The Five Masks of Dr. Screem by R.L. Stine

Author:R.L. Stine [STINE, R.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780545389266
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2011-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

21

“Ooof.” I landed flat on my stomach on top of the mummy. I bounced once — and my face sank into the hard, smelly wrappings of the mummy’s chest.

I raised my head and let out a groan.

The mummy wrappings were dry and scratchy. My cheeks itched.

I gagged as the putrid stench from the ancient corpse rose to my nostrils. I struggled to keep my dinner down. Wave after wave of the sour odor swept over me.

I was sprawled flat on top of the mummy. It felt hard as bones beneath me. It was tiny, like a child. Its wrapped head was no bigger than a lightbulb.

The ancient gauze over the mummy’s head dipped where the eyes had been. Dried tar stained the wrappings around the neck.

The odor sickened me. I tried to close my nose and breathe out of my mouth.

Carefully, I struggled onto my side. The mummy moved beneath me.

Gross.

I gazed up. The lid had slid only halfway off the top of the case. Dim light poured over me from the ceiling.

I worked myself to a sitting position. Then I grabbed the edge of the lid. My idea was to hold on to the lid and pull myself out.

But as I tugged, I heard a grinding sound. Stone against stone.

It took me only a second to realize the heavy lid was falling … falling into the mummy case.

I’m going to be CRUSHED.

I swung away from the falling lid. Grabbed the side of the case with both hands. And flipped myself out.

I fell free of the case — just as the lid crashed down inside it.

The roar rocked the room.

I rolled away from the case. Stopped in front of the pyramid model.

Then I lay there on the floor for a long moment, catching my breath.

The sour, putrid odor of the mummy lingered on my clothes. It clung to the inside of the insect mask.

I grabbed at the mask. I wanted to pull it off. I wanted Halloween to be over. To be out of this museum where we didn’t belong. To be home safe in my house with my parents.

My parents.

That thought made me remember why I couldn’t remove the mask.

I stood up and brushed the thick dust off the front of my clothing. Then I gazed around the room.

“Peter?” I called.

My eyes swept the room, from mummy case to mummy case.

“Peter? Where are you?”

No answer.

I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Peter? Come on. You’re not funny. We have to get out of here. Peter? Where are you?”

My voice grew higher and more shrill with every word.

“Peter? Please?” I cried. “Peter?”

He had disappeared.

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