46 - How to Kill a Monster by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page B

before he opened the door. I could
tell he was afraid.
    “Better be careful, Clark,” I said as he swung his short, stubby legs out the
door. “The swamp monster likes low targets.”
    “That’s funny, Gretchen. Really funny. Remind me to laugh.”
    Dad headed for the trunk to find the jack. Mom followed. Clark and I stepped
into the swamp.
    “Oh, gross!” My brand-new white high-tops sank into the thick black mud.
    I let out a long sigh.
    How could anyone live in a swamp? I wanted to know. It was so gross out
here.
    The air felt thick and soupy. So hot, it was hard to breathe.
    As I pulled my hair back into a scrunchie, I glanced around.
    I couldn’t see much. The sky had darkened to black.
    Clark and I drifted away from the car. “Let’s explore while Dad fixes the
tire,” I suggested.
    “I don’t think that’s such a great idea,” Clark murmured.
    “Sure it is,” I urged. “There’s nothing else to do. And it’s better than
standing around here, waiting. Isn’t it?”
    “I—I guess,” Clark stammered.
    We took a few steps into the swamp. My face began to tingle and itch.
    Mosquitoes! Hundreds of them.
    We ducked and dodged, frantically brushing them off our faces, off our bare
arms.
    “Yuck! It’s disgusting out here!” Clark cried. “I’m not staying here. I’m
going to Atlanta!”
    “It’s not this buggy at Grandma’s house,” Mom called out.
    “Oh, sure.” Clark rolled his eyes. “I’m going back to the car.”
    “Come on,” I insisted. “Let’s just see what’s over there.” I pointed to a
patch of tall grass up ahead.
    I stomped through the mud, glancing over my shoulder—to make sure Clark was
following me. He was.
    As we reached the grass, we could hear a loud rustling deep in the blades.
Clark and I peered down, straining to see in the dark.
    “Don’t wander too far,” Dad warned, as he and Mom pulled our luggage from the
trunk, searching for a flashlight. “There might be snakes out there.”
    “Snakes? Whoa!” Clark jumped away. He started running full speed back to the
car.
    “Don’t be a baby!” I called after him. “Let’s do some exploring.”
    “No way!” He choked out the words. “And don’t call me a baby.”
    “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Come on. We’ll walk over to that tree. The one
that towers over the others. It’s not that far away. Then we’ll come right back,” I promised.
“Puh-lease.”
    Clark and I started toward the tree.
    We walked slowly. Through the darkness. Through the jungle of cypress trees.
    The curtains of gray swayed on the tree branches. They were so thick—thick
enough to hide behind.
    It would be real easy to get lost in here, I realized. Lost forever.
    I shuddered as the heavy gray curtains brushed against my skin. They felt
like spiderwebs. Huge, sticky spiderwebs.
    “Come on, Gretchen. Let’s turn back,” Clark pleaded. “It’s gross out here.”
    “Just a little further,” I urged him on.
    We made our way carefully through the trees, sloshing through puddles of inky
water.
    Tiny bugs buzzed in my ears. Bigger ones bit at my neck. I swatted them away.
    I stepped forward—onto a dry, grassy patch of ground. “Whoa!”
    The patch started to move. Started to float across the black water.
    I leaped off—and stumbled on a tree root. No—not a tree root. “Hey,
Clark. Look at this!” I bent to get a better look.
    “What is that ?” Clark kneeled beside me and peered at the knobby form.
    “It’s called a cypress knee,” I explained. “Mom told me about them. They grow near the cypress trees. They rise up from the
roots.”
    “How come Mom never tells me about these things?” he demanded.
    “I guess she doesn’t want to scare you,” I replied.
    “Yeah, right,” he muttered, pushing up his glasses. “Want to go back now?”
    “We’re almost there. See?” I said, pointing to the tall tree. It stood in a
small clearing just a few feet away.
    Clark followed me into the clearing.
    The