TITLE PAGE
PREVIOUSLY IN HORRORLAND …
PART ONE
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PART TWO
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EPILOGUE
TEASER
HORRORLAND TRADING CARD
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO AVAILABLE
COPYRIGHT
Sixteen brave kids saved the park and managed to return home safely — but that doesn’t mean the terror is over! The gates are open again — with all new stories, all new sights and frights. And while you’re there, be sure to stop by Chiller House for a souvenir. A visit to Mr. Chiller’s unusual shop will make sure you TAKE A LITTLE HORROR HOME WITH YOU!
“Andy, trade popcorn bags with me,” Marnie said. She made a grab for my bag.
I swiped it away from her and spilled popcorn all over my lap. “Marnie — give me a break,” I said with a groan. “Why do you want mine?”
“Yours looks like it tastes better,” she said.
“Huh?” I squinted into my popcorn bag. “They’re exactly the same.”
“Then you don’t mind trading — right?” She laughed.
My cousin, Marnie Myers, may be the grabbiest person in the world. And she always wants everything that’s mine. But at least she has a sense of humor.
I like her laugh. She’s twelve, the same age as me. But she laughs like a little kid.
She looks younger than me, too. In fact, even though we’re cousins, we don’t look anything alike.
She’s short and thin. She has a narrow face with straight brown hair down to her shoulders and big green eyes.
Dad says I could be a middle linebacker. I guess that’s his polite way of saying I’m big and maybe a little chubby. I have a round face with short black hair and brown eyes.
Dad says I always have a worried look. I don’t think he’s right. But yes, kids are always asking me, “Hey, Andy, are you okay?” when nothing is wrong.
Marnie and I get along really well — except when she’s grabbing my popcorn or taking handfuls of French fries off my plate at lunch.
I handed her my popcorn. “Well? Aren’t you going to give me yours?”
She shoved my hand away. “I have to taste them both first.”
We were in HorrorLand Theme Park, sitting in the Haunted Theater, waiting for the show to start. The theater looked like a creepy, old haunted house in a horror movie.
The auditorium was dark, except for flickering candles on the walls. Thick cobwebs hung down from the balcony. Creepy organ music played. A skeleton usher stood in the aisle, holding a flashlight.
Suddenly, jagged lightning bolts flashed on the black curtain across the stage. And thunder boomed over the auditorium.
Behind us, a little kid started to cry. “This is too scary!” he wailed. “I don’t like it!” His parents stood up, pulled him to the aisle, and led him out.
Marnie and I laughed. We’d been having good, scary fun all week in HorrorLand. Especially since our parents let us go off on our own most of the time.
Some of the rides were terrifying. And we both screamed our heads off in Werewolf Village. The half-human, half-wolf creatures were so real! Were they men wearing hairy costumes? The way they growled and snapped their pointed teeth, you’d swear you were staring at the real thing!
And another of our favorite places was The Game Preserve. Miles and miles of video games. Of course, Marnie had to play until she beat me at every game.
And now here we were, in the third row of the Haunted Theater, waiting for the show to start. In dripping green letters, a sign over the stage read: GHOST TOWN CLOWN SHOW.
Storm sounds poured out of the loudspeakers. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed.
And I gasped as someone grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it hard.
“Hey!” I stared up into the face of a grinning clown standing in the aisle. He leaned over me and squeezed my shoulder again.
The clown’s face was caked in white makeup. His painted grin was crooked and smeared. He had a red bulb for a nose and a red-and-blue ruffled collar around his neck.
And as he leaned over me, I saw a hatchet buried deep in the top of his bald head. The blade was halfway in his skull. The handle poked up at an angle. Painted blood trickled down both sides of his face.
“Hiya, kid,” he growled in a hoarse voice. “Let me introduce myself to ya. I’m Murder the Clown.”
My mouth hung open. I wanted to say something, but I was too startled.
His breath smelled like onions. He brought his face down close to mine. And I could see that his eyes were totally bloodshot. And there were cracks all over his white makeup.
“Hey, kid — know why they call me Murder the Clown?” he growled.
“Because you have a hatchet in your head?” I answered.
His eyes bulged in shock. “I have a what?” he cried. “You’re joking!”
Of course, he was being funny. So I laughed.
But he squeezed my arm and jerked me to my feet. “Come on, kid. Enough of this. You’re outta here.” He began to pull me to the stage.
I tried to pull back, but he was very strong. “Huh? What did I do?” I cried. “Hey — let go! Where are you taking me?”
Thunder crashed, shaking the auditorium. In the flicker of a lightning flash, I saw faces in the audience staring at the big clown and me. Behind me, Marnie jumped to her feet and made her way toward us.
“Come on, kiddo,” Murder growled. “You’ve been volunteered.” He raised both white-gloved hands to my shoulders and pushed me up the aisle.
I slid out from under his grasp. “I’ve been what?”
“You’ve been volunteered to be in the show,” he said. “Fun time. You’ll love it. Maybe you’ll win a prize. What size clown costume do you wear? Are you a medium or a large? You’re pretty big. I think I have an extra large back there.”
“Wait a minute!” Marnie grabbed Murder by the collar. “Why does Andy get to be in it? I want to be in it, too.”
Murder turned his watery, red eyes on my cousin. “I like you,” he rasped. “I think I have a big nose that will fit you.”
He gave us both a push. “Come on. We don’t want to make the zombie clowns late for their meal. Know what they’re having for lunch today?”
“No. What?” I asked.
“YOU!”
I didn’t want to do this. No way. I’m kind of shy. Marnie was a lot more excited about going onstage than I was.
But a few minutes later, there we were in our red-and-white polka dot clown costumes. I had a big pillow tucked in my front to make me look fat and a stiff yellow wig that stood straight up in the air like a broom.
Marnie wore enormous platform boots that made her about eight feet tall. She had an ugly red smile smeared over her white face. Along with her polka-dot costume she wore a pointy red-striped hat tilted on her head like a dunce cap.
“Break a leg!” Murder whispered. He raised his big gloved hands and shoved us out onto the stage.
The show had already started. The lights were dim. Creepy music played. A ghostly fog billowed all over the stage.
Scary-looking clowns in
drab black-and-gray costumes were doing handstands and somersaults in the fog. Marnie and I were the only ones wearing bright colors.
As I stumbled onstage, I saw a clown with a skull instead of a face. His ugly clown smile was painted in bright red lipstick on the skull. Beside him, I saw a sad-looking clown dressed in rags. He kept moaning and pulling out hunks of his curly hair.
The audience cheered as the clowns started to juggle. What were they throwing back and forth? It was hard to see in the fog. Were those shrunken heads they were tossing?
The clown with the skeleton face pulled Marnie and me into the circle of ghost clowns. Someone tossed me a shrunken head. “That’s my Uncle Herman!” he shouted. “Toss him back!”
The head felt soft and warm. I tossed it back to the clown. Soon, Marnie and I were tossing the heads around with the other clowns. Faster and faster, till the audience cheered.
“You’re doing great, kids,” Murder the Clown called from the side of the stage.
But then I saw something that made me gasp. And that moment is where the fun ended — and the terror began.
In front of the stage, a fat clown was waving his hands at the audience. Suddenly, his hands vanished, and he waved with bony stubs. Then the hands returned. Then just fingers floated on the ends of his arms.
As I stared, the hands kept appearing and disappearing. Was the fog playing tricks on my eyes?
I turned to see what Marnie was doing — and saw a bald clown with sad black eyes lift his head off his neck. He tossed it across the stage to another clown.
“Hey!” I let out a cry. I gaped at the clown’s stub of a neck poking up from his ruffled collar.
The second clown tossed the head in the air — and it floated above the stage. It bobbed high above us and didn’t come down.
My heart started to pound.
Is this really happening?
Marnie put her hand on my shoulder. “Relax, Andy,” she said. “It’s all just part of the show.”
“But — but —” I pointed to the headless clown.
The lights came on in the theater. I turned and squinted at the audience.
“Oh, wow,” I murmured. “Marnie — look!” I grabbed my cousin by the shoulders and pointed.
When we were sitting out there, the theater had been filled with normal people. Kids and families.
But now, some of the people in the audience looked like creatures from a horror movie!
I saw rotting faces with missing eyeballs…. Heads with patches of hair torn away and bare skull poking out at the top … Missing arms … Open, toothless mouths with thick gobs of drool pouring over decayed chins … Shirts torn open and bloody guts dangling down.
“They look like GHOULS!” I cried. “Ghouls and zombies!”
And as I stared, the ugly creatures pulled themselves to their feet. And began to push their way into the aisles.
People screamed. Kids were crying. Some of the normal people grabbed their belongings and hurried to leave.
The auditorium filled with frightening moans and groans. The ugly creatures staggered toward the stage, eyes shut, arms stretched stiffly in front of them.
Marnie and I froze, watching in terror as the ghouls lumbered toward us.
I stared into the dark, empty eye sockets of a grinning skull — a ghoulish woman covered in crawling spiders. She tore out clumps of her hair as she staggered toward us.
“NOOOO!” I spun away. My eyes swept over the empty stage. “Marnie — the clowns! They all disappeared!”
Marnie and I were alone up there.
Bony green hands grabbed the edge of the stage. And then one of the creatures swung himself up. Groaning, moaning, they were all hoisting themselves onto the stage.
Holding on to my cousin, I took a trembling step back.
And heard the frightened voice of Murder the Clown from somewhere backstage.
“Malfunction! Malfunction!” he screamed. “Something is WRONG! Can’t anyone SHUT THEM DOWN? The zombies are out of control!”
His terrified cry sent a chill down my body. I could tell it wasn’t an act. The clown was really afraid!
More ghoulish creatures climbed onto the stage. Their heavy shoes scraped the floor. They moaned as if they were in pain.
As they staggered forward, their eyes were locked on Marnie and me. Their hands were outstretched, reaching for us.
We took another step back. I gazed around frantically. “Marnie — the stage door!”
We both took off toward the back wall. A narrow wooden door stood in the corner.
I grabbed the handle. Twisted it and pulled.
“It — it’s LOCKED!” I cried.
I gripped the knob with both hands and shook the door with all my strength. It wouldn’t budge.
The hideous, decaying creatures staggered closer. The air suddenly smelled like rotting meat. Glancing down, I saw a trail of yellowy slime on the floor.
Marnie pounded both fists on the stage door. “Open up!” she shrieked. “Open up! Can’t anybody HELP us?”
A green-skinned ghoul, eyeballs rolling crazily in his head, stepped close. He rubbed his scrawny belly. “Feed! Feed!” he groaned.
He raised two fingers to his mouth and made loud slurping sounds, pretending to eat.
As they formed a ragged line in front of us, the others took up the terrifying cry. “Feed! Feed! Feed!”
Marnie and I had our backs pressed against the brick wall at the rear of the stage. As the disgusting creatures chanted and rubbed their bellies, we began to edge to one side.
“Feed … Feed!”
Slowly, we tried to slip away from them … sliding our feet silently over the floor, our backs pressed against the wall.
“HEY!” I uttered a cry as I tripped over something — and stumbled to my knees.
A big spotlight.
As I fell over it, the bright light flashed on. Right into the eyes of one of the ghouls.
He groaned and raised his bony arm to shield his eyes.
I grabbed the light by its sides. I raised it and aimed it at another green-faced ghoul.
He shrank away from the blinding brightness. I kept the light on him till he backed away.
My whole body trembling, I struggled to hold the big spotlight steady. I swept it over the line of moaning ghouls and zombies.
“Feed … Feed … Feed …”
They tried to shield their eyes. In the circle of bright light, they appeared to shrivel … shrivel and shrink. Moaning in pain, they staggered back.
“Keep it on them!” Marnie shouted. “It’s working! Keep the bright light on them!”
I gripped the sides of the spotlight tightly. Could I keep the ugly creatures away till help arrived?
No.
I gasped as the light flickered … flickered and went out.
Darkness fell over the stage. The ghouls uncovered their eyes and pulled themselves up. They shook themselves. I saw an arm fall off and thud to the floor.
They began lurching toward Marnie and me again. They picked up their chant:
“Feed … Feed …”
Struggling to breathe, I shook the spotlight as hard as I could.
No. It was dead.
I let go of the spotlight — and felt a hand grip my shoulder.
Murder the Clown.
“This way,” he growled. He pulled out a key and opened the stage door. Then he tugged Marnie and me through it. And slammed the door hard behind us.
I heard a squeal. A squeal of pain.
I glanced back — and saw two arms caught in the door. The fingers twitched. The hands didn’t stop reaching for us.
“Feed … Feed … Feed … ”
I could still hear the ugly chant on the other side of the door.
I swallowed. My throat was as dry as cotton. I glanced around. We were standing in a long, dimly lit hall.
“Quick thinking with that spotlight, kid,” Murder rasped. “You held them back — at least for a while.”
/> And then his watery eyes flashed, and he rubbed his gloved hands together. He leaned close and whispered in my ear: “You passed your first test. Now it gets REAL!”
“Huh?” I cried. “What do you mean? There’s more?”
“Were those zombies real?” Marnie demanded. “Was it all a fake? Or were we really in danger?”
Murder the Clown tossed back his head and laughed. He winked at us. “Of course it was all a fake,” he said. “Everything in HorrorLand is a fake — right?”
Then why was he sweating like that?
And why did he sound so frightened when we heard him pleading for someone to shut off the zombies?
He led the way down the long hall. “I was just kidding. You kids are finished,” he said. “You did a great job. We gave everyone in the audience a thrill.”
Was he joking? When the zombies and ghouls headed for the stage, most of the audience ran away!
Murder hummed to himself as he led us into a little dressing room. He helped us clean off the clown makeup. Then we climbed out of the clown costumes.
“This way, kids,” Murder said. He led us to a shiny black doorway. “Glad you enjoyed yourselves,” he rasped.
He started to open the door, then stopped. His ragged grin spread over his white-caked face. “Know why they call me Murder the Clown?”
He didn’t give us time to answer. “Because I murder the audience!” he declared. “I really murder them!”
He chuckled to himself as he opened the door. “Don’t let it hit you on the way out,” he said. The door slammed shut behind us.
“N-now what?” I stammered. “Where are we?”
A bell jingled above our heads. I blinked in the bright light. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust.
The first thing I saw was a row of glass shelves against a blue wall. The shelves were filled with little dolls.
I took a step closer. The dolls had human bodies. Male and female. Dressed in dark striped business suits and frilly dresses in all colors.
Still blinking, I took another step closer. The dolls had human bodies, but their heads were strange…. They all had wolf heads!
Were they werewolf dolls?
“Check this out,” Marnie said. She lifted a red-and-yellow package off a shelf. MAKE YOUR OWN QUICKSAND. The box showed a boy and girl up to their necks in yellow-brown sand.