“But what is it?” Granny Vee demanded.
“I’ll tell you after you eat a piece,” I said. “Go ahead.” I pushed it into her mouth. “I promise, Granny Vee. You’re gonna be around for a long, long time!”
Several kids received mysterious invitations to be Very Special Guests at HorrorLand theme park. They looked forward to a week of scary fun — but the scares quickly became TOO REAL.
Two girls — Britney Crosby and Molly Molloy — disappeared. Billy Deep was horrified when his sister, Sheena, became invisible. Then Sheena disappeared, too, for a short while.
A park guide — a Horror named Byron — warned the kids they were all in danger. Byron tried to help them. But then he was dragged away by other Horrors.
Why are they all in danger? Where are the two missing girls? The kids are desperate to find Byron to get some answers.
Meanwhile, Abby Martin arrives a few days after the others. Abby is eager to put her mummy nightmares behind her and have some fun. She has no idea of the terrifying dangers that await her.
Abby continues the story….
When Granny Vee showed me the invitation, I was shocked. “Peter and I? Invited to HorrorLand? For free?” I cried. “Are you sure the invitation is for us?”
“It has your name right on it, Abby,” Granny Vee said. “You must have won a contest or something.”
It was four months after our adventure in Cranford with the mummies. Granny Vee was looking young and strong. But Peter and I still had problems.
Peter crossed his arms in front of him. “I’m not going,” he said. “No way.”
“Why not?” I demanded. “It’s supposed to be the scariest, most awesome theme park on earth.”
“I just don’t want to,” Peter said, whining. “I want to hang out with my friends.”
I knew what the problem was. Peter was afraid. Ever since we returned from Tuttan-Rha’s terrifying house, Peter was frightened by a lot of things. He didn’t even want to have water-gun fights.
Who could blame him?
I still dreamed about the chanting mummies at night. In my dreams, I heard their frightening moans and cries. Some nights, I woke up with the ugly ancient voices chanting “HAIR! HAIR! HAIR!” in my ears.
I decided that a week in HorrorLand might be a chance to escape my nightmares.
I tried hard to persuade Peter to come with me. But he was totally stubborn. So I ended up going to HorrorLand without him.
Did I escape my nightmares?
Three guesses. The first two don’t count.
My first night in HorrorLand in the Stagger Inn, I had a terrifying dream. I saw myself back in my room at Tuttan-Rha’s house.
I was lying in the canopy bed with the purple curtains. The window was open, and I could hear flapping bat wings outside.
I sat up. And saw a mummy case at the foot of the bed.
The case was decorated with carvings of strange birds and cats. A pharaoh’s death mask was sculpted on the lid.
As I stared, the lid began to move. It made a loud grinding sound as it slid open.
I covered my ears. I didn’t want to hear it.
I knew I was dreaming. I tried to wake up. Tried to pull myself out of the dream, out of that horrid room.
But the bed held me down. Like a soft trap.
I stared as the lid opened all the way. Bandaged arms reached up from inside the case. The wrappings were stained and torn.
The mummy stretched, clenching and unclenching its bony fingers. The fingers crackled with each move.
The dry sound made my stomach lurch.
I shut my eyes. Abby, wake up, I told myself in the dream. Wake up. Please!
I opened my eyes, hoping to be back in my own room at Granny Vee’s house. But no. Cracking and groaning, the mummy lifted itself from its case.
I forced myself out of the bed. My nightshirt was twisted around me. I tried to run to the door. I wanted to escape.
But to my horror, I was moving in slow motion.
I felt so heavy, as if I weighed five hundred pounds. I moved slowly. I seemed to be running in place.
The mummy staggered toward me. Its hands were stretched out as if preparing to wrap me in its arms.
The dream was so vivid, so real, I could smell the mummy. It had a sickeningly sweet odor, like rotting apples.
It groaned with each heavy, thudding step. It backed me into a corner.
I couldn’t escape. Couldn’t wake up!
It reached out. Raised one bony, ragged arm. Reached up, and I felt its dry, pawlike hand scrape my throat.
Ohhh, sick.
It rubbed its fingers over my cheek. I could feel my skin prickle.
It’s only a dream, I told myself. So why did the touch of the mummy’s hand on my face feel so real?
I woke up — screaming.
I was flat on my back. My whole body trembled. My mouth was dry. I struggled to slow my breathing down to normal.
Why could I still feel the mummy’s dry touch?
Blinking in the dark hotel room, it took me so long to realize that the window curtain was blowing over my face.
I sat up. Pushed the curtain away.
I started to feel a little better. Just a window curtain. No need to panic, Abby. You had a bad dream, and a curtain touched your face.
No biggie — right?
I lowered my feet to the floor. Still feeling shaky, I started to stand up.
I lowered my eyes — and gasped.
Were those footprints on the carpet? Yes. Muddy footprints from the door to my bed.
And what was that on the floor? I bent and picked it up. I raised it close to see it in the dim light.
A strip of stained, yellowed gauze.
I shuddered.
Someone had been in my room. Someone was playing a mean joke.
Did someone know about my mummy nightmares?
I gazed at the muddy footprints.
Who would try to scare me like this? Was this supposed to be part of the HorrorLand fun?
I stood up and straightened my nightshirt. I took a deep breath.
And heard thudding footsteps. Out in the hall.
And then a pounding knock on my door.
The mummy had returned!
Cut it out, Abby. I scolded myself. Don’t get crazy.
I stepped to the door. “Who is it?” I called.
“I … I’m in the next room.” A boy’s voice. “Are you okay? I heard you scream.”
I can’t believe he heard that.
I pulled open the door. And stared at a boy about my age. He was big and tall, maybe a foot taller than me. He had short black hair, sort of a bulldog face, big brown eyes.
He was barefoot. He had a long T-shirt pulled down over pajama bottoms.
“I … woke up when I heard you scream,” he said. “I thought …”
“I’m okay,” I told him. “Guess I was having a nightmare.”
He said his name was Michael Munroe. And he was a Very Special Guest, too.
We started talking, standing in the doorway. He said he was happy to get away from home and come to HorrorLand. He said he had a weird year at school.
“I had a weird year, too,” I said. I had the sudden urge to tell him about the mummies and everything. But I stopped myself.
I knew he wouldn’t believe it. He’d just think I was crazy.
He came in, and we sat down on the little couch by my window. “Do kids call you Mike or Michael?” I asked.
“Well … neither. The kids back at home call me Monster.”
I laughed. “They call you Monster because …?”
“I guess because I’m such a big dude. And sometimes I lose it. You know. Get angry.”
He blushed. “I used to like that nickname,” he said. “But … I had a thing with some real monsters. Now I hate that name.”
Real monsters? Was he joking?
Maybe we both had the same kind of frightening year, I thought.
I li
ked him. He was kind of cute. And easy to talk to.
“Are you into sports?” I asked. “Wrestling or football?”
Michael shrugged. “Not really. I’m on the wrestling team. But actually, I’m kind of a techie. I’m into computers and stuff.”
He scratched his short spiky hair. “What’s up with this hotel?” he asked. “My cell phone won’t work. And there’s no Internet connection. I feel like a prisoner!”
“I just got here yesterday,” I said. “I didn’t try to call anyone.”
I thought of Granny Vee. She’d be worried if I didn’t call her today.
“It’s like they don’t want us to talk to anyone in the outside world,” Michael said. “Or am I just being paranoid?”
“You’re being paranoid,” I said.
We both laughed. We talked for another hour. I felt like I’d made a new friend.
Later, after breakfast, we met up to explore the park. It was only ten o’clock, but people were starting to pour in.
“What a beautiful day!” I exclaimed. I was feeling good. Last night’s nightmare had faded into the past.
The sun was still climbing through a clear blue sky. The air was warm and fresh. Kids were laughing and running ahead of their parents, eager to see everything.
A long line of people was waiting at a breakfast-food cart in the middle of Zombie Plaza. The cart was called AWFUL WAFFLE. And the Horror working there was serving waffles shaped like fat cockroaches.
“Want that with Skin Rash Syrup?” he asked a kid. “We squeeze it from poison ivy plants.” He poured the syrup. I could see little black things swimming in it.
Yum!
“Did you meet any other Very Special Guests?” Michael asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“I wonder if there are any more of us here,” he said. He pointed. “Hey — look. Some cool rides. Let’s do it!”
I started to follow him. He was so tall and took such long strides, it was hard to keep up.
I stopped when I saw a game booth at the edge of the plaza. I uttered a sharp cry. I felt the back of my neck tighten as I stared at it.
THE MUMMY’S TUMMY.
That’s what the game was called. THE MUMMY’S TUMMY. In big, black Egyptian-style letters.
“Huh?” My mouth dropped open. I just stood there gaping at it.
And watched kids step up to a giant mummy. The mummy was at least eight feet tall, standing with its legs wide apart, arms crossed over its chest. Ragged gauze fluttered in the soft morning breeze.
When they got to the front of the line, kids reached a hand into the mummy’s belly — and pulled out prizes.
My whole body shuddered.
How can this BE?
I guess Michael saw that I was freaked. “Abby, what’s up?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head as if trying to shake away what I was seeing. “N-nothing,” I stammered. “I … can’t explain.”
First, the mummy footprints and gauze on my floor last night …
… Now this mummy game!
It CAN’T all be a coincidence.
Michael grabbed my hand and pulled me up to the giant mummy. He was so strong, I couldn’t pull back.
“What’s scary about this thing?” Michael asked. “Abby, you’re shaking!”
“Uh … just a chill, I guess,” I said. I tried not to stare at the big hole in the mummy’s belly.
“Look. Nothing scary about it,” Michael said.
He made a fist, then shoved his hand deep into the opening in the mummy’s stomach.
He turned to me. “See?” he said. “No problem.”
But then his expression changed. “Hey!” he shouted.
His eyes bulged. His mouth dropped open. “My hand!” he cried.
Struggling to pull out his hand, Michael shut his eyes and let out a shriek of pain and horror.
I let out a cry and staggered back from the mummy.
A grin spread over Michael’s face. He slid his hand out.
“Just goofing,” he said.
He let out a big laugh. I forced a smile, but I didn’t exactly feel like laughing.
Why is this thing here?
It couldn’t have been set up in the middle of the park just to scare me — could it?
We walked past the mummy. “Wow. It’s all like ancient Egypt back here,” Michael said, gazing around.
I saw a yellow pyramid rising over a patch of sand. A giant sphinx statue guarded an ancient-looking temple.
I grabbed Michael’s arm and tried to tug him in the other direction. “Let’s get out of here,” I said. “I want to see the Werewolf Petting Zoo. And —”
“No, wait.” He slid out of my grasp. He pointed. “Check it out! An Egyptian roller coaster — and the cars are mummy cases! It looks totally awesome!”
He jogged over to it. I just wanted to run. I’d seen enough mummy cases to last my whole life.
But what could I do? I followed him.
The coaster was called The A-Nile-Ator.
Kids were running to get on the ride. They lay on their backs in the mummy cases. One kid per case.
Then the cases rolled up the tracks, slowly at first … up … up … a steep climb. At the top, the cars spun around a tall yellow pyramid and whipped down, then up, twisting and turning, faster and faster.
Wild screams rang out from the cases as they whipped and spun around the giant pyramid. I couldn’t see the riders, but it sounded like they were having good, scary fun.
“Let’s do it!” Michael said, jumping up and down like a little kid.
“No. Really —” I started to protest.
I held my ears to shut out the screams of the kids above us. And when I did, I heard the moans and cries of pain of Tuttan-Rha’s real mummies in their cases.
I put my hands down. Michael pulled me toward the ride. Before I knew it he was pushing me into a mummy case.
I took a deep breath and slid in. I settled onto my back and grabbed the safety handles at the sides.
The tall yellow pyramid cast a deep shadow over me. I heard kids screaming and laughing.
“I can do this,” I told myself out loud. “I can do this ride. I’m not going to be scared for the rest of my life.”
With a hard rumble, my case started to move. The bottom vibrated as I began the slow trip up to the top.
My feet were tilted up. My head slanted down. I could feel the blood rushing to my face.
I gripped the sides tightly as the mummy case picked up speed. I pictured Michael in the case behind me. He was probably doing it no-hands!
And then I heard his shout: “Abby, how are you doing?”
I started to answer — but the case whipped around hard, taking my breath away.
I shot straight down — headfirst! The strong wind blew my hair in every direction. The force of the wind was so powerful, it was hard to breathe.
I was gasping when the case stopped its drop and began to rise again.
The case spun hard. My feet rose high now, my head dipped down low. I gripped the side handles.
We climbed. Higher … higher …
I felt the warm sun on my face. The blue sky looked close enough to touch.
Higher …
And then I let out a sharp cry as my case started to tilt.
Was this part of the ride?
The mummy case was rolling over.
It was turning upside down!
“Noooo!” I uttered a frightened cry.
It turned onto its side. It was going to roll over and dump me out!
The safety belt!
Did I forget to strap it on?
There has to be a safety belt.
I let go of one side and began frantically searching underneath me. My hand pawed the bottom of the case.
No safety belt?
Nothing to hold me in. Nothing!
With a loud squeak, the car flipped upside down.
I could see the ground miles below.
I hung there upside down for a second or two.
And then my hands slipped off the handles — and I started to fall.
I heard a loud snap.
And I felt something wrap around my chest and waist.
Safety bars! Steel safety bars snapped over me and held me tightly in the case.
I was too shocked to laugh or cry out. Too shocked to breathe!
I heard kids screaming all around me. They just had the scare of their lives, too!
Slowly, my mummy case tilted right side up. I let out a long sigh. I was gripping the safety bars so hard, my hands ached.
The case rolled slowly back to the ground. Two tall Horrors, dressed in green-and-purple costumes, appeared. All the park workers were called Horrors. They helped lift me out and stand me back on my feet. “How was it?” one Horror asked. “Are you going to ride it again?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
He looked disappointed.
I took a few wobbly steps. My legs felt shaky. My heart was still pounding.
A few seconds later, Michael came running over, a big grin on his face. “Awesome — right?” he cried. “I really thought I was going to fall out. Ready to do it again?”
I squinted at him. “You’re joking — right?”
He laughed. “Abby, how’d you get to be such a scaredy-cat?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll do anything — you know? Guess that’s why my friends call me Monster.”
“Well, Monster, I want to go back to Stagger Inn,” I said. “Get myself together. Maybe have some lunch.”
He nodded. “No problem. Actually, I want to try my laptop again. There’s gotta be a way to get online.”
We started walking toward the hotel. The park was jammed with people. The sun beat down. I realized I was sweating.
I looked for a cart selling cold drinks. We passed a purple-and-green cart with flat pieces of meat piled up on the front. On the side of the cart, a sign read: FROSTED PIG PIECES. CHOCOLATE, STRAWBERRY, VANILLA.
Gross.
No one was standing in line for those tasty items.
Two headless men walked by in gray business suits. They held their heads in front of them in both hands. The heads were singing, “Don’t worry, be happy.”
Michael and I both laughed at that. We stopped as a tall Horror stepped in front of us. He stuck out his big, pawlike hands to stop us.