Bad Dreams

Bad Dreams

R. L. STINE

SIMON PULSE

Dead End …

Maggie turned a corner and slammed into a wall. Her hand touched something wet and slimy.

And then she heard a dry fluttering overhead, like hundreds of tiny umbrellas opening all at once.

Something brushed her face. Something furry. She screamed!

“Help me! Somebody—help me! Get me out of here!”

The tunnel vibrated with the sound of a thousand flapping wings.

The footsteps crunched closer.

Screaming for help. Maggie ran into another cold, wet wall.

I'm trapped, she realized.

D
ON'T MISS A SINGLE NIGHT

#1: Moonlight Secrets

#2: Midnight Games

#3: Darkest Dawn

AND THESE OTHER CHILLING TALES FROM
FEAR STREET:

All-Night Party

The Confession

Killer's Kiss

The Perfect Date

The Rich Girl

The Stepsister

A Parachute Press Book

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

SIMON PULSE
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
http://www.simonandschuster.com

Copyright © 1994 by Parachute Publishing, L.L.C.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

FEAR STREET is a registered trademark of Parachute Press, Inc.

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Archway Paperback edition March 1994

First Simon Pulse edition June 2005

20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11

ISBN-13: 978-0-671-78569-7

ISBN-10: 0-671-78569-9

eISBN-13: 978-1-439-12038-5

“N
o … no …”

The girl tossed fitfully in the large canopy bed, mumbling in her sleep. “Please—no—stay away.”

If only she could wake up. If only she could open her eyes, then she'd be safe. Safe in her bed, safe in her house on Fear Street.

But she couldn't wake up.

“No … no …” Her moans grew louder.

“NOOO!”

Suddenly, the girl sat straight up in bed, wide awake. She shuddered, gasping for breath. Grabbing the covers, she glanced around her dark, familiar bedroom.

No one here. Just a bad dream.

Just a bad dream. She repeated the words over and over like a lullaby.

From her bed, she could see out the window. She peered out at another cold fall night. The large old
maple shivered in the icy breeze, dropping its last leaves. Through the bare branches of the tree, she could see the streetlight, casting an eerie yellow glow.

She sank back against the pillows, wet with sweat. Her long blond hair was matted to her head.

I'd be better off not sleeping at all, she told herself. She sighed softly, feeling a little better now. She closed her eyes.

Which is when she felt the presence.

Felt that she
wasn't
alone in the room, after all.

Her eyes snapped back open. She had never been so alert in her whole life.

What made her so sure there was someone there?

She didn't know.

“Who is it?” she whispered.

No answer. She sat up slowly, clutching the bedsheet to her. She stared into the room's dark corners, studied the shadows.

Then she saw it.

A glint of light in the far corner.

She opened her mouth to speak but was too frightened. For she was now able to make out the human figure who lurked in the corner of her room.

She heard an angry growl.

Then the darkness exploded. The other girl rushed out at her so quickly, she didn't have time to react.

The knife came down.

The first blow missed. She struggled desperately, trying to twist away.

But she was tangled in the covers now, and the girl was holding her down.

“Sister—!”
she protested, trying to push her away.
“But you're my sister!”

She tried to scream but hadn't enough breath.

She forced herself up, but her attacker shoved her back, smashing her skull hard against the headboard.

For a moment everything went black.

Then she felt a searing stab of pain.

And again.

And again.

And then darkness closed in on her from all sides.

In the eerily silent room, nothing moved now except for the trembling canopy over the bed.

M
aggie Travers's bad dreams didn't start until the night she slept in the canopy bed for the first time.

The bed was just one of the surprises awaiting Maggie and her family at their new house on Fear Street.

But for a while, it appeared the Travers family would never
find
the house.

Maggie had stared at the map in her lap, trying to trace the route to Fear Street with her finger. She pushed a strand of long red hair behind one ear. It fell right back again. “I guess we turn left here,” she told her mother.

Mrs. Travers slowed the car to a crawl. She peered through the windshield into the glare of the sunny spring afternoon. “Are you sure?”

“No, she's
not
sure,” Andrea grumbled from the
backseat. “I told you, Mom—we should have turned right on Canyon Road. But, nooo, Maggie says go straight, so you go straight. It's so stupid!”

Maggie kept quiet. She didn't want to start a fight with her sister. Starting a fight with Andrea was one of the easiest things in the world.
Not
starting a fight with Andrea—now
that
was tricky.

Gus, Maggie's old golden retriever, was sharing the backseat with Andrea. The dog had his head out the window. He gave a low, pitiful growl.

Maggie glanced in her side mirror. Gus was wearing the forlorn look he always had on during car trips. I know how you feel, Maggie told him silently.

It was Saturday. The day of their big move had finally arrived. We're off to a terrific start, Maggie thought grimly.

They were supposed to follow the huge white whale of a moving van. But then Andrea had insisted on stopping at a 7-Eleven for Cokes. They had lost the van, Maggie misread the map, and now they were wandering through a maze of streets that circled north of town toward the Fear Street woods for almost—

Maggie glanced at her watch. Ten after three! She would never get to practice now! The other girls on the Shadyside High swim team must be wondering where they were.

“We're missing practice,” she informed her sister.

Andrea rolled her eyes. “Naturally,” she muttered unhappily.

“If only we could find someone out walking,”
Mrs. Travers said, nervously brushing her reddish gray hair back with her hand. “We could ask where we are.”

“We're lost,” Andrea said. “That's where we are. Thanks to you-know-who.”

“We were supposed to be following the moving van,” Maggie reminded her sister as calmly as she could.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Andrea shot back.

Maggie sighed. It seemed as if Andrea wanted to argue no matter what. “Look,” Maggie said, “I'm just saying it's not all my fault, okay?”

“Who said to go straight?” Andrea demanded. “Gus?”

Maggie tried to keep her face blank, but she could feel her anger mounting. It always worked this way. No matter how many times she told herself not to let Andrea get her angry, she got angry.

Maggie tried to push the large, unwieldy street map back to her sister. “You want to take over?” she asked. “Here. If you think you can do better, be my guest.”

“No thanks,” Andrea muttered. “I'm sure I couldn't do it as well as you. You do
everything
better.”

“Well—” Maggie began.

Mrs. Travers gave her older daughter a warning glance. “Maggie,” she said. “Please.”

Maggie felt her face flush. It seemed as if Mrs. Travers was always warning her to go easy on
Andrea. Always explaining how Andrea had it much harder than Maggie did.

Maggie was seventeen, Andrea sixteen. But the way their mom acted, you'd think Andrea was five.

Maggie glanced back at her sister, who was now staring out the window, scowling, her jaw jutting forward in that way she had when she was frustrated. Maggie felt her anger easing, a rush of pity taking its place. Mom was right. She
should
go easy on Andrea.