When the house was no longer in view, we stopped running. Stopped to catch our breath.
I listened in the darkness for footsteps.
The swamp monster’s footsteps.
There weren’t any.
“We did it! We killed the monster!” My voice rang out in the night.
“And we escaped!” Clark cheered. “We’re free! We’re okay!”
“Yes!” I shouted. “We really did it!”
Now that we had stopped running for our lives, we stepped through the swamp carefully. Leaping over the inky puddles and gnarled tree roots.
The night air echoed with strange sounds.
Low gurgling. Scampering footsteps. Piercing cries.
But I didn’t care.
I had already battled my worst nightmare—the swamp monster. Battled him and won.
“Hey! Clark!” I suddenly remembered the other letter! “We never read Grandma and Grandpa’s letter. The second letter!”
“So what?” Clark replied. “We don’t have to read it. The monster is dead. We killed it. Just as they told us to do in the first letter.”
“Where is it? Where’s the letter?” I demanded. “Take it out, Clark.” I stopped walking. “I want to know what it says.”
Clark pulled the crumpled envelope from his jeans pocket. As he smoothed out the wrinkles, a fierce animal cry cut through the swamp.
“I—I don’t think we should stop now,” Clark said. “We can read it later. After we reach town. After we call Mom and Dad.”
“Read it now,” I insisted. “Come on. Don’t you want to know what it says?”
“No,” Clark declared.
“Well, I do,” I told him.
“Okay. Okay.” Clark ripped open the envelope and slipped out the letter.
A light wind began to blow, carrying the sharp animal cries to us.
The dark trees rustled over our heads.
Clark began to read slowly, struggling to see in the dim moonlight. “ ‘Dear Gretchen and Clark. We hope you children are safe and well. We forgot one word of warning in the first letter.
“ ‘If the monster gets out … and you do kill it … and escape from the house—stay on the road. Do NOT go into the swamp.’ ”
Clark rolled his eyes. He let out a loud groan.
“Keep reading!” I shouted. “Read!”
He squinted in the dark and went on. “ ‘The monster’s brothers and sisters live in the swamp—dozens of them. We think they are out there. Waiting for him.’ ”
My heart started to race as Clark continued.
“ ‘We’ve seen the monsters in the swamp. We’ve heard them whistling to each other every night. They’re unhappy their brother was captured. They’re waiting for him to return. So whatever you do, stay out of the swamp. It’s not safe out there. Stay out of the swamp! Good luck! We love you.’ ”
Clark’s hands dropped to his sides. The letter fell to the marshy ground.
I turned slowly, staring out at the shifting shadows.
“Gretchen.” Clark choked out my name. “Do you hear that? What is that sound? What is it?”
“Uh … it sounds like a whistle.”
“Th-that’s what I thought,” he whispered. “What do we do now? Any ideas?”
“No, Clark,” I replied softly. “I don’t have any more ideas. How about you?”
R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street and the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at RLStine.com.
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