The Beast From the East

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Authors: R. L. Stine
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time.
    Fleg stepped forward and grabbed me by the waist. He tossed me over his
shoulder.
    The blood rushed to my head and I felt dizzy. The ground was so far away!
    Spork hoisted Pat over his shoulder.
    “Hey—whoa!” I protested. “Put my brother down!”
    “He was your Helper,” Spork replied. “We always eat the Helper, too!”
    “Put me down!” Pat shrieked. “Let me go.”
    But the huge beast ignored him.
    They carried us both into a small clearing.
    A large stone pit sat in the center. A raging fire burned inside the pit.
Yellow and blue flames leaped at the sky.
    Fleg lowered me onto a tree stump. Spork set Pat down beside me.
    The beasts circled around us. Drooling. Licking their lips.
    I thought I heard thunder. But I soon realized it was the sound of their
stomachs growling.
    “It’s Flelday,” Spork said, smiling. “On Flelday we always barbecue.”
    I swallowed hard. And stared at the flames leaping against the sky. I wrapped my arms around my chest and hugged myself.
    Spork poked at the fire with a long metal rod.
    He pointed the rod at me. “Yum yum.” He grinned, rubbing his stomach.
    I felt sick.
    Gleeb lugged a huge pot over to the fire. He set it down in the middle of the
flames.
    Fleg pulled some gourds off the nearby trees. He cracked them open and poured
their yellow juice into the pot. He collected sticks and leaves and tossed them
in, too.
    Gleeb stirred and stirred. A sour, rotting stench rose up from the pot.
    “The broth is ready,” Gleeb announced.
    I turned to Pat. “I’m sorry,” I said in a trembling voice. “Sorry I lost the
game.”
    “I’m sorry, too,” he whispered, his eyes on the flames.
    The beasts began chanting. “Flelday. Flelday. Flelday.”
    “Who brought the barbecue sauce?” Spork asked. “I’m starving!”
    Fleg lifted me in his arms. And carried me toward the cooking pot.

 
 
32
     
     
    “Whoa! Wait! Stop!”
    A familiar voice shouted across the clearing.
    I jerked my head around. “Nat!” I screamed.
    “Ginger!” Nat cried. He ran toward us, waving his arms. “What’s going on?
What are they doing?”
    Fleg lowered me to the ground. “Nat—!” I screamed. “Run! Find help! Hurry!”
    He stopped halfway across the clearing. “But, Ginger—”
    “They’ll eat you, too,” I shrieked. “Run!”
    “Capture him!” Spork shouted to the other beasts.
    Gleeb and several others took off after Nat.
    Nat spun around. He darted for the woods and disappeared into the trees.
    I watched helplessly as the beasts plunged into the woods after him.
    Don’t find him, I prayed, crossing my fingers. All ten of them!
    Nat will escape, I told myself. He’ll climb a tree. He’ll get away from them.
Then he’ll run and find help.
    Pat and I stared at the dark trees. And waited.
    “Oh, nooo!” I uttered a long wail when the beasts returned from the woods.
And one of them carried Nat over his shoulder.
    Nat kicked and punched. But he couldn’t free himself.
    The beast dumped Nat beside Pat and me. Nat landed hard, face-down on the
ground.
    Now they had all three of us. A feast!
    Spork and Fleg gazed at us hungrily. Gleeb ran his tongue over his long fang.
    I dropped down beside Nat. “How did you get out?” I asked him. “How did you
get out of that cage?”
    Nat rolled over and sat up. “It wasn’t that hard,” he said, groaning. “The
boards were weak. I worked and worked—until I pushed enough boards out. Then I
broke out.”
    “You should have stayed away,” I told him. “You should have run. Now they’re
going to eat you, too.”
    Nat raised his eyes to the cook pot and the blazing fire. “I—I don’t want
to play anymore,” he stammered.
    “Nat,” I whispered sadly, “I’m afraid the game is just about over.”

 
 
33
     
     
    “Quiet!” Fleg demanded. “Dinner—stop talking!” He stared at Nat.
    Fleg’s eyes narrowed. He tilted his head. He whispered to Spork and Gleeb.
    The other beasts moved closer. They

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