by R. L. Stine
He nodded. “Yes, you are lost!” he boomed.
Before we could move, three more hulking, muscle-bound Horrors moved out from an opening in the wall. They circled us. Spread out. And raised a black mesh net high over our heads.
“Hey—what’s the big idea?” Luke demanded.
“We’re fishing,” the giant Horror murmured.
I let out a cry as they pulled the net down, trapping all three of us inside.
“What are you doing?” I shrieked. “Let us out!”
The Horrors didn’t say a word. They tightened the net around us.
We struggled. Thrashed our arms. Tried to pull back.
But they dragged us up the path. Pushed us and pulled us along the curving wall.
“Where are you taking us?” Clay shrieked. “Why won’t you answer?”
I peered back through the net, struggling to see if the Stranges were behind us.
No sign of them.
“Let us go!”
“You can’t do this!”
They ignored our shouts. One of them shoved me hard from behind. I stumbled through a narrow opening in the wall.
“Stop it! Let us out!” I screamed.
“Keep moving,” the huge Horror growled.
They dragged us into darkness along a narrow brick walkway between two walls. Through a low door. And then down steep stone steps, wet and slippery, slick with a coating of green.
“Where are you taking us?” I demanded angrily.
“Our parents will be looking for us,” Luke declared. “They were right behind us. We’re going to tell them—”
“You won’t be telling them anything,” a Horror muttered, giving me another push.
“Heyyyyy—” I cried out as we toppled down the rest of the stairs. The stones were hard and damp. The three of us landed in a heap at the bottom, tangled in the net.
As we scrambled to our feet, the Horrors pulled the net away.
“Please …,” Clay begged them. “Please …” I saw his chin quivering. His eyes were wide with fear.
My legs were trembling as I stood up. I bent and pulled Luke to his feet. Then I gazed around.
We were in a low stone room, completely bare. A torch on the wall sent flickering shadows over the stone floor. A narrow doorway on the back wall revealed only darkness. I could hear the steady DRIP DRIP DRIP of water from somewhere nearby.
The Horrors turned and stepped back as another Horror swept into the room. His purple cape swirled behind him. His head was covered by a long black mask. Two bright yellow eyes peered out at us through narrow eye slits in the mask.
“Here are your volunteers, sir,” the huge Horror boomed.
The masked Horror stared at us, tugging at the neck of his cape with one hand. “Three of them,” he muttered to himself.
“Which-who are you?” I managed to choke out.
“I’m the Dungeon Master, of course,” he replied in a hoarse, breathy voice.
“Why did you bring us here?” I demanded.
“You have to let us go!” Luke cried. “We don’t want to visit the dungeon. You can’t make us!”
“Let us go!” Clay echoed.
The Dungeon Master ignored us. He turned to the powerful Horror. “Was anyone with them?”
“No,” the Horror replied.
“Did anyone see you bring them here?” the Dungeon Master asked.
The big Horror shook his head. “No. No one around. No one saw us.”
“Good,” the Dungeon Master rasped from under his black mask. He clasped his hands together and cracked his knuckles loudly, all of them at once.
I shuddered. It sounded like bones breaking.
“Good,” he repeated, turning to us. “I’m so glad to have company. I was getting bored.”
“You can’t do this!” I cried in a trembling voice. “What do you plan to do?”
The Dungeon Master snickered. “Well … this place is called the Dungeon of No Return,” he said. “Does that give you a clue?”
All three of us stared at him. “This … this is a joke—right?” Luke finally said.
Behind the black mask, the Dungeon Master’s yellow eyes flashed. “Yes,” he rasped. “But the joke is on you.” He turned to the other Horrors. “Let’s get them down the stairs,” he ordered.
The grim-faced Horrors moved quickly. They forced us down another curving stone stairway.
We had no choice. Holding onto the damp wall with one hand, we made our way down. The air grew colder. A stale, sour odor rose up to greet us.
I shivered. In the dim yellow light, I could see my breath steam in front of me. Down below, I heard the steady drip of water, echoing dully against the stone walls. And from somewhere in the distance, a long, sad moan. A human moan.
“Our parents will be looking for us,” I called to the Horrors behind us. “You won’t be able to keep us here.”
“Be quiet and keep moving. You’re almost there,” one of them replied gruffly.
Where are Derek and Margo? I wondered. Did they lose us? Or do they know we are down here? Are they hiding somewhere, taping this whole thing?
If the Stranges are here, they should help us, I told myself. The other frightening activities might have been jokes. But this seemed so real. Too real …
“Ohhh!” I slipped on a wet step. I grabbed the cold, rough wall to keep from falling. Green mossy goo clung to my hands.
“Let us out of here!” I pleaded weakly. “You can’t keep us in your stupid dungeon!”
The Horrors didn’t reply.
We stepped into a large, high-ceilinged chamber filled with equipment. Torture equipment. Nooses hung from the ceiling. Chains with handcuffs were attached to the wall in pairs.
I stumbled up against a high wooden wheel covered with metal spikes. Across from me, I saw a small cage, also filled with spikes.
A loud scream made me jump and cry out. A scream of pain, of terror. It was followed by another shrill scream, weaker this time.
The Dungeon Master swept into the room. “Pay no attention to those pitiful bleats,” he said. He motioned to the far wall. “It is another volunteer enjoying our hospitality. I’m afraid he is a very bad sport.”
He pushed his cape behind him. “You are admiring my torture chamber,” he said. “Let me demonstrate my collection of thumbscrews.”
He held up a small metal device. “This fits over your thumb,” he said. “Then I tighten this screw. Tighten it … tighten it
…”
I choked.
He laughed. “Yes. It hurts a little. But after a while in my dungeon, you get used to pain.”
Luke stared down at his thumb, then raised his eyes to the thumbscrew. “Are you … going to put that on us?” he asked in a tiny voice.
The Dungeon Master shook his head. “I have other plans for you. Something more exciting.”
The three Horrors pushed us forward. “Step onto that platform,” the big one ordered.
He gave me a hard shove. We stepped onto a small square platform cut into the floor. As soon as we stood on it, it started to lower.
A trapdoor, I realized.
Stone scraped against stone. The platform bumped as it moved down, a few inches at a time. I struggled to keep my balance.
Where was it taking us?
“Have you ever seen a ferret?” the Dungeon Master called.
Huh? A ferret? The little rodenty animal?
“My friend has a ferret,” Luke replied.
“What does it look like?” Clay asked.
“It has light tan fur and a really skinny body and short legs,” Luke told him.
“But around its eyes it has dark black fur,” I added. “Like a mask.”
“Is it big?” Clay asked.
“It’s about this big.” Luke spread his hands two feet apart.
“Furry, skinny, short, a mask, medium-sized,” Clay recited a list. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said nervously.
“Right?”
>
“Not so bad?” the Dungeon Master snickered. “Have you ever seen a hungry ferret?”
We didn’t have time to reply. The platform bounced as it hit the floor.
Clay toppled off. He fell hard, landing on his side on the damp stones. Luke and I jumped off. Luke helped Clay up.
I gazed around quickly. My eyes stopped at a sign on the wall in front of us: FEED THE FERRETS.
“Oh, no! Look!” Luke grabbed my arm.
I turned in the direction he was gazing.
And saw tiny black eyes— hundreds of glowing eyes—staring back at us.
A chittering sound rose up. The click of rodent feet on stone as the ferrets shifted and started to move.
Hungry ferrets, I thought. Hungry ferrets … feed the ferrets … feed the hungry ferrets … The terrifying words repeated in my mind like an ugly chant.
“Quick—run!” I gasped.
But we were backed against the wall.
Nowhere to run. Nowhere to move.
Flashes of gray. Sleek, furry heads. Clicking teeth. And those cold, darkly glowing eyes …
Chittering, clicking, snapping their teeth, the ferrets stampeded.
We all screamed and backed up against the wall.
Pressed helplessly against the cold stone wall, we watched them attack.
“Nooooooo!” A terrified scream escaped my throat.
Those round black eyes! Those glowing marble eyes! Those hungry eyes!
Shrill shrieks rose up from the ferrets as they leaped at us.
“Ohhhh!” I covered my eyes.
I could feel the warm, furry bodies swarm around my legs.
“Get away!” I yelled, thrashing my feet, kicking at the hungry creatures.
Hundreds of sharp teeth gnawed on my jeans. “Stop!” I hollered. “Leave us alone!”
The ferrets pressed in tighter. They crawled over each other, in a mad frenzy to attack us.
Their shrieks grew shriller.
“They’re going to eat us alive!” Clay wailed.
“Oooo,” I let out a moan as a ferret leaped up from the hungry throng. With a gaping mouth and teeth bared, it flung itself at me.
I jerked to the side to dodge it—and my elbow bumped something. A tiny button on the stone.
I heard a whirring hum as the wall began to move.
“Huh?” I opened my eyes in time to see the stone wall spin.
It spun completely around, pushing the three of us out of the dungeon. Pushing us outside.
Stunned, I heard a dull THUD. Another. Another. Dozens of loud BUMPS on the other side of the wall.
The hungry ferrets were attacking, leaping at the wall, throwing themselves, desperate to get to us.
“Whoa.” I squinted into the sunlight. Luke and Clay appeared dazed but okay.
“A … close … one …,” Clay murmured.
“Helll-llo. Those ferrets were real!” Luke declared, shaking his head. “And they were really hungry.”
I blinked, still waiting for my heart to stop pounding. “What if I hadn’t bumped that button?” I gasped. “What if …” My voice trailed off.
I spun away from the wall. I knew I’d never forget the sight of those glowing black ferret eyes. I’d never be able to erase the sound of their ratlike bodies thudding against the stone from my memory.
Talk about close calls!
I shielded my eyes with one hand and searched for the Stranges. No sign of them.
“Where are they?” I wailed. “I’ve had enough of HorrorLand. I don’t care about their stupid TV show. I want to get out of here!”
“Me too,” Clay agreed.
“Maybe they’re hiding,” Luke suggested. “Getting it all on tape.”
“I don’t care,” I snapped. “This place is too dangerous.”
Clay had his frightened owl expression on his round, pale face. “Maybe Derek and Margo are in trouble,” he whispered. “Maybe they got dragged into a dungeon or something, the way we did.”
“I don’t care,” I moaned. “I want out of here. I think we should—”
“Check that out!” Luke interrupted, pointing across a grassy circle.
I squinted into the sunlight at a small, black-curtained stage with rows of benches in front of it. Huge paintings of white rabbits being pulled from top hats rose up on both sides of the little stage.
Luke pulled me toward the sign at the side of the dark-curtained theater. AMAZ-O THE MAGICIAN. APPEARING—AND DISAPPEARING!—DAILY.
“Huh? What’s he doing here?” I cried. “He’s a very famous magician.” I gazed at Amaz-O’s photo on the sign. He wore a cape and a glittery bow tie. He had black hair tumbling down from a shiny top hat, flashing dark eyes, and a broad, mischievous smile.
I watched two families take seats on the benches. Several other kids were already sitting there, waiting for Amaz-O’s show.
“Maybe we should wait for the Stranges at the magic show,” I suggested. “We’ll be safe there. Lots of people around.”
“And we can watch the show!” Luke gushed. “He’s a great magician. I’ve seen him on TV.”
“It’s not too scary, is it?” Clay asked. He was still pale and shaky from our trip to the dungeon.
“It’s just magic tricks,” Luke told him, trotting toward the stage. “Come on.”
Clay and I followed Luke. The three of us took seats in the third row.
It felt good to sit down. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The little theater was quickly filling up with kids and their parents.
I felt a lot safer surrounded by people. But I kept turning back, searching the area for the Stranges.
What was keeping them?
The afternoon sun floated high in the sky. The air felt wet and sticky. No breeze at all.
I mopped my forehead with the back of my hand. I could go for a cold drink, I thought. But all the food carts we’d seen had been so totally gross and disgusting.
A loud musical fanfare interrupted my thoughts.
A loudspeaker boomed to life, and a deep voice announced: “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, HorrorLand is proud to present the Master of Magic—Amaz-O the Magician!”
Amaz-O strutted onstage to another fanfare. As the audience clapped and cheered, he swept his sparkly cape around and took several deep bows.
Another fanfare. Smiling at the audience, the magician removed his top hat and began pulling things from it. His smile never faded as he pulled out an endless chain of colorful handkerchiefs.
Then he reached in deeper and began to pull out red rubber balls. Dozens of them. Then he twirled the hat, tapped it twice with a short black wand—and began pulling out bunny rabbits. Rabbit after rabbit came up from the hat as the audience cheered.
The little stage filled with bunnies, hopping uncertainly in circles, bumping into each other.
“All empty!” Amaz-O declared finally. He raised the top hat high in the air and smashed it flat with his other hand. “Oh, wait!” He squinted at the flattened hat. “I forgot something in there!”
He punched the hat back to its shape. Then he began pulling pigeons from it.
The audience cheered. They really went wild as pigeon after pigeon came out of the hat.
“How does he do that?” Clay asked my brother.
Luke shrugged. “I think he’s got them up his sleeve or something.”
Amaz-O performed trick after trick. He was really good. Even sitting so close, in the third row, it was impossible to see how he did his tricks.
But I wasn’t really in the mood for magic tricks. The day had been too upsetting, too frightening. And I was beginning to worry about Derek and Margo.
I didn’t pay much attention to Amaz-O’s show. I kept turning back, hoping to find the Stranges coming for us.
I was only half listening when Amaz-O pointed to me. “Yes. You,” he was saying.
“Huh?” My mouth dropped open.
He motioned me forward. “Hurry up. You’re my volunteer.”
>
“But—” I started to protest.
Beside me, Luke and Clay were laughing. “Go, girl!” Luke cried. “Hurry, Lizzy— get up there!”
I was not in the mood for this. But before I realized it, I was standing onstage beside Amaz-O, my knees shaking, wondering what kind of trick I was in.
I didn’t have to wait long. I heard a loud, unfriendly growl. The black curtain behind us lifted. I turned to see two enormous tigers pacing in a tall metal cage.
“It’s my famous tiger cage trick!” Amaz-O declared. He grinned at me, eyes twinkling. “One of us is going into that tiger cage. Can you guess which one?”
My heart skipped a beat. One of the tigers angrily slashed a claw against the cage bars. The other one pulled back its lips and bared its teeth.
“Don’t worry about them,” Amaz-O cried, still grinning. “They’re just angry because I ate their breakfast this morning!” He patted my back. “Maybe you can be lunch!”
I heard Luke and Clay laughing loudly in the audience. I tried to hold back. But Amaz-O guided me firmly up to the cage door.
Both tigers roared and bared their teeth. They watched eagerly as Amaz-O unbolted the door and started to pull it open.
“Our brave volunteer will enter the tiger cage—and the tigers will disappear into thin air!” Amaz-O proclaimed to the audience.
“Uh … this is safe—right?” I whispered.
He nodded. “Just keep in mind one important thing,” he whispered back. “When you’re in there, don’t let them see that you’re afraid. They can smell fear a mile away. Whatever you do, be brave.”
He pulled open the cage door with one hand—and shoved me inside with the other.
“No, wait—please!” I cried.
I heard the door clang shut behind me.
Eyeing me coldly, the tigers lowered their heads as if getting ready to attack. They growled softly. One of them pawed the cage floor.
“Wait!” I cried out as darkness fell over me.
The curtain! Amaz-O had lowered the curtain.
Total blackness now. I could hear the tigers’ low growls, their heavy breathing. But I couldn’t see them.
And then … I staggered back as I heard an angry roar.
The thud of heavy paws.
Now I could feel the tigers’ hot breath on my face.
I backed away. Pressed myself against the cold bars of the tiny cage.