I had to see it for myself.

Reading about something is one thing. Experiencing it in person is a whole ’nother ball game. That’s why right after school I rode my bike to downtown Stony Brook and hopped on a bus headed west along local streets. I’d taken this same bus a bunch of times with my family and a couple of times with friends. I knew the deal. Ten stops ahead and two towns over was my destination.

Playland.

It was early November. Connecticut snow was still a few weeks away, but it was getting dark early, and the chilly wind that whipped through the barren trees felt like an ominous warning. Halloween was over. The holiday season was coming on fast, and so was another long gray winter.

It had been only a few days since we finished the story we titled Black Moon Rising. My friends and I needed a break. We were tired. Simple as that. When we stepped into an unfinished story, time in real life stood still. That was cool, except our bodies didn’t stop, and it wasn’t like we were sitting around with our feet up playing The Legend of Zelda. Oh no. We had just done battle with a centuries-old coven of witches bent on wiping out an entire town and taking over the world.

That took some effort.

After we left Black Moon Rising through the interdimensional crossroads of the Library, we wanted nothing more than to rest, recharge our batteries, and spend a little time in the real world before tackling the next story.

Wasn’t going to happen.

Another book came our way, and it looked to be the most important one yet. It wasn’t about people who lived far away from us, or strangers who existed in the past. No, this story was about my best friends, Lu and Theo, and about a fortune-telling machine that was spitting out predictions that came true.

You know. That.

Both my friends were dealing with strange troubles known as disruptions. The Library is filled with stories like theirs. Stories that defy logic, that can’t be explained using the normal rules of science and nature.

Lu’s cousin Jenny Feng was missing. She had left home a few weeks ago, and nobody had heard from her since. It was a total, terrifying mystery. In Theo’s case, he had gotten a fortune from that strange machine that told him life as he knew it would end on his fourteenth birthday. Yeah. Seriously. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it except both of his brothers had received fortunes from the same machine, and both of those predictions came true.

Everett the librarian had been searching through the stacks in the Library, looking for unfinished books that might contain Lu’s and Theo’s stories. If he found them, it would mean they were dealing with actual disruptions, and we’d have some information that would help us solve them.

It took some time, but Everett found it.

It. One book. Not two. One.

It held both stories.

The book told the tale of an old-time fortune-teller named the Oracle Baz, who supposedly could see into the future. Baz was long dead. He hadn’t told a fortune in decades, but the arcade machine with his name on it was keeping up the tradition. Theo and his brothers got fortunes from it, and, as it turned out, so did Lu’s cousin Jenny. It was all written in the book. We needed to find out if Jenny’s fortune had anything to do with her disappearance, and what kind of trouble Theo might be headed for on his birthday.

We hadn’t been dealing with their problems until then because, to be honest, we didn’t know what to do. But once Everett found the book, we had information. Now we could act.

And it had to be fast: Theo’s birthday was only a few days away.

That’s why I found myself on a bus on a cold November afternoon, headed to Playland, the home of that mysterious machine.

I didn’t tell Lu and Theo I was going. I wanted to see this magical fortune-telling machine for myself. My friends are awesome—the best—but sometimes I need to think things through on my own. There would be plenty of time for them to get involved. Heck, they were already involved. It was their story.

The bus pulled up to the stop at the end of Playland Parkway, and I was the only passenger who got off. Not a whole lot of people visit Playland in the winter, since it’s closed for the season. The bus driver gave me an odd look. I knew he was dying to say, “You know the park is closed, fool. Right?” But he had a schedule to keep, and so he drove off without a word, leaving a cloud of noxious diesel smoke behind.

I’d been to Playland dozens of times. It was a totally familiar place. But seeing it in winter was a whole different experience. The normally leafy trees were barren and gray; the vast parking lot was empty; and there wasn’t another person to be seen anywhere. Maybe eeriest of all was the sound. Or lack of sound. Ordinarily, there’d be music and the clatter of rides and screams of excitement from a thousand happy people. But in November it was dead quiet. It didn’t help that the sun was on its way down and shadows were growing long. There’s a reason why so many horror movies are set in abandoned amusement parks. These places are usually full of life and excitement, so when they’re quiet and empty, they just feel…dead.

I half expected to see Scooby-Doo and Shaggy run by.

There was a collapsible metal gate pulled across the tall archway that was the entrance to the park. I was relieved to find that it wasn’t locked. All I had to do was push it open a few inches to slip through. It was way too easy to get in, which made me think the park probably had all sorts of other security, like cameras and guards and motion detectors. For all I knew, somebody in a high-tech control center had already spotted me, and a team of armed security goons was on the way to toss me out. How would I explain that all I wanted to do was check out the fortune-telling machine?

I had to be stealthy, so I hugged the buildings, staying near pillars and signs and trees and anything else that would block me from view. Moving through the empty park was both creepy and cool. It was like walking through a still frame; nothing was moving. And it was cold. November cold. It gave new meaning to the term freeze frame because I was definitely freezing. I wished I had worn something heavier than my usual Stony Brook Middle School green hoodie. I didn’t even have gloves and had to pull up my hood to protect my ears. It probably made me look more like a lurker up to no good, but…too bad. I was freakin’ cold.

There were a couple of arcades in Playland, and I was pretty sure which one was my target. It was a small arcade tucked behind the bumper car building. Nobody went there much. Or ever. It was out of the way, and all the games were retro. I don’t mean Pac-Man and Donkey Kong classics; we’re talking dusty vintage games that had been around since Playland first opened. It was more like a museum than an arcade. I think it appealed to grown-ups because it reminded them of the olden days. You never saw any kids in there; playing those games got boring after about five seconds. I’d been there a grand total of once, and only because I got lost looking for a bathroom. But I remembered it. If there was any place that would have an ancient fortune-telling machine, it would be that dusty arcade.

Being in the park was like having one foot in the present and one in the past. Playland had some seriously great modern rides, like the Jetstar roller coaster and a couple of virtual-reality space adventures. But in addition to all the modern rides, there were still some that had been around since the park first opened. Classics, I guess you’d call them. The Tornado roller coaster was a big old wooden thing that was just as fun as any of the modern metal ones. The Derby Racer was like an out-of-control merry-go-round that spun so fast you had to hang on tight for fear of getting tossed off the horse. There was a tunnel-of-love boat ride called Ye Olde Gold Mine, and the Whip, and of course a Ferris wheel.

Lots of the decorative structures along the midway looked like they’d been around forever too. Arches and wooden sidewalks and food stalls gave the illusion of what the park had been like decades before. There was even an old-fashioned boardwalk lined with games of chance that ran along the shore of the Long Island Sound on the far edge of the park.

What Playland didn’t have were some of the rides described in the unfinished book that Everett had found. There was no fun house or Magic Castle. There wasn’t a pirate galleon that floated on an artificial river. There wasn’t even a river. I tried to imagine where the waterway for Blackbeard’s Galleon might have been. My guess is it followed the same route that now held a miniature-train ride that circled the park.

I bet they’d ripped out the boat ride because that worker was killed on opening day.

As I stood on the edge of the midway, seeing the park both as it is now and as it had been nearly a hundred years before, I felt a strange tingling sensation that made the hairs on the back of my neck go up. I hadn’t heard or seen anything, but the feeling was unmistakable.

I wasn’t alone.

Was it a security guard? Or a hidden camera looking down on me from one of the old-fashioned streetlamps? I glanced around quickly and didn’t see anybody. But the feeling was too strong to be my imagination.

I was being watched.

I backed toward the closest building, looking for a shadow to sink into, and found myself in front of one of the oldest attractions in the park. The Hall of Mirrors. I hadn’t been in there since I was six. It was kind of hokey, to be honest. But in that moment I wanted to be out of sight, and that cheesy attraction seemed like the perfect place. So I jumped over the turnstile and ducked through the entrance.

They should have called it the Hall of Windows—most of the attraction was a maze of clear glass walls that you had to find your way through. There were plenty of twists and corners and dead ends, and if you went too fast, you ended up walking straight into a glass wall and smashing your head. Usually, there were so many fingerprints (and nose prints) on everything that it was easy to find the right way, but on that day the glass was clear and clean. Workers must have squeegeed everything when the park closed for the season.

Maybe I was being paranoid, but I still had the sense that I was being watched. It was more a feeling than anything else. I hadn’t heard anything specific, but I felt as though somebody else was in there. In the maze. With me. My heart thumped hard. I hadn’t even gotten close to the arcade and I was about to get my butt thrown out of the park. I moved quickly through the corridor of glass with my hands out in front of me to keep from smashing into anything. It wasn’t easy. I kept bashing my fingers against the hard surfaces before finding the turns. Whoever had created this ride was evil. How was this supposed to be fun? I was halfway to the center when…

…a shadow moved by me.

I saw it. No question. It was a person. I only got a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, but the person was real. I couldn’t tell where they were or where they were going because there were so many layers of glass all around me. Worse, the only light was what bled in through the front entrance. I was all sorts of disoriented. Was the person in front? To the side? Behind me? It was impossible to tell.

The shadow moved by again, at the edge of my vision. Somebody was definitely there. I spun around, but too late. Whoever it was came and went like an eyeblink. I thought of calling out, but that would have ended my mission for sure, so I kept quiet and continued moving. The tension made it even harder to work my way through the maze because I kept nervously looking over my shoulder, expecting to see somebody standing right behind me.

I finally reached the halfway point. It was a long room that was the true Hall of Mirrors. The corridor-like room was lined with tall, narrow mirrors that distorted your image, making you look really tall or fat or giving you a big head or whatever. Those things are fun for about eight seconds. At that moment they weren’t fun at all. I moved through quickly, barely glancing at my reflection as I passed each mirror. I didn’t stop. I wasn’t in the mood to see myself looking like a munchkin. Or a daddy longlegs. The room was so dark I could barely make out the doorway on the far side.

I was halfway through the hall when I passed the middle mirror and…

…I thought I saw something strange. It made me stop short. What was it? Had I seen the reflection of another person in the mirror? I glanced over my shoulder, but nobody else was in the room. It must have been my imagination. Or a trick of what little light there was. Or even my own reflection. But I had to know, so I took two tentative steps backward until I was directly in front of the mirror.

My reflection made me look like Shrek…wide and grotesque. There was no other reflection besides mine. The mirror faced another on the opposite wall, which made an infinity effect. The reflections bounced back and forth, creating the illusion of hundreds of mirrors trailing off to forever. Normally, I loved that effect.

But this wasn’t normal.

Something moved deep within the reflection. It was the silhouette of a person. It wasn’t right next to me or behind me but looked to be floating through one of the reflected mirrors deep in the background, which was impossible. It had no features. It was a shadow. But what could be making it? There were no lights. You needed light to make a shadow.

It was impossible, but I saw it. I know I did.

And I didn’t want to see it anymore.

I took off running, headed for the exit. The route out was pretty much the same as the way in. It was another maze of glass walls. This time I didn’t worry about being quiet or stealthy or bashing into anything. I wanted to be gone. I kept slamming into the glass walls, my shoulders taking most of the hits, but I didn’t stop. I saw another shadow float by beside me, but I didn’t know if it was real or just my imagination in fourth gear. I didn’t care either. The maze grew lighter as I got nearer to the exit, so I was able to see the glass walls more clearly and stopped slamming into them.

When I rounded the last turn before the exit, my fear shifted from what was behind me to what I might find outside. Would I run straight into a cop? Or a security guard? At that moment I kind of hoped for either. I didn’t want to be alone with a lurking shadow anymore.

I skirted the final glass wall and blasted out to the midway to see…nothing. Nobody was there. No cops. No security. No shadows. I was all alone. Somehow that felt even creepier than if I had been followed by a cop. What had I been seeing? Or feeling? Did it all happen in my head?

I wanted to run the heck out of there and go home, but I forced myself to take a deep breath and calm down. Nothing had happened. I had probably seen my own shadow reflected in the glass. That had to be it.

And I couldn’t leave. The whole purpose of my trip would be lost. I had to keep going. So I sucked it up and headed across the midway to the bumper car ride.

Once there, I jumped the rail that got to the walkway that surrounded the track. The track itself was enclosed by a chest-high wall. The colorful cars were lined up along the wall inside, nose to tail, parked for the winter. I jogged around the oval, hoping that my memory was good and that the antique arcade was still behind the building. When you came out after riding the bumper cars, you’d take a right to head back to the midway. But if you went left, you’d find a narrow sidewalk that looped behind the building. I followed that sidewalk, rounded the corner, and saw the doorway I’d hoped for.

Heritage Arcade.

The old-fashioned, swooping script letters were painted over the door, just as I remembered. I grabbed the handle, and after a moment of fear that the door might be locked, I pulled it open.

I can’t say I remembered much about the arcade. I’d been there only once before and hadn’t been impressed, but in general it was as I’d expected. There were ancient nickelodeons and baseball batting games where, for a nickel, a metal ball would shoot out of a miniature pitching mound and you had to hit a button that would swing a tiny bat at it. I saw a couple of old-school pinball machines and another gizmo that let you control a creepy clown marionette. That one was good for a few nightmares. I suppose some historian would find the whole thing fascinating.

I didn’t. There was only one machine I cared about.

I walked past several of the dusty games, rounded a few corners, doubled back, and was beginning to think I had struck out when I made one last turn…and came face to face with the Oracle Baz.

Or at least a dummy replica of him. It was the biggest machine in the place. The life-sized mannequin was sealed inside a glass booth. You could only see him from the waist up because he sat at a table that held a big crystal ball. His hands rested on either side of the globe as he stared into its depths, supposedly gazing into the future.

Hanging on the wall behind the machine were a couple of giant vintage posters that advertised The Oracle Baz, probably from back when Baz had actually put on shows at the park. For real. Yellowed paintings showed him standing dramatically with his feet apart and his hands held out like he was conjuring spirits. Phrases were spelled out in bold letters across the artwork: ASTOUNDING!, GLIMPSE INTO THE FUTURE!, FEATS OF MAGIC!, ENTER IF YOU DARE!, and various other slogans and come-ons with exclamation points, designed to entice people into his show.

That show had closed a long time ago. Now there was only a glass box and a dummy.

Sitting on the table next to the crystal ball was a wooden box filled with fortune cards. I figured the way it worked was you put in your quarter and the dummy Baz would pick out one of the cards that told your future and would drop it into a slot. It was all pretty lame and harmless…

…unless of course your fortune said you were going to die on your next birthday. That would kill the joy of a fun day at the park, and no amount of cotton candy would make it right.

To say the gizmo was creepy was an understatement. The dummy was dressed exactly as he was described in the book from the Library. He wore a purple robe with gold trim. On his head was a fiery-red turban with a giant green emerald stuck right in front. I wondered how accurate his face was. He definitely looked mannequin-like, with a waxy, dark complexion. His glass eyes were deep and black, his mustache and beard were neatly trimmed, and each of his fingers had a fancy ring.

What really got me, though, were his intense, unwavering eyes. They were glass, I got it, but they seemed so real. I couldn’t stop staring at them. I knew he was a wax dummy, but I swear I expected him to blink.

It was a profoundly eerie moment…

…until I heard the crunch of a footstep on the concrete behind me. It might have been faint, but the arcade was so quiet it sounded as loud as a gunshot.

Somebody was standing right behind me.

“Enjoying your visit to the park?” a man’s deep voice asked.

I wasn’t alone after all.