by R. L. Stine
“Easy,” Brad replied. “We’ll be watching. We’ll be watching your every move from that back window.”
“But what if we get caught?” I demanded.
“We won’t,” Brad replied. “There’s no one around, Craig. Only dead people.”
“You’re not afraid of dead people—are you, Craig?” David asked, grinning.
Yes, I answered to myself. Yes, of course I am. I’ve never seen a dead person before.
I’ve never even seen a coffin before. Let alone climbed into one.
A blast of wind made the hedge shiver. Cold raindrops splashed my forehead. Shivering, I pulled the hood back over my hair.
“Go do it, Craig,” Amy urged. “Let’s get it over with. These guys are a waste of time.”
I gazed across the dark parking lot. Could I do it? Could I sneak into the funeral parlor and lie down in a coffin?
As I huddled behind the hedge, the building seemed a mile away.
My legs are shaking too hard, I told myself. I can’t even walk that far.
Just tell them the truth, Craig, I thought. Tell them you’re the biggest chicken that ever clucked. Tell them it’s all a big mistake. You’re not brave. You’ve never been brave.
Amy will be upset. But she’ll get over it … in a year or two.
But then there’s the sixty-dollar bet. I can’t pay it. Where will I get that kind of money?
You have no choice, Craig. You have to do it.
“Okay. Here goes,” I said. I pulled the hood down over my forehead. Leaning into the wind, I pushed through a split in the hedge and stepped into the parking lot.
I was halfway across the lot when a blinding, bright light swept over me.
Caught!
I froze as the light rolled over me.
Shielding my eyes, I turned to the street. And saw a dark van pulling into the driveway to the funeral parlor.
My heart pounding, I staggered back. Turned. And dove for the safety of the hedge.
“Who’s that?” I asked Brad breathlessly.
He shrugged.
We all ducked low behind the shivering hedge. And watched as two white-uniformed men climbed out of the van.
They pulled open the back door. Then, struggling and groaning, they lifted out a long black plastic bag.
A body bag?
Was there a body inside the bag?
We watched in silence as they vanished around the other side of the building, carrying their heavy load.
“A late delivery,” Amy whispered.
I saw Brad shiver.
Gus and Frankie got very quiet.
I realized I’d been holding my breath the whole time. My lungs ached. They felt about to burst. I let the air out in a long whoosh.
“Did you see? I was almost caught,” I murmured. “That was a close call.”
“Do you want to quit?” David demanded. “Want to give up?”
“Too scared to go in, Can-Can-Can-Craig?” Gus chimed in.
“Of course he isn’t scared!” Amy answered for me. “He’s going in—as soon as they leave.”
I shoved my hands deeper into my parka pockets. I tried to hide my face under the hood. I didn’t want anyone to see how terrified I was.
The lights flashed on in the side windows of the funeral parlor. An eerie green light filled the curtained windows.
A minute or so later, the light went out. The two men returned to the van. They slammed the back door shut. Climbed into the front. And drove away.
I turned and saw everyone staring at me.
“I’m going,” I murmured.
Once again, I squeezed through the opening in the hedge. And started to cross the parking lot.
The others followed close behind. Our shoes scraped the damp pavement.
Behind the building, bare trees swayed and shook, as if waving us away.
A narrow strip of grass led to the back of the funeral parlor. My shoes sank into the wet ground, making a soft SQUISH with every step.
The blood pulsed at my temples as I reached the back window. I tried to peer through the glass, but curtains blocked the view. Besides, it was too dark inside to see anything.
“Go ahead. Open the window,” Brad urged. His voice came out shrill and breathless. He sounded frightened too.
Raindrops had spattered the windowpane. I reached both hands to the wooden frame. And pushed.
The window slid up easily. A gust of wind made the curtains billow, like two filmy ghosts.
I leaned over the window ledge and peered inside.
Where was the dead body those guys brought in?
I couldn’t see a thing.
A sharp, sour smell made me hold my breath. “What stinks?” I blurted out.
“Corpses,” David replied, his back pressed against the shingled wall. “Decaying, rotting corpses.”
“Don’t listen to him. It’s formaldehyde,” Amy said. “You know. The stuff they use to embalm the corpses.”
“Yuck.” I took a deep breath through my mouth. The sour smell made my stomach churn.
“Do you want to quit?” Brad asked. I felt his hand on the shoulder of my parka. “Are you afraid? Want to give up? Just say the word.”
“No way!” Amy cried. “Craig doesn’t know the word afraid. He’s going in.” She turned to me. “Want a boost?”
“No,” I replied quickly. I raised both hands to the window ledge. “I’ll just climb in.”
I leaned into the open window. The silky curtains billowed against my face. I started to hoist myself up.
“Remember—the first coffin you see,” Brad reminded. “Open it up and climb in.”
“We’ll be watching,” David added.
“Wish I brought my camera,” Gus chimed in. “I’ve never taken a picture of a guy screaming his head off.”
“Shut up, Gus,” Amy snapped. She said something else, but I didn’t hear her.
I dropped inside the funeral parlor with a THUD, landing on my hands and knees.
I waited a few seconds to catch my breath. Then I climbed slowly to my feet.
I jumped as the window curtains, blown by the wind, brushed against my back. The curtains wrapped around me, as if trying to hold me back.
I tore them away, blinking, struggling to see in the blackness.
“Can I turn on a light?” I called to the window. “I can’t see a thing.”
“No. No lights,” Brad whispered. “Someone might see. Here.” He clicked on a flashlight, held it up to the open window, and sent a dim beam of light darting over the floor.
“Big help,” I muttered to myself.
I took a few steps into the room—tripped over something on the floor—fell forward—and landed on top of it.
A body!
“Oh, nooooo!” I opened my mouth in a moan of horror.
I rolled off it. Scrambled to my feet.
No. Please—no!
I gazed down. Not a body. Some kind of duffel bag. A supply bag maybe.
I froze, struggling to catch my breath.
“What’s wrong, Can-Can-Can-Craig?” David’s mocking voice snapped me into action.
“Nothing,” I called back to them. “No problem.” I hoped they didn’t notice how my voice was shaking.
The circle of light from Brad’s flashlight bounced around at my feet. One of the other boys clicked on another flashlight. So now, two circles of light swirled around like mini-spotlights over the floor.
I squinted around the room. A long room with a low ceiling just a foot or two over my head. I saw two metal tables side by side. One of them stood bare. The other was covered by a sheet.
A desk cluttered with papers. A row of filing cabinets against one wall. Coils and tubes. Equipment that looked as if it belonged in a hospital.
And then …
… coffins.
A long row of dark wood coffins, shiny in the light from the darting flashlights. Coffins resting on low tables.
“Oh, wow,” I murmured. My mouth d
ropped open.
I shielded my eyes as one of the flashlight beams rolled onto my face. “Cut it out!” I called angrily to the window.
“The first coffin,” Brad instructed. “Go to the first coffin.”
I turned and saw him pointing with the flashlight.
“He’s wimping out,” I heard Frankie say. “Step back, guys. Give him room to run.”
“He’s not running,” Amy said sharply. “Go get ‘em, Craig!” she shouted. “This is easy money!”
Easy for her, maybe.
I stared from coffin to coffin. Could I really climb in one?
What did it feel like? I wondered. What did it smell like?
My heart pounding, I turned back to the window. “Do I have to pull the lid closed over me?” I asked, staring into the twin circles of light.
“Just climb in,” Brad replied impatiently. “Are you going to do it or not, Craig? It’s getting cold out here.”
“Of course he’s going to do it,” Amy answered for me again.
I turned and walked slowly up to the first coffin. The two beams of light flashed onto the green wall above it. The coffin lid was closed.
“Go, Craig! Go, Craig!” Amy chanted, urging me on.
“What is he waiting for?” David whispered.
I lowered my hands to the coffin lid. The wood felt cool and smooth. My heart pounded so hard I could barely breathe.
Push it up and jump in, Craig, I told myself.
Don’t even think about it—just do it.
It’s no big deal. No big deal at all. A coffin is just a big wooden box.
It’s no different from lying down on a bed.
My hands left cold, wet spots on the shiny wood. The circles of light danced on the wall.
I gripped the lid. Took a deep breath.
Pushed with all my strength.
The coffin lid slid open. I gazed inside —and started to scream.
Dark eyes stared up at me—glassy, blank eyes.
I saw dark lips, frozen in a sick, unnatural smile. One jagged tooth poked out over the bottom lip.
The face.
I couldn’t really see the face clearly. It was hidden in deep shadow.
But I could see deep scars across its forehead and cheeks.
And I could see the dark form of the body. Two arms crossed over the chest.
Lying still … so still.
Was I still screaming—or had I stopped? My shrill wail still rang in my ears.
“Craig—what’s wrong?” Amy’s voice rose over the sound. “What is it?”
“A—a corpse,” I stammered, pointing with a trembling finger into the coffin.
“I told you he’d scream,” I heard Gus say.
I heard the other boys snickering.
“Big surprise. A corpse in a funeral home!”
They laughed again.
“It isn’t funny,” I gasped. “It’s a dead body.”
My stomach churned. My throat tightened so hard, my breath whistled.
The lights lowered to the floor. I struggled to see the corpse’s face.
No. No. Too dark.
“So do you give up?” Brad demanded.
“He can’t do it!” Gus declared.
“We win!” David cheered. “We win sixty big ones!”
“No way!” Amy protested. She poked her head through the window. “You can still do it—right, Craig? You can lie down in there? Easy, right?”
“Huh?” I choked out, my voice cracking. “Lie down on top of the corpse?”
“I know you’re not afraid,” Amy said.
Not afraid? I’m TERRIFIED!
“Do it!” Amy urged.
I turned back to the coffin. Outside the window, the others grew silent. I peered into the darting gray light.
I gripped the side of the coffin.
The sour odor of formaldehyde swirled around me. I suddenly felt sick. My stomach lurched.
I leaned over the coffin.
Can I do it? Can I climb in?
No, I realized.
No. I can’t. No way. I just can’t.
I let go of the coffin and started to back away.
I heard a groan.
And saw a quick gray blur.
The hand.
The corpse’s hand.
It shot up—and grabbed the front of my parka.
I opened my mouth to scream—but no sound came out.
The hand tightened its grip.
The other hand grabbed on.
The corpse gave a hard tug, pulling me into the coffin.
“No—” I gasped. I tried to pull back.
The corpse sat up. Gripping my parka. Pulling … pulling me in …
The glassy eyes glared at me without blinking.
The scars over the cheek and forehead throbbed darkly.
“No … no …” I gripped the corpse’s wrists. Tried to shove the dead hands off.
But the corpse dove forward and wrapped its hands around my shoulders.
It used me to pull itself up. Then to pull me down into the coffin.
“No … No …” The word escaped my throat in a horrified chant. “No …”
The corpse kept pulling. My face was buried in its chest.
I jerked back.
And fell to the floor—taking the corpse with me.
“Ouch!” I cried out in pain as the body landed heavily on top of me.
“Get off! Get off!” I shrieked.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I was wrestling with it. Rolling out from under it. Pushing … pushing it away.
But the corpse held on to my arms. Pulled me down on top of it.
We wrestled frantically, rolling over and over.
Groaning and grunting. Tugging at each other.
My chest ached. My head spun.
I shot up both hands. Grabbed the corpse’s wiry black hair.
Grabbed the hair—and tugged. Tugged with all my strength.
And pulled its head off!
No. Not its head.
Not a head.
The scars wrinkled. The mouth, with its one overhanging tooth, collapsed.
A mask. A rubber mask.
Swallowing hard, I lowered my gaze—and stared at Travis’s scowling face.
Travis? Travis in the coffin?
Of course. Why hadn’t I guessed?
We stared at each other, our mouths open, chests heaving up and down, both struggling to catch our breath.
I expected him to jump up. Laugh. Celebrate his victory.
But instead, he shook his head unhappily. “How did you know it was me?” he asked.
Ceiling lights flashed on. Blinking in the bright light, I turned and saw that the others had climbed in through the window.
Brad picked up the ugly, scarred mask and rolled it around on his hand. Amy reached out and helped pull me to my feet.
“How did you know it was me?” Travis demanded again.
“Well …” I felt so stunned, I couldn’t think.
I had no idea it was Travis. I really thought a corpse had come to life!
“You didn’t fool Craig for a minute!” Amy’s voice broke into my thoughts. “See? You can’t scare him. He’s too brave and he’s too smart.”
“I don’t get it,” Travis murmured, still down on the floor. “I thought you’d turn and run. I thought you’d run out of here screaming and never stop. I really did.”
Amy let out a scornful laugh. “That’ll be the day!” She turned to the others. “Pay up, losers. Sixty bucks.”
“You fought me and pulled off my mask,” Travis said. He appeared to be in shock. “How did you know? How?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what to say.
I couldn’t tell him the truth. That I was petrified. That I nearly died of fright.
I’ve got to stop this crazy game, I told myself. I’ve got to stop Travis and Brad. And Amy!
But Amy’s voice rang out again. “So you dressed up as a corpse? A phony corpse
? That was no big deal,” she bragged. “Craig isn’t afraid of fake corpses. He isn’t afraid of real corpses!”
“Oh, yeah?” Travis replied, finally climbing to his feet.
“Craig will climb into a coffin with a real corpse,” Amy declared. “No problem!”
Amy—shut up! Shut up! I thought. I balled my hands into tight fists.
Why didn’t she ever check with me first? Did she really think I could do anything?
Travis narrowed his eyes at me. He brushed a ball of lint off the shoulder of my parka. “Not afraid of real corpses, huh?” he said, studying me.
“Well …,” I started.
“Okay. We’ll see about that,” Travis said.
“No … uh …,” I stammered.
Travis turned to Amy. “One last bet,” he told her. “Craig’s final challenge.”
I hated the way he said final!
“Double or nothing,” Travis added. “We’ll meet you back here. Real soon.”
The next night, I paced back and forth in my room and practiced my speech to Amy. “This has to stop. I don’t want a final challenge. I can’t take one more dare. I really can’t take it.”
I said the words out loud. I repeated my speech again and again, until I knew every word by heart.
Maybe, I thought, if I tell her the truth, Amy will finally listen to me.
If I stop pretending and let her know the truth about me, I know she’ll stop bragging about me. And I can live a normal, peaceful, safe life.
I ran through the speech one more time. Then I picked up the phone and punched in Amy’s number.
She picked up after the third ring.
“Hi, it’s me,” I said. My whole body felt tense and tight. But I didn’t care. In a few minutes, I hoped, my nightmare would be over.
“Craig, what did you get for the third math problem?” she asked.
“I don’t want to talk about math now,” I replied.
“I never want to talk about math!” she exclaimed. “But I need help with the third problem.”
I sighed and dropped down onto the edge of my bed. “Listen, I have to tell you something,” I said.
Silence for a moment.
“Are you okay?” she asked finally. “You sound so … serious.”
“I need to tell you something,” I repeated.
“Okay. Shoot,” she replied.
I took a deep breath and started my speech. “I’m not brave,” I announced.