The Five Masks of Dr. Screem

by R. L. Stine

  He stepped to the grave wall and turned his back to me, ready for me to boost him up.

  But I didn’t move.

  My eyes were locked on the back of the grave.

  Another skull. Pale gray. With deep eye sockets and a jagged-toothed grin. It moved in the darkness. Appeared in front of us, as if out of nowhere.

  “Peter —” I whispered.

  “Hurry,” he said. “I want to get out of this grave.”

  “No, look,” I said, bumping his shoulder. I pointed.

  He spun around. He followed my gaze.

  Before we could move closer, the skull started to rise.

  Moonlight suddenly poured into the grave, and I could see clearly. A man stepped forward. He wore a purple robe with a raised hood. Inside the hood, I could see the grinning skull. A mask.

  The skull mask.

  “Screem?” The name burst from my throat in a hoarse whisper.

  He stood against the far grave wall across from us. The wind rustled his long robe. In the moonlight, I could see the gleam of his purple eyes inside the grinning skull mask.

  Screem. How did he suddenly appear? Had he been waiting for us?

  “You shouldn’t have come.”

  His old man’s voice was muffled inside the mask.

  He took a step toward Peter and me.

  Above us, the moon disappeared behind clouds again. Darkness fell over the grave.

  As my eyes adjusted, I watched Screem reach for the sides of the skull mask. With a hard, swift tug, he pulled off the mask.

  His straight white hair fell to his shoulders. I could see beads of sweat on his broad forehead. He rubbed his square white paintbrush beard with his free hand.

  His eyes darted back and forth from Peter to me.

  “You’ve made a terrible mistake!” he boomed. “You have no business here. You don’t know what you are doing.”

  He took a step toward us. Then another.

  Peter and I were trapped against the grave wall.

  “Wh-what are you going to do with us?” I stammered.

  35

  Screem moved forward quickly. I heard a loud squish sound as he stepped on the glob of worms.

  He flattened the worms under the sole of his boot. He kept his eyes straight ahead on Peter and me.

  I pressed my back against the dirt wall. No way to escape. We were trapped six feet underground in this narrow hole.

  “What are you going to do?” I repeated. My voice cracked as I said the words.

  “I warned you,” Screem said. “I warned you back at Bella’s house.”

  He held the skull mask tightly in one hand. He reached out his other hand to me.

  I tried to squirm away. But there was nowhere to move.

  “Turn around,” he said. “I’ll give you a boost.”

  I swallowed. My heart was pounding hard. That wasn’t what I expected him to say.

  A few seconds later, Screem pushed me up to the top of the grave. I scrambled on my hands and knees onto the grass. Then I jumped to my feet.

  Peter came crawling out after me. He shook his head, confused. He climbed to his feet.

  I turned and saw the moaning skeleton. It stood stiffly beside the grave. Its bony arms dangled at its sides. Its eyeless sockets were trained on Peter and me.

  Screem floated up from the grave. His purple robe fluttered in the wind. His white hair blew about his head.

  He turned to the skeleton. “Your work is done,” he told it.

  He raised his hand, and the big jeweled ring glowed on his finger. He pointed the jewel at the skeleton.

  The skeleton let out a final moan. Then its bones cracked and broke and fell apart. The bones fell to the grass and crumpled to dust. The dust swirled into the air and blew away.

  Screem watched it for a moment. Then he turned to us.

  Was he going to raise his ring and zap us to dust?

  “Give me back the three masks you’ve found,” he said. He reached out his hand. “Give them back and get away from here — as fast as you can.”

  I stared at him. I didn’t know what to say. I was too frightened to speak.

  “I must hold the masks till dawn,” Screem said. “Or you will see evil spread over the world.”

  A terrifying threat. Bella said that’s what would happen if Screem kept the masks.

  But I had only one thing on my mind now. And I would never give back the masks till Screem helped us.

  “We want our parents!” I cried. “We want our house back. We’ll give you the masks when you bring them back.”

  Screem’s purple eyes flashed. He shook his head. “If I don’t have those five masks at dawn,” he boomed, “you will never see your parents again.”

  36

  The words made my breath catch in my throat.

  Screem kept his eyes locked on us. “Bella’s evil is so intense, she will stop at nothing,” he said.

  Huh? BELLA’S evil?

  “The magic of the masks is too powerful to be in her hands,” he continued. “You do not know who you are working for. You think you are collecting the masks for good.”

  “I — I don’t understand,” I stammered. “Are you saying —”

  “Bella is evil,” Screem said. “She is the one who made your house disappear. Not me. She made your house and parents disappear to trick you into helping her.”

  My mouth dropped open. Bella told us it was Screem who took away our house. Was Screem telling the truth? Was Bella the evil one?

  “This terrible game has to stop,” Screem said. “You are not the first people Bella has tortured like this. Some have not been as lucky as you.”

  The wind ruffled his white hair. His purple robe glowed under the moonlight.

  I glanced at Peter. He was shivering. I don’t think he was cold. He was shivering from Screem’s words.

  “You can make it all stop now,” Screem continued. “You have to believe me.”

  Believe. Believe. Believe.

  The word stuck in my head.

  Should we believe him? Should we?

  Suddenly, I remembered Bella’s warning as we were leaving her house.

  Screem is the best liar on earth.

  It’s almost impossible not to believe him.

  Whatever you do, do not believe what he tells you. Do not fall for his lies.

  “Don’t believe him,” I whispered to Peter.

  I turned to Screem. “Bella warned us you are a liar,” I said.

  Screem shook the skull mask in his fist. “Listen to me carefully,” he said. “Her real name isn’t Bella. It’s Belladonna. Do you know what that is?”

  I repeated the name in my mind. “I’ve heard of it,” I said.

  “Belladonna,” Screem said. “Sometimes it’s called deadly nightshade. It’s a poison. She is a poison.”

  I knew he was lying.

  I pressed my hands against my waist. “If you are on the side of good,” I said, “why did you make it so dangerous for Peter and me to take the masks?”

  “Yeah,” Peter said. He took a few steps toward Screem. “You tried to kill us each time. So why should we believe that you are on the side of good?”

  “You were working for Belladonna,” Screem replied. “I couldn’t just let you walk away with the masks. I had to try to stop you. I had no choice.”

  “You’re lying to us,” Peter said. He raised his arms in a karate position.

  “I don’t care what you think,” Screem said. “If you don’t want to believe the truth, that’s fine with me.”

  He stretched out a hand and moved toward us rapidly. “Just give me the three masks. Now! “

  I stumbled back. But Peter held his ground.

  Screem dove forward, his hand outstretched to tear the masks off our faces.

  Peter uttered a cry. He leaped sideways into the air — and tried to land a two-footed karate kick to Screem’s knees.

  Peter missed.

  His shoes kicked at nothing but air.
r />   Screem grabbed Peter by the ankles.

  He tugged him hard. Lost his balance — and they both toppled into the open grave.

  37

  My heart thudding in my chest, I stared toward the open grave. I wanted to hurry to the side of the grave. But I froze. My legs wouldn’t carry me.

  I held my breath and listened.

  Silence.

  Even the wind had stopped. The trees over the old graveyard stood perfectly still.

  I listened for Peter’s screams. Or the sounds of a fight. Or someone scraping and scrabbling to climb out.

  But no.

  Not a sound.

  The silence felt so loud, I pressed my hands over my ears.

  “Peter?”

  Finally, I forced myself forward. I took a step toward the grave.

  “Peter?”

  Silence.

  I lowered my hands to my sides. I had them balled into tight, tense fists.

  I took another step toward the grave.

  “Peter? Can you hear me?”

  I took a deep breath and held it. Then I leaned over the grave and peered down.

  “No. Oh, no,” I murmured.

  The grave was empty.

  38

  I dropped to my knees in the wet dirt. A shudder made my whole body shake.

  “Peter? Where are you?” I called in a trembling voice.

  I stared down into the empty grave. “Impossible,” I muttered.

  Unless Screem used his magic to carry them both away somewhere?

  Unless Screem used the same magic on Peter that he used to make our parents disappear?

  I leaned down into the grave and shouted: “Peter? Are you there? Please — answer me!”

  No reply.

  I leaned farther into the grave. “Peter?”

  And then I let out a gasp as the soft mud gave way beneath me. I fell fast. And landed on my stomach on the floor of the grave.

  “Ohhhhh,” I groaned as I realized I’d landed on top of the pile of worms. “Noooo.”

  I jumped up quickly.

  “Peter? Where are you?” My voice rang hollow against the dirt sides.

  I brushed fat worms off the front of my clothes.

  “Peter? Can you hear me?”

  Keeping my hand on the grave wall, I began to move. I took tiny steps along the side of the hole. I traced my hand on the dirt. I needed something to hold on to.

  Above me, the moon slid out from behind the clouds once again. Pale yellow light washed over the grave.

  And in the light, I saw an opening at the far end. Like a low doorway cut into the grave wall.

  I hurried across the dirt. I stopped a few inches away. Moonlight helped me see inside the opening.

  I saw a tunnel. A narrow tunnel leading straight ahead to solid blackness.

  So that’s where they vanished. Into this tunnel cut into the graveside.

  Again, I cupped my hand around my mouth and shouted my brother’s name.

  I heard my voice echo down the tunnel. The tunnel was deep and straight.

  I moved into the opening. And stopped. I struggled to catch my breath.

  Screem had dragged Peter into this tunnel. There was nowhere else they could be.

  I had to go after him.

  I ducked my head. I took a shaky step into the tunnel opening.

  And stopped.

  I heard the heavy thud of shoes on dirt. Running footsteps.

  In the dim light, I saw Screem. Racing toward me through the tunnel, hands outstretched.

  “Noooooo!” I opened my mouth in a scream.

  Nowhere to run.

  Screem had me trapped down in the grave. Did he plan to pull me into the long, dark tunnel, too?

  39

  I tensed my muscles. How could I fight him?

  Then he came thundering into the moonlight — and I gasped.

  “Peter?”

  It wasn’t Screem. It was my brother. Still wearing the mummy mask. The belt of his karate uniform dragging on the dirt.

  He ran up to me, breathing hard. He raised both hands. A mask dangled from each hand.

  I stared in shock. Peter had the skull mask and the alien pig mask.

  “Did you … did you grab those from Screem?” I demanded.

  He nodded.

  “How did you do it?” I cried. “How did you take them away from Screem?”

  I gazed into the tunnel. “Where is Screem?”

  Peter shook his head. “No time,” he whispered. I could barely hear him through the mummy mask. “Let’s go.”

  I realized we had all five masks. Peter had three, and I was wearing two.

  “Is Screem coming after us?” I asked.

  Peter motioned frantically with both hands. “No time.” His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  He pushed me to the edge of the grave. Then he bent and gave me a boost.

  I scrambled up to the ground. Then I turned and pulled him out of the grave.

  I glanced down. Where was Screem?

  I was dying for Peter to explain. But he took off, running hard through the paths between the gravestones. He waved for me to follow.

  My shoes slipped and slid on flat dead leaves as I ran to catch up. The darkness was lifting. The sky had brightened from black to violet. And I could see a broad stripe of red sunlight rising low through the trees.

  “Almost dawn,” I murmured.

  At the edge of the graveyard, we came to a sharp stop. The twin beams of car headlights swept down the street. Peter and I ducked behind a fat tree trunk and waited for the car to pass.

  When it turned a corner, we took off running again. Peter didn’t say a word, but I knew where he was heading. Back to Bella’s house.

  We had all five masks. Now it was her turn to help us. We needed her to use the magic of the masks to return our parents and our house.

  But I felt a shudder of fear as I watched the red stripe on the horizon rise. The sky had brightened to gray.

  Were we too late?

  We cut through front yards, keeping in the shadows of trees and tall hedges. When we passed the empty lot where our house used to stand, I stopped.

  A sob escaped my throat. I wanted to cry and scream and shake my fists and roar at the sky.

  I stared at the carpet of tall grass and weeds. No sign that a house had ever been there.

  How could this happen to our parents? What if we really were too late?

  A light went on in the house next door. Another car rumbled past on the street behind me.

  No time to waste. Dawn was arriving.

  I darted around a bike lying on its side in the next driveway. I caught up with Peter at the corner. We tore across the street and kept running.

  Peter held the masks out at his sides as he ran. A short while later, the tall hedges in front of Bella’s house came into view.

  We cut through the opening in the hedges and turned up the driveway. Our shoes sent the gravel flying.

  We stopped, both breathing hard, on the front stoop. I raised my hand to ring the doorbell — then stopped.

  “Look. The door is open a crack,” I said.

  Beneath the mummy mask, Peter was panting hard. He pushed the door open a little farther.

  I poked my head into the front entryway. “Bella?” My voice was muffled under the two masks.

  I tried again. “Bella?” This time I shouted.

  No reply.

  I led the way into the house. I trotted into the front room. Peter hurried close behind me.

  “Bella?” I shouted. “We’re back. Are we too late?”

  Silence.

  I heard a clock ticking. As loud as drumbeats in the heavy silence.

  “We have the five masks!” I called. “We have them all.”

  I gazed around the front room. Then I ran to the library in the back, calling her name.

  No sign of her.

  I led the way down the back hall, which led to the kitchen. Empty. A red sun was just rising in the ki
tchen window.

  I screamed her name at the top of my lungs.

  No answer.

  Finally, I turned to Peter. “What are we going to do? She isn’t here. She’s gone.”

  40

  “She’ll be here,” Peter whispered, so low I could barely hear him. “She has to be here.”

  And then I heard a rustling sound. Padding footsteps.

  I turned to see Bella coming down the front stairway. Her long dress trailed behind her. She swept back her hair, and a broad smile crossed her face as she saw us.

  “You’re here!” she cried. “I’m sorry. I had given up hope.”

  She practically flew down the stairs. Her smile stayed frozen on her face. Her eyes glowed with excitement.

  She ran into the kitchen and rushed up to Peter and me with her hands outstretched. “You have all five?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Are we in time? We brought you the five masks and —”

  Her hands flew up in the air. “You did it! I’m so proud of you!” she cried. “Hand them to me. Quickly.”

  She glanced out the kitchen window. The sun was a red ball, still low behind the trees.

  “It’s almost dawn,” she said. “Hurry. Take off the masks. Hand them to me — now!”

  “You said — you said you couldn’t touch them,” I said.

  She raised her hands. She was wearing long black gloves. “Quick. Hand them to me.”

  I grabbed the snow wolf mask and started to tug up on its sides. It stuck to the mask beneath it. I couldn’t get it to slide.

  I gave a harder tug — then stopped.

  I turned to Peter. To my surprise, he wasn’t moving. He stood staring at Bella through the mummy mask. He held the other two masks down at his sides.

  “Hurry,” Bella urged. She leaned over him. “What’s wrong with you? Hand me those masks.”

  Peter didn’t move. He kept his hands down stiffly at his sides. He stared out at Bella.

  She made a wild grab for the alien pig mask.

  Peter swung his body around to keep it safe in his hand.

  “Give them to me!” Bella screamed. Her face turned bright red. “It’s almost dawn. Give them to me. Do I have to rip that mask off your head, you little punk?”

  I gasped, startled that Bella was acting so furious and out of control.