27 - A Night in Terror Tower

by R. L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)

  I felt as if I were watching a movie, and the scene had changed. And suddenly it was the next day—or the next week—and I was seeing an entirely different place.

  I knew that only a few seconds had passed since Eddie and I had burst out of the hotel. But in that time, everything had changed.

  We huddled close together and stared in one direction and then the next. We saw no cars. No buses. The street had vanished, replaced by a lumpy dirt road.

  The tall buildings had disappeared, too. The road was dotted with small, white cottages with flat roofs and low, wooden shacks built without doors or windows.

  A tall mound of straw stood beside the nearest cottage. Chickens clucked and strutted across the road or stood in front of cottages pecking in the dirt. A brown cow poked its head out from behind the mound of straw.

  “What’s going on?” Eddie asked. “Where are we?”

  “It’s like we stepped back in time,” I said in a hushed voice. “Eddie—look at the people.”

  Two men walked by carrying lines of slender, silvery fish. The men had thick beards and wild, unbrushed hair. They wore loose-fitting gray smocks that dragged along the ground.

  Two women in long, brown dresses were on their knees, pulling up root-type vegetables with their hands. A man leading a scrawny horse, its bones sticking out at its rib cage, stopped to say something to the two women.

  “They look a lot like the people in the hotel,” I told Eddie.

  Thinking about the hotel made me turn around. “Oh, no!” I grabbed Eddie and made him turn around.

  The hotel was gone.

  In its place stood a long, low building built of brown stone. It appeared to be some sort of inn or meeting hall.

  “I don’t understand this,” Eddie moaned. In the bright sunlight, he looked very pale. He scratched his dark brown hair. “Sue, we’ve got to get back to the hotel. I—I’m very mixed up.”

  “Me, too,” I confessed.

  I took a few steps along the dirt road. It must have rained recently. The road was soft and muddy.

  I could hear cows mooing nearby.

  This is downtown London! I told myself. How can I hear cows in downtown London? Where are all the tall buildings? The cars and taxis and double-decker buses?

  I heard someone whistling. A blond-haired boy, dressed in an outfit made of black and brown rags, appeared from behind the long building. He carried a bundle of sticks in his arms.

  He seemed about my age. My shoes sank into the mud as I hurried across the road to him. “Hey—!” I called. “Hi!”

  He peered over the bundle of sticks at me. His blue eyes widened in surprise. His hair was long and unbrushed. It fluttered over his shoulders in the breeze. “Good day to you, miss,” he said. His accent was so strange, I could barely understand him.

  “Good day,” I replied uncertainly.

  “Are ye a traveler?” the boy asked, shifting the bundle onto his shoulder.

  “Yes,” I replied. “But my brother and I are lost. We can’t find our hotel.”

  He narrowed his blue eyes at me. He appeared to be thinking hard.

  “Our hotel,” I repeated. “Can you tell us where it is? The Barclay?”

  “Barclay?” he repeated the word. “Hotel?”

  “Yes,” I said. I waited for him to reply. But he just stared back at me, squinting his blue eyes and frowning.

  “I do not know those foreign words,” he said finally.

  “Hotel?” I cried impatiently. “You know. A place where travelers stay?”

  “Many stay at the abbey,” he replied. He pointed to the long, low building behind us.

  “No. I mean—” I started. I could see that he didn’t understand me at all.

  “I must be getting the wood along home,” the boy said. He nodded good-bye, lowered the bundle from his shoulder, and headed down the road.

  “Eddie, that boy—” I said. “He doesn’t know what a hotel is! Do you believe—?”

  I turned back. “Eddie?”

  Eddie was gone.

  23

  “Eddie? Eddie?”

  My voice grew higher and more frightened as I called his name.

  Where did he go?

  “Hey—Eddie!” I shouted.

  The two women glanced up from their vegetable picking.

  “Did you see where my brother went?” I called to them.

  They shook their heads and returned to their work.

  “Oh!” I had to jump out of the road as a cart, pulled by a groaning, grunting ox, came barreling past. The driver, a fat, bare-chested man, his pouchy skin darkened by the sun, slapped the ropes that served as reins. He bellowed at the ox to move faster.

  As the wagon rolled past, its wooden wheels sank into the mud, leaving deep ridges in the road.

  Chickens clucked and scurried out of the way. The two women didn’t even glance up.

  I made my way to the entrance of the abbey. “Eddie? Are you back here?”

  I pulled open the door and peered inside. The long candlelit hall stretched before me. I could see men in hooded robes gathered at a doorway.

  We just came from there, I told myself as I closed the door. Eddie wouldn’t go back inside.

  So where was he?

  How could he run off and leave me here? How could he just disappear like that?

  I called his name a few more times. Then my throat tightened up. My mouth felt dry as cotton. “Eddie?” I called weakly.

  My legs began to tremble as I walked to the side of the first cottage. Don’t panic, Sue, I told myself. You’ll find him. Just don’t panic.

  Too late.

  I was really scared.

  Eddie wouldn’t suddenly wander off and go exploring without me. He was too scared.

  So where was he?

  I peered into the open doorway of the cottage. A sour smell floated out from inside. I could see a crude wooden table and a couple of wooden stools. No one in there.

  I made my way behind the cottage. A grassy pasture stretched up a gently sloping hill. Four or five cows stood halfway up the hill, their heads lowered as they chewed the grass.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth and called to my brother.

  My only reply was the soft mooing of a cow.

  With a worried sigh, I turned around and made my way back to the road. I guess I’ll have to search every cottage, I decided. Eddie couldn’t have gone very far.

  I had only taken a few steps toward the next cottage when a shadow slid over the road.

  Startled, I raised my eyes—and stared at the dark figure blocking my path.

  His black cape fluttered behind him in the wind. He wore a new black hat, and his pale, pale face poked out from its dark brim.

  24

  I stepped back, out of his shadow. I raised my hands to my cheeks and stared at him in horrified silence.

  “I said it was time for us to go,” he said softly, moving closer.

  “Wh-where is Eddie?” I managed to choke out. “Do you know where Eddie is?”

  A thin-lipped smile crossed his pale face. “Eddie?” He snickered. For some reason, my question seemed to amuse him. “Do not worry about Eddie,” he replied with a sneer.

  He took another step forward. His shadow fell over me again.

  It made me shiver.

  Glancing around, I saw that the two women picking vegetables had disappeared into their cottages. Everyone had disappeared. The road stood empty except for some chickens and a hound dog, asleep on its side in front of the straw pile.

  “I—I don’t understand,” I stammered. “Who are you? Why are you chasing us? Where are we?”

  My frantic questions only made him chuckle. “You know me,” he replied softly.

  “No!” I protested. “I don’t know you! What is happening?”

  “Your questions cannot delay your fate,” he replied.

  I stared hard at him, trying to study his face, searching for answers. But he lowered the brim of the black hat, hiding his
eyes from view.

  “You’ve made a mistake!” I cried. “You’ve got the wrong girl! I don’t know you! I don’t know anything!”

  His smile faded. He shook his head. “Come with me now,” he said firmly.

  “No!” I shrieked. “Not until you tell me who you are! Not until you tell me where my brother is.”

  Brushing his heavy cape back, he took another step toward me. His boots sank heavily into the mud as he strode forward.

  “I won’t come with you!” I screamed. My hands were still pressed hard against my cheeks. My legs were shaking so much, I nearly sank to the ground.

  I glanced around, getting ready to run.

  Would my trembling legs carry me?

  “Do not think of running away,” he said, as if reading my mind.

  “But—but—” I sputtered.

  “You will come with me now. It is time,” he said.

  He strode forward quickly, raised his gloved hands, and grabbed me by both shoulders.

  I had no time to struggle. No time to try to break free.

  The ground started to rumble.

  I heard a groaning sound. A heavy slapping sound.

  Another oxcart bounced around the corner. I saw the driver slap the ox with a long rope.

  The cart moved so fast. A blur of groaning animal and grinding wheels.

  The black-caped man released his grasp and leaped back as the cart rolled at us.

  I saw his black hat fly off. Saw him stumble in the deep rut in the mud at the side of the road. Saw him stagger back off-balance.

  It was all the time I needed. I wheeled around and started to run. I bent low as I ran, hiding beside the grunting, straining ox. Then I turned sharply and dived between two small cottages.

  I caught a glimpse of the black-caped man as I darted past the cottages. He was bending to pick up his hat. His bald head shone like an egg in the sunlight. He had no hair at all.

  I was panting rapidly. My chest ached, and the blood throbbed at my temples.

  Keeping low, I ran along the backs of the cottages. The green pasture stretched to my left. Nowhere to hide there.

  The cottages grew closer together. I heard crying children. A woman was roasting some kind of blood-red sausage over a fire. She called out to me as I ran past. But I didn’t slow down to reply.

  Two scrawny black hounds came yapping after me, snapping at my legs. “Shoo!” I cried. “Shoo! Go home!”

  Glancing back, I could see the tall, dark figure gliding easily over the grass, his cape sweeping up behind him.

  He’s catching up, I realized.

  I have to find a hiding place, I told myself. Now!

  I ducked between two small shacks—and nearly ran into a large, red-haired woman carrying a baby. The baby was swaddled in a heavy, gray blanket. Startled, the woman squeezed the baby to her chest.

  “You’ve got to hide me!” I cried breathlessly.

  “Go away from here!” the woman replied. She seemed more frightened than unfriendly.

  “Please!” I begged. “He’s chasing me!” I pointed through the space between the cottages.

  We could both see the black-caped man running closer.

  “Please! Don’t let him catch me!” I pleaded. “Hide me! Hide me!”

  The woman had her eyes on the black-caped man. She turned to me and shrugged her broad shoulders. “I cannot,” she said.

  25

  I let out a long sigh, a sigh of defeat. I knew I couldn’t run any further.

  I knew the caped man would capture me easily.

  The woman pressed the baby against the front of her black dress and turned to watch the man run toward us.

  “I—I’ll pay you!” I blurted out.

  I suddenly remembered the coins in my pocket. The coins the taxi driver refused to take.

  Would the woman take them now?

  I shoved my hand into my pocket and pulled out the coins. “Here!” I cried. “Take them! Take them all! Just hide me—please!”

  I jammed the coins into the woman’s free hand.

  As she raised her hand to examine them, her eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open.

  She isn’t going to take them, either, I thought. She’s going to throw them back at me as the taxi driver did.

  But I was wrong.

  “Gold sovereigns!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Gold sovereigns. I saw one once when I was a little lass.”

  “Will you take them? Will you hide me?” I pleaded.

  She dropped the coins into her dress. Then she shoved me through the open doorway of her little cottage.

  It smelled of fish inside. I saw three cots on the floor beside a bare hearth.

  “Quick—into the kindling basket,” the woman instructed. “It’s empty.” She pushed me again, toward a large straw box with a lid.

  My heart pounding, I pushed up the lid and scrambled inside. The lid dropped back down, covering me in darkness.

  On my hands and knees, I crouched on the rough straw bottom of the box. I struggled to stop panting, to stop my heart from thudding in my chest.

  The woman had taken the coins gladly, I realized. She didn’t think they were play money, as the taxi driver had said.

  The coins are very old, I decided.

  And then a chill ran down my trembling body. I suddenly knew why everything looked so different—so old. We really have gone back in time, I told myself.

  We are back in London hundreds of years ago.

  The caped man brought us back here with those white stones. He thinks I am someone else. He has been chasing me because he has mistaken me for someone else.

  How do I make him see the truth? I wondered.

  And how do I get out of the past, back to my real time?

  I forced the questions from my mind—and listened.

  I could hear voices outside the cottage. The woman’s voice. And then the booming, deep voice of the black-caped man.

  I held my breath so I could hear their words over the loud beating of my heart.

  “She is right in here, sire,” the woman said. I heard footsteps. And then their voices became louder. Closer. They were standing beside my basket.

  “Where is she?” the caped man demanded.

  “I put her in this box for you, sire,” the woman replied. “She’s all wrapped up for you. Ready for you to take her away.”

  26

  My heart jumped to my throat. In the blackness of the box, I suddenly saw red.

  That woman took my money, I thought angrily. And then she gave away my hiding place.

  How could she do that to me?

  I was still crouched on my hands and knees. So angry. So terrified. My entire body went numb, and I felt as if I would crumple to the basket floor in a heap.

  Taking a deep breath, I twisted around and tried to push open the straw lid.

  I let out a disappointed groan when it didn’t budge.

  Was it clasped shut? Or was the caped man holding it down?

  It didn’t matter. I was helpless. Trapped. I was his prisoner now.

  The basket suddenly moved, knocking me against its side. I could feel it sliding over the floor of the cottage.

  “Hey—!” I cried out. But my voice was muffled in the tiny box. I lowered myself to the rough straw floor, my heart pounding. “Let me out!”

  The basket bounced again. Then I felt it slide some more.

  “Lass! You—lass!” I lifted my head as I heard the woman whispering in to me.

  “I am so sorry,” she said. “I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. But I dare not go against the Lord High Executioner.”

  “What?” I cried. “What did you say?”

  The basket slid faster. Bumped hard. Bumped again.

  “What did you say?” I repeated frantically.

  Silence now.

  I did not hear her voice again.

  A moment later, I heard the whinny of horses. I was tossed against one side, then the other, as the baske
t was lifted up.

  Soon after, the basket began to bounce and shake. And I heard the steady clip-clop of horses’ hooves.

  A helpless prisoner inside the straw basket, I knew I was on some kind of carriage or horse cart.

  The Lord High Executioner?

  Is that what the woman had said?

  The shadowy man in the black cape and black hat—he is the Lord High Executioner?

  Inside my tiny, dark prison, I began to shudder. I could not stop the chills that rolled down my back until my entire body felt cold and numb and tingly.

  The Lord High Executioner.

  The words kept repeating and repeating in my mind. Like a terrifying chant.

  The Lord High Executioner.

  And then I asked myself: What does he want with me?

  27

  The wagon stopped with a jolt. Then, a minute or so later, started up again.

  Bouncing around inside the basket, I lost all track of time.

  Where is he taking me? I wondered. What does he plan to do?

  And: Why me?

  My head hit the front of the basket as we jolted to another stop. I shivered. My body was drenched in a cold sweat.

  The air in the box had become sour. I began gasping for fresh air.

  I let out a cry as the lid suddenly flew open. The harsh sunlight made me shield my eyes.

  “Remove her!” I heard the booming voice of the Executioner.

  Strong arms grabbed me roughly and tugged me from the straw box. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw that I was being lifted by two gray-uniformed soldiers.

  They set me on my feet. But my legs gave way, and I crumpled to the dirt.

  “Stand her up,” the Executioner ordered. I gazed up into the sun at him. His face was hidden once again in the shadow of his dark hat.

  The soldiers bent to pick me up. Both of my legs had fallen asleep. My back ached from being tossed and tumbled in the cramped box.

  “Let me go!” I managed to cry. “Why are you doing this?”

  The Executioner didn’t reply.

  The soldiers held on to me until I could stand on my own.

  “You’ve made a terrible mistake!” I told him, my voice trembling with anger, with fear. “I don’t know why I am here or how I got here! But I am the wrong girl! I am not who you think I am!”