Free Fear: 13 Stories of Suspense and Horror by R.L. Stine Page A

baby. In the background of the image on the video screen I saw the outline of what looked like a wine storage cabinet. My gut told me that the baby was somewhere in the basement of the house.
    In retrospect, going down to the basement by myself wasn’t a good idea. But something takes over when you see and hear a child in distress: It’s almost a full-body alarm that compels you to act without thinking, to run as fast as you can toward the sobbing sounds. At least that’s how it was for me.
    As I raced down a series of stairways and then through the family room, where the disturbing screen images were still looping, I heard the patter of rain outside the window—a fall storm beginning. As a flash of lightning illuminated the Halloween cemetery in the backyard, I remembered the story of the teenage girl named Jessica who had disappeared. How many kids are buried back there? I wondered. How many families?
    I made my way through a library (where I glimpsed a book entitled Best Meat-Carving Methods ) then through a game room and a reading alcove, then down the steep, dark steps leading to the Perfects’ basement.
    I could hear the crying more clearly now, but it sounded softer, as if the child had grown weary.
    â€œHello? Is anybody here?”
    Across the dim room I saw the dark outline of the cage. Something sat inside: the motionless shadow-silhouette of a child. Was she okay? Had she been hurt?
    I cautiously approached the cage until I was close enough to see clearly in the dim light.
    The cage door was open and there was no baby. Instead, there was a large doll— a doll that bore a striking resemblance to me. I stared for a moment too long, horrified and mesmerized by the doll’s hoop earrings—the long, shiny hair gathered in a ponytail. Several hands shoved me from behind.
    I toppled into the cage and the door slammed behind me.
    When I turned around and caught my breath, I saw the whole Perfect family—including a very familiar one-year-old baby and two of the middle-aged ladies from the Sweet Memories shop—hugging each other, pulling out their carving knives, and wishing each other a happy Halloween.
    â€œMy parents know where I am!” I shouted, my voice sounding strangely hollow. “My dad will make sure you all go to jail forever!”
    â€œThings don’t work that way around here, dear,” said Mrs. Perfect calmly. “You see, we Perfects pretty much keep this town running. We have an arrangement with the townsfolk. We stay away from the kids who were born and raised here, and help keep their businesses afloat, and they keep their noses out of our culinary activities. Let’s just say the police won’t be terribly concerned when they hear you’re missing.”
    â€œStill, you won’t get away with this.” I realized I was speaking to someone who had absolute certainty that she would indeed get away with it forever.
    â€œYou’d be shocked at how many parents can be bought,” said Mrs. Perfect. “Just say the words ‘financial security’ and ‘never have to work again’ and some of them are willing to keep quiet. Others—well, we have ways of keeping them quiet.”
    So there you have it. In the town of Entrails, the Perfect family keeps the town running financially and, in exchange, the townsfolk and the police keep quiet about their crimes. In a sense, my family really did move next door to a castle; the whole thing is kind of feudal. If I were going to school again, I’d write a paper about it.
    But don’t worry. I haven’t given up all hope yet. Remember how I said kids always like me? Well, toddlers love me. And just a moment ago, after all the other Perfects disappeared to go sharpen their knives and fingernails in preparation for their Halloween feast of freshly killed babysitter, the littlest Perfect appeared outside my cage with an impish, toothy grin and a shiny key in her hand.