A Living Nightmare (5 page)

"Can a vampire come back as a ghost?" I asked, eyes wide.

"Probably not," Steve said. "But if you had the time, and wanted to make sure, cutting off the head and getting rid of it would be worth doing. You don't want to take any chances with vampires, do you?"

"No," I said, shivering. "What about werewolves? Do you need silver bullets to kill them?"

"I don't think so," Steve said. "I think normal bullets can do the job. You might have to use lots of them, but they should work."

Steve knows everything there is to know about horror facts. He's read every sort of horror book there is. He says every story has at least some truth in it, even if most are made up.

"Do you think the wolf-man at the Cirque Du Freak is a werewolf?" I asked.

Steve shook his head. "From what I've read," he said, "the wolf-men in freak shows are normally just very hairy guys. Some of them are more like animals than people, and eat live chickens and stuff, but they're not werewolves. A werewolf would be no good in a show, because it can only turn into a wolf when there's a full moon. Every other night, it would be a normal guy."

"Oh," I said. "What about the snake-boy? Do you …"

"Hey," he laughed, "save the questions for later. The shows long ago were terrible. The owners used to starve the freaks and keep them locked up in cages and treat them like dirt. But I don't know what this one will be like. They might not even be real freaks: they might only be people in costumes."

The freak show was being held at a place near the other side of town. We had to leave shortly after nine o'clock, to make sure we got there in time. We could have got a cab, except we'd used most of our allowance to replace the cash Steve took from his mom. Besides, it was more fun walking. It was spookier!

We told ghost stories as we walked. Steve did most of the talking, because he knows way more than me. He was in rare form. Sometimes he forgets the ends of stories, or gets names mixed up, but not tonight. It was better than being with Stephen King!

It was a long walk, longer than we thought, and we almost didn't make it on time. We had to run the last quarter-mile. We were panting like dogs when we got there.

The venue was an old theater that used to show movies. I'd passed it once or twice in the past. Steve told me once that it was shut down because a boy fell off the balcony and got killed. He said it was haunted. I asked my dad about it, and he said it was a pack of lies. It's hard sometimes to know whether you should believe the stories your dad tells you or the ones your best friend tells you.

There was no name outside the door, and no cars parked nearby, and no waiting line. We stopped out front and bent over until we got our breath back. Then we stood and looked at the building. It was tall and dark and covered in jagged gray stones. Lots of the windows were broken, and the door looked like a giant's open mouth.

"Are you sure this is the place?" I asked, trying not to sound scared.

"This is what it says on the tickets," Steve said and checked again, just to be sure. "Yep, this is it."

"Maybe the police found out and the freaks had to move on," I said. "Maybe there isn't any show tonight."

"Maybe," Steve said.

I looked at him and licked my lips nervously. "What do you think we should do?" I asked.

He stared back at me and hesitated before replying. "I think we should go in," he finally said. "We've come this far. It'd be silly to turn back now, without knowing for sure."

"I agree," I said, nodding. Then I gazed up at the scary building and gulped. It looked like the sort of place you saw in a horror movie, where lots of people go in but don't come out. "Are you scared?" I asked Steve.

"No," he said, but I could hear his teeth chattering and knew he was lying. "Are
you?'"
he asked.

"Course not," I said. We looked at each other and grinned. We knew we were both terrified, but at least we were together. It's not so bad being scared if you're not alone.

"Shall we enter?" Steve asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Might as well," I said.

We took a deep breath, crossed our fingers, then started up the steps (there were nine stone steps leading up to the door, each one cracked and covered with moss) and went in.

W
E FOUND OURSELVES STANDING
in a long, dark, cold corridor. I had my jacket on, but shivered anyway. It was freezing!

"Why is it so cold?" I asked Steve. "It was warm outside."

"Old houses are like that," he told me.

We started to walk. There was a light down by the other end, so the farther in we got, the brighter it became. I was glad for that. I don't think I could have made it otherwise: it would have been too scary!

The walls were scratched and scribbled on, and bits of the ceiling were flaky. It was a creepy place. It would have been bad enough in the middle of the day, but this was ten o'clock, only two hours away from midnight!

"There's a door here," Steve said and stopped. He pushed it ajar and it creaked loudly. I almost turned and ran. It sounded like the lid of a coffin being tugged open!

Steve showed no fear and stuck his head in. He said nothing for a few seconds, while his eyes got used to the dark, then he pulled back. "It's the stairs up to the balcony," he said.

"Where the kid fell from?" I asked.

"Yes."

"Do you think we should go up?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I don't think so. It's dark up there, no sign of any sort of light. We'll try it if we can't find another way in, but I think …"

"Can I help you boys?" somebody said behind us, and we nearly jumped out of our skins!

We turned around quickly and the tallest man in the world was standing there, glaring down on us as if we were a couple of rats. He was so tall, his head almost touched the ceiling. He had huge bony hands and eyes that were so dark, they looked like two black coals stuck in the middle of his face.

"Isn't it rather late for two little boys like yourselves to be out and about?" he asked. His voice was as deep and croaky as a frog's, but his lips hardly seemed to move. He would have made a great ventriloquist.

"We …" Steve began, but had to stop and lick his lips before he could continue. "We're here to see the Cirque Du Freak," he said.

"
Are
you?" The man nodded slowly. "Do you have tickets?"

"Yes," Steve said, and showed his.

"Very good," the man muttered. Then he turned to me and said: "How about you, Darren? Do you have a ticket?"

"Yes," I said, reaching into my pocket. Then I stopped dead in my tracks.
He knew my name
! I glanced at Steve and he was shaking in his sneakers.

The tall man smiled. He had black teeth and some were missing, and his tongue was a dirty shade of yellow. "My name is Mr. Tall," he said. "I own the Cirque Du Freak."

"How did you know my friend's name?" Steve asked bravely.

Mr. Tall laughed and bent down, so he was eyeball-to-eyeball with Steve. "I know lots of things," he said softly. I know your names. I know where you live. I know you don't like your mommy or your daddy." He turned to face me and I took a step back. His breath stank to the high heavens. "I know you didn't tell your parents you were coming here. And I know how you won your ticket."

"
How
?" I asked. My teeth were shaking so much, I wasn't sure if he heard me or not. If he did, he decided not to answer, because next he stood up and turned away from us.

"We must hurry," he said, beginning to walk. I thought he would take giant steps, but he didn't, he took short ones. "The show is about to begin. Everyone else is present and seated. You are late, boys. You're lucky we didn't start without you."

He turned a corner at the end of the corridor. He was only two or three steps in front of us, but when we turned the corner, he was sitting behind a long table covered with a black cloth that reached down to the floor. He was wearing a tall red hat now, and a pair of gloves.

"Tickets, please," he said. He reached out, took them, opened his mouth, put the tickets in, then chewed them to pieces and swallowed!

"Very well," he said. "You may go in now. We normally don't welcome children, but I can see you are two fine, courageous young men. We will make an exception."

There were two blue curtains in front of us, drawn across the end of the hall. Steve and me looked at each other and gulped.

"Do we walk straight on?" Steve asked.

"Of course," Mr. Tall said.

"Isn't there a lady with a flashlight?" I asked.

He laughed. "If you want someone to hold your hand," he said, "you should have brought a babysitter!"

That made me mad and I forgot for a moment how afraid I was. "All right," I snapped, stepping forward, surprising Steve. "If that's the way it is …" I walked forward quickly and pushed past the curtains.

I don't know what those curtains were made of, but they felt like spiderwebs. I stopped once I passed them. I was in a short corridor and another pair of curtains were draped across the walls a few yards in front. There was a sound behind and then Steve was by my side. We could hear noises on the other side of the curtains.

"Do you think it's safe?" I asked.

"I think it's safer to go forward than backward," he answered. "I don't think Mr. Tall would like it if we turned back."

"How do you think he knew all that stuff about us? "I asked.

"He must be able to read minds," Steve replied.

"Oh," I said, and thought about that for a few seconds. "He nearly scared the life out of me," I admitted.

"Me, too," Steve said.

Then we stepped forward.

It was a huge room. The chairs had been ripped out of the theater long ago, but deck chairs had been set up in their place. We looked for empty seats. The entire theater was packed, but we were the only children there. I could feel people watching us and whispering.

The only spaces were in the fourth row from the front. We had to step over lots of legs to get there and people were grumbling. When we sat down, we realized they were good seats, because we were right in the middle and nobody tall was in front of us. We had a perfect view of the stage and could see everything.

"Do you think they sell popcorn?" I asked.

"At a freak show?" Steve snorted. "Get real! They might sell snake eggs and lizard eyes, but I'll bet anything you like they don't sell popcorn!"

The people in the theater were a mixed bunch. Some were dressed stylishly, others in sweatsuits. Some were as old as the hills, others just a few years older than Steve and me. Some chatted confidently to their companions and behaved as though at a soccer game, others sat quietly in their chairs and gazed around nervously.

What everyone shared was a look of excitement.

I could see it in their eyes, the same light that was shining in Steve's and mine. We all somehow knew that we were in for something special, the likes of which we'd never seen before.

Then a bunch of trumpets blew and the whole place went quiet. The trumpets blew for ages and ages, getting louder and louder, and every light went out until the theater was pitch black. I began to get scared again, but it was too late to leave.

All of a sudden, the trumpets stopped and there was silence. My ears were ringing and for a few seconds I felt dizzy. Then I recovered and sat up straight in my seat.

Somewhere high up in the theater, someone switched on a green light and the stage lit up. It looked eerie! For about a minute nothing else happened. Then two men came out, pulling a cage. It was on wheels and covered with what looked like a huge bearskin rug. When they got to the middle of the stage they stopped, dropped the ropes, and ran back into the wings.

For a few seconds more silence. Then the trumpets blew again, three short blasts. The rug came flying off the cage and the first freak was revealed.

That was when the screaming began.

T
HERE WAS NO NEED
for the screaming. The freak was pretty shocking, but he was chained up inside the cage. I think the people who screamed did it for fun, the way people scream on a roller coaster, not because they were actually afraid.