TITLE PAGE
MEET JONATHAN CHILLER …
PART ONE
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PART TWO
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EPILOGUE
TEASER
HORRORLAND TRADING CARD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO AVAILABLE
COPYRIGHT
He owns Chiller House, the HorrorLand gift shop. Sometimes he doesn’t let kids pay for their souvenirs. Chiller tells them, “You can pay me next time.”
What does he mean by next time? What is Chiller’s big plan?
Go ahead — the gates are opening. Enter HorrorLand. This time you might be permitted to leave … but for how long? Jonathan Chiller is waiting — to make sure you TAKE A LITTLE HORROR HOME WITH YOU!
My name is Ray Gordon and I’m twelve. My brother, Brandon, is nine, but people think that he’s older than I am.
That’s because Brandon is a big hulk of a kid. He’s about half a foot taller than me. He has broad shoulders and a big chest, straight black hair, and a cold stare that makes him look like he’s tough.
I’m short and very thin. I have curly blond hair and blue eyes and freckles on my cheeks. I’m the youngest kid in my class, but I’m three years older than Brandon. And everyone we meet thinks I’m the little brother.
Which is funny because Brandon is a total wimp. So what if I look like an elf standing next to a giant?
I’m the tough one in the family. He’s scared of bugs and snakes and being in the woods and being in the water. And anything else you can think of.
And once I actually saw him jump away from his own shadow. No kidding. He swore he tripped. But I know the truth.
It’s a pain having a younger brother who’s bigger than me. And it’s an even bigger pain having a huge monster brother who is a total coward.
I love scary movies. But my parents say I have to go to G-rated baby movies with Brandon so he won’t get scared. I like to watch scary TV shows, too. And play really cool battle games on my Xbox.
But guess what? I’m not allowed while Brandon is around. We don’t want to upset the poor guy — do we?
And now … even worse … he’s ruining my first trip to HorrorLand.
He’s too scared to do anything. The rides are too scary for him. The games are too noisy and frightening. The Haunted Theater is too haunted!
He’s even afraid of the Horrors. They’re the big, furry, green-and-purple park workers. You know. They are guides, and they run the rides and the game booths and work in the shops.
Brandon is almost as big as they are. But he’s terrified of them.
So how much fun am I having with him at HorrorLand? Can you spell zero?
It was a cool, gray day. Wisps of fog hung low over the park. A perfect spooky day to be at HorrorLand.
“Brandon, what if we go on the scariest ride here?” I said. “What if —”
“I don’t want to,” he said. His favorite expression. He sticks out his lower lip and gets all pouty and says, “I don’t want to.”
“No. Listen to me,” I said. He was staring at a Horror behind a food cart. I grabbed his arm and tried to turn him around. But I wasn’t strong enough to budge him.
“What if we both go on the scariest ride ever,” I started again. “And you like it? Wouldn’t that be great? Wouldn’t you think it was cool to find out that you like scary rides, too?”
“But I don’t want to,” Brandon whined.
I sighed. Mom and Dad let Brandon and me go off on our own this afternoon. And I didn’t want to waste it doing baby stuff.
I dragged Brandon up to a tall green Horror wearing bright yellow overalls with yellow suspenders. He wore a button on his cap that read: I’M A SCREAM!
He grinned at me. “Hey, kiddo — know why I wear yellow suspenders?” he asked.
“Why?” I said.
“To keep my pants up!” He roared with laughter and slapped his knees.
“That’s a very bad joke,” I said.
“No, it isn’t,” the Horror replied. “It’s a SCREAM!” He opened his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs.
Brandon covered his ears.
The Horror tapped the button on his cap. “Just doing my job,” he said. He coughed. “I get such a sore throat from this job! What can I do for you?”
“My brother and I want to do something way scary,” I said. “What’s the scariest ride in HorrorLand?”
The Horror rubbed his furry chin. “Have you tried the Doom Slide?”
“Too scary,” Brandon said, doing his pouty face.
“I did it without him,” I said. “It was okay. But not great.”
“How about the A-Nile-Ator coaster?” the Horror asked. “It’s the world’s only coaster where you ride in a coffin.”
Brandon shivered and shut his eyes. “Not for me,” he whispered.
“It was good. But not really scary enough,” I said.
The Horror stared at me for a long time. He rubbed one of the curled horns on either side of his cap. “Okay, I get it,” he said. “You want something to make you scream like this.”
Again, he opened his mouth, tossed back his head, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Yeah. Like that,” I said.
“I get it,” he said. “Okay. Come with me, guys. I’ll take you to our test area. It’s where we try out new things. Not open to the public. You can be the first to try them.”
“Awesome!” I cried. My heart started to pound. “Totally awesome!”
The Horror turned and started to walk quickly away from Zombie Plaza. I saw where we were headed — a fenced-in area with a big sign: TESTING AREA. KEEP OUT!
I jogged to stay up with him. I had to keep turning back and waving frantically to Brandon to follow us.
Brandon kept shaking his head. “I — I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered.
Maybe I should have listened to him….
The Horror unlocked a gate and led us to the other side of the fence. We followed him into a huge white bubble. It looked like one of those domed tennis court places.
Our footsteps echoed as we walked inside. I gazed around. The building was as big as a football stadium.
In front of us stretched a long, oval-shaped racetrack, with several lanes marked in yellow paint. Sitting on one end were about a dozen little red racing cars.
A small sign on the wall read: TEST TRACK — THE SHOCKER.
The Horror led us onto the track. “I’m going to let you be the first kids ever to try out these race cars,” he said. “They’re real cars. You control them.”
“Cool!” I cried.
“Wh-why do they call it The Shocker?” Brandon asked.
“You’ll see,” the Horror replied.
The cars were open — no roofs. I swung a leg over the side of the nearest red car. Then I lowered myself onto the seat and settled behind the steering wheel.
Brandon squeezed into the car next to mine. It was so small, he filled up the entire seat. “Hey — there’s only one pedal!” he cried.
“That’s the gas,” the Horror said. “There is no brake.”
“But — but —” Brandon started blinking his eyes rapidly. He does that whe
never he starts to panic. Which is all the time.
The Horror patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kid,” he said. “This ride is going to be a scream!”
“But I don’t like to scream!” Brandon cried.
“Just stay in your lane, and you’ll be okeydokey,” the Horror said. “Don’t swerve into another lane. If you do …” His voice trailed off.
I lowered my foot onto the gas pedal. The little car let out a roar. Then it started to move forward.
I gripped the wheel with both hands and leaned toward the low windshield. The yellow lanes stretched far in front of me. The car moved slowly at first. I steered carefully, keeping it straight.
“Wow!” I screamed over the roar of the engine. “This is totally awesome!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed my brother. His car was coming up beside me on the right. He stared straight ahead. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white!
Into the first turn. My car started to pick up speed. I turned the wheel and followed the curve of the turn.
Behind me, I heard Brandon’s tires squeal. I kept my eyes straight ahead. I couldn’t look back.
My car roared down the straightaway. The hot air of the closed building rushed against my face.
My heart pounded. I zoomed around the next turn, carefully keeping in my lane. I could hear the roar of Brandon’s car close behind me.
This is totally like being a NASCAR driver! I thought. Way cool!
“Whoa!” I nearly swerved into Brandon’s lane. I gripped the wheel and swung it hard to the left.
I lifted my foot off the gas. But to my surprise, the car didn’t slow down. It sped up!
Faster. The track appeared to tilt up and down. The tires beneath the little car bounced hard.
I leaned forward, my eyes locked on the yellow lines in front of me. Faster. And the lines became a bouncing, throbbing blur.
Into a hard turn.
“I can’t control it!” Did I scream those words or just think them?
The wheel jerked in my hands. The car bumped. Bumped again. And I swerved over the yellow line — into the next lane.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
A powerful shock rocked my whole body. The sound roared in my ears. My hands shot off the wheel. My muscles tightened and froze. Pain zigzagged up and down my arms and legs.
I shook my head hard, trying to get the buzz of the shock out of my ears.
“OW! That HURT!”
Still gasping for breath, I grabbed the wheel. I spun it hard to get back in my lane.
I saw Brandon’s car roar up beside me — too late.
I crashed into him hard. My car spun into the center of the track.
As I spun, I saw his car smash into the rail at the side.
BUZZZZZZZZZZ.
We both screamed. Powerful shocks rocketed through me. My whole body shook and vibrated.
I gripped the wheel and swung my car back into the right lane.
“This is HORRIBLE!” I heard my brother’s scream as my car roared away.
I turned to see if he was okay —
— and my car squealed as it scraped the railing.
BUZZZZZZZZ.
Another powerful shock. And the car screeched to a dead stop.
Silence now. Except for the buzzing in my ears.
I could feel the blood pulsing in my temples. My muscles throbbed. My heart raced.
I sat there for a long while. Just breathing … breathing.
Finally, I gripped the sides of the little car and hoisted myself up and onto the track. Brandon was already out of his car. He was running toward me with an angry expression on his face.
I started to call to him. But my whole body twisted in a violent shudder. I started to shake all over. My hands flew up wildly over my head.
I did a crazy dance. My arms and legs thrashed and shook. I dropped to my knees on the asphalt track.
“The shock … !” I gasped. “Too much! Can’t … take … it! Oh, help! Help! Make it STOP!”
Brandon uttered a terrified cry. “Ray!” he screeched. He hurtled himself toward me. “Are you okay? Stop shaking! Can’t you stop?”
He grabbed my shoulders and tried to hold me still.
I burst out laughing. “Gotcha,” I said. “You fell for it, dude. I’m just kidding. I’m perfectly okay.”
His mouth dropped open. He blinked his dark eyes several times. He still had hold of my shoulders. He gave me a hard shove that sent me toppling to my butt.
“You’re a jerk, Ray,” he growled.
“Hey — it was a joke!” I cried.
“But … but why do you always like to scare me?”
“Because it’s so easy,” I said. I grabbed on to him and pulled myself to my feet.
“That ride was horrible!” Brandon said.
“It definitely needs work,” I said. I looked around. “Where is that Horror? We have to get out of here.”
I didn’t see him anywhere. Did he just leave us in here?
We started to walk along the track. Our footsteps thudded loudly in the deep silence. “I think we came in over there,” I said, pointing.
We heard a shout. Brandon and I both turned as a man came jogging after us.
He was big, with his huge stomach bouncing in front of him. He wore a loose-fitting pale blue sweatshirt pulled down over baggy brown pants.
I raised my eyes to his face — and uttered a sharp cry.
He didn’t have a face!
No. Wait. I couldn’t see his eyes, nose, or mouth — because his whole head was mirror glass. He leaned toward us, and I saw my reflection in his face!
We froze as he came bouncing toward us. He raised a hand in greeting. His hand was also mirror glass!
“He must be some kind of robot,” Brandon whispered.
“No, I’m not,” the man said. He had a high, croaky voice. He stopped right in front of us.
He turned his mirror face to me, then to my brother. The lights from the dome ceiling sparkled on his head. His neck was glass, as were both hands.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “My name is Seymour Winn-Doe.”
I pointed to his face. I could see my hand reflected back at me. “Are you wearing some kind of mirror mask?” I asked.
He shook his head. It sent rays of light sweeping across the floor.
“Is it painted on?” I asked.
He shook his head again. “No. I worked at a glass factory. There was a terrible accident.”
Brandon and I both stared at him.
Was he serious?
“Reflect on that!” Winn-Doe exclaimed. He laughed a croaky laugh. He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I can only joke,” he murmured. “What can I do? Gotta keep my sense of humor.”
Was his body really damaged in a glass factory accident? I couldn’t tell if he was for real or not. But the mirrored face and hands were way creepy.
“I was told you want to see something really scary,” Winn-Doe said.
“Not really,” Brandon replied.
“Yes, we do,” I said. I tried to give Brandon a shove. But the big hulk didn’t budge.
Winn-Doe motioned for us to follow him. “I just finished building a new attraction,” he said. “A Hall of Mirrors. When it opens, it will be the scariest thing in HorrorLand.”
Brandon stopped walking. “Do we have to go?” he whispered.
I tried to tug him forward, but he was too strong for me. “We’ll just look at it for a second,” I said. “Then we’ll go.”
“Promise?” Brandon asked.
What a big baby!
Winn-Doe led us out of the bubble building and across the test area. I didn’t see anyone else around. I was totally pumped. Brandon and I were getting a chance to see so many parts of the park that no one else got to see!
The sun had finally come out. The man’s mirrored head reflected the bright sunlight.
He led us to a long, low building. It had a narrow do
or at one end and no windows. The front wall was painted black. I didn’t see any sign saying what it was.
Winn-Doe unlocked the door and pulled it open. He motioned with a mirrored hand for us to go inside. “Enjoy it,” he said. “I think you will find my mirrors are very special.”
“Cool,” I said. I stepped past him and started to enter.
But my brother hung back. “Is it — is it dark in there?” Brandon stammered.
“You’ll see,” Winn-Doe replied. He gave Brandon a gentle push. Brandon bumped up behind me as we made our way inside.
I expected Winn-Doe to follow us in. Instead, I heard the door slam shut behind us. Then I heard the click of the lock.
The air inside the narrow building was hot and musty. I blinked in the darkness, waiting for a light to come on.
“What’s up with this?” I whispered to Brandon. “It’s pitch-black in here. I can’t even see the mirrors!”
Brandon bumped me again. “I — I don’t like this,” he whispered back. “Why did he lock the door?”
Good question.
I felt a trickle of sweat run down my cheek. It had to be a hundred degrees in here. My throat suddenly felt tight and dry.
Brandon squeezed my arm. “Why aren’t there any lights?” he asked. “Why isn’t anything happening? Where did he go?”
“I — I don’t know,” I stammered. I took a deep breath and shouted, “Hey — is anyone here?”
I stuck my hands out in front of me. I could feel glass. Warm to the touch. But I couldn’t see it.
“Let us out of here!” Brandon shouted. “Let us out!”
And then, dim lights flickered on somewhere above us.
I saw my face. My reflection. Staring back at me. Very dark. All shadows and black with no color at all.
Brandon stopped shouting. I saw him blinking in the dim light. He reached out a big hand and rubbed it on the mirror in front of him.
I turned and gazed down the long, narrow aisle. I saw my reflection in mirror after mirror. Two rows of dark mirrors. A dozen Rays and Brandons. Maybe more, in front of us and behind us.
The dim light sent shadows over the glass. Our faces looked mysterious. Frightening. My eyes looked like deep, black holes. My mouth appeared jagged and torn.
I raised my right hand and watched the right hands go up in all the mirrors. I did a little dance, and the Ray reflections danced with me.