I didn’t know whether to be angry or … or what? I couldn’t believe Deanna thought it was a good idea to do those things to me.
I pushed her shoulders against the tank. “Do you want to help me?” I said through gritted teeth. “Seriously? Do you want to help me? Then don’t throw knives at me. Help me get to my uncle Theo.”
She ducked out of my grasp. She shoved me back. “I can’t let you go there, Ray. No one ever comes back from Clown Street. No one.”
I scowled at her and spun away. I strode quickly to the ladder at the side of the tank. The ladder led up to the chair perched high over the water.
“No — Ray!” Deanna chased after me. “You don’t want to do this. My father … he … he sent a lot of clowns there. I never saw them again.”
I ignored her. I pulled myself up the ladder. “Maybe I’m crazy,” I called down to her. “My parents say I do crazy things all the time. But there’s no way I’m going to leave my uncle out there. No way.”
I hoisted myself onto the chair. I gazed down at the water. It was dark green under the pale moonlight and the twinkling carnival lights. Despite the hot night, I shivered. I held on to the seat of the little chair with both hands.
“Come on, Deanna,” I called. “Help me.”
She stood at the side of the tank, arms crossed, staring up at me. “Ray, I don’t want you to do this.”
“Help me,” I said again. “See those baseballs on the table? Get them, Deanna. Start throwing them.”
“No,” she insisted. “It’s too dangerous. It’s too impossible.”
“Throw the baseballs,” I said. “Help me do this.” I let go of the seat and motioned with both hands. “Come on. Hit the target. Send me into the water.”
From all the way up in the chair, I heard her sigh. She shook her head. I could see she was thinking hard, trying to decide what to do.
Finally, she picked up four or five baseballs and held them in her arms. “I don’t like this,” she said. “But I’ll try to help you.”
“Come on,” I shouted. “Throw them. Hit the target. Pretend you’re throwing a knife.”
She pulled back her arm and tossed a baseball. It missed the target by a mile. It hit the back wall and bounced into the water.
I gripped the seat bottom again. How crazy was this? Was I sending myself to my own doom?
I tried to force all those questions from my mind. I held on to my little perch and stared at the target.
Deanna threw again. Missed.
I could hear her muttering unhappily to herself. As a knife-thrower, she never missed.
Another toss. Missed the target by less than an inch.
“So close!” I cried. “Come on — one more. The next one will get it!”
Sure enough, I was right.
The hard ball made a smack sound as it hit the target dead center. The sharp sound rang in my ears.
I held my breath as my chair collapsed, and I went sliding down. I dropped into the tank with a loud splash. High waves of water rose up around me.
Shuddering from the shock of the sudden cold, I quickly sank to the bottom.
I opened my eyes but could see only dark green water all around me. I fought the urge to struggle to the surface. Instead, I hunched my body and forced myself to stay at the bottom.
Above me, I heard the hum of machinery. I saw the drain on the tank floor lift up. And a few seconds after that, I felt the strong pull of the water as it began to pour into the drain.
I forced my body to go limp. I felt the strong current washing over me, pulling me down. I didn’t try to fight it.
A few seconds later, I was tugged into the open hole. The drain was just wide enough for my body to slip through. The current was powerful, pulling me down with great force. I knew I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to.
I sank into total darkness. The raging water seemed to carry me into a deeper and deeper black. I landed on my back. I realized I was on a steep water slide that carried me down … down.
The slide tilted up. Carried by the powerful current, I was being carried sideways through the intense darkness. Still underwater, my chest began to ache.
Was I going to drown in this tunnel?
I shot around a curve, then slid straight ahead. It seemed as if I’d been sliding for hours. But that was impossible.
My head was spinning. Rays of bright red flashed in front of my eyes. My chest felt about to explode.
Can’t breathe … Can’t breathe down here …
Hold it in, Ray …
And then the raging stream lifted me up. My head shot above the surface. Still sliding through darkness, I gasped in breath after breath.
The water bubbled around me, sending hard waves over my body. The current seemed to grow even more powerful. A rushing waterfall carrying me … where?
I could hear only the endless rush of the water as it carried me along the slide. I could see only the black walls of the tunnel.
Did it stretch on for miles?
I choked on a mouthful of the cold water. Gagging and spitting, I struggled to regain my breath.
Suddenly, the slide angled down sharply. My body dipped with it. Again, I felt like I was falling, falling into the watery blackness.
And then … gray light.
I bobbed to the surface. Blinking away water, I glimpsed light all around me. I spun in a circle, gasping for breath. I kicked my legs to make sure they still worked.
The current stopped. The surface of the water flattened out.
“Where am I?” I murmured out loud.
Squinting into the gray light, I started to swim. My arms felt heavy and weak. But I forced them to pull me over the water.
Was I in a lake? A wide river?
I raised my eyes and saw a dark, flat surface stretching high above me.
I swam a bit farther, taking long, steady strokes.
“OW!” I uttered a cry as my head struck something hard.
I reeled back. I raised my hands in front of me — and rubbed them over a smooth, clear wall. A glass wall.
I’m in another water tank. A really huge tank.
I began to swim along the tank wall, keeping one hand on the glass. I turned a corner and kept swimming.
I couldn’t see anything on the other side of the glass. Just the blank gray light.
This tank is big, I told myself. But there has to be a way out.
I turned another corner and kept swimming. I couldn’t remember if I’d made a complete circle or not.
I lowered my arms and treaded water for a moment, waiting to catch my breath. And that’s when a strong hand gripped my shoulder from behind.
I let out a startled cry and whirled around.
“Deanna!” I cried. “I … I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”
She bobbed on the surface, water running off her blond hair. She raised both hands and wiped water off her face. “I had to follow you,” she said. “I couldn’t let you go alone.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Are you crazy?”
“We both are,” she said. She glanced around. “Where are we?”
“Some kind of water tank,” I said. “That’s all I can figure out.”
“Do you see a way out of here?”
I shook my head. And then I felt the water start to move around us. It came rushing at us like a tidal wave and splashed hard against the tank wall. And then, another hard splash against the glass. The water tumbled and rocked.
Gazing over Deanna’s shoulders, I saw something move under the water. Something dark … and big. Big enough to rumble all the water in the tank.
“Deanna,” I tapped her shoulder. “Better turn around.”
And now, we were both facing the enormous THING as it pulled itself up from the water. We pressed our backs against the glass tank wall and stared in horror.
“Is it a plant?” I cried.
I saw long, pulsing tendrils curling from its sides. But the middle of the big thin
g squeezed in, then out — as if it was breathing!
And when I saw the gaping mouth pull open on the front of its bulb-like head and saw the rows of huge, jagged teeth — I knew it wasn’t a plant.
“It’s some kind of mutant squid!” Deanna cried, squeezing my shoulder. “It’s a GIANT MUTANT squid!”
“I … I don’t think it’s friendly,” I muttered.
I watched, frozen in terror, as it roared up from the water. It stretched its tentacles toward us, reaching for us. And dove forward, lunging at us with surprising speed.
It splashed up wave after wave as it slid across the tank toward Deanna and me.
Deanna and I had our backs pressed against the tank wall. Nowhere to run. I raised both arms to shield myself. But the huge creature dove at me and covered me like a slimy, cold blanket.
It pressed me flat against the tank wall. I could feel its heart pulsing under its heavy slab of a body. I tried to duck beneath it. But there was no room.
And then I started to twist and squirm with all my might as the giant squid’s tentacles wrapped around me. It gnashed its beak and pushed harder. The tentacles squeezed around my middle like tight, wet ropes. And then I felt them wrap around my legs.
I couldn’t kick. I couldn’t strike out with my arms. I couldn’t breathe.
Tighter … tighter … The tentacles squeezed around my body.
Behind the creature, I saw Deanna struggling to free me. She punched the back of its head. Then she struggled to pull a tentacle from around my waist.
Her efforts became more frantic as she saw she wasn’t strong enough. The squid was a monster, and I was the monster’s victim.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. My chest felt about to explode. I shut my eyes. My strength was draining … draining away.
I’m sorry, Uncle Theo, I thought. My last thought. I’m sorry. I never even got to Clown Street.
The tentacles jerked, then suddenly loosened. I opened my eyes.
I saw Deanna raise a knife to the creature’s back. She must have had one of the knives from her circus act. She lowered the blade to the fleshy back.
The tentacles instantly unwrapped and slid away from me. They all flew up at once as the enormous creature retreated. It turned heavily, sending up another high wave of water, and plunged away from us, the knife still in its back.
I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I raised both arms and kicked hard, and pulled myself to the surface of the water. Then I gasped in breath after breath of the steamy air.
My chest ached. My whole body throbbed. Even though the squid was gone, I could still feel the slimy-hard tentacles around my chest and waist.
Deanna rose to the surface behind me, spitting water, breathing hard.
I turned to thank her, but I didn’t get a chance.
I heard applause. Yes. People clapping. Laughter and applause.
“What on earth—?” I cried. I slapped the side of my head to clear water from my ears. Was I hearing things?
No. Peering through the glass wall of the tank, I saw faces. People sitting in rows of seats, staring at the tank. “An audience!” I cried to Deanna, pointing. “Look. Those people were watching us.”
She shook water off her face. Tugged back her ponytail. Stared through the glass. “They watched us fight that squid?”
Shadows fell over the sides of the tank. I turned and saw two grinning clowns in red-and-white ruffled costumes. They leaned over the sides of the tank and motioned for us to swim to them.
The clowns pulled Deanna and me from the tank. They handed us big white bath towels. As we dried ourselves off, I saw the audience leaving. We were in some kind of outdoor theater.
Behind me, the squid bobbed in the tank. It bumped against the glass, as if trying to attack us.
A man in a black suit approached. He was tall and lanky. He had short brown hair on top of a pale, square face. He wasn’t smiling. He kept his eyes on Deanna and me without blinking.
“Very good show,” he said. His voice was deep and low. “Very entertaining.” He glanced over our shoulders at the creature bobbing in the tank.
“The squid almost won that fight,” he said, rubbing his slender chin. “We’ll give him another chance — real soon.”
“Wh-what’s going on here?” I stammered.
“Who are you?” Deanna cried. “Where are we?”
The man in the black suit didn’t reply. He studied us for a long moment. His mouth twisted in disgust. “That squid was just a little scare,” he said finally. “The big scares come later.”
He motioned to the two clowns who had rescued us. They grabbed Deanna and me and started to drag us out of the outdoor theater.
“Where are you taking us?” I cried. “Who are you? What’s going on here?”
“You can’t do this!” Deanna shouted.
The tall man made a shooing motion with both hands. “Take them,” he ordered the clowns.
They dragged us to a blue-and-red polka-dotted golf cart. “Get in,” one of the clowns said. “Don’t make trouble.”
We squeezed into the cart. The clown started up the small engine, and we began to glide along a narrow street. I saw tall trees on both sides. Nothing but woods.
I poked Deanna when I spotted a green street sign on a pole: CLOWN STREET. I shivered.
The clown driving the cart suddenly spoke up. “Don’t ever ask him questions,” he said. “He doesn’t like questions. Remember — he talks to you. You don’t talk to him.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Who is he?”
“Who is he?” For some reason, that made both clowns laugh. “He’s The Frightener. That’s who he is, kiddo. Ask him any more questions, he’ll send you to the bear cage.”
The bear cage?
The cart made a sharp turn into a gravel driveway. At the top of the driveway, I could see a huge house, gray and white, spread over a wide green lawn. A tall mansion with chimneys everywhere and a million windows, all dark. A tall hedge wrapped around the house as if protecting it.
“Where are you taking us?” I demanded.
“To the Clown Street Hotel,” one of them said. Then they both laughed again.
It didn’t take long to figure out why they were laughing. The Clown Street Hotel was actually a prison. A gray-uniformed prison guard led Deanna and me through some kind of metal detector machine, like the ones they have at airports.
Then he forced us down a long, dimly lit hall with barred cells on both sides. Sad-looking clowns sat silently on wooden benches, or talked quietly to the clowns in the neighboring cells.
Deanna and I were shoved into a small cell. “Can’t we get some dry clothes?” Deanna asked the guard. “We’re totally soaked.”
“You’ll dry out,” he muttered. He locked the cell door and hurried away.
Deanna and I stared at each other. We didn’t speak. I think we were both in shock. Dripping wet and exhausted, and aching from the battle with the giant squid, I just wanted to lie down. To hide somewhere and think.
But a fierce roar made me jump — and shocked me out of my weariness. Suddenly alert, I gripped the bars on the front of our cell and listened.
Another roar rang out against the prison walls.
“It’s … a bear,” Deanna whispered, huddled close beside me.
Down the row of cells, I heard a struggle. Men shouting. A few seconds later, I watched through the bars as two gray-uniformed guards dragged a white-faced clown down the hallway.
“No! Please — please —” the clown shrieked. “Not the bear cage! Not the bear cage! Noooo!”
I heard the bear roar again. So close. The sound sent chill after chill down my back.
“Please — no! Not the bear cage!” the clown begged.
But the guards dragged him away. I tried to see where they were taking him. But he was out of sight. I could still hear him pleading and begging.
Then I heard another terrifying roar.
And then applause. It s
ounded like a big crowd. Clapping and shouting and cheering.
Deanna and I stood there staring at each other, our hands gripping the bars. Down the row of cells, I could see other clowns standing stiffly, everyone silent, listening to the angry roars and cheering crowd.
And then a really thunderous roar, followed by a man’s horrifying scream.
Cheers and wild applause by the crowd.
The clown in the cell next to us muttered, “Poor guy. He’s … he’s bear meat.”
I turned to the voice. I couldn’t see the man. He was covered in deep shadow. But then he moved up to the bars between our cells — and I let out a cry.
“Uncle Theo!” I shouted.
I darted over to him. He was in his Murder the Clown costume. We tried to hug each other through the bars, but it was impossible.
“I don’t believe it,” he kept muttering. “I don’t believe it. Ray, what are you doing here? How did this happen?”
Deanna stepped up beside me. “How are you, Theo?” she asked. “Are you okay?”
“Deanna? You’re here, too?” Uncle Theo cried.
“We came to rescue you,” I said.
He squinted at me through the bars. “But that’s impossible. The security at this prison is very tight. There’s no way we can escape.”
He grabbed my shoulder. “I didn’t think you’d come to the circus. They forced me to Clown Street before I could warn you. I … I’m so sorry, Ray.”
“Uncle Theo, what is this place?” I asked. “Why are we in this prison? What is going on here?”
“Did you meet The Frightener?” he asked. “He owns this prison. Clown Street belongs to The Frightener.”
“We met him,” Deanna said. “He was kind of frightening. Just because he was so mean.”
“He’s not kind of frightening,” Uncle Theo said. “He’s very frightening — and deadly. I’ll tell you about him.…”
He lowered himself to his cell floor. Deanna and I sat down, too.
Uncle Theo sighed. “It’s a strange story,” he began. “Hard to believe. But here we are. So we know it’s true.”