The Horror at Chiller House

by R. L. Stine

Sam and I slipped past him. I blinked several times, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. We seemed to be in a huge, empty room. A storage room, maybe.

  I jumped as the clown slammed the door shut behind us. Were we locked in?

  Sam and I gazed around. I heard water dripping somewhere. Faint music from far away. A fat gray rat scampered along the back wall. Its tail swung behind it on the floor.

  “He said Murder is in the basement.” My voice echoed in the big, empty room. Our shoes thudded loudly on the concrete floor as we made our way toward a doorway across from us.

  Sam shivered. “I don’t like this place. It’s creeping me out.”

  “Let’s just find Marco and Jessica,” I said. “Maybe they’re having better luck than we did.”

  We walked through a long, straight hallway. It felt like a tunnel, narrow, with low ceilings. I could hear voices at the other end. But when we stepped out into a circle of rooms, the voices stopped.

  Sam and I walked around the circle, peeking into rooms. They were dressing rooms. Mirrors and makeup tables and folding chairs.

  A winding metal staircase stood between two dressing rooms. Our shoes clanged as we followed it down to another circle of rooms.

  “This must be the basement,” I said. “But I don’t see any rehearsal rooms.”

  Sam led the way into another tunnel-like hallway. The air grew cooler. We followed the tunnel to another big, empty room.

  “Hey!” I cried out as something brushed my face.

  Spiderwebs?

  No. I didn’t see any.

  Sam shook his head hard. He waved his hand as if brushing away a fly.

  “What was that? Did you feel something?” I asked.

  Something cold brushed the back of my neck. It felt like icy fingers.

  I spun around. No one there.

  Sam kept trying to brush something away. “Something is touching my face!” he cried. “Something cold.”

  I felt a rush of frigid air through my hair. And then icy fingers squeezed my ears.

  “Hey!” I let out a frightened shout.

  I spun all around. I bumped into Sam and nearly knocked him over. I could still feel the cold touch of something invisible.

  “Do you — do you think this theater really is haunted?” My voice cracked on the word.

  Sam shook his head again. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” he said. “But … something was touching my face. YAAAII!”

  He jumped and dodged away.

  “What’s wrong?” I cried.

  “Ray, I felt someone squeeze my neck!” Sam cried. “Ohh, it’s cold. So cold.” He rubbed his neck. His eyes were wide with fear.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “Which way do we go?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam replied. “I’m all turned around.”

  I pointed. Another stairway led down.

  “But we’re already in the basement,” Sam said.

  “Guess there are two basements,” I said. I stepped to the top of the stairway and listened. Silence down there. And total darkness.

  “This was a bad idea,” Sam said. “We’re all alone in this huge theater, and we’re totally lost.”

  “Let’s try that door,” I said. We crossed the big room. The door was closed. I reached for the doorknob.

  But the door swung open before I could grab it. And a fat, ugly clown — with a hatchet buried in his skull — leaped in front of us.

  Murder!

  “WHOA!” Sam and I both shouted in surprise.

  Murder tossed back his head and cackled. “CAUGHT you!” he cried. He cackled some more, an ugly, crazy laugh. “Are you two afraid of clowns?”

  He didn’t give us a chance to answer.

  “You SHOULD be!” he said. “It’s SHOWtime!”

  Sam and I stood gaping at the big clown. His eyes were big and black. His eyebrows were shaped like upside-down V’s. It made him look totally evil. His huge red-painted mouth was locked in an ugly grin.

  The ax blade was buried halfway into his bald head. The handle stuck out at an angle behind him.

  Jessica and Marco came walking into the room. They both seemed very surprised to see Sam and me.

  “Know how I got this hatchet buried in my head?” Murder demanded.

  “No,” Sam and I said together.

  “Neither do I!” he screamed. “Hahahaha. That joke KILLS the audience! I murder them! I murder them!”

  Marco and Jessica rushed up to Sam and me. “We have been trying to talk to him,” Marco said. “But we can’t get a word in.”

  “What are you guys doing here?” Jessica asked.

  “Our Helper led us to a red chest,” I said. “But it was a joke. A stupid jack-in-the-box. No Horror inside.”

  “Chiller may not be playing fair,” Sam told them. “And a Hunter started firing at us. The hunting game has started.”

  “You think Chiller hid a bunch of joke chests all over?” Jessica asked. “Just to keep us busy while the Hunters hunt us?”

  I shrugged. “I hope not. We have to keep searching. It’s our only hope of getting out of here.”

  Murder acted as if he hadn’t heard us. “You know what’s really funny?” he demanded. “I’ll give you a hint. It rests on your neck! Maybe it’s your face? HAHAHA.”

  “Hurry. Show him your card,” I told Marco. “Maybe he’ll help us find a real chest.”

  “You want card tricks?” Murder said. He pulled out a deck of cards and shoved it in front of my face. “Pick a card. Go ahead, kiddo. Pick a card.”

  I didn’t want to stand there doing card tricks. I was desperate to find out if there were chests with Horrors in them so we could get home. But what choice did I have? I pulled a card out of the deck. A three of clubs.

  “Okay, tear it in half,” Murder said. “Go ahead. Tear it.”

  I tore the card in half.

  “Now tear the halves in half,” Murder instructed. I did it. “Now tear them in half again. Go ahead. Tear them into tiny little pieces.”

  I did it.

  “Okay,” Murder said, “hold the pieces over your head. Now let them fall. HAPPY NEW YEAR! Hahahaha! That joke KILLS. It kills!”

  “Very funny,” I said. “But don’t you wonder why we’re here so late at night? We’re on a scavenger hunt. And we’re in a real hurry.”

  Marco shoved the trading card at Murder. “You’re our Helper, right? You’re supposed to help us?”

  The clown took the card into his white-gloved hand. He studied it for a moment. “Who is this handsome dude?”

  “Can you help us?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I can help you,” he said. “Follow me. All of you. The more the scarier!”

  “You can help us find a treasure chest with a Horror inside it?” Jessica asked.

  He nodded. “Sure I can. You can trust a man with an ax buried in his head — right?”

  No one replied. What can you say to that?

  Murder led the way upstairs and out the side door of the theater. We followed him through the plaza and along one of the dimly lit, twisting paths through the park.

  We passed a sign that read: WELCOME TO THE BLACK LAGOON. In the distance, I could see a lake. The water shimmered under the pale moonlight.

  “This is where they have the Bottomless Canoe Rides,” Murder said. “Lots of fun — unless you hate swimming for your life.”

  In the lagoon, low waves splashed gently against the shore. Murder led us along a picket fence. On the other side of the fence, I saw a narrow, flat beach. The sand looked blue under the moonlight.

  We stopped at a gate. “This beach is closed,” Murder announced. “But I can let you in. There’s a treasure chest half buried in the middle of the beach.”

  He fiddled with the lock on the gate, and it sprung open. He pushed the gate.

  “Go ahead.” He waved us in. “Find the chest. One of you will be able to go home. It has a Horror inside it. Trust me. Clowns never lie.”

  Was that a
joke?

  It didn’t matter. We stepped past him onto the sand. It was soft and dry. My shoes sank into it as I followed Marco and Jessica.

  “Good luck,” Murder called after us. I heard the gate close behind us.

  “Maybe it will be easier to walk if we take our shoes off,” Jessica said. “This sand is so soft.”

  “Let’s just find the chest,” I said. And then I saw it. Halfway down the beach. A dark rectangle poking up from the sand.

  The four of us began running toward it. But we didn’t get far.

  My shoes sank deep into the sand. Over my ankles. Then even deeper.

  “The sand is wet here,” I said. “I’m kind of sinking.”

  I tried to pull my feet back up to the top. But I couldn’t budge them. To my shock, I sank even farther. The sand was up to my knees.

  I turned and saw the other kids struggling.

  “I’m sinking,” Marco said. “Sinking fast.” He sounded more surprised than frightened.

  But then I saw something that made me shudder. A sign half hidden in shadow on the picket fence. It read: QUICKSAND BEACH. DROP IN ANYTIME.

  “Hey — it’s quicksand!” I shouted. My voice came out high and shrill. “That clown — he didn’t tell us this was quicksand!”

  I struggled to pull my feet out of the wet muck. But they were stuck. I squirmed and tried to twist myself out.

  But my straining and struggling only made me sink faster. The sand was up to my waist now. The cold and wet seeped through my jeans.

  How deep is it?

  “Hey — help!” Marco cried a few feet ahead of me. He was twisting his body. Slapping his hands on the sand.

  Jessica was trying to scoop the sand away from her with both hands. But the more she moved, the deeper she sank.

  I swung my body around to face the gate. “Help us!” I shouted. “Hey — Murder! Help us! Get us out of here.”

  “You’re supposed to be a Helper,” Jessica cried. “So — help us!”

  “He — he’s gone,” Sam stuttered.

  Sam was right. There was no one at the gate. No one in sight.

  The cold, wet sand slid up over my waist. I couldn’t move my legs. I grabbed the surface of the sand and tried to hoist myself up. But I wasn’t strong enough.

  The sand crept higher quickly. In a few seconds … in a few seconds … I could be buried. Totally buried under the sand.

  I turned and saw the others. Jessica was buried to her waist. Her hair was touching the surface of the sand behind her. She was twisting and squirming. But it only made her sink deeper.

  Beside me, Sam struggled silently. Trying to twist his body free. But he was sinking fast, too.

  Marco’s hands pushed against the sand. He grunted and groaned, straining to free himself. The sand make a sick glupppp sound as it pulled him down. It was almost up to his armpits. He opened his mouth in a terrified, hoarse cry.

  I gritted my teeth. I strained every muscle.

  But no way could I free myself. No way could I stop my body from sinking deeper.

  “Hey!” I shrieked. “Help! Please! Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me? Help us! Anyone?”

  No reply.

  No one there to hear our screams.

  The smell of the sand invaded my nose. I could almost taste it. Feel it in my mouth, so grainy and dry. Filling my mouth. Choking my throat. Choking me …

  No.

  My feet touched something. Something hard.

  “Hey!” I stopped sinking.

  Jessica started to scream — but stopped. Silence over the beach. The others had hit bottom, too.

  “I — I really thought we were going to go under,” Jessica said, her voice trembling.

  “The HorrorLand people just want to scare us,” I said. “They don’t want to kill us.”

  The treasure chest sat only a few feet in front of us.

  I leaned forward and pushed hard. Pushed some sand away.

  I leaned into it. More quicksand moved. I’d made a small space in front of me.

  I pushed harder. Then I slapped my hands onto the sand. Using all my strength, I pulled myself to the top.

  Then I lay gasping for breath, sprawled on my stomach on the surface of the sand.

  When I raised my head, I saw that Sam had also pulled himself out. He was crawling carefully toward Jessica. He grabbed her arms and slowly lifted her from the wet quicksand. She sat on her knees, catching her breath.

  Marco was the last to free himself. He sat carefully and brushed the wet clumps of sand off his clothes. “Yuck. This is worse than The Ooze,” he said.

  “How can you think about comic books when we’re in the middle of a quicksand pit?” Jessica said. “Let’s get that chest and get out of here.”

  We didn’t say another word. We all crawled carefully over the sand.

  My knees kept sinking into the sand. I could feel a force pulling me, pulling me down. But I moved quickly, forcing myself forward.

  Jessica reached the chest first. She grabbed it in both hands and lifted it from the sand. “Who wants to go home first?” she cried.

  “It’s Marco’s,” I said. “It was his Helper card, his Helper who brought us here. This has to be Marco’s turn.”

  Jessica handed the chest to Marco.

  He held it in front of him, gazing at it. He brushed sand off the bottom. “I’m almost afraid to open it,” he said.

  “Go ahead. Don’t keep us in suspense,” Jessica said. She gave Marco’s shoulder a gentle push. “Open it.”

  We moved closer. My heart was racing. My eyes were locked on the little red box. Would a clown pop out?

  Marco gripped the lid and pulled it open.

  He reached inside and pulled out something white. He held it up. A Horror. A three-inch-tall white Horror.

  It had tiny eyes and short horns that curled from the top of its head. Its face and body and uniform were solid white.

  “Yes! Yes!” Marco held it in one hand and pumped his other fist in the air in triumph. “We found one.” He turned to us. “Are you really going to let me go home?”

  We all quickly agreed. “It’s yours, Marco. Your turn.”

  He thanked us. “Good luck, guys,” he said. “Go find your Horrors and get out of here.”

  He wrapped his hands around the little white Horror. “It’s been real, guys,” he said. “Catch you later.”

  He closed his eyes and held the Horror in front of his chest.

  We watched in silence. The word go go go repeated in my mind. I held my breath and waited for Marco to disappear.

  He squeezed the little Horror in both hands. Squeezed it tight. Tighter.

  Then his eyes opened wide. “Oh, wow. I don’t believe it!” he moaned.

  Marco held up the Horror. It had crumbled into pieces.

  “It’s chocolate,” he said. “White chocolate.”

  We gaped at him. Jessica’s mouth fell open. She pressed her hands to the sides of her face. “It’s … not a real Horror?”

  “Yeah. Some kind of joke,” Marco grumbled. He heaved the Horror pieces onto the sand.

  I took the chest and peered inside. On the bottom, I saw a white card with two words printed in black:

  YOU LOSE.

  “So far, we found two chests,” I said. “Two chests and no Horrors.”

  From the other side of the fence, I heard loud laughter. I recognized it. Murder the Clown.

  “Sorry about that, dudes!” he shouted. “That’s the problem when you play games with Jonathan Chiller! He CHEATS!”

  I couldn’t see him. I could only hear him. “Murder — help us out of here,” I called.

  “Yeah. Open the gate!” Sam shouted. “Let us out.”

  “You forgot to say pretty please!” Murder shouted. “You should always mind your manners when you’re sitting on quicksand! Hahahaha!”

  “Please hurry!” Marco cried.

  “Are you going to take us to a real treasure chest?” Jessica shouted.
/>   “I’m a Helper — aren’t I?” he yelled back. “What do I look like — a clown?”

  I heard a shrill whistling sound. I felt a rush of air as an arrow flew inches from my head.

  Jessica and Marco screamed. They fell flat onto their stomachs. They struggled to stay on top of the quicksand.

  Another arrow narrowly missed me. It made a thwoccck sound as it landed in the quicksand.

  “A Hunter!” Murder the Clown cried. “Hurry! Get to the gate, everyone!”

  I started to move across the sand. But stopped with a gasp as another arrow whistled toward us. It missed my leg by an inch or two and crashed into the wet ground.

  “Hurry! You’re sitting ducks in there!” Murder shouted from the other side of the fence. “Get out! Get away from the Hunter!”

  I reached forward and pulled the arrow from the sand. Raising it close, I let out a startled cry.

  No suction cup at the end.

  Instead, I was staring at a metal point. I pressed my finger against it. The arrowhead was deadly sharp.

  “They — they’re using real arrows!” I screamed to the others. “This isn’t a game. They’re really hunting us!”

  We scrambled across the quicksand, kicking sand in front of us, struggling to the gate. I reached it first and burst onto solid ground. I had the arrow still gripped tightly in my fist.

  “Look!” I cried to Murder. “Look!” I waved the arrow in his face.

  “Looks like an arrow,” Murder said. “Chiller didn’t tell us. He —”

  “Hey!” I cried. My eyes lowered to the crossbow on the ground by the fence. The four of us ran over to it.

  “The Hunter dropped it and ran,” the clown said. “You’re not hurt, right?”

  “But what did he look like?” Jessica demanded. “The Hunter — what did he look like?”

  “I didn’t get a good look at him,” Murder said. “I can’t describe him. He was dressed in black. He shot at you and then he ran.”

  “We’ve got to warn the other two kids,” I said. “What were their names?”

  “Meg and Andy,” Jessica said. “Meg had a Helper card with a fortune-teller on it.”

  “Madame Doom,” Murder said. “Go. Tell them.”

  The four of us took off, running to the plaza.

  “We have to warn Meg and Andy the arrows are real,” I said.