Would we really be safe in the Hiding Cave?

  Thump. Thump.

  The beasts drew closer.

  Pat hesitated and held back.

  “Where are they?” a beast shouted. I recognized Fleg’s voice.

  “They must be nearby,” Spork answered.

  The squirrel-dog stayed outside. It let go of the orange leaves. They sprang back into place, hiding the entrance to the cave.

  Pat and I crouched inside, hidden from view.

  We huddled close together. The air felt damp inside. It had a sour smell that I tried to ignore.

  I slumped against the wall of the cave and wiped the sweat off my forehead. I tucked my feet under me. “Try to get comfortable,” I whispered to Pat. “We might be here for a long time.”

  Something tickled my neck. I reached to scratch it.

  Something tickled my ear.

  I shivered.

  I brushed my hand against my ear and felt something crawl onto my cheek.

  “Ow!” I cried out as I felt a sharp bite on my shoulder.

  I turned to Pat. He was slapping at his ears and neck.

  Something buzzed past my ear.

  Something skittered through my hair. I shook my head hard.

  My whole body itched and tingled. Every inch of me!

  Beside me, Pat squirmed and wriggled, scratched and slapped at himself.

  I leaped to my feet. “Help!” I cried. “What is happening? What is going on in here?”

  “Help!” I cried, scratching desperately. “Help us!”

  The squirrel-dog’s face poked into the entrance.

  “What is happening to us?” I cried, squirming and scratching.

  “I forgot to tell you,” the strange creature whispered. “The Hiding Cave is also a hiding place for bugs!”

  Bugs!

  “Ohhh!” Pat let out a low moan. He rubbed his back against the cave wall. Scratched his hair.

  The bugs were everywhere. Crawling on the walls. Flying through the air. Buzzing. Whistling. Clicking.

  They crawled up and down my legs and arms. Over my face. In my hair.

  I picked some kind of worm off my cheek. I dragged my hand down my arms and my bare legs, brushing bugs onto the cave floor.

  Pat squirmed next to me. “Get them off me, Ginger,” he wailed. “Helllp!”

  “Sshhh!” The squirrel-dog stuck his nose back into the cave. “Quiet! Here comes the Beast from the East. Don’t make a sound or he’ll find you!”

  Pat and I drew closer together.

  I held my breath and tried not to move.

  I counted to ten. Silently. I pretended there were no bugs on me.

  I shut my eyes and pictured my bedroom. The posters on the wall. My comfortable canopy bed. I thought of being under the covers. Going to sleep.

  And then I thought about bedbugs!

  I couldn’t ignore the insects crawling over me. It was impossi
ble not to think about them.

  I couldn’t stand it. I needed to scratch. I needed to scream!

  I couldn’t sit there another second.

  I heard a beast stomp close to the cave opening.

  I recognized Spork’s voice. “Hey—!” he snarled at the squirrel-dog. “Have you seen strangers here?”

  Did Spork know this creature?

  Were they friends?

  “Answer me,” Spork demanded.

  I waited for the squirrel-dog’s answer. Please don’t tell them we’re hiding in here, I prayed. Please.

  A fat, wet bug landed on my face. I picked at it with my fingers. It clung to my cheek. I pulled harder. I couldn’t tug it loose.

  I felt a scream building up inside me.

  I couldn’t take it another second.

  My mouth opened.

  I had to scream. I had to!

  “Ah—”

  I clamped my hand over my mouth.

  I let out a tiny squeak.

  The orange leaves rustled. Fleg’s paw pushed into the cave entrance.

  I froze. I heard Pat gasp.

  “What’s in there?” I heard Fleg ask the squirrel-dog.

  “Bugs,” the squirrel-dog replied. “Thousands of them.”

  Millions! I thought bitterly. The bugs crawled over my face, my arms, my legs. They buzzed in my ears.

  Fleg pushed his nose into the cave.

  I stopped breathing.

  Fleg sniffed. “What’s that awful smell?” he complained.

  “Insects,” I heard the squirrel-dog answer.

  “They stink!” Fleg muttered. He let go of the leaves and they snapped back into place. “Only bugs in there,” Fleg reported to Spork. “No humans.”

  “Of course not,” the squirrel-dog said calmly. “The humans went the other way.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Fleg exploded.

  Spork shouted to the other beasts. “They’re not here! The other way, quick! Only trel minutes left to play.”

  “I’ll find her,” I heard Spork tell the others. “I have to tag her back! No human is going to make me Beast from the East!”

  I heard their footsteps pound in the other direction.

  Only trel minutes! I didn’t exactly know what trel meant. But I knew the game was nearly over. If Spork didn’t tag me back, my brothers and I would be free!

  But I couldn’t take another second in this bug-infested cave.

  I moved to the entrance on trembling legs. I itched so badly, I could barely control my muscles!

  I peered out of the cave. “Are they all gone?” I whispered to the squirrel-dog.

  “For now,” he answered.

  “Let’s get out of here!” I called back to Pat. I sprang out of the cave. He jumped out after me.

  We frantically brushed bugs off our skin and clothes. I scratched my head and rubbed my back up against a tree.

  Pat stomped his feet. “They’re even in my boots!” he wailed. He untied his laces and pulled off his boot. He shook it upside down. A hundred black bugs poured onto the ground and scurried away.

  “I’m never going to stop itching!” I wailed. “I’m going to itch for the rest of my life!”

  “You’d better hide,” the squirrel-dog warned. “They could be back. And you’re only allowed to use the Hiding Cave once a game.”

  Pat and I thanked the strange creature. Then we plunged back into the woods.

  I hadn’t been in this part of the forest before. Pat and I pushed our way past a row of high bushes. I stopped.

  A giant willow tree stood up ahead. Its branches spread low, sweeping against the ground.

  The Gulla Willow?

  It had to be.

  I glanced around, searching for a hiding place. A long, low rock stretched beyond the tree.

  Only a few minutes left.

  “Quick,” I whispered, grabbing Pat. I pulled him behind the rock.

  “That must be the Gulla Willow,” I told him. “When the sun sets behind it, we’ll be safe.”

  Pat nodded but didn’t reply. He was breathing hard. He scratched his cheeks. Still itchy. We were both still itchy.

  “Stay down,” I warned him. “And don’t touch the rock.”

  We crouched together in silence.

  And waited.

  My heart slammed against my chest. My skin tingled. I huddled beside my brother—and listened.

  Silence.

  The whisper of the wind through the trees. No other sound.

  “Are we safe now?” Pat asked in a trembling whisper.

  “Not yet,” I answered. I raised my eyes to the charcoal gray sky. A last ray of purple light spread over the top of the willow.

  Hurry! I urged the sun. Go down! What are you waiting for?

  The sky darkened. The purple light faded behind the Gulla Willow.

  Only gray sky now. Night sky.

  The sun was down.

  “We’re safe!” I cried, jumping to my feet. I turned and hugged Pat. “We’re safe! We made it.”

  I stepped out from behind the rock.

  A heavy hand slapped me hard. On the shoulder.

  “You’re It!” Spork bellowed. “You’re the Beast from the East!”

  “Huh?”

  I gasped in shock. I could still feel the beast’s stinging slap on my shoulder.

  “No fair!” Pat cried. “No fair!” He stared as the beasts circled us. Pat had never seen them closeup before.

  “It’s dark! The sun is down!” I protested. “You can’t tag me now!”

  “Game Over! Game Over!” Fleg shouted. He stepped out of the woods and hurried toward the circle of beasts.

  I pointed angrily at the Gulla Willow. “The sun set behind the tree. You can’t tag me!”

  “The game hadn’t been called yet,” Spork said calmly. “You know the rule. Fleg has to shout out ‘Game Over’ before the game can end.”

  The beasts all murmured agreement.

  I clenched my fists. “But … but …” I stammered. I lowered my head in defeat. I knew they wouldn’t listen to me.

  Pat gulped. “What will they do now, Ginger?” he whispered softly. “Will they hurt us?”

  “I already told you,” I whispered back. “They’re going to eat us.”

  Pat let out a cry. He started to say something. But there wasn’t time.

  Fleg stepped forward and grabbed me by the waist. He tossed me over his shoulder.

  The blood rushed to my head and I felt dizzy. The ground was so far away!

  Spork hoisted Pat over his shoulder.

  “Hey—whoa!” I protested. “Put my brother down!”

  “He was your Helper,” Spork replied. “We always eat the Helper, too!”

  “Put me down!” Pat shrieked. “Let me go.”

  But the huge beast ignored him.

  They carried us both into a small clearing.

  A large stone pit sat in the center. A raging fire burned inside the pit. Yellow and blue flames leaped at the sky.

  Fleg lowered me onto a tree stump. Spork set Pat down beside me.

  The beasts circled around us. Drooling. Licking their lips.

  I thought I heard thunder. But I soon realized it was the sound of their stomachs growling.

  “It’s Flelday,” Spork said, smiling. “On Flelday we always barbecue.”

  I swallowed hard. And stared at the flames leaping against the sky. I wrapped my arms around my chest and hugged myself.

  Spork poked at the fire with a long metal rod.

  He pointed the rod at me. “Yum yum.” He grinned, rubbing his stomach.

  I felt sick.

  Gleeb lugged a huge pot over to the fire. He set it down in the middle of the flames.

  Fleg pulled some gourds off the nearby trees. He cracked them open and poured their yellow juice into the pot. He collected sticks and leaves and tossed them in, too.

  Gleeb stirred and stirred. A sour, rotting stench rose up from the pot.

  “The
broth is ready,” Gleeb announced.

  I turned to Pat. “I’m sorry,” I said in a trembling voice. “Sorry I lost the game.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” he whispered, his eyes on the flames.

  The beasts began chanting. “Flelday. Flelday. Flelday.”

  “Who brought the barbecue sauce?” Spork asked. “I’m starving!”

  Fleg lifted me in his arms. And carried me toward the cooking pot.

  “Whoa! Wait! Stop!”

  A familiar voice shouted across the clearing.

  I jerked my head around. “Nat!” I screamed.

  “Ginger!” Nat cried. He ran toward us, waving his arms. “What’s going on? What are they doing?”

  Fleg lowered me to the ground. “Nat—!” I screamed. “Run! Find help! Hurry!”

  He stopped halfway across the clearing. “But, Ginger—”

  “They’ll eat you, too,” I shrieked. “Run!”

  “Capture him!” Spork shouted to the other beasts.

  Gleeb and several others took off after Nat.

  Nat spun around. He darted for the woods and disappeared into the trees.

  I watched helplessly as the beasts plunged into the woods after him.

  Don’t find him, I prayed, crossing my fingers. All ten of them!

  Nat will escape, I told myself. He’ll climb a tree. He’ll get away from them. Then he’ll run and find help.

  Pat and I stared at the dark trees. And waited.

  “Oh, nooo!” I uttered a long wail when the beasts returned from the woods. And one of them carried Nat over his shoulder.

  Nat kicked and punched. But he couldn’t free himself.

  The beast dumped Nat beside Pat and me. Nat landed hard, face-down on the ground.

  Now they had all three of us. A feast!

  Spork and Fleg gazed at us hungrily. Gleeb ran his tongue over his long fang.

  I dropped down beside Nat. “How did you get out?” I asked him. “How did you get out of that cage?”

  Nat rolled over and sat up. “It wasn’t that hard,” he said, groaning. “The boards were weak. I worked and worked—until I pushed enough boards out. Then I broke out.”

  “You should have stayed away,” I told him. “You should have run. Now they’re going to eat you, too.”

  Nat raised his eyes to the cook pot and the blazing fire. “I—I don’t want to play anymore,” he stammered.

  “Nat,” I whispered sadly, “I’m afraid the game is just about over.”