Your Worst Nightmare (9 page)

Still he believed that he could make it. Still he believed in himself.

Until the tunnel started to narrow.

At first Tim thought it was his imagination, but all
too soon he realized that the tunnel was closing in on him: First it was five feet wide, then four feet wide, then three feet, then two. Then his shoulders were brushing against the sharp, rocky sides and Tim finally had to face the truth: If the tunnel continued to narrow like this, it would eventually become a dead end.

And the fire would win once and for all.

As she walked Kristi was struck by how, well,
boring
the maze was: one long, twisty tunnel, the same unchanging beige rocks surrounding her for as far as her eyes could see. Which wasn't very far, to be honest. The electric lights were strung farther apart here, making them seem even weaker than the ones along the tour. The only sound Kristi could hear was the echo of her own footsteps; every so often she would stop and listen, straining her ears in an attempt to hear the others. To hear anyone, any
thing
. But the rock walls were thick and the silence was overwhelming. Kristi knew that she could scream and not a soul would hear her.

She started walking a little faster. She was ready to
be out of this maze and out of these caverns; she couldn't wait to be back on the school bus with Olivia. So far, the ride out to the Ravensburg Caverns had been the best part of the field trip. It would feel so good to be back in her own house; to sleep in her own bed.

Kristi started wondering if the others were out of their tunnels yet. She wished there was some way to know. She hoped that they would wait for her—she could imagine it now, finally emerging from her tunnel to see Bobby and Tim and Olivia standing around, looking bored. Olivia would grin at her and say, “Hey, you,” like she always did, and Kristi would say—

“Hey!”

Kristi jumped.
Who said that?

“Hey, you! In the red sweater!”

It definitely wasn't Olivia.

“Hey!”

The voice—whoever it belonged to—was coming from around the bend directly ahead.

“I see you over there!”

For a split second Kristi thought she should turn around and run—but to where? Besides, the person—whoever he was—had already seen her. He knew where
she was. He could follow her if he wanted to.

“Please! I need help!”

There was something so desperate in the voice that Kristi found herself drawn to it. Her heart was pounding and her throat felt tight and swollen from fear, but Kristi knew that if someone was in trouble in the caves, she would help them. How could she do anything else?

“Wh—what's wrong?” she asked in a quavering voice.

“Come closer. I won't hurt you. I need your help.”

Kristi pressed herself against the wall and crept toward the bend. She took a deep breath as she turned the corner and found another long, beige corridor made of stone. This one was not like the others though: Every five feet there was a square hole about three feet wide. And every hole was covered by thick iron bars.

“You came. Thank you,” the person behind the first set of bars rasped. “I'm trapped and I can't get out.”

“What happened?” asked Kristi.

“I was exploring the maze, just like you, but this door closed behind me and locked. I've screamed and screamed, but nobody has come to help. I don't think anyone knows I'm down here.”

Kristi squinted at the iron bars, but it was so dark
and shadowy that she couldn't see the person behind them. “I'll go right now,” she promised. “I'll run as fast as I can and tell them that you're trapped down here.”

“No!” the voice shouted. “No, you can't leave! You don't understand what it's like to be trapped down here!”

Kristi swallowed hard. “But—I'm going to get help! I promise I'll be right back!”

“No!” he howled.

“What do you want me to
do
?”

A pale, trembling hand reached through the bars, pointing at the far wall of the tunnel. Kristi glanced behind her to see what the hand was pointing at. Under an exposed lightbulb hung a single key on a large ring. It looked very, very old, with flakes of orange rust peeling off its blade.

“The key is right over there,” the man wheedled. “Right over there on the wall. Be a good girl and get it for me. I can't spend another minute in this cave!”

Kristi swallowed hard. Every molecule of her body warned her not to get the key.

“I'll go—I'll get help,” Kristi repeated. Her mouth was very dry.

“Don't leave!” the man shouted. “Just throw me the
key! That's all you have to do!”

But Kristi couldn't do it. “I'll be right back,” she said, and walked closer to the bars. “I give you my word.”

Kristi looked inside the bars to make eye contact with the owner of the voice, to let him know that he could trust her, but just as she got close enough to smell the acrid old metal of the bars, he emerged from the shadows and pressed his face against the iron bars. “I just need the key,” the man breathed. “Bring it to me.”

But Kristi only drew in a sharp breath, horrified because in that terrible and unexpected moment she realized that it wasn't just a man trapped within the cell.

It was a clown.

And everything was so wrong about him, wrong in every way. The tattered ruffles around his thick neck. The dingy white pancake makeup pierced by unkempt stubble. The garish smears of red around his mouth. The cracked blue diamonds around his eyes. But the makeup wasn't even the worst of it. It was his eyes: tiny evil eyes, wild and unfocused and unfathomably dark.

“What are you doing?” he yelled. Kristi opened her mouth, but no sound came out. “Bring me the
key
!” the clown howled in outrage.

Kristi backed up in fear, further into the tunnel.

“Just bring him the key,” another person hissed.

Who is that?
Kristi wondered in horror.

“Why should that dirty old key just hang there?” the new person continued. “Just bring it to him. Or to me.”

“Do it,” a third person chimed in. “Do it
now
.”

Kristi stared down the tunnel, wishing that she was wrong, wishing that it was all a dream. But it was real, too real, terribly real: every few feet a new cell had been carved into the thick rock, and every cell imprisoned a clown. They pushed their faces right against the bars. The smeary makeup made their faces grotesque, but what disturbed Kristi the most was their
eyes
, angry and evil. It must've been a trick of the light, the way the bulbs flickered off and on, because Kristi knew that there was no way for human eyes to glitter like that.

Kristi was all too familiar with what came next: A wave of icy terror that paralyzed her. She couldn't move a muscle.

What are they
doing
here?
Kristi thought wildly. Then she remembered something that Bobby had said earlier—that circus—what did he call it? Circus Atrocitas? The fatal accident. The performers
imprisoned in the caverns . . . and
never seen again.

“Bring us the key,” the clowns snarled. “Bring it!”

You. Are. Safe,
Kristi thought, trying to overcome the fear that had seized her muscles.
They're all behind bars. They can't hurt you. They can't do anything to you.

“Bring us the key!” all the clowns screamed at the same time. The first one started rattling the bars of his cell. “Bring it to us!”

Then, to Kristi's horror, the rusty bar crumbled to powder in the first clown's hand.

The clown stared at his hand in wonderment, as if he couldn't believe his luck. A chilling smile spread across his face. “Rattle the bars, boys!” he yelled. “Rattle the bars and free yourselves!”

Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang.

The sound was deafening, all those bars banging and the jubilant shouts whenever one disintegrated.

“Wait till I get out of here,” one of the clowns shouted. “Just wait!”

“Maybe
she'd
like to be locked in one of them cells,” another yelled. “We'll take the key and leave
you
here to rot, girl. How'd you like
that
?”

Kristi was still frozen as she watched those bars
come down, one by one by one. Soon, she knew, the first clown would be free. He would charge out of his cell, snatch the key, and free the others, too. And she would still be standing here, frozen in terror.

No I won't,
Kristi vowed.

And she started to run. First she darted over to the key and grabbed it. This way if one of the clowns did get free, he couldn't just unlock all the other cells. They'd have to rattle themselves free, and that would take a bit longer, or at least Kristi hoped it would. Then she turned back and began to run down the tunnel.

In all her life, Kristi had never run so fast as she did past the jail cells of jeering clowns, through the narrow tunnel, away from those awful faces and rattling bars. Even when her muscles seized up with cramps; even when her chest burned and her lungs swelled and her heart felt like it was about to burst, Kristi kept running. Even when she started to stumble and had to pick herself up again and force herself to move forward, Kristi kept running.

And when she heard footsteps pounding behind her, Kristi ran even faster.

They were coming.

Coming for her.

More footsteps, running; more shouts and threats. Kristi tried to figure out how many clowns there were and how many had gotten free. But deep within her terror she still held on to the key and a ray of hope. She was young and strong and fast. She could escape from the clowns, escape from this maze, escape from this underground nightmare.

The tunnel twisted and turned sharply—once, then twice, then three times. Kristi had an uneasy sense that she was looping back around. If this part of the maze was an endless loop, she might really be running in circles—and if she was, Kristi knew it was only a matter of time before her body gave up. And she knew exactly what those awful clowns would do: lock her in a cell and throw away the key. Some of those bars weren't crumbling. Some of them were still strong. And once she was behind them, no one would know where she was. No one would come for her.

“No,” Kristi said to herself. There
had
to be a way out, and she was determined to find it.

Especially as the footsteps behind her grew louder . . . and closer. They motivated Kristi even more, pushing
her forward, even though she was starting to wonder how much longer she could keep up this frantic pace. Far ahead, off to the side of the tunnel, Kristi saw a dark crevice. It was narrow, but it might be just big enough to fit her if she squeezed in tight.
I can hide there,
Kristi thought.
I can hide there until the clowns stop looking for me. After they leave, I can go back the other way, past their cells, back to the Crystal Lake.

Just having a plan made Kristi feel stronger.
I can do this,
she thought.
I can escape.

In seconds, Kristi reached the crevice. She glanced over her shoulder but didn't see anyone coming. Kristi held her breath and squeezed into the crevice as the sharp rocks lining it scratched her face and hands. Then she exhaled heavily, shaking with exhaustion, fear, and relief.

I made it,
Kristi thought.
I'm safe
.

Then, in the darkness, someone grabbed her hand.

Kristi's scream was so loud and powerful that it threatened to rip her throat in two. A hand clapped over her mouth and she tried furiously to bite it, to twist away, to keep running.

“Kristi! Stop! It's me—it's Bobby—
ow
!”

It took a moment for Kristi to understand that she was hearing a familiar voice. A friendly voice. The fight drained out of her, leaving her muscles trembling and weak.