by R. L. Stine
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I cried.
“Too bad,” The Flame said. “You’re going to be flamed and oozed at the same time!”
Gabriella and I both screamed as they dove for us.
And over our screams, I heard a familiar voice:
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
I spun to the side of the house. And let out a shout. “Zeke! What are YOU doing here?”
Zeke came running across the grass, waving something in his hand.
“Maybe this is what you want?” he cried. He flapped it back and forth.
The Ooze and The Fabulous Flame stepped back. They both stared hard at the object held tightly in Zeke’s hand.
I didn’t recognize it. “What is that?” I cried.
“The bookmark,” Zeke said.
I squinted at it. “The what?”
“The bookmark from the Ooze book,” Zeke said. “Don’t you remember it? It has all these funny words on it. Didn’t you read the tiny type? It says you have to say the words, or else your powers will last only ten seconds!”
Gabriella and I looked at each other. “That explains it,” I said, sighing.
I turned to Zeke. “You — you’ve had the bookmark all this time?”
He nodded. “I took it out of the book. I thought it might come in handy sometime.”
“Zeke!” I screamed. “Look at all the trouble you caused!”
He shrugged. “So?”
The Ooze held out his big oily hand. “Just give me the bookmark,” he growled.
“We don’t want it in the wrong hands — do we?” The Fabulous Flame added. “Those words will make my powers stronger.”
“You mean OUR powers!” The Ooze boomed. “Give me the card, Zeke. The Flame can’t be trusted.”
“No way!” Zeke said.
“Give it to me!” The Ooze boomed. He made a furious swipe at it.
Zeke swung it out of his reach.
The Flame aimed a whirling fireball at Zeke’s head.
Zeke ducked and the fireball flew over him.
“Too late! Too late!” Zeke cried. He did a crazy dance.
The Ooze and The Flame both dove at him.
But Zeke waved both hands. He made a hard sweeping motion.
And the two supervillains floated up into the air.
“Heeyyyyy!” The Ooze flapped his oily arms and thrashed his legs. “Put me down!”
“Put me down and I promise I won’t hurt you too badly!” The Fabulous Flame shouted.
But Zeke waved his hands up again. He waved them high above his head.
And the two villains went flying … flying over the house … across the street … over the woods — flying higher and higher until they were tiny dots against the sky. And then they vanished completely.
Gabriella and I stood in shock, our eyes on the sky. Then we turned back to Zeke. He had a big victory grin on his face.
“My new identity is Lift-Off!” he cried. “I have antigravity powers.”
“Wow! Very cool!” Gabriella cried. “You saved us!”
“That was amazing!” I exclaimed. “Good work, Zeke!”
“One wave of my hands and people go flying away forever,” Zeke said. “And my powers last because I’m not stupid like you. I read the words on the bookmark!”
I picked the Ooze book up off the patio. I rubbed some black gunk off the cover with my hand.
My heart was still pounding like a drum. But the two villains were gone. I knew I could finally relax.
“Everyone is in my power now!” Zeke cried. “Watch me send you flying into that tree!”
I grabbed his hand before he could raise it. “Stop bragging and showing off,” I said. “Let’s go home and forget this ever happened!”
* * *
But, of course, I couldn’t forget.
I wanted to be a real superhero, too.
I wasn’t jealous of Zeke. I just didn’t think he should be the only superhero in the family.
Besides, I didn’t trust him. Sometimes he gets crazy and starts punching his pillow or ranting and raving. Sometimes he tries to get me in trouble.
I needed my own powers to protect myself. I needed to be Tidal Wave.
So the next afternoon I sneaked into Zeke’s room. I searched everywhere for the bookmark with the secret words. Where did he hide it?
I pawed through every drawer in his dresser. I pulled out every book on his bookshelf. I looked under his bed. Under all the junk on his closet floor.
I was sweating and breathing hard when I finally found it. I pulled the bookmark out from under his pillow.
I held it up to my face. My hand trembled as I started to read the words — the words that would make my tidal wave powers last.
“Hey!” I cried out as the bookmark flew out of my hands.
I made a wild grab for it. Missed. It floated up near the ceiling.
I spun around and saw Zeke in the bedroom doorway. He had one hand raised, making the bookmark float.
“Give it back to me, Zeke!” I shouted. “Drop it. Give it back to me — now!”
He shook his head. “No way, Marco. One superhero in this family is enough! And it’s me. Me, me, ME!”
“You’re a total jerk!” I said. “The book is mine. And the bookmark is mine. So give it back!”
“You want it?” he cried, stepping into the room. “You want it, Marco? Go get it!”
He waved both hands — and I felt myself lift off the floor. “Hey!”
He raised a hand — and I couldn’t stop myself. He had me in his power. I was helpless. I floated all the way up to the ceiling.
“Put me down, Zeke!” I shouted. “I mean it. I —”
And that’s when Mom and Dad walked in.
At first, they only saw Zeke. But then they glanced up and saw me floating on the ceiling, my arms spread like bird wings.
Dad uttered a cry of shock.
“Marco! What on EARTH is going on here?” Mom demanded.
“Uh … well …” My mind whirred. I gazed down at them.
“Uh … Would you believe this is an experiment for science class? This one’s for extra credit!”
Zeke finally let me down. But first I had to swear I wouldn’t go after the bookmark again.
So. Okay. Whatever.
I don’t have to be a superhero. I just have to be careful from now on to be extra-special nice to my brother.
I decided to tuck the Wizard of Ooze book away in a secret hiding place. There’s a loose panel in the back of my closet. I slid it off the wall and hid the book behind it.
At least now it won’t cause any more trouble, I told myself.
I set the panel back in place. Then I turned to leave the closet.
But something down on the floor caught my eye. A yellow-green glow.
Was something burning?
I bent down and picked it up. It took me a few seconds to recognize it. The little figure of a HorrorLand Horror. The Horror that old guy in the gift shop attached to the wrapping on my book.
It glowed in my hand and felt warm.
As I stared, the glow spread. It grew brighter and filled the closet with an eerie light. I tried to drop the Horror, but it clung to my hand.
And I could feel it pulling me … pulling me into the light … into the deep glow of the yellow-green light.
I heard a whoosh. Felt a blast of strong air against my body.
And there I was, blinking, shaking, unsteady on my feet. There I was, back in the old man’s gift shop. Chiller House. Back in HorrorLand.
He stood behind the counter in his old-fashioned suit with the old-fashioned square spectacles perched on his nose.
And he grinned at me. Jonathan Chiller. His name came back to me. A gold tooth gleamed in his mouth as he smiled.
“Welcome back, Marco,” he croaked. “Time to pay me back for your gift. Are you ready?”
“Ready?” I cried. “Ready for what?”
&n
bsp; My name is Ray Gordon and I’m twelve. My brother, Brandon, is nine, but people think that he’s older than I am.
That’s because Brandon is a big hulk of a kid. He’s about half a foot taller than me. He has broad shoulders and a big chest, straight black hair, and a cold stare that makes him look like he’s tough.
I’m short and very thin. I have curly blond hair and blue eyes and freckles on my cheeks. I’m the youngest kid in my class, but I’m three years older than Brandon. And everyone we meet thinks I’m the little brother.
Which is funny because Brandon is a total wimp. So what if I look like an elf standing next to a giant?
I’m the tough one in the family. He’s scared of bugs and snakes and being in the woods and being in the water. And anything else you can think of.
And once I actually saw him jump away from his own shadow. No kidding. He swore he tripped. But I know the truth.
It’s a pain having a younger brother who’s bigger than me. And it’s an even bigger pain having a huge monster brother who is a total coward.
I love scary movies. But my parents say I have to go to G-rated baby movies with Brandon so he won’t get scared. I like to watch scary TV shows, too. And play really cool battle games on my Xbox.
But guess what? I’m not allowed while Brandon is around. We don’t want to upset the poor guy — do we?
And now … even worse … he’s ruining my first trip to HorrorLand.
He’s too scared to do anything. The rides are too scary for him. The games are too noisy and frightening. The Haunted Theater is too haunted!
He’s even afraid of the Horrors. They’re the big, furry, green-and-purple park workers. You know. They are guides, and they run the rides and the game booths and work in the shops.
Brandon is almost as big as they are. But he’s terrified of them.
So how much fun am I having with him at HorrorLand? Can you spell zero?
It was a cool, gray day. Wisps of fog hung low over the park. A perfect spooky day to be at HorrorLand.
“Brandon, what if we go on the scariest ride here?” I said. “What if —”
“I don’t want to,” he said. His favorite expression. He sticks out his lower lip and gets all pouty and says, “I don’t want to.”
“No. Listen to me,” I said. He was staring at a Horror behind a food cart. I grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around. But I wasn’t strong enough to budge him.
“What if we both go on the scariest ride ever,” I started again. “And you like it? Wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t you think it was cool to find out that you like scary rides, too?”
“But I don’t want to,” Brandon whined.
I sighed. Mom and Dad let Brandon and me go off on our own this afternoon. And I didn’t want to waste it doing baby stuff.
I dragged Brandon up to a tall green Horror wearing bright yellow overalls with yellow suspenders. He wore a button on his cap that read: I’M A SCREAM!
He grinned at me. “Hey, kiddo — know why I wear yellow suspenders?” he asked.
“Why?” I said.
“To keep my pants up!” He roared with laughter and slapped his knees.
“That’s a very bad joke,” I said.
“No, it isn’t,” the Horror replied. “It’s a SCREAM!” He opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs.
Brandon covered his ears.
The Horror tapped the button on his cap. “Just doing my job,” he said. He coughed. “I get such a sore throat from this job! What can I do for you?”
“My brother and I want to do something way scary,” I said. “What’s the scariest ride in HorrorLand?”
The Horror rubbed his furry chin. “Have you tried the Doom Slide?”
“Too scary,” Brandon said, doing his pouty face.
“I did it without him,” I said. “It was okay. But not great.”
“How about the A-Nile-Ator coaster?” the Horror asked. “It’s the world’s only coaster where you ride in a coffin.”
Brandon shivered and shut his eyes. “Not for me,” he whispered.
“It was good. But not really scary enough,” I said.
The Horror stared at me for a long time. He rubbed one of the curled horns on either side of his cap. “Okay, I get it,” he said. “You want something to make you scream like this.”
Again, he opened his mouth, tossed back his head, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Yeah. Like that,” I said.
“I get it,” he said. “Okay. Come with me, guys. I’ll take you to our test area. It’s where we try out new things. Not open to the public. You can be the first to try them.”
“Awesome!” I cried. My heart started to pound. “Totally awesome!”
The Horror turned and started to walk quickly away from Zombie Plaza. I saw where we were headed — a fenced-in area with a big sign: TESTING AREA. KEEP OUT!
I jogged to stay up with him. I had to keep turning back and waving frantically to Brandon to follow us.
Brandon kept shaking his head. “I — I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.
Maybe I should have listened to him….
R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.
Goosebumps book series created by Parachute Press, Inc.
Copyright © 2010 by Scholastic Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, GOOSEBUMPS, GOOSEBUMPS HORRORLAND, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, September 2010
e-ISBN 978-0-545-30126-8
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