Nightmareland, p.3
Nightmareland, page 3
Freddy leaned forward. “You did something when you slammed it on the table, Addy. Put on the headset,” he urged.
“No, I don’t know anything—you’re the expert,” Addy protested.
“I’ve tried everything,” Freddy said. “You’re his sister. You guys have a special connection, brother and sister. Maybe he’ll be able to hear you.”
Addy picked up the headset.
“Aaron,” she whispered into the microphone.
A chill ran down Aaron’s spine.
He stood, listening.
Because he had heard his name spoken in a whisper across a heartbreaking distance.
“Aaron,” the voice said again. “I’m here.”
Aaron was certain that it was Addy. She was calling to him. Sending him strength.
Freddy reached over, placed the edge of his hand on all four colored buttons. He told Addy to push both analog sticks forward. “Now,” he said, and pressed down with his hand.
Aaron moved quickly beneath the high window. He squatted down—his thigh muscles felt incredibly strong—and up he rose in a tremendous jump. Aaron’s fingers gripped the edge of the sill. He hung there for a moment, his strength failing, but then another surge of power whispered through his body.
He hoisted himself up to the window’s narrow ledge.
Aaron’s hopes fell when he looked out at the surrounding landscape. He must have been fifty feet in the air. There was no way down. No ladders, no stairs, no rope, no trees.
A crazy thought wormed its way into his mind.
It was weird, because it was a thought that Aaron knew he didn’t think. Not by himself. It wasn’t his idea, it was an idea that was given to him.
“Climb down, Aaron. Push open the window. Climb like a spider. It’s the only way. You can do it, little brother. Climb.”
12
THE FINAL TASK
Aaron hesitated.
If he were to fall …
Well, he could not fall.
Failure was not an option.
The castle walls were made of rough stone. Not smooth, but jagged. With nooks and crevices, small holes and bumps.
Maybe he could climb down after all.
The first step was the hardest, because it took the most courage. Aaron lowered himself outside the window. His right foot found a thin ledge. He moved his left hand along the wall until it came to a depression in the rock.
Every movement was guided by instinct. Aaron’s chest scraped against the stone. His hands pawed the wall, blindly searching for any crevice. His muscles burned, his fingers grew numb. And still, Aaron climbed down. His feet felt along the wall, seeking any foothold, no matter how small. His legs trembled from the strain. Aaron fought with everything he had. He endured every ache and pain. All the while, he felt a great strength in his body. He sensed his sister’s faith. “You can do it, Aaron. I believe in you.” And in that way, inch by inch, Aaron made his way toward the ground.
Suddenly a snowball exploded above his head, sending ice down the back of his neck. Then another, and another. He got hit in the legs and in the back. Aaron craned his neck around. The guards assembled below, firing snowballs, iceballs, and rocks with deadly accuracy.
There was no choice. If he got hit in the head now, it would be all over.
Aaron pushed himself away from the wall and back-flipped through the air. He landed on top of the nearest snowman, demolishing it. WHOOMPH, UNGGHH. A stick arm sliced down and missed Aaron by inches. He rolled away and sprang to his feet.
* * *
In the living room, Addy and Freddy stood, staring at the screen.
“He made it!” Addy cheered. “They can’t catch him now.”
A message scrolled across the television:
FINAL GAME TASK:
DEFEAT THE LEADER AND THE GAME PLAYER EARNS HIS FREEDOM.
“What’s that mean?” Addy asked.
“If we want to defeat the game, your brother has to destroy the biggest snow creature,” Freddy said.
Addy still had the controller in her hands. Freddy urged her on. “Think hard, Addy. Send him your thoughts. Somehow you’ve got to let Aaron know what he must do.”
In a firm, clear voice, Addy whispered into the microphone …
* * *
In that instant, Aaron knew what he must do.
The largest, thickest, most-frightening snow creature heaved forward. There was something in its blank eyes that terrified Aaron. Something … not human. Not even animal. This was a monster without a heart, without feelings. It moved toward Aaron without cruelty or kindness. It simply had one simple mission: to kill.
Aaron could still run. He was fast. He could run and not be caught. But that was not his choice.
Aaron had to stand and fight.
It was the only way home.
The creature’s stick arms whipped furiously at Aaron, who ducked out of the way. He rolled and tumbled, darted and retreated. The monster moved steadily forward.
WHACK, WHACK, WHACK, its arms windmilled through the air, slashing with deadly menace.
Aaron studied the pattern of the attack. He waited, and counted the seconds between each vicious blow. Suddenly Aaron reversed direction and charged forward, slamming his body hard into the snowman. THUD, it hurt.
The cold, black eyes of the snow creature gazed down at the small boy.
The monster raised its right arm to deliver the final blow.
13
A WINDOW BETWEEN TWO WORLDS
Aaron spun around. With both hands, he grabbed the creature’s left arm and yanked it completely out of its body. Now Aaron twirled again, wielding the stick above his head like a sword.
In one smooth, slashing motion, with one devastating stroke—WHOOOOSH!—he separated the head from the snow creature’s body. It fell to the ground and rolled to Aaron’s feet.
Its mouth opened one final time.
It formed the shape of a silent scream.
Aaron blinked, panting. A tremor suddenly shook his body and WHISK, he was gone.
Or he was back again.
Home.
Inside his real body.
He shivered.
“Look, Addy. He’s back!” Freddy said.
Aaron blinked. He stiffly brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. He felt cold, so cold. He felt the trickle of blood on his face. “Hey,” he said to Addy in a soft, dry whisper.
Addy didn’t say a word.
She just hugged him, tight, for a very long time.
“How did I get back?” he asked.
“You beat the game,” Freddy said. “When you knocked the head off that snow thingy, whatever it was, it opened a portal that allowed you to travel back.”
“A portal?” Addy asked.
“A window, an opening between the two worlds,” Freddy said.
“Whatever,” Addy smiled. “I’m just glad Aaron’s back.”
She gave Freddy a kiss. “Thank you, Freddy. You’re the best.”
Freddy’s face turned red. He was unable to speak.
AH-OOOOOOO! the wind howled outside. OWWWWWWWWL!
Aaron rose uneasily. His bones felt stiff. He shivered again, as warmth began to enter his body.
OWWWWWWWWWL!
The wind?
Aaron looked at the trees outside the window. The branches were still. There was no wind.
AH-OOOOOOO! the howl came again.
He knew the creatures that made that sound.
“Wolves,” Aaron said.
THWACK!
A snowball smashed against the living room window. Then another, and another rattled the panes.
CRASH! A window shattered, sending shards of glass everywhere.
“What’s happening?” Addy screamed.
Aaron looked out on the back lawn as an army of snowmen gathered there. A pack of ugly, hungry wolves sniffed the grounds. The big black one, with a scar that zigzagged across its face, howled at the moon.
“The portal!” Aaron exclaimed. “They followed me through the portal!”
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! The front door thundered. A headless snow creature threw its massive bulk against the door, again and again. The hinges strained from the force of the blows.
Addy frantically looked around for a weapon, a brick, a bat, anything she could use in the fight. Finding nothing, Addy grabbed a thick, hardcover book off the shelf.
Freddy grinned at her, cool even in a moment of panic. “What are you gonna do with that, Addy? Read to them? We can’t stay and fight. We have to get out of here. NOW!”
Aaron glanced at the television set. The NIGHTMARELAND disk was still inside his game console.
The front door buckled. It wouldn’t last much longer.
“They’ve nearly broken through!” Freddy warned. “Do you have a basement?”
“No, we’re safe here,” Aaron said. “Enough’s enough.”
He moved to the television set, bent down, and pulled the plug from the wall socket.
The television powered off.
In that instant, the wolves vanished and the snow guards disappeared.
The nightmare was over.
Addy, Freddy, and Aaron stood together amidst the shattered glass and broken window. Stunned and shaken. It took a long time for the terror to leak out from their bodies.
“Well,” Freddy broke the silence. He rubbed his belly. “Anybody want a slice of pizza?”
Addy’s cell phone buzzed. She listened for a few moments, nodding. She replied, “Sure, Mom. I know you didn’t get a chance to talk to him before. No, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s right here.”
She handed the phone to Aaron.
“Hey, Mom. Yeah, everything’s great. We’ll see you tomorrow, right?” Aaron listened, then smiled. “Of course, Mom. I understand. You don’t think I should play video games all night long. I know, I know. Too much screen time rots my brain cells. No worries, I think I’m done with video games for today. I’ll read a book instead.
“Oh, and Mom? I was using the Wii before—playing tennis—and the controller slipped out of my hand. I’m thinking we might need a new window.”
MALIK AND TIANA
The Rice children, Malik and Tiana, often played Treasure Hunt together—especially during the oven-hot days of summer. They had never discovered any actual treasure, but that didn’t stop them from trying. Some days they found golf balls, weird rocks, old bottles. Mostly the hunt was just an excuse to wander under the cool umbrella of the dark woods. It was, they agreed, a good way to kill the blistering, hot days.
Besides, you never know. As Malik said, “We’re not gonna find treasure, Tiana, if we never go looking for it.”
Malik was ten years old. He was “the responsible one.” The serious one. Good teeth, clean hands. The boy who could be trusted to look after his little sister, wild Tiana, and keep her from harm.
Malik didn’t mind. Not much, anyway. He might even tell you that he loved his sister’s wild black curls, her thin muscular arms, the way she seemed to float across rooms in yellow dresses. On some days, of course, Malik would frown and darken his gaze. It was hard to always be the responsible one. Like a weight he carried on his shoulders, day after day.
“No, Tiana, get off that ledge.”
“Put that down, Tiana. That’s glass.”
“Not now, Tiana, Daddy’s sleeping. Leave him be.”
Their father, Mr. Charles Rice, worked nights at the factory. Malik never figured out what exactly his daddy did there, except that he returned home bone-tired and ready for bed. Right about the time most folks were getting up! Because of that simple fact—“Papa needs his sleep”—there was much tiptoeing around the house. Mama always said things like, “Shush, children,” and “Quiet now, Papa’s sleeping.” School days, it wasn’t too bad. Off on the bus they’d go, clackety-clack, and away they went. But in the summer when Malik and Tiana were footloose and free, the house felt like a musty old library. Hush now, children, don’t say a word. Malik figured it was best to get outdoors and greet the day.
Most mornings, Mama went off to her job (Mama worked in the kitchen at the “old age” home). Everybody in the Rice family had a job, she said, even Malik and Tiana.
Malik’s job was looking after his free-spirited sister. Tiana’s job? Nobody had quite figured that out. She smiled and laughed, twinkled and danced. Maybe that was her role after all, just to shine like the sun. Tiana was a happy soul, so maybe making folks happy was her task in life. She lit up rooms like a 100-watt bulb. She laughed and the world laughed with her.
One bad day, Tiana wandered over to the old place. That was the name of it, exactly that: the old place. Ask anybody in the neighborhood, they’d all know the spot you were talking about. The old, abandoned house at the edge of the woods. It was a falling-down, battered old place that had been empty for years. A real eyesore, everybody called it. One shudder swung loose on a nail—bang, bang, bang—and slammed against the house like a warning in the wind. Haunted, maybe. Nobody remembered folks ever living there, or if they did recall it, they didn’t say so. Except to repeat, “Now, you kids, stay away from that old place.”
That was the warning heard up and down the block.
Stay away from that old place.
“Why?” the children sometimes asked.
And the answer was always the same, “Nothing good can come of it, that’s all. Just stay away. Understand?”
Malik and Tiana nodded their heads.
They understood.
At least, one of them did.
The other one wasn’t as good at listening.
A FEIWEL AND FRIENDS BOOK
An Imprint of Macmillan
NIGHTMARELAND. Text copyright © 2014 by James Preller. Illustrations copyright © 2014 by Iacopo Bruno. All rights reserved. For information, address Feiwel and Friends, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
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ISBN: 978-1-250-01892-2 (hardcover) / 978-1-250-01893-9 (paperback)
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First Edition: 2014
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eISBN 9781250061935
First eBook edition: May 2014
James Preller, Nightmareland
