Revenge of the Living Dummy

by R. L. Stine

  “Let’s get you back home,” Mom said. She started to guide me to the car.

  I took a few steps, then remembered the Mind Stealer. “One more thing I have to do,” I said. “Go back to the car. I’ll be there in one second.”

  I waited till they began walking to the car. The dummy’s arms and legs dangled lifelessly as Dad carried it away.

  I was finally breathing normally. I felt so happy … so relieved.

  Slappy was gone. His mind erased.

  Now I just had to deal with the Mind Stealer doll.

  I dropped to my knees and stared at it through the cracked lid of the glass case. The dry, black lips were curled in a smile. The empty eye sockets had opened wide.

  I forced myself to look away. Carefully, I lifted the case off the ground and lowered it into the hole. Then I began to shove dirt over it, pawing the dirt frantically with both hands.

  Breathing hard, I scooped dirt into the hole until the case was completely buried.

  Yes! The doll was buried deep under the dirt now. Hidden where it could do no more harm.

  I pulled myself to my feet and brushed the dirt off the knees of my jeans. My legs were trembling, my heart pounding.

  I took a deep breath. Then I turned and started to walk away.

  I walked three or four steps. Then I heard the voice.

  Slappy’s voice. An ugly, crackling rasp — dry as dead leaves … Slappy calling to me from inside the buried doll …

  “I’ll be back, Britney. I’m a BAAAAA AD boy!”

  DEAR BRITNEY CROSBY:

  Let the SCREAMS begin! You have won a free, weeklong stay at HORRORLAND Theme Park, the SCARIEST Place on Earth!

  Bring your PARENTS. Bring your friend MOLLY MOLLOY. And be sure to bring something to feed the WEREWOLVES (like an arm or a leg!).

  We’ve enclosed FREE PASSES to CROCODILE CAFÉ, where you can grab a quick bite. And free tickets to our challenging SWIM-WITH-A-HUNGRY-SHARK ride! (Hope you’re a FAST swimmer!)

  You don’t need a ticket to the BOTTOMLESS QUICKSAND PIT. Drop in anytime!

  We know you and Molly will never forget your stay at our famous hotel, STAGGER INN — it’s a real SCREAM! (Really!)

  So come be our GHOST — oops — we mean GUEST.

  We look forward to SCARING you!

  Please RSVP to:

  Di Kwickley, Guest Relations

  Molly and I sat in the backseat of my parents’ car and talked all the way to HorrorLand. After four straight hours of our talk talk talk, Dad cranked up the radio as loud as he could. That was his subtle hint that we should take a break.

  “You two are chattering like magpies,” Mom said.

  “What are magpies?” I asked.

  “Little black-and-white birds that chatter a lot,” Mom said. “Why don’t you two enjoy the scenery for a while?”

  “Yeah. For sure,” I said.

  Molly and I went back to our conversation. We were totally psyched.

  Our friends Kaitlin and Jason went to HorrorLand last spring. They told us all about it when they got back. They said it was the coolest place they’d ever been.

  “They have a werewolf petting zoo,” Kaitlin said. “Do you believe it?” She laughed. “The were-wolves looked totally real! It was awesome!”

  Jason liked the rides. He said to be sure to check out the Doom Slide, the world’s longest slide. “And don’t miss Black Lagoon Water Park,” he said. “You’ll love the Bottomless Canoe ride, and you won’t believe Quicksand Beach. Once you start sinking, you think you’ll never stop!”

  So here we were, on our way to the famous, scary theme park, riding through endless farmland, all the windows down because the air conditioner stopped working, talking nonstop.

  Finally, the park came into view. We drove through the wide-open mouth of an enormous purple dragon. It had to be ten stories high! Into the endless parking lot, jammed with cars.

  Up ahead, I saw a tall green-and-purple billboard. It said:

  I slapped Molly a high five. “This is gonna be awesome!” I cried.

  “And it’s all free!” Dad chimed in. “Britney, what did you do to win free tickets?”

  I shrugged. “Beats me. I didn’t enter a contest or anything. I don’t know how I got picked.”

  “They seemed to know a lot about us,” Molly said. “They knew my name. It’s totally weird.”

  “This is one of the biggest theme parks in the world,” Dad said. “They do a lot of research on people.”

  We climbed out of the car. The afternoon sun beamed down from a clear, cloudless sky. Large black birds circled high overhead.

  “Are those buzzards?” Mom asked, shielding her eyes with one hand. “Don’t buzzards feed on dead things?”

  Dad laughed. “They’re probably animated robots or something. Very clever.”

  He watched the buzzards for a moment. Then he popped the trunk and started to pull out our bags.

  I tried to see into the park. But it was surrounded by a tall green fence.

  Deep, scary organ music poured out of speakers above our heads.

  Mom frowned. “That’s the kind of music they play at funerals,” she murmured.

  Molly tugged the sleeve of my T-shirt. “Hear those kids screaming?” she asked. She suddenly looked frightened.

  Yes. I heard loud screams on the other side of the fence. “Sounds like they’re on a roller coaster or something,” I told her. “Remember? Jason said the rides here are incredible.”

  Dad pulled out his new digital camera and snapped some pictures of the park entrance and the big WELCOME sign. Then we carried our bags down the long row of cars. I spotted a ticket booth next to the wide iron front gate. It looked like a little castle and was green and purple like everything else at HorrorLand.

  Molly laughed. “Check out that sign.” She pointed to the fence beside the ticket booth.

  The sign read: YOU MUST BE THIS TALL TO ENTER. And the arrow was only two feet off the ground!

  Dad pulled out his camera and clicked a photo of it.

  “Looks like fun,” Mom said. “It’ll be like living inside a horror movie for a week.”

  We lined our bags up on the walk and stepped up to the ticket window.

  No one in there.

  “That’s weird,” Dad said. “Maybe this booth is closed.”

  “It can’t be,” I said. “Look around. It’s the only ticket booth.”

  “Be patient,” Mom said. “Someone will come.” So we waited. And waited some more. With the hot sun broiling us, sweat making the back of my neck prickle. Listening to the screams inside and watching the fat buzzards swoop low overhead.

  “Something is wrong,” Dad muttered. “If this is the only ticket booth, I think —”

  He never finished his sentence.

  Suddenly, a hideous horned creature — purple and green with pointed fangs and giant curled claws — leaped out through the ticket window. With a low, nasty growl, it wrapped its claws around my throat.

  And I started to scream.

  “Sorry,” the creature said. He let go of my throat and patted my shoulder gently. “Just doing my job, you know.” He had a British accent.

  We all laughed. My heart was still pounding. But I didn’t want to let on that he had scared me.

  He climbed back into the ticket booth and poked his head out the opening. His long horns scraped the sides of the booth.

  “I’m a Horror,” he said. “We’re the park workers. You know. The guides. It’s not a bad job. I have paid vacations — and I get to eat any small children I can catch.”

  We all laughed.

  On the other side of the fence, I heard snarling animal sounds. The snarls turned to a roar. And then I heard people running and screaming their heads off.

  The Horror shook his head. “Sounds like one of the creatures escaped Werewolf Village,” he said. “That happens from time to time. It can be very messy.”

  Molly and I exchanged glances. I wished Molly would l
ighten up. She looked so tense. She had to know this was all a joke.

  “We have a special invitation,” Dad said. He pulled the letter from his wallet and handed it to the Horror.

  The Horror pretended to eat it. Then he pulled it out of his mouth and read it carefully. He punched some keys on his computer and then poked his head back out.

  “Yes, I see,” he said, suddenly serious. “I see. Britney and Molly, you are very special guests.” Then he laughed a cold and evil laugh.

  His laugh gave me a chill. What did he mean by very special?

  “So, do we just go in?” Dad asked.

  The Horror shook his head. Once again, his pointy horns scraped the walls of the booth. “No, you can’t go in,” he said.

  Dad squinted at him. “I … don’t understand.”

  “Before I can let you in,” the Horror said, “I have to make each one of you scream.”

  I laughed. “You’re joking, right? We all have to scream?”

  “We keep your scream on file,” he said. “So we can identify you later.”

  Excuse me?

  Identify us later?

  What did that mean?

  The Horror pulled out a small black microphone. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said. “It’s connected to my computer.”

  We lined up one by one and did our best scream into the microphone. Mom’s was the best. I couldn’t believe it. She really sounded like she was in a horror movie.

  Molly did a tiny, shrill scream. You could barely hear her. Mine was pretty good. Maybe too long. I screamed till my throat hurt.

  After Dad screamed, his face turned bright red. He’s kind of shy and I think he was embarrassed.

  The metal gate swung open. The Horror pointed inside. “Wait by the road there. A taxi will pick you up and take you to the hotel. A Horror will be waiting to take you to your rooms.”

  The four of us walked through the tall gate. It slid shut behind us and clicked, as if locking us inside.

  Dad suddenly turned. “Hey, wait —” he called to the Horror. “Our suitcases.”

  The Horror stepped out of the ticket booth and walked over to our bags. “You won’t be needing these where you’re going!” he said.

  He pulled a blowtorch from behind his back, flamed it up — and set our suitcases on fire!

  “Hey, stop —!” Dad screamed. “What are you doing?”

  I stood there, frozen in shock. Molly squeezed my hand.

  Mom and Dad both grabbed the bars of the metal gate and tried to slide it open. But it had snapped shut. We were trapped inside.

  Flames rose high over the suitcases. The cases burned like paper, turning brown, then black under the darting flames.

  “Are you crazy? You can’t do that!” Dad screamed. “All our belongings! Everything we brought!” He tugged at the bars.

  I peered through the gate. The Horror had vanished.

  “Calm down,” Mom said, holding on to his shoulder. “Come on, Sean. Calm down. It has to be a joke.”

  “Right,” I said. “It’s special effects, Dad. Don’t lose it. We just got here. Bet you a million dollars our bags will be at the hotel when we get there.”

  The four of us gazed through the bars. Our cases were black and charred. Flames burned over our clothes, making a sizzling, crackling sound.

  I spun around when I heard a horn honk. A long yellow taxi squealed to a stop beside us. In big black letters on the side, it read: LAST RIDE CAB CO.

  A Horror stuck his head out of the driver’s window. “Crosby family? Ready for your last ride? All aboard!” he called. He had a high, scratchy voice. He reached back and pulled open the back door for us.

  All four of us squeezed into the backseat. The brown leather was cracked and faded. The car smelled kind of sour.

  “Buckle up!” the Horror said, making the engine roar.

  We all reached behind us. “There aren’t any seat belts,” Molly said.

  “No problem,” the Horror muttered. “I’ve got mine buckled.”

  “Is it a long ride?” Dad asked.

  “I know a shortcut,” he said.

  The taxi lurched forward. Molly grabbed my arm. As we picked up speed, I stared out at the park. It rolled by so fast, it was mostly a blur of bright colors and faces.

  I saw some kids running from a giant, roaring gorilla. And we passed under a ride where kids were sitting on huge bats, their wings flapping as they circled the sky.

  A red-and-black sign on the front of a very tall building read: VAMPIRE STATE BUILDING. BLOOD DONORS WELCOME. Across the road, I glimpsed a tiny shack with a sign out front: WORM AND BAIT SHOP. ALL YOU CAN EAT.

  We passed a crowded outdoor theater. Outside, a sign read: TV’S HIT SHOW — DANCING WITH THE SQUIDS. Squinting out the window, I saw three kids onstage wrestling with giant squids twice their size!

  “Can we skip that one?” Molly asked.

  “It’s a lot of fun,” the driver said. “Unless they sit on you.”

  He slowed the taxi as we swerved through a crowd of kids in Scout uniforms. “Don’t want to mow down too many Scouts,” he said in his scratchy voice. “They complain if I hit more than two or three of them!”

  The road got narrow and bumpy as we entered what looked like a swamp with tangled palm trees and tall ferns. The car zoomed forward and my head hit the roof with each hard bump.

  “Ow. Could you slow down a little?” Mom asked.

  The driver didn’t answer. His eyes were on the controls. He spun the wheel one way, then the other.

  The taxi bumped off the road, into tall grass. The tires slid and spun in the mud. The Horror yanked the wheel from side to side. He pumped hard on the brakes again and again.

  “It’s busted! I knew this would happen!” he cried. “I warned them at the garage.”

  “OWWW!” I yelled as we hit a deep hole. Ferns and tree branches smacked the windows as we sped over the marshy grass.

  “This is no joke!” the Horror cried. “Look!” He spun the wheel completely around.

  “What’s wrong?” Dad cried.

  “The steering and the brakes are out!” the Horror said. “I can’t control this thing!”

  We bumped over something hard. The car jerked up, then down again. We picked up speed. It was all a green blur outside the window.

  “This isn’t part of the deal,” the Horror said. “They promised they’d fix it!”

  He pumped the brakes a few more times, but the car roared ahead.

  “I’m really sorry, folks. This never happened before,” he said. “I … I’m really sorry to do this.”

  I cried out as he shoved open his door. He let go of the steering wheel, turned his body. And — screaming his head off — dove from the car.

  I saw him tumble through the tall grass. His open car door scraped against thick vines and tree limbs as we roared past. Faster — bumping and lurching. The four of us bounced with every bump, helpless in the backseat, unable to reach the controls.

  Then I saw the red brick wall rise up in front of us.

  I opened my mouth to scream.

  But Molly beat me to it. “We — we’re going to HIT IT!” she wailed. “We’re going to CRASH!”

  “YAAAAAIIIIIIII!”

  All four of us screamed in horror.

  As the brick wall rose up in front of us, the taxi squealed to a sudden stop. My head bumped the car roof again. I looked down and saw I was squeezing Molly’s hand.

  Our doors popped open. No one moved. I sat there shaking, struggling to catch my breath.

  The driver came trotting up to us. He reached in, took my arm, and helped pull me from the car. “Hope you enjoyed the ride,” he said. His yellow eyes twinkled.

  “Huh?” I gasped. “Enjoy —?”

  He reached in to help Molly out, too. Mom and Dad scrambled out the other door, shaking their heads, massaging their shoulders, and blinking hard.

  “One of these days, I’ve got to get a driver’s license!” the Horror said.
“This happens to me every trip!”

  He pointed to the ground.

  And we all saw the metal tracks under the taxi tires. “The car isn’t real. It runs on tracks!” I said.

  The Horror nodded. “You got that right. I don’t really drive it.” He rubbed his shoulder. “The hardest part of my job is diving out of a speeding car twenty times a day!”

  He shut all the doors, then climbed back behind the wheel. “Follow the path to your hotel!” he shouted. “And if you need a ride, you know who to call!” Then the car turned around and rolled away.

  I hugged Molly and laughed. We all started talking at once. That driver had us all fooled.

  “From now on, I’m not going to believe anything!” I said. “From now on, I’m going to remember that everything here is a total fake!”

  Famous last words?

  Yes. You got that right.

  We followed the path and found ourselves in a wide, round plaza. Crowds of kids and families walked around the big circle, visiting the shops, food carts, arcades, and rides.

  A green-and-purple Horror stood on a platform, juggling three skulls.

  “Are they real?” a little girl asked.

  The Horror held one up. “Yeah. This is my uncle Tony.”

  Everyone laughed.

  An arrow sign read: HAUNTED THEATER. Another sign pointed to Good-bye Land: MAKE IT YOUR LAST STOP — ON EARTH!

  Next to it, a green-and-purple sign read: WELCOME TO ZOMBIE PLAZA. WE HOPE YOU SHOP TILL YOU DROP.

  “This is awesome!” I declared. “What should we do first?”

  “First, we should check in,” Dad said. He shielded his eyes with one hand. “Where is that guide to take us to the hotel?”

  “Why do we have to check in right away?” Mom asked. “Let’s have some fun first.”

  “Yeah. Fun!” I agreed. “I vote for fun first!”

  “Me, too,” Molly said.

  Dad shrugged. “Okay, okay. I just want to see if our bags arrived safely.”

  If you haven’t guessed it, let me tell you. My dad is a total worrywart. Even on vacation. Especially on vacation!

  Mom wiped her forehead. “That crazy taxi ride made my throat so dry. Can we get some ice cream?” She pointed to the green-and-purple cart across the plaza.