by R. L. Stine
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you and goodbye. I promise you’ll never see me again.”
“Better hurry,” he replied. “You’ve only got a few minutes.” He turned and started to jog back into the house.
I gazed at the garage. It stood at the edge of the lawn, only twenty or thirty steps away. But to me, it was a mile in the distance.
Could I walk that far?
Was I strong enough to make it to the garage and up to the top room?
If I let go of the tree, will I just blow away like a leaf? I wondered.
My whole body trembled. I knew I had no choice. I had to try for it. It was my only hope.
My last hope.
Slowly, slowly I let my hands slide off the smooth tree bark. I sank to my knees in the grass.
Should I crawl?
No.
I took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled myself to my feet.
A gust of wind blew against me. I gritted my teeth and leaned into it.
I took a step forward. Then another.
It felt as if the wind was trying to keep me from the garage. But I had to get there.
I lowered my head and pushed forward. I tried to think heavy thoughts.
I’m a ship’s anchor, I told myself. I’m an elephant.
Forward. Step by step. Pushing my light body against the steady, stiff breeze.
I’m nearly there, I realized. Just a few more steps.
I uttered a cry as a sharp gust lifted me off the grass. It sent me flying back. A few seconds later I dropped heavily onto the grass.
I’m not going to quit, I told myself. I’m going to get there. I’m going to get to the portal.
I leaned forward again, lowering my head and shoulders—and trudged ahead. One step. Another. Another.
Breathing hard, my chest heaving from the effort, I stepped into the cool darkness of the garage.
I hugged myself, trying to stop my trembling. And peered at the stairs, half-hidden in darkness at the back wall.
The stairs to the portal between our worlds.
The portal … the portal …
“NO!” I let out a hoarse, angry scream. “NO! NO!”
I shouted in fury—in terror—because I suddenly knew this was wrong.
My twin had lied to me again.
He lied. He lied.
The garage room can’t be the portal.
Because I’ve never been up in the garage room!
I couldn’t move from one world to the other from there—since I’d never been there!
“Get up there, Ross!” a voice barked, right behind me.
I turned and saw my twin. His expression was cold, angry. He gave me a hard shove. “Get up there,” he repeated. “I don’t want anyone to hear your last screams.”
“N-no, please—” I begged weakly.
But he gave me another shove. “It will all be over in a few minutes.”
I stumbled forward. He moved to block my escape.
I felt so weak. Pain shot up and down my body. I wanted to curl up … curl up into a tiny ball and disappear.
But I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t let him do this to me. I wouldn’t!
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
“AAAAAAAGH!” With a cry of fury I spun around—and threw myself onto him.
Startled, he stumbled back.
I clung to him, my arms wrapped around his shoulders. I clung to him with all the strength I had left.
“Get off! Get off me!” he shrieked. He backed out of the garage, twisting, turning, trying to pry me off.
But I held on tight, wrestling with him. Struggling against the pain that pulsed over me. Feeling so light … so light …
He backed across the lawn. He grasped my arms and squeezed them. “Get off me!”
“No!” I whispered. “I won’t give up! I want to go home!”
We wrestled over the grass. I gasped for breath. I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer.
And suddenly we were at the edge of our swimming pool. Wrestling. Thrashing. Bending and twisting.
I gazed into the water, sparkling so blue under the afternoon sunlight.
And in the gently rippling water, I saw our reflections. Both of our faces, side by side in the shimmering water.
Just like the first time I saw him.
Exactly like the first time we met.
“Go!” my twin screamed, wrestling hard. “Go forever, Ross!”
I couldn’t hold on to him any longer. He flung me off him. I fell into the pool like a sagging inner tube.
But I reached out—and grabbed his arm.
And pulled him in with me.
We both sank into the cold water. Down … down …
So cold and clear … shimmering with a million dots of sunlight … so unreal …
We stared at each other underwater … stared face to face as we had that night … gazed with the same eyes at our identical faces …
Lower … lower into the cold, clear water.
And this time it was me who mouthed the words: Go away.
And as I said it, the water began to darken. As if someone had dimmed the lights.
My chest felt about to explode.
My twin faded away. Vanished in the blackening water.
All dark. All dark now.
I swam in blackness. My chest burning. My whole body throbbing.
The horror rose up … rose up around me.
For I knew that I had failed … failed.
I was fading into the blackness.
Fading away forever.
Choking …
I’m choking, I realized. Can’t breathe.
I blinked my eyes open. Felt water slide down my cheeks. Stared through a film of water over my eyes.
Am I still underwater?
So dark. Dark as night.
I coughed up water. Choked and gagged.
Tried to blink the water from my eyes.
And stared up at Cindy and Sharma. Their faces tight with worry. Tears staining Sharma’s pale face.
“Hey—he opened his eyes!”
My ears rang. The cry sounded so far away. But I recognized Max’s voice.
Cindy leaned over me. “You’re okay, Ross,” she said in a trembling whisper.
“You’re going to be okay,” Sharma added.
I opened my eyes wide. I could see clearly now.
I was lying on my back. Staring up at a lot of faces. Beyond the two girls I saw Max and his father. And other kids I knew, all in swimsuits, all huddled together, worried and tense.
Above them the moon floated above a layer of clouds. Night. It was night.
And I was lying on my back on the terrace beside Max’s swimming pool.
“I’m so sorry,” Cindy said, leaning over me.
“We were just kidding around,” Sharma said, holding my arm. “It was supposed to be a joke. We didn’t mean to hold you under so long.”
“But then you started to choke,” Cindy whispered. “It—it was so horrible! You weren’t breathing, and—” Her words caught in her throat. She turned away.
“My dad saved your life,” Max said.
“It’s a good thing I took that CPR class,” Max’s father said. He leaned over me. “Do you feel okay, Ross?”
“Yeah … I guess,” I said weakly. I sat up. I was lying in a puddle of cold water.
“We’re so sorry,” Cindy repeated. “Really, Ross. We didn’t mean to hold you under so long. We were so stupid. Please—please forgive us.”
The two girls went on apologizing, but I wasn’t listening.
I was thinking about my parallel world adventure. Was it all a crazy dream?
It had to be.
It all never happened. I was drowning and my mind hallucinated the whole thing.
I breathed a long sigh of relief and jumped to my feet.
I felt so happy—so happy to be alive, to be back with my friends. I ran around and hugged everyone—even Max!
I
’m in my world, I thought gleefully. I’m in the real world. And I’m going to stay here!
Everyone started talking and laughing at the same time. The music rang out again. The party was back underway.
I thanked Max’s father, said goodbye to Max, and started running through the backyards to my house. I suddenly remembered about Jake.
I had left him all alone. I wasn’t supposed to go out.
Was I going to be in major trouble?
I didn’t care. I was so happy, so happy to be back!
I burst into the house and ran up to Jake’s room. “Hey—” I called. “What’s up?”
Jake was sitting on the bed with his back to me. He turned slowly.
And I opened my mouth in a scream of horror.
His face—his face was gone.
I gaped at his skull … his gray, rutted, worm-infested skull … empty eye sockets staring blankly back at me … his jaw open in an evil toothless grin.
My scream choked off in my throat. I staggered back as Jake’s laugh rang out from under the ugly skull.
He raised both hands and tugged the skull off. “Gotcha!” he grinned at me.
A mask.
“You’re a wimp,” Jake said. “You scare like a little baby!”
I didn’t care about his dumb joke. I was so happy to see my brother, I hugged him, too.
“Get off me!” he cried. “What’s your problem, Ross? Yuck!”
I backed off, laughing.
I’m here! I thought. Here in my normal world.
Normal. Everything normal!
I tossed back my head and let out a joyful shout.
My cry was cut short when I heard voices in the hall.
I turned—and gasped—as two more Jakes stepped into the room!
“N-no—!” I stammered. “It—it isn’t possible!”
The three identical boys stared at me as if I was crazy.
Mom burst into the room. “Ross, you didn’t go out, did you?” she asked angrily. “I need you to stay home and take care of the triplets.”
My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t speak.
My eyes went from face to face to face.
I messed up, I told myself. I really messed up.
Somehow, I ended up in another parallel world.
How do I get out of here?
I can’t live with three Jakes. I can’t! I can’t!
“Well?” Mom demanded, hands on her waist. “Are you going to stay home and watch your brothers?”
“Well …” I said.
Go Deeper Into This
Nightmare…
Double Trouble
What happened to Ross is extremely strange, but many people claim to have had similar experiences. They say they have seen their exact double. The term that’s often used to describe these doubles is Doppelganger, which is a German word meaning “double walker.” In most cases, a visit by a Doppelganger means big trouble.
Did you ever hear of the French writer Guy de Maupassant? He wrote lots of stories with twist endings, but his own life had a creepy twist of its own. The first time de Maupassant saw his double, it was sitting in the writer’s favorite chair. But the double vanished as soon as de Maupassant called his servant. A few months later, the writer was working when he heard the door to his study open. He turned and there was the double looking at him sadly. The double walked around the desk and sat down and buried its face in its hands. Horrified, de Maupassant stood up and the double disappeared. De Maupassant believed that something terrible was going to happen to him.
He was right. A year later de Maupssant died in an insane asylum. Did seeing the double cause this horrible death? Was the double trying to warn him? Or was seeing the double just a sign that the writer was already insane? Impossible to know.
Here’s a double story that has a little more “proof.” A man named Bryan C. ran a small business in New Jersey with his nephew as a partner. One winter, Bryan was in the hospital, so his partner had to run the business alone. As Bryan was lying in bed, he saw his exact double come into the room to visit him. The double warned Bryan that his partner was going to the bank to take out all the company’s money and run away with it. But the double added: “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.” Then it disappeared. The next day the doctor came into Bryan’s room—and he was furious. “How could you leave the hospital and go downtown?” Bryan didn’t know what the doctor meant until he saw the newspaper—which had a headline that said BUSINESSMAN CATCHES PARTNER STEALING, MAKES CITIZEN’S ARREST. A happy ending—but a story that definitely qualifies Bryan for membership in the Nightmare Room.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
R.L. STINE says he has a great job. “My job is to give kids the CREEPS!” With his scary books, R.L. has terrified kids all over the world. He has sold over 300 million books, making him the best-selling children’s author in history.
These days, R.L. is dishing out new frights in his series THE NIGHTMARE ROOM. When he isn’t working, he likes to read old mysteries, watch SpongeBob Squarepants on TV, and take his dog, Nadine, for long walks around New York City, where he lives with his wife, Jane, and son, Matthew.
“I love taking my readers to scary places,” R.L. says. “Do you know the scariest place of all? It’s your MIND!”
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author
Take a look at what’s ahead in
THE NIGHTMARE ROOM #5
Dear Diary, I’m Dead
“You did what?” Shawn screamed. “Alex, are you totally whacked?”
“I’m going to win this one,” I said.
“But you never win a bet with Tessa,” Chip said. “How could you bet a hundred dollars?”
We were in Chip’s garage after school, tuning up our guitars. The garage had only one electrical outlet, so we could plug in only two amps. That meant that one of us had to play acoustic, even though we all had electric guitars.
“I won’t need a hundred dollars,” I said, “because I’m going to win.”
Sproinnnng.
I broke a string. I let out a groan. “I’ll just play without it,” I muttered.
Shawn shook his head. “You’re crazy, Alex. After what happened with McArthur and the flag … ”
“That was a sure thing!” I cried. “I should have won that bet!”
Just thinking about it made me angry.
A few weeks ago, I made a deal with Mr. McArthur. He’s one of the janitors at school. Except he’s not called a janitor. He’s called a maintenance engineer.
McArthur is a nice guy. He and I kid around sometimes. So I made a deal with him.
He raises the flag every morning on the flagpole in front of our school. So I paid him five dollars to raise it upside down on Wednesday morning.
Then I dragged Tessa to school early and bet her ten dollars that he would raise the flag upside down.
“You’re crazy, Alex,” Tessa said, rolling her eyes. “McArthur has never slipped up like that.”
He will this morning, I thought happily. I started planning how I’d spend Tessa’s ten bucks.
How was I to know that Mrs. Juarez, the principal, would arrive at school just when McArthur was raising the flag?
She came walking up the steps and saw McArthur. So she stopped in front of the pole, raised her hand to her heart, and waited to watch the flag go up.
Of course McArthur chickened out. He raised the flag right-side up.
I didn’t blame him. What could he do with her standing right there?
But I had to pay Tessa the ten bucks. And then McArthur said he’d pay me back my five dollars in a week or so. Not a good day.
“It’s my turn,” I told my two friends. “Tessa has won about three hundred bets in a row. So it’s definitely my turn!”
“But why did you bet her that your diary would be more exciting than hers?” Shawn asked.
“Because it will be,” I said. “Tessa is real smart and gets perfect
grades. That’s because all she does is study. She spends all her time on homework and projects for extra credit. She’s so totally boring! So her diary can’t be exciting. No way!”
“Who’s going to decide whose diary is the best?” Chip asked.
“We’re going to let Miss Gold decide,” I said. “But it won’t be a hard choice for her. This is one bet I’m not going to lose.”
“Want to bet?” Chip asked.
I squinted across the garage at him. “Excuse me?”
“Bet you five dollars Tessa wins this bet, too.”
“You’re on!” I said. I slapped him a high-five.
“Count me in,” Shawn said. “Five bucks on Tessa.”
“You guys are real losers,” I groaned. “Let’s play. What’s the first song?”
“How about ‘Purple Haze’?” Chip suggested. “It’s our best song.”
“It’s our only song,” I muttered.
We counted off, tapping our feet, and started to play “Purple Haze.” We played for about ten seconds, when we heard a loud, crackling pop.
The music stopped and the lights went out.
We’d blown the fuses again.
A short while later, I dragged my guitar case into the house. Mom greeted me at the door. “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said. “I have a surprise.”
I tossed my backpack onto the floor. Then I tossed my jacket on top of it.
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” I said. “I’ll bet you five dollars it’s a puppy. You finally bought me that puppy I asked for when I was six?”
Mom shook her head. “No puppy. You know your dad is allergic.”
“He can breathe at work,” I said. “Why does he have to breathe at home?”
Mom laughed. She thinks I’m a riot. She laughs at just about everything I say.
“I’ll bet five dollars it’s … a DVD player!” I exclaimed.
Mom shook her head. “No way, Alex. And stop betting every second. That’s such a bad habit. Is that why you’re broke all the time?”
I didn’t answer that question. “What’s the surprise?” I asked.
“Come on. I’ll show you.” Mom pulled me upstairs to my bedroom. I could see she was excited.