The Five Masks of Dr. Screem (5 page)

I heard Peter scream my name. Then his face appeared above mine.

His eyes were wide with fear. His mouth hung open. He was breathing hard.

“I — I broke free,” he stammered.

“Do something,” I pleaded. “Hurry. I won’t be able to breathe inside this cocoon.”

Several giant insects lumbered up behind him.

The giant mantis ignored Peter and continued to pull the white webbing around me.

Suddenly, Peter swung away from me. At first, I thought he planned to fight the insects with karate chops and kicks.

But no. He ducked between two big mantises. I saw him dive to the ground.

A second later, he stood up. He raised one hand high. “Monica — look!”

He swung his trick-or-treat bag in the air.

“Hey, look!” he shouted to the huge insects. “Check this out!”

He raised the shopping bag high over his head. Then he dumped all the candy onto the ground.

“Go get it!” Peter cried. He motioned to the candy. “Candy!
Mmmm
good! It’s for
you
! Go get it!
Yummm
!”

The insects stood stiffly in a line. Their shiny black eyes appeared to spin. Their mouths moved up and down.

Suddenly, their wings fluttered behind their backs. And they made a high-pitched
eeh eeh eeh
sound. All of them at once. It sounded like a saw cutting through wood.

Their papery wings rose on their backs as they bent their long bodies. They dove for the candy. They grabbed the candy in their jaws.

The
eeh eeh eeh
sound was drowned out by the chomping and grinding as they devoured Peter’s trick-or-treat candy.

The big mantis holding me prisoner suddenly froze. The white thread fell slack as the insect stopped spinning its cocoon.

It turned away from me and dove to the ground. Its wings fluttered behind it as it snatched a candy bar in its jaws.

“Peter — hurry,” I choked out.

He ducked around the insects and stumbled up to me. He grabbed at the tightly wrapped cocoon and began to tear at it with both hands.

“Hurry,” I whispered.

“I — I’m doing my best!” he cried. “It’s so sticky and disgusting.”

He ripped a section of cocoon off my waist. Then he frantically pulled at the webbing covering my legs.

As he ripped and tore and raked at the thick threads, he kept glancing back at the big insects.

Wings fluttered. The night air rang out with the clatter of grinding teeth.

Peter ripped a section of webbing off my legs. He tried to toss it to the ground. But it stuck wetly to his hand.

I kicked my leg free. I swung around and kicked the other leg out of the cocoon.

My legs tingled and felt numb. I kicked them in the air a few more times, trying to get the blood flowing.

Peter grabbed at the webbing over my hands.

“No,” I said. “No time.”

I twisted my body and slid down the side of the shrub to the ground. “Let’s go,” I whispered. “Run!”

Peter took off, running along the row of shrubs, away from the insects.

I stumbled after him. My legs were both still asleep. I couldn’t really feel them. And my hands were tied tightly in front of me.

I couldn’t get my balance. But I knew we had to run.

The candy wouldn’t last forever. And then …

“Oh, nooo!” Peter cried, gazing back. “They
see
us! They’re coming!”

Peter and I turned and ran along a line of tall bushes. I kept losing my balance and stumbling over the leafy ground.

I heard the thud of footsteps. Glancing back, I could see the tall insects leaping after us on their hind legs. Their wings were spread high above their backs. Their antennae fluttered and swayed wildly.

Eeh eeh eeh
!

The shrill sound became their battle cry.

They were too tall. Too fast.
No way
could Peter and I outrun them.

“They — they’re going to catch us,” I choked out, running close behind my brother. “They’re going to wrap us both in cocoons.”

“No!” Peter shouted. He turned without warning and threw himself into a bush.

In seconds, he disappeared. Pushed his way to the other side.

I glanced back. The giant insects came running toward me. They reached out their spindly front legs, ready to grab me.

I knew I had only seconds to act.

I turned to the bush. So thick. I couldn’t find an opening.

The thread over my hands was unraveling. I tugged at it. It was amazingly strong.

I had a crazy idea. Frantically, I pulled off a length of the thread. With a desperate heave, I tossed one end to the top of the bush.

I got lucky. It caught.

As the insects closed in, I took a running leap at the bush. And gripping the thread in both hands, I swung myself out of their grasp. I landed on the top of the bush — and dropped to the other side beside my brother.

Peter jumped back, startled.

We both stood there, hiding behind the solid row of bushes. Inside the insect mask, my face was drenched in sweat. My whole body tingled. Patches of sticky webbing clung to my arms and chest.

Would the ugly mantises come leaping through the bushes?

If they did, they would capture us. Peter and I were too winded to run anymore.

I listened hard. Listened for their tapping footsteps, their
eeh eeh eeh
chirp.

But no. Silence.

I stared through the eyeholes of the mask. I felt cold all over. Pure, cold dread.

But still … silence.

I turned — and gasped. I blinked several times, trying to focus my eyes.

Then I grabbed Peter by the shoulder and spun him around. “Look,” I said. “Peter — where
are
we? The trees are gone. We’re not in the woods. Where has everything gone?”

“It — it’s so dark,” Peter murmured. “So totally dark.”

We were standing nowhere.

I mean, there were no trees. No houses. No moon in the sky.

No sky
.

I couldn’t see the ground we were standing on.

I spun around. The long row of bushes was gone. Just the inky darkness everywhere.

My ears rang from the silence. A deep hush all around.

“Peter,” I whispered, “I don’t … like … this.”

My body shook. Inside the mask, my teeth began to chatter.

And then the blackness was dotted with grays. I saw mysterious shapes float in front of me. The wind returned, and I heard the crackling swirl of dead autumn leaves.

I heard the rumble of a car. And a low
hoot hoot
. An owl?

Yes. Trees formed out of the darkness. A street. A street I recognized.

A tall, smooth hedge with a house behind it. And I knew the house.

Bella’s house.

“We’re back,” I said. I let out a long sigh of relief.

Peter danced up and down. “We’re back! We’re back!” He slapped my shoulder. “That was
fun
!”

“Huh?” I jumped away from him. “Are you
crazy
? Do you want to be a caterpillar inside
a cocoon? Or eaten by a giant praying mantis?”

“But we’re okay!” he cried. “We made it!”

“We’re not finished,” I reminded him. “We have four more masks to go — remember? And if we don’t get them by dawn, we may never see Mom and Dad again.”

That took the smile off his face. “Okay. What’s the next mask?” he asked.

I turned to Bella’s house. The curtains were drawn in the front window. The front light was out. The house was dark.

“I don’t believe it,” I said. “Did she leave?”

“Forget about her. Let’s look for the mummy mask,” Peter said. “Bet I know where it is.”

He turned and started trotting along the sidewalk. I hurried after him. “Peter, where are you going?”

“The History Museum,” he said. “My class had a field trip there last week. They’ve got a bunch of mummies on display.”

I leaned into the gusting wind. “What makes you think the mask will be there?”

“The insect mask was down on the ground with the insects,” Peter replied. “I think the masks will tell us where they are hidden. Can you think of a better place for a mummy mask?”

Maybe he was right. We’d soon find out.

The History Museum stood next to the Public Library four or five blocks from our school. They
were on a wide street with tall old trees leaning over both sides.

A small grassy park, called Museum Park, stretched across from the museum. Peter and I followed a pool of moonlight across the grass to the museum.

It was a big old-fashioned-looking white stone building with a hundred concrete steps leading up to the entrance. Tall pillars stood on either side of the double doorway. The roof had a white dome over the top.

Lights were on in the museum, but I didn’t see anyone around. Two cars came down the street and turned onto Museum Drive.

“No way can we get in through the front,” I said. “The doors will be locked tight. And they probably have guards there.”

“Last week, my class went in through the back,” Peter said. “There are a lot of little doors and windows back there. Maybe we can find a place to sneak in.”

We made our way around the side wall. I saw lights on in the tall windows above our heads. But I couldn’t see inside.

A black door in a narrow alcove had a sign that read:
SERVICE ENTRANCE
. The door was locked and chained.

We kept walking. Keeping in the deep shadow of the building, we passed a row of windows with
bars over them. Two more doors had chains and padlocks.

I shivered. “This isn’t looking good, Peter,” I murmured. “What makes you think the mummy mask is in here anyway?”

Before he could answer, I heard a sound. The crackle of dry leaves. Then the scrape and thud of footsteps.

Startled, I jumped. Then I spun around — and gasped.

We were surrounded by mummies. A dozen ragged, decayed mummies.

They came staggering toward us, lumbering silently, arms raised stiffly in front of them.

Backing against the museum wall, I opened my mouth in a shrill scream.

One of the mummies laughed. Then several more started to giggle.

Two of them raised their covered hands and bumped knuckles.

“They’re … kids!” Peter exclaimed. He stood beside me with his back pressed against the cold stone of the museum wall.

Yes. Kids in mummy costumes. Now they were staggering and dancing and skipping toward Museum Drive.

Car doors opened. Parents stepped out to greet them.

A tall woman with a red scarf wrapped around her hair came running up to Peter and me. Her jacket flapped behind her as she ran.

“Is MummyFest over?” she asked breathlessly. “Have they let all the kids out?”

I remembered MummyFest. It was the museum’s annual Halloween party. A hundred kids all wrapped up in mummy costumes.

“I think they’re letting the kids out now,” I said. I turned and saw another group of mummies come dancing out a back door.

The woman let out a relieved sigh. “I thought I was late.”

Peter and I followed her to the door. Two kids came running up to her. One of them left a trail of bandages behind her and complained about her bad wrapping job.

When the door opened again to let out more kids, I pulled Peter inside.

I blinked several times as my eyes adjusted to the bright light. We were standing in a big chamber with black and orange streamers stretched across the ceiling.

On a tall pedestal, an enormous jack-o’-lantern glowed with orange and yellow flames inside. Two six-foot-tall mummy statues stood guarding the jack-o’-lantern.

Peter and I gazed around. The room was emptying out fast.

“Which way is the Ancient Egypt section?” I asked.

Peter scrunched up his face. “I think it’s back that way.” He pointed.

“Let’s go,” I said.

But before we could move, a man in a stained yellow mummy costume stepped in front of us. His blue eyes stared out at us from inside the mummy head.

He had a tall black top hat tilting on top of his head. A round button on the hat read:
TAKE ME TO MY MUMMY.

“Can I help you?” he asked. “Are you picking up someone?”

I nodded. “Yes. Our little sister. Franny. Have you seen her? Has she come out?”

He squinted at me. Did he believe me?

“There are still some kids in the cafeteria,” he said. “Why don’t you try there?” He pointed to an open archway against the back wall.

“Hey, thanks,” I said. I gave Peter’s arm a tug, and we began to jog toward the archway.

“I
love
your bug mask,” the man shouted after me.

I shouted thanks but didn’t turn back.

Peter and I trotted straight ahead. I called, “Franny! Franny!” until we were out of the man’s sight.

“That was easier than I thought,” Peter said.

“We’re not there yet,” I told him.

We hurried down a long, brightly lit hall. Up ahead, I could hear kids’ voices and people laughing.

We passed glass cases in the wall displaying blue and orange vases. Some of the vases were cracked and chipped. They looked very old.

The cafeteria came into view. I saw only a few kids in there. They were sitting on the floor, talking and eating candy bars.

Some white-uniformed workers had started to clean up. They were sweeping the floor and picking up candy wrappers and other trash.

Peter and I didn’t stop at the cafeteria. We turned a corner and kept going.

An arrow sign read:
EGYPTIAN GALLERIES.

“The mummy rooms are right up there,” Peter said.

We started to jog faster. The lights in this hallway were dimmer. Long shadows swept over the floor.

I could see the entrance to the Egyptian Galleries up ahead.

We were only a few feet away — when a deep, angry voice boomed out: “
Stop right there! Where do you think you’re going
?”

Caught.

I spun around. I saw a dark-uniformed guard trotting toward us.

I started to say something.

But he turned. Two kids in mummy costumes stepped out from an alcove.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the guard repeated.

“We couldn’t find the front door,” one of the kids told him.

He took the kid’s hand. “Follow me. You’re going the wrong way.” He led them back toward the cafeteria.

Peter and I were pressed against the wall. I realized I was holding my breath. I let it out in a long stream.

“I — I thought he caught us,” I said.

“Me, too,” Peter muttered. “That was close.”

We turned and ducked into the door marked
EGYPTIAN GALLERIES
. The lights in the big room were dimmed. The air felt hot and damp.

We stayed against the wall. I gazed all around, searching for any guards. The room was empty.

I counted four mummy cases, one in each corner of the room. A model of a pyramid stood in the center. One wall was covered with photos of the pyramids. Display cases on the other walls showed jewelry and other objects from ancient Egypt.

Peter and I circled the room. My eyes squinted in the dim light.

I examined the display cases. I walked around the model pyramid and all around each mummy case.

“I don’t see a mummy mask,” I whispered. “Maybe Screem didn’t hide it here. Maybe we should leave before we’re caught.”

I started for the door, but Peter stepped in front of me.

“The mummy cases,” he said. “We have to look inside them.”

“But —” I started to protest. The ancient cases were of carved heavy stone. The lids would be impossible to lift.

“Screem hid the mask inside one of them,” Peter said. “I know it. I just know it.”

I groaned. Peter is so stubborn. “But how do we look inside? How can we lift the heavy lids?”

I heard a noise outside the room. I ducked behind a mummy case.

Footsteps. Peering around the side, I saw two guards walk past the gallery.

My heart thudded in my chest. Breaking into the museum had to be a serious crime. If we were caught …

If we were caught, no one would believe we were searching the mummy cases for a mummy mask. We would be in major trouble.

But we were already in major trouble, I decided.

What could be bigger trouble than having your house and parents disappear?

I stood up and turned to the mummy case. I moved to the center of the case and grabbed the lid with both hands.

The lid felt surprisingly cool. It had a pharaoh’s head carved at one end. The eyes were blank. Part of the pharaoh’s headdress was broken off.

I started to push up on the lid, but I hesitated.

A lot of people are really into mummies. The four mummies are the most popular things in the museum.

I’m not a big mummy person. I mean, they
are
dead people, after all. Dead people who have been rotting and decaying inside tar and bandages for a few thousand years.

Okay
,
Monica
,
you can do this
, I told myself.

I gripped the edge of the heavy stone lid, braced myself, steadied my legs —

— and pushed the lid up with a groan.

To my surprise, it slid up easily.

The lid swung out of my hand and started to slide off the other side of the case.

“Nooo!” I let out a cry. I couldn’t let it crash to the floor.

I jumped and made a wild grab for it with both hands.

Missed.

And went sailing headfirst, down into the mummy case.