The Five Masks of Dr. Screem

by R. L. Stine

  Then I grabbed Peter by the shoulder and spun him around. “Look,” I said. “Peter — where are we? The trees are gone. We’re not in the woods. Where has everything gone?”

  “It — it’s so dark,” Peter murmured. “So totally dark.”

  We were standing nowhere.

  I mean, there were no trees. No houses. No moon in the sky.

  No sky.

  I couldn’t see the ground we were standing on.

  I spun around. The long row of bushes was gone. Just the inky darkness everywhere.

  My ears rang from the silence. A deep hush all around.

  “Peter,” I whispered, “I don’t … like … this.”

  18

  My body shook. Inside the mask, my teeth began to chatter.

  And then the blackness was dotted with grays. I saw mysterious shapes float in front of me. The wind returned, and I heard the crackling swirl of dead autumn leaves.

  I heard the rumble of a car. And a low hoot hoot. An owl?

  Yes. Trees formed out of the darkness. A street. A street I recognized.

  A tall, smooth hedge with a house behind it. And I knew the house.

  Bella’s house.

  “We’re back,” I said. I let out a long sigh of relief.

  Peter danced up and down. “We’re back! We’re back!” He slapped my shoulder. “That was fun!”

  “Huh?” I jumped away from him. “Are you crazy? Do you want to be a caterpillar inside a cocoon? Or eaten by a giant praying mantis?”

  “But we’re okay!” he cried. “We made it!”

  “We’re not finished,” I reminded him. “We have four more masks to go — remember? And if we don’t get them by dawn, we may never see Mom and Dad again.”

  That took the smile off his face. “Okay. What’s the next mask?” he asked.

  I turned to Bella’s house. The curtains were drawn in the front window. The front light was out. The house was dark.

  “I don’t believe it,” I said. “Did she leave?”

  “Forget about her. Let’s look for the mummy mask,” Peter said. “Bet I know where it is.”

  He turned and started trotting along the sidewalk. I hurried after him. “Peter, where are you going?”

  “The History Museum,” he said. “My class had a field trip there last week. They’ve got a bunch of mummies on display.”

  I leaned into the gusting wind. “What makes you think the mask will be there?”

  “The insect mask was down on the ground with the insects,” Peter replied. “I think the masks will tell us where they are hidden. Can you think of a better place for a mummy mask?”

  Maybe he was right. We’d soon find out.

  The History Museum stood next to the Public Library four or five blocks from our school. They were on a wide street with tall old trees leaning over both sides.

  A small grassy park, called Museum Park, stretched across from the museum. Peter and I followed a pool of moonlight across the grass to the museum.

  It was a big old-fashioned-looking white stone building with a hundred concrete steps leading up to the entrance. Tall pillars stood on either side of the double doorway. The roof had a white dome over the top.

  Lights were on in the museum, but I didn’t see anyone around. Two cars came down the street and turned onto Museum Drive.

  “No way can we get in through the front,” I said. “The doors will be locked tight. And they probably have guards there.”

  “Last week, my class went in through the back,” Peter said. “There are a lot of little doors and windows back there. Maybe we can find a place to sneak in.”

  We made our way around the side wall. I saw lights on in the tall windows above our heads. But I couldn’t see inside.

  A black door in a narrow alcove had a sign that read: SERVICE ENTRANCE. The door was locked and chained.

  We kept walking. Keeping in the deep shadow of the building, we passed a row of windows with bars over them. Two more doors had chains and padlocks.

  I shivered. “This isn’t looking good, Peter,” I murmured. “What makes you think the mummy mask is in here anyway?”

  Before he could answer, I heard a sound. The crackle of dry leaves. Then the scrape and thud of footsteps.

  Startled, I jumped. Then I spun around — and gasped.

  We were surrounded by mummies. A dozen ragged, decayed mummies.

  They came staggering toward us, lumbering silently, arms raised stiffly in front of them.

  Backing against the museum wall, I opened my mouth in a shrill scream.

  19

  One of the mummies laughed. Then several more started to giggle.

  Two of them raised their covered hands and bumped knuckles.

  “They’re … kids!” Peter exclaimed. He stood beside me with his back pressed against the cold stone of the museum wall.

  Yes. Kids in mummy costumes. Now they were staggering and dancing and skipping toward Museum Drive.

  Car doors opened. Parents stepped out to greet them.

  A tall woman with a red scarf wrapped around her hair came running up to Peter and me. Her jacket flapped behind her as she ran.

  “Is MummyFest over?” she asked breathlessly. “Have they let all the kids out?”

  I remembered MummyFest. It was the museum’s annual Halloween party. A hundred kids all wrapped up in mummy costumes.

  “I think they’re letting the kids out now,” I said. I turned and saw another group of mummies come dancing out a back door.

  The woman let out a relieved sigh. “I thought I was late.”

  Peter and I followed her to the door. Two kids came running up to her. One of them left a trail of bandages behind her and complained about her bad wrapping job.

  When the door opened again to let out more kids, I pulled Peter inside.

  I blinked several times as my eyes adjusted to the bright light. We were standing in a big chamber with black and orange streamers stretched across the ceiling.

  On a tall pedestal, an enormous jack-o’-lantern glowed with orange and yellow flames inside. Two six-foot-tall mummy statues stood guarding the jack-o’-lantern.

  Peter and I gazed around. The room was emptying out fast.

  “Which way is the Ancient Egypt section?” I asked.

  Peter scrunched up his face. “I think it’s back that way.” He pointed.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  But before we could move, a man in a stained yellow mummy costume stepped in front of us. His blue eyes stared out at us from inside the mummy head.

  He had a tall black top hat tilting on top of his head. A round button on the hat read: TAKE ME TO MY MUMMY.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. “Are you picking up someone?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Our little sister. Franny. Have you seen her? Has she come out?”

  He squinted at me. Did he believe me?

  “There are still some kids in the cafeteria,” he said. “Why don’t you try there?” He pointed to an open archway against the back wall.

  “Hey, thanks,” I said. I gave Peter’s arm a tug, and we began to jog toward the archway.

  “I love your bug mask,” the man shouted after me.

  I shouted thanks but didn’t turn back.

  Peter and I trotted straight ahead. I called, “Franny! Franny!” until we were out of the man’s sight.

  “That was easier than I thought,” Peter said.

  “We’re not there yet,” I told him.

  We hurried down a long, brightly lit hall. Up ahead, I could hear kids’ voices and people laughing.

  We passed glass cases in the wall displaying blue and orange vases. Some of the vases were cracked and chipped. They looked very old.

  The cafeteria came into view. I saw only a few kids in there. They were sitting on the floor, talking and eating candy bars.

  Some white-uniformed workers had started to clean up. They were sweeping the floor and picking up candy wrappers and other trash.


  Peter and I didn’t stop at the cafeteria. We turned a corner and kept going.

  An arrow sign read: EGYPTIAN GALLERIES.

  “The mummy rooms are right up there,” Peter said.

  We started to jog faster. The lights in this hallway were dimmer. Long shadows swept over the floor.

  I could see the entrance to the Egyptian Galleries up ahead.

  We were only a few feet away — when a deep, angry voice boomed out: “Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going?”

  20

  Caught.

  I spun around. I saw a dark-uniformed guard trotting toward us.

  I started to say something.

  But he turned. Two kids in mummy costumes stepped out from an alcove.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the guard repeated.

  “We couldn’t find the front door,” one of the kids told him.

  He took the kid’s hand. “Follow me. You’re going the wrong way.” He led them back toward the cafeteria.

  Peter and I were pressed against the wall. I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out in a long stream.

  “I — I thought he caught us,” I said.

  “Me, too,” Peter muttered. “That was close.”

  We turned and ducked into the door marked EGYPTIAN GALLERIES. The lights in the big room were dimmed. The air felt hot and damp.

  We stayed against the wall. I gazed all around, searching for any guards. The room was empty.

  I counted four mummy cases, one in each corner of the room. A model of a pyramid stood in the center. One wall was covered with photos of the pyramids. Display cases on the other walls showed jewelry and other objects from ancient Egypt.

  Peter and I circled the room. My eyes squinted in the dim light.

  I examined the display cases. I walked around the model pyramid and all around each mummy case.

  “I don’t see a mummy mask,” I whispered. “Maybe Screem didn’t hide it here. Maybe we should leave before we’re caught.”

  I started for the door, but Peter stepped in front of me.

  “The mummy cases,” he said. “We have to look inside them.”

  “But —” I started to protest. The ancient cases were of carved heavy stone. The lids would be impossible to lift.

  “Screem hid the mask inside one of them,” Peter said. “I know it. I just know it.”

  I groaned. Peter is so stubborn. “But how do we look inside? How can we lift the heavy lids?”

  I heard a noise outside the room. I ducked behind a mummy case.

  Footsteps. Peering around the side, I saw two guards walk past the gallery.

  My heart thudded in my chest. Breaking into the museum had to be a serious crime. If we were caught …

  If we were caught, no one would believe we were searching the mummy cases for a mummy mask. We would be in major trouble.

  But we were already in major trouble, I decided.

  What could be bigger trouble than having your house and parents disappear?

  I stood up and turned to the mummy case. I moved to the center of the case and grabbed the lid with both hands.

  The lid felt surprisingly cool. It had a pharaoh’s head carved at one end. The eyes were blank. Part of the pharaoh’s headdress was broken off.

  I started to push up on the lid, but I hesitated.

  A lot of people are really into mummies. The four mummies are the most popular things in the museum.

  I’m not a big mummy person. I mean, they are dead people, after all. Dead people who have been rotting and decaying inside tar and bandages for a few thousand years.

  Okay, Monica, you can do this, I told myself.

  I gripped the edge of the heavy stone lid, braced myself, steadied my legs —

  — and pushed the lid up with a groan.

  To my surprise, it slid up easily.

  The lid swung out of my hand and started to slide off the other side of the case.

  “Nooo!” I let out a cry. I couldn’t let it crash to the floor.

  I jumped and made a wild grab for it with both hands.

  Missed.

  And went sailing headfirst, down into the mummy case.

  21

  “Ooof.” I landed flat on my stomach on top of the mummy. I bounced once — and my face sank into the hard, smelly wrappings of the mummy’s chest.

  I raised my head and let out a groan.

  The mummy wrappings were dry and scratchy. My cheeks itched.

  I gagged as the putrid stench from the ancient corpse rose to my nostrils. I struggled to keep my dinner down. Wave after wave of the sour odor swept over me.

  I was sprawled flat on top of the mummy. It felt hard as bones beneath me. It was tiny, like a child. Its wrapped head was no bigger than a lightbulb.

  The ancient gauze over the mummy’s head dipped where the eyes had been. Dried tar stained the wrappings around the neck.

  The odor sickened me. I tried to close my nose and breathe out of my mouth.

  Carefully, I struggled onto my side. The mummy moved beneath me.

  Gross.

  I gazed up. The lid had slid only halfway off the top of the case. Dim light poured over me from the ceiling.

  I worked myself to a sitting position. Then I grabbed the edge of the lid. My idea was to hold on to the lid and pull myself out.

  But as I tugged, I heard a grinding sound. Stone against stone.

  It took me only a second to realize the heavy lid was falling … falling into the mummy case.

  I’m going to be CRUSHED.

  I swung away from the falling lid. Grabbed the side of the case with both hands. And flipped myself out.

  I fell free of the case — just as the lid crashed down inside it.

  The roar rocked the room.

  I rolled away from the case. Stopped in front of the pyramid model.

  Then I lay there on the floor for a long moment, catching my breath.

  The sour, putrid odor of the mummy lingered on my clothes. It clung to the inside of the insect mask.

  I grabbed at the mask. I wanted to pull it off. I wanted Halloween to be over. To be out of this museum where we didn’t belong. To be home safe in my house with my parents.

  My parents.

  That thought made me remember why I couldn’t remove the mask.

  I stood up and brushed the thick dust off the front of my clothing. Then I gazed around the room.

  “Peter?” I called.

  My eyes swept the room, from mummy case to mummy case.

  “Peter? Where are you?”

  No answer.

  I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  “Peter? Come on. You’re not funny. We have to get out of here. Peter? Where are you?”

  My voice grew higher and more shrill with every word.

  “Peter? Please?” I cried. “Peter?”

  He had disappeared.

  22

  I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

  I heard voices outside the gallery.

  I ducked behind the pyramid and listened. I peered around the side and saw the same two dark-uniformed guards walk past the doorway. They were shaking their heads and laughing about something.

  “Peter?” I called out in a tiny voice.

  A second later, I heard his cry. “Got it!”

  I let out a shout when his head popped up from one of the mummy cases. He raised a hand high. He waved the mummy mask in the air.

  “Help me.” He stuck his hand out the side. I grabbed it and helped tug him to the floor.

  He raised the mask in one hand. I squeezed it. It felt like rubber. The eyes were sunken. The wrappings around it appeared torn and stained.

  “I knew it would be in here,” Peter said. He pumped his other fist in the air.

  “You scared me to death,” I said.

  “At least I found the —”

  He stopped. We both heard voices. And footsteps outside the door.

  The two sec
urity guards had just passed. Who was coming?

  Was it Screem?

  “Quick, Peter —” I shoved the mask toward his face. “Your turn. Put it on.”

  He held the mask in two hands and raised it to his head. Then he hesitated.

  The footsteps grew louder. Closer.

  “Peter — quick!” I whispered.

  “I … can’t,” he said. He twisted his face in disgust. “The mask … it’s filled with dust. Mummy dust. It — it smells like something dead.”

  “I don’t care,” I said. I pushed it toward his face again. “Put it on. Hurry, Peter!”

  “Ohhh.” He let out a groan. He stared into the mask. “It’s … sick,” he murmured.

  Then he raised the mask above his head.

  Just as the two security guards burst into the room.

  23

  Their eyes bulged and their mouths opened in alarm when they saw us.

  “Hold it! Stop right there! Don’t move!” one of them shouted angrily.

  “How did you kids get back here?” his partner cried.

  They moved toward us quickly, hands out at their sides as if they expected a fight.

  “Uh … we were at the mummy party,” I stammered. “We … couldn’t find the exit, and —”

  Their boots thudded on the marble floor as they strode toward us.

  “You’d better tell the truth,” one of them said. “You two are in a world of trouble.”

  “Trespassing on city property is a serious crime,” his partner said.

  I turned to my brother. His face was tight with fear. And then he let out a cry — and jammed the mummy mask down over his head.

  A blinding flash of white light made me scream.

  I shut my eyes tight, but the light didn’t fade. It grew brighter … brighter … until I felt my head was about to explode.

  Then … solid darkness. Blacker than black.

  Slowly, I opened my eyes. The museum room had vanished. I stared up at a cloudy sky.

  It took me a long moment to realize I was stretched out on my back. I was lying on something flat and hard. Above me, the sky darkened. The clouds seemed to be coming closer and closer as if they were going to smother me.

  “Peter?” My voice came out in a choked whisper.