[Goosebumps 38] - The Abominable Snowman of Pasadena Read online

  The elk calmly picked their way across the snow, antlers high. They stopped to eat at a stand of bushes. Arthur pulled back the rein on the lead sled dog to keep him from barking.

  Suddenly, one elk lifted its head. It seemed to sense something.

  The other elk tensed up, too. Then they turned and began to gallop away across the tundra. Their hooves thundered over the snow.

  Dad let his camera fall against his chest. “That’s strange,” he said. “I wonder what happened.”

  “Something scared them,” Arthur said grimly. “It wasn’t us. And it wasn’t the dogs.”

  Dad scanned the horizon. “What was it, then?”

  We all waited for Arthur’s answer. But he only said, “We ought to turn around and head back to town right now.”

  “We’re not going back,” Dad insisted. “Not after coming all this way.”

  Arthur stared at him. “Are you going to take my advice or not?”

  “No,” Dad replied. “I’ve got a job to do here. And I’ve hired you to do a job. We’re not going back without a good reason.”

  “We’ve got a good reason,” Arthur insisted. “Only you won’t see it that way.”

  “Push ahead,” Dad ordered.

  Arthur frowned and shouted “Mush!” to the dogs. The sled began to move. We followed it, on toward the snow rise.

  Nicole walked a few feet ahead of me. I picked up a pile of snow and patted it into a ball. But then I thought I’d better not throw it. No one seemed to be in the mood for snowball fights.

  We marched through the snow for a couple of hours. I slipped off my mittens and wiggled my fingers. Frost kept collecting on my upper lip. I wiped it away.

  We reached a stand of pine trees at the base of the snow rise. Suddenly the dogs stopped short. They began to bark.

  “Mush!” Arthur shouted.

  The dogs refused to go farther.

  Nicole ran up to her favorite dog, Lars. “What is it, Lars? What’s the matter?”

  Lars howled.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Dad asked Arthur.

  Arthur’s face paled again. His hands shook. He stared intently into the trees, squinting into the brightness.

  “Something’s frightened the dogs,” he said. “Look how their fur stands on end.”

  I patted Lars. It was true. His fur stood straight up. The dog growled.

  “Not much scares these dogs,” Arthur said. “Whatever it is, it’s scaring them bad.”

  The dogs all howled.

  Nicole huddled close to Dad.

  “There’s something dangerous on that snow rise,” Arthur said. “Something dangerous—and very near.”

  12

  “I’m warning you, Mr. Blake,” Arthur said. “We’ve got to go back.”

  “No way,” Dad protested. “We’re not going back. I mean it.”

  The dogs barked and skittered nervously. Arthur shook his head. “I won’t go any farther. The dogs won’t, either.”

  Dad shouted, “Mush!” to the dogs. They howled and started backing up.

  “Mush!” he cried again. Instead of going forward, the dogs tried to turn around in the snow.

  “You’re upsetting them,” Arthur said. “They won’t go any farther—I told you that.

  “If we turn around now,” Arthur added, “we can make it back to the cabin before it gets too late.”

  “What are we going to do, Dad?” I asked.

  Dad frowned. “Maybe Arthur’s right. Something is definitely frightening the dogs. There could be a bear or something nearby.”

  “Not a bear, Mr. Blake,” Arthur insisted. “These dogs are spooked. And so am I.”

  He marched away across the snow, heading back toward the musher’s cabin.

  “Arthur!” Dad called. “Come back here!”

  Arthur didn’t turn around. He didn’t say a word. He just kept walking.

  He must be really scared, I thought. And that sent a chill of fear down my back.

  Still barking excitedly, the dogs pulled the sled around and started following Arthur.

  Dad peered into the woods. “I wish I could see what’s out there.”

  “Let’s go check it out,” I urged. “Whatever it is, it’ll probably make a great photo.” That usually gets Dad.

  He glanced back at Arthur, the dogs, and the sled, rushing toward the cabin. “No—it’s too dangerous. We have no choice. Let’s go, kids.”

  We trudged back to the cabin. “Maybe I can persuade Arthur to push on tomorrow,” Dad muttered.

  I didn’t say anything. But I had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy to get Arthur to climb that snow rise.

  And maybe Arthur was right, I thought. Those dogs really were scared. It was definitely creepy.

  Arthur was unhitching the dogs from the sled when we reached the cabin. The dogs had calmed down a lot.

  I yanked off my backpack and collapsed on top of my sleeping bag.

  “We might as well eat supper,” Dad grumbled. I could tell he was in a terrible mood. “Jordan—why don’t you and Nicole go gather some firewood. But be careful.”

  “We will, Dad,” Nicole promised.

  I stood up and started out of the cabin.

  “Jordan!” Dad scolded. “Put your knapsack back on. I don’t want you going anywhere without it. Understood?”

  “We’re just going for firewood,” I protested. “I’m tired of carrying it. We’ll only be gone for a few minutes—and anyway, Nicole is wearing hers.”

  “No arguments,” Dad snapped. “If you get lost, that food could keep you alive until we find you. You leave this cabin, you wear that backpack. Is that clear?”

  Boy, was he in a bad mood. “It’s clear,” I said, strapping on my pack.

  Nicole and I crunched across the snow to the nearest trees. They lined a snow ridge about half a mile away.

  We climbed the snow ridge. I made it to the top first.

  “Nicole—look!”

  On the other side of the snow ridge, I saw a frozen stream. The first water we’d seen since we’d set out.

  Nicole and I skittered down the ridge and stared into the icy stream. I tested the ice with my foot.

  “Don’t step on it, Jordan!” Nicole cried. “You might fall in.”

  I tapped the ice with the tip of my boot. “It’s solid,” I told her.

  “Still,” Nicole said. “Don’t take any chances. Dad will kill you if you have another accident.”

  “I wonder if there are fish swimming under there,” I said, staring into the ice.

  “We should tell Dad about this,” Nicole said. “He might want to photograph it.”

  We left the stream to gather dead branches under the trees. We lugged them over the snow ridge and back across the snow to the cabin.

  “Thanks, kids,” Dad said when we burst into the cabin. He took the wood from us and started a fire in the stove. “How about pancakes for supper tonight?”

  He’s in a better mood now, I thought with relief.

  Nicole told Dad about the frozen stream.

  “Interesting,” Dad said. “I’ll go take a look at it after supper. I’ve got to find something to photograph besides all this ice and snow.”

  The pancakes cheered all of us up—except for Arthur.

  He ate a lot, but he didn’t say much. He appeared jittery. He dropped his fork on the floor. Muttering to himself, he picked it up and started eating without wiping it off.

  When supper was over, Nicole and I helped Dad clean up.

  We were gathering up the supplies when the dogs started to bark.

  I saw Arthur freeze.

  “What’s that?” I cried. “What’s upset the dogs?”

  13

  The dogs yelped and barked.

  Was someone out there?

  An animal? A monster?

  “I’ll go check,” Arthur said solemnly. He pulled on his coat and wool cap and hurried out of the cabin.

  Dad grabbed his coat. “Stay here,” he instruc
ted Nicole and me. He followed Arthur.

  We stared at each other, listening to the yelping dogs. A few seconds later, the barking stopped.

  Dad poked his head back into the cabin. “Nothing out there. We don’t know what got them upset. But Arthur is calming them down.”

  Dad grabbed his camera. “You two get some sleep, okay? I’m going to check out that stream. I won’t be gone long.”

  He draped the camera over his fur coat collar. The cabin door slammed behind him.

  We heard Dad’s footsteps crunching over the snow. Then silence. Nicole and I climbed into our sleeping bags.

  I rolled onto my side, trying to get comfortable. It was after eight o’clock, but still light outside. The sun filtered through the window of the cabin.

  The light reminded me of when I was little. Mom used to try to make me take a nap in the afternoon. I never could sleep in the daytime.

  I closed my eyes. I opened them. I wasn’t sleepy.

  I turned my head and glanced at Nicole. She lay on her back, her eyes wide open.

  “I can’t sleep,” I announced.

  “Me either,” she replied.

  I squirmed in my sleeping bag.

  “Where’s Arthur?” Nicole asked. “I wonder what’s taking him so long?”

  “I guess he’s hanging out with the dogs,” I said. “I think he likes them better than he likes us.”

  “That’s for sure,” Nicole agreed.

  We tossed and turned some more. The sky stayed bright. The light poured in through the cabin window.

  “I give up,” I groaned. “Let’s go outside and build a snowman or something.”

  “Dad said to stay put.”

  “We won’t go anywhere. We’ll stay by the cabin,” I assured her.

  I crawled out of my sleeping bag and started getting dressed. Nicole sat up.

  “We shouldn’t,” she warned.

  “Come on. What could happen?”

  She stood up and pulled on her sweater. “If I don’t do something, I’ll go stir-crazy,” she admitted.

  We bundled up. I pulled open the cabin door.

  “Jordan—wait!” Nicole cried. “You forgot your backpack.”

  “We’re just going out the door,” I complained.

  “Come on. Dad said we have to. He’ll be furious if he finds us outside. And he’ll be even more furious if you’re not wearing your pack.”

  “Oh, all right,” I grumbled. I hoisted the pack over my shoulders. “Like something’s really going to happen to us.”

  We stepped out into the cold. I kicked at the snow.

  Nicole grabbed my coat sleeve. “Listen!” she whispered.

  We heard the crunch of footsteps behind the cabin. “It’s Arthur,” I told her.

  We crept around to the back. It was Arthur.

  He crouched beside the dogsled, hitching up one of the dogs. Two others were already tied to the sled.

  “Arthur!” I cried. “What’s up?”

  Startled, he turned to us. He didn’t reply. Instead, he jumped on the back of the sled.

  “Mush!” he commanded the dogs at the top of his lungs.

  The dogs leaned forward, tugging hard. The sled began to slide away.

  “Arthur! Where are you going?” I screamed. “Come back!”

  The sled picked up speed.

  “Arthur! Arthur!” Nicole and I ran after him, shouting his name.

  But the sled raced farther and farther away from us.

  Arthur never turned back.

  14

  Nicole and I chased after the sled, watching it grow tinier and tinier.

  “Arthur! Come back!”

  “He’s got our food!” I cried.

  We couldn’t let him get away. We ran as fast as we could, our boots falling deep into the snow.

  The sled climbed over a tall ridge of snow.

  “Stop! Stop!” Nicole screamed. “Please!”

  “We can’t keep up with the dogs,” I gasped.

  “We have to try,” Nicole cried frantically. “We can’t let Arthur leave us here!”

  The sled disappeared over the top of the ridge. We clawed our way up. The snow slid under our feet.

  By the time we reached the top, Arthur and the dogs were far ahead of us. We watched in horror as they quickly disappeared across the tundra.

  Exhausted, I collapsed in the snow. “They’re getting away,” I choked out.

  “Jordan, get up!” Nicole pleaded.

  “We can’t catch him,” I moaned.

  Then Nicole said in a small voice, “Where are we?”

  I stood up and gazed around. Snow, snow, snow. All around us, nothing but snow. No landmarks. No sign of the cabin.

  Clouds had covered the sun. The wind picked up. Snow began to fall.

  I had no idea where we were.

  “Which way is the cabin?” I asked in a shrill voice. “Which way did we come?”

  We scanned the horizon through the falling snow. I didn’t see the cabin anywhere.

  Nicole tugged on my arm. “The cabin is that way. Let’s go!”

  “No!” The snow came down harder and faster, stinging my eyes. I shouted into the wind. “The cabin’s the other way! That’s not the way we came.”

  “Look!” Nicole yelled, pointing down. “Our tracks! We’ll just follow them home.”

  We started down the ridge, following the ruts we’d made in the snow. The wind howled, growing stronger.

  We followed our own footprints for a short while. It was so hard to see in the falling snow. All white and gray. The whole world. White and gray.

  Nicole peered at me through the thick curtain of snow. “I can hardly see you!” she shouted.

  We crouched low, searching for our footprints.

  “They’re gone!” I cried. The snow had already covered them up.

  Nicole clutched my arm. “Jordan, I’m getting scared.”

  I was getting scared, too. But I didn’t tell Nicole.

  “We’ll find the cabin,” I assured her. “Don’t worry. I bet Dad’s looking for us right now.”

  I wished I believed it myself. The wind pelted us with hard, icy snow. I squinted into the wind. Nothing but white. White on white. White on gray.

  “Don’t let go of me!” I shouted to Nicole.

  “What?”

  “I said, don’t let go of me! We could easily lose each other in the storm!”

  She tightened her grip on my arm to show she understood.

  “I’m so cold,” she shouted. “Let’s run!”

  We tried to run through the snow, stumbling against the wind. “Dad!” we called out. “Dad!”

  I had no idea where we were going—but I knew we had to go somewhere.

  “Look!” Nicole cried, pointing through the thick snow. “I think I see something!”

  I stared as hard as I could, but I didn’t see anything.

  Nicole pulled me along. “Come on!” she shouted.

  We ran blindly. Suddenly, the ground gave way under our feet.

  Still holding onto Nicole, I felt myself being sucked down under the snow.

  15

  Down we fell. Down into the freezing white.

  The snow rushed up, swirled around us.

  And buried us.

  Another crevasse, I thought. Another deep pit in the snow.

  Much deeper than the first.

  We both cried out as we landed. Tangled up in each other.

  “Get off!” Nicole shrieked. “Where are we? Get off!”

  Feeling dazed, I struggled to my feet. Then I grabbed both of her hands and tugged her up.

  “Oh no,” Nicole groaned.

  We both stared up to the top. I could barely make out the gray of the sky, high above our heads.

  And all around us, high walls of snow. Powdery snow that blew down on us. I peered up to the top of the pit. Chunks of snow broke off the icy walls. They made soft thuds as they landed beside us on the snowy pit floor.

  “We�
�re trapped down here!” Nicole wailed. “Dad will never find us. Never!”

  I grabbed the shoulders of her coat. A chunk of snow fell off the pit wall and landed on top of my boots. “Try to stay calm,” I told her. But my voice trembled as I said it.

  “Calm? How can I stay calm?” she demanded shrilly.

  “Dad will find us,” I said. I wasn’t sure I believed it. I swallowed hard, trying to fight down my panic.

  “Daaaaaad!” Nicole screamed. She cupped her hands around her mouth, raised her head toward the sky, and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Daaaaaaad! Daaaaaaaaad!”

  I clapped a mitten over her mouth.

  Too late.

  I heard a low rumbling.

  The rumbling became a roar as the snow walls began to crack and crumble.

  Crumble down. Down on us.

  Trembling in horror, I knew what was happening.

  Nicole had started an avalanche.

  16

  As sheets of snow tumbled down on us, I grabbed Nicole.

  I pushed her against the pit wall. Then I flattened myself against the wall, too.

  The snow roared down.

  I pressed myself tight against the wall—and to my shock, the wall gave way!

  “Ooooh!” I let out a startled cry. Nicole and I tumbled through the side of the pit.

  We stumbled forward into total darkness.

  I heard a crash behind us. My heart pounding, I turned in time to see the pit fill up. Snow piled over the opening in the wall.

  Nicole and I were sealed in. Shut in this dark hole.

  Our way out was gone. The pit was gone.

  We crouched in the dark tunnel-like opening, trembling, gasping in fright.

  “Where are we?” Nicole choked out. “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know.” I grabbed the wall. We seemed to be in a narrow passageway. The walls around us were made of rock instead of snow.

  My eyes adjusted to the darkness. I could see a dim light at the end of the passageway.

  “Let’s see what’s down there,” I urged Nicole.

  We crawled on our hands and knees through the passage toward the light. The passage ended. We stood up.

  We found ourselves in a big cave. The top of the cave towered high above our heads. Water trickled slowly down one of the walls. A dim glow came from somewhere near the back.