by R. L. Stine
I still wondered why he was staring at me so suspiciously. But I decided not to ask him. I didn’t want him to get angry or something and change his mind about us going on the tour.
“Do you mean you’re not coming with us?” Marty asked Dad. “We’re really going by ourselves?”
“I want you to go by yourselves,” Dad replied. “I think that will make it more exciting for you.”
Marty grinned at me. “I hope it’s really scary!” he declared.
“Don’t worry,” Dad replied. A strange smile spread over his face. “You won’t be disappointed.”
The next afternoon, a gray haze hung in the air as Dad drove Marty and me to Shocker Studios. I sat up front with Dad, peering out the car window at the smog. “It’s so gloomy out,” I murmured.
“Perfect for a horror movie tour,” Marty chimed in from the backseat. He was so excited, he could barely sit still. He kept bouncing his legs up and down and tapping his hands on the leather seat.
I had never seen Marty so crazed. If he didn’t have his seat belt to hold him down, he’d probably bounce right out of the car!
The car climbed up the Hollywood hills. The narrow road curved past redwood houses and tree-filled yards cut into the sides of the hills.
As we climbed, the sky turned even darker. We’re driving up into a cloud of fog, I thought. Far in the distance, I could see the HOLLYWOOD sign, stretching in the haze across a dark peak.
“Hope it doesn’t rain,” I muttered, watching the fog roll over the sign.
Dad chuckled. “You know it never rains in Los Angeles!”
“Which monsters are we going to see?” Marty asked, bouncing in the backseat. “Is Shockro on the tour? Do we really get to walk on Shock Street?”
Dad squinted hard through his glasses, turning the wheel as the road curved and twisted. “I’m not telling,” he replied. “I don’t want to spoil it for you. I want it all to be a surprise.”
“I just wanted to know so I could warn Erin,” Marty said. “I don’t want her to get too scared. She might faint or something.” He laughed.
I let out an angry growl. Then I turned around and tried to punch him. But I couldn’t reach.
Marty leaned forward and messed up my hair with both hands. “Get off me!” I screamed. “I’m warning you!”
“Take it easy, guys,” Dad said softly. “We’re here.”
I turned and stared out the windshield. The road had flattened out. Up ahead, an enormous sign proclaimed SHOCKER STUDIOS in scary, blood-red letters.
We drove slowly up to the huge iron gates in the front. The gates were closed. A guard in a small black booth sat reading a newspaper. I glimpsed gold script letters above the gate. They spelled out one word: BEWARE.
Dad pulled right up to the gate, and the guard peered up. He gave Dad a big smile. Then the guard pressed a button, and the gates slowly swung open. Dad drove the car into the tall white parking garage beside the studio. He parked in the first space next to the entrance. The garage seemed to stretch on forever. But I could see only three or four other cars inside.
“When we open next week, this garage will be jammed!” Dad said. “There will be thousands of people here. I hope.”
“And today, we’re the only ones!” Marty cried excitedly, jumping out of the car.
“We’re so lucky!” I agreed.
A few minutes later, we were standing on the platform outside the main building, facing a wide street, waiting for the tram to take us on the tour. The street led to dozens of white studio buildings, spread out all the way down the hill.
Dad pointed to two enormous buildings as big as airplane hangars. “Those are the sound stages,” he explained. “They film a lot of movie scenes inside those buildings.”
“Does the tour go inside them?” Marty demanded. “Where is Shock Street? Where are the monsters? Are they making a movie now? Can we watch them making it?”
“Whoa!” Dad cried. He placed his hands on Marty’s shoulders as if to keep him from flying off the ground. I had never seen Marty so totally wired! “Take it easy, fella,” Dad warned. “You’ll blow a fuse! You won’t survive the tour!”
I shook my head. “Maybe we should put him on a leash,” I told Dad.
“Arf, arf!” Marty barked. Then he snapped his teeth at me, trying to bite me.
I shivered. The fog rolled in from the hills. The air felt damp and cold. The sky darkened.
Two men in business suits came zooming along the street in a golf cart. They were both talking at once. One of them waved to Dad.
“Can we ride in one of those carts?” Marty asked. “Can Erin and I each have our own cart?”
“No way,” Dad told him. “You have to take the automated tram. And remember — stay in the tramcar. No matter what.”
“You mean we can’t walk on Shock Street?” Marty whined.
Dad shook his head. “Not allowed. You have to stay on the tram.”
He turned to me. “I’ll be waiting for you here on the platform when you get back. I want a full report. I want to know what you like and what you don’t like. And don’t worry if things don’t work exactly right. There are still a few bugs to work out.”
“Hey — here comes the tram!” Marty cried, hopping up and down and pointing.
The tram came rolling silently around the corner. I counted six tramcars in all. They were shaped like roller-coaster cars, open on top — only much longer and wider. The cars were black. A grinning white skull was painted on the front of the first car.
A young, red-haired woman wearing a black uniform was seated on the first bench in the front car. She waved to us as the tram rolled up to the platform. She was the only passenger.
She hopped out as the tram stopped. “Hi, I’m Linda. I’m your tour guide.” She smiled at my dad. Her red hair fluttered in the wind.
“Hello, Linda,” Dad said, smiling back at her. He gently shoved Marty and me forward. “Here are your first two victims.”
Linda laughed and asked us our names. We told her.
“Can we ride in front?” Marty asked eagerly.
“Yes, of course,” Linda replied. “You can sit anywhere you want. This whole ride is just for you.”
“All right!” Marty cried. He slapped me a high five.
Dad laughed. “I think Marty is ready to begin,” he told Linda.
Linda pushed her red hair out of her face. “You can start right away, guys. But first, there’s something I have to do.”
She leaned over the tramcar and tugged out a black canvas bag. “This will only take a second, guys.” She pulled a red plastic gun from the bag. “This is a Shocker Stun Ray Blaster.”
She gripped the plastic pistol tightly. It looked like something in a Star Trek movie. Her smile faded. Her green eyes narrowed. “Be careful with these blasters, guys. They can freeze a monster in its tracks from twenty feet.”
She handed the blaster to me. Then she reached into her bag to get one for Marty. “Don’t fire them unless you have to.” She swallowed hard and bit her lower lip. “I sure hope you don’t have to.”
I laughed. “You’re kidding — right? These are just toys — right?”
She didn’t answer. She pulled another blaster from her bag and started to bring it to Marty.
But she stumbled over a cord on the platform. “Ohh!” She let out a startled cry as the blaster went off in her hand.
A loud buzz. A bright ray of yellow light.
And Linda stood frozen on the platform.
“Linda! Linda!” I screamed.
Marty’s mouth dropped open. He let out a choked gurgle.
I turned to Dad. To my surprise, he was laughing.
“Dad — she’s — she’s frozen!” I cried. But when I turned back to Linda, she had a big smile on her face, too.
It took us both a while, but we soon realized the whole thing was a joke.
“That’s the first shock on the Shocker tour,” Linda announced, lowering the red blaster. She
put a hand on Marty’s shoulder. “I think I really shocked you, Marty!”
“No way!” Marty insisted. “I knew it was a joke. I just played along.”
“Come on, Marty!” I cried, rolling my eyes. “You nearly dropped your teeth!”
“Erin, I wasn’t scared,” Marty insisted sharply. “Really. I just went along with the joke. Do you really think I’d fall for a dumb plastic blaster gun?”
Marty is such a jerk. Why can’t he ever admit it when he’s scared?
“Climb in, you two,” Dad urged. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Marty and I climbed into the front seat of the tram. I looked for a seat belt or a safety bar, but there wasn’t one. “Are you coming with us?” I asked Linda.
She shook her head. “No. You’re on your own. The tram moves automatically.” She handed Marty his Stun Blaster. “Hope you don’t need it.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Marty muttered, rolling his eyes. “This gun is so babyish.”
“Remember — I’ll meet you back here at the end of the ride,” Dad said. He waved. “Enjoy it. I want a full report.”
“Don’t get out of the tram,” Linda reminded us. “Keep your head and arms inside. And don’t stand up while the tram is moving.”
She stepped on a blue button on the platform. The tram started up with a jolt. Marty and I were thrown back against the seat. Then the tram rolled smoothly forward.
“First stop is The Haunted House of Horror!” Linda called after us. “Good luck!”
I turned back to see her waving to us, her long red hair fluttering in the wind. A strong breeze blew against us as the tram made its way down the hill. The sky was nearly as dark as night. Some of the white studio buildings were hidden by the fog.
“Stupid gun,” Marty muttered, rolling it around in his hands. “Why do we need this plastic gun? I hope the whole tour isn’t this babyish.”
“I hope you don’t complain all afternoon,” I told him, frowning. “Do you realize how awesome this is? We’re going to see all the great creatures from the Shocker movies.”
“Think we’ll see Shockro?” he asked. Shockro is his favorite. I guess because he’s so totally gross.
“Probably,” I replied, my eyes on the low buildings we were passing. They all stood dark and empty.
“I want to see Wolf Boy and Wolf Girl,” Marty said, counting the monsters off on his fingers. “And … the Piranha People, and Captain Sick, The Great Gopher Mutant, and —”
“Wow! Look!” I cried, pounding his shoulder and pointing.
As the tram turned a sharp corner, The Haunted House of Horror loomed darkly in front of us. The roof and its tall stone turrets were hidden by the fog. The rest of the mansion stood gray against the dusky sky.
The tram took us nearer. Tall weeds choked the front lawn. The weeds bent and swayed in the wind. The gray shingles on the house were chipped and peeling. Pale green light, dim, eerie light, floated out from the tall window in front.
As we rode closer, I could see a rusty iron porch swing — swinging by itself! — on a broken, rotting porch.
“Cool!” I exclaimed.
“It looks a lot smaller than in the movie,” Marty grumbled.
“It’s exactly the same house!” I cried.
“Then why does it look so much smaller?” he demanded.
What a complainer.
I turned away from him and studied The Haunted House. An iron fence surrounded the place. As we moved around to the side, the rusty gate swung open, squeaking and creaking.
“Look!” I pointed to the dark windows on the second floor. The shutters all flew open at once, then banged shut again.
Lights came on in the windows. Through the window shades, I could see the silhouettes of skeletons hanging, swinging slowly back and forth.
“That’s kind of cool,” Marty said. “But not too scary.” He raised his plastic gun and pretended to shoot at the skeletons.
We circled The Haunted House of Horror once. We could hear screams of terror from inside. The shutters banged again and again. The porch swing continued to creak back and forth, back and forth, as if taken by a ghost.
“Are we going inside or not?” Marty demanded impatiently.
“Sit back and stop complaining,” I said sharply. “The ride just started. Don’t spoil it for me, okay?”
He stuck his tongue out at me. But he settled back against the seat. We heard a long howl, and then a shrill scream of horror.
The tram made its way silently to the back of the house. A gate swung open and we rolled through it. We moved quickly through the over-grown, weed-choked backyard.
The tram picked up speed. We bounced over the lawn. Up to the back door. A wooden sign above the door read: ABANDON ALL HOPE.
We’re going to crash right into the door! I thought. I ducked and raised my hands to shield myself.
But the door creaked open, and we burst inside.
The tram slowed. I lowered my hands and sat up. We were in a dark, dust-covered kitchen. An invisible ghost cackled, an evil laugh. Battered pots and pans covered the wall. As we passed, they clattered to the floor.
The oven door opened and closed by itself. The teapot on the stove started to whistle. Dishes on the shelves rattled. The cackling grew louder.
“This is pretty creepy,” I whispered.
“Ooh. Thrills and chills!” Marty replied sarcastically. He crossed his arms in front of him. “Bor-ring!”
“Marty — give me a break.” I shoved him away. “You can be a bad sport if you want. But don’t ruin it for me.”
That seemed to get to him. He muttered, “Sorry,” and scooted back next to me.
The tram moved out of the dark kitchen, into an even darker hallway. Paintings of goblins and ugly creatures hung on the hallway walls.
As we approached a closet door, it sprang open — and a shrieking skeleton popped out in front of us, its jaws open, its arms jutting out to grab us.
I screamed. Marty laughed.
The skeleton snapped back into the closet. The tram turned a corner. I saw flickering light up ahead.
We rode into a large, round room. “It’s the living room,” I whispered to Marty. I raised my eyes to the flickering light and saw a chandelier above our heads, with a dozen burning candles.
The tram stopped beneath it. The chandelier began to shake. Then, with a hiss, the candles all flickered out at once.
The room plunged into darkness.
Then a deep laugh echoed all around us.
I gasped.
“Welcome to my humble home!” a deep voice suddenly boomed.
“Who is that?” I whispered to Marty. “Where is it coming from?”
No reply.
“Hey — Marty?”
I turned to him. “Marty?”
He was gone.
“Marty?”
My breath caught in my throat. I froze, staring into the darkness.
Where did he go? I asked myself. He knows we aren’t supposed to leave the tramcar. Did he climb out?
No.
If he had, I would have heard him.
“Marty?”
Someone grabbed my arm.
I heard a soft laugh. Marty’s laugh.
“Hey — where are you? I can’t see you!” I cried.
“I can’t see you, either,” he replied. “But I didn’t move. I’m still sitting right next to you.”
“Huh?” I reached out and felt the sleeve of his shirt.
“This is cool!” Marty declared. “I’m waving my arms, but I can’t see a thing. You really can’t see me?”
“No,” I replied. “I thought —”
“It’s some kind of trick with the lights,” he said. “Black light or something. Some kind of neat movie special effect.”
“Well, it creeped me out,” I confessed. “I really thought you disappeared.”
“Sucker,” he sneered.
And then we both jumped.
A fire suddenly blazed i
n the big brick fireplace. Bright orange light filled the room. A big black armchair spun around to reveal a grinning skeleton.
The skeleton raised its bony yellowed head. The jaws moved. “I hope you like my house,” its voice boomed. “Because you will never leave!”
It tossed back its head and let out an evil cackle.
The tram jolted to a start. We rumbled out of the living room. Into a long, dark hallway. The skeleton’s laugh followed us into the hall.
I fell back against the seat as we picked up speed.
We whirred around a corner. Down another long hall, so dark I couldn’t see the walls.
Faster. Faster.
We whipped around another corner. Made another sharp turn.
We were climbing now. And then we took a sharp dip that made both of us throw up our hands and scream.
Around another sharp turn. Up, up, up. And then we came crashing down.
A wild roller-coaster ride in total darkness.
It was awesome. Even better because we didn’t expect it. Marty and I screamed our heads off. We bumped hard against each other as the tram whirled around in the black halls of The Haunted House of Horror. Up, up, again — then we tilted sharply down.
I hung on to the front of the car for dear life. I gripped it so hard, both hands ached. There was no seat belt, no safety bar.
What if we tumbled out? I wondered.
The car tilted sharply sideways, as if reading my frightened thoughts. I let out a shriek and lost my grip. I slid against the side of the car. Marty fell on top of me.
I frantically reached out for something to hold on to.
The car tilted back rightside up. I took a deep breath, slid back into place on the long seat.
“Whoa! That was excellent!” Marty cried, laughing. “Excellent!”
Gripping the front of the car, I took another deep breath and held it. I was trying to slow my racing heart.
A door swung open in front of us, and we burst through it.
The car bounced hard. I saw trees. The gray-fogged sky.
We were back outside. Racing through the backyard. Both of us were tossed from side to side as we roared over the weeds, zigzagging through the dark trees.
“Whoa! Stop!” I choked out. I couldn’t catch my breath. The wind blew hard against my face. The tram clattered and squealed as we bumped over the rough ground.