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Rachel screamed — and the world started to spin around her. The combination of shock and a lack of oxygen due to the gas leak nearly did her in. But she forced herself to stumble into the next room. There, she flopped down on the platform.

It was getting hard to breathe. But she hadn't found Jack yet. My God, Vanessa! she thought. Who could have done that? And why? Where were those ambulances?

I'm delirious, Rachel realized. But I have to find Jack. Forcing herself to her feet, she swept the room with the flashlight, as she had before.

...

Her flashlight found Elvis immediately. And he was smiling broadly and wetly. Only, it wasn't the Elvis robot, and he wasn't smiling. Ron Marchant sat in the King's place, his «smile» the grotesque curve of a razor cut circumscribing his throat. The blood dripping onto his feet gave him one purple suede shoe.

    Freddy Krueger's Tales of Terror: Deadly Disguise, chapter 10


"It's RePete!" Rachel cried, backing away. From the looks of things, he had been impaled by the robot's upraised claw.

The door from the Elvis room opened about four inches, then stopped against RePete's body which had fallen in front of it. The axe waved wildly through the crack in the door. Then it was replaced by Maria's face pressed against the opening.

"I'm coming for both of you now. Laugh at me, will you? Not while I have the means to cut you down to size." To emphasize her statement, she showed off the axe once more. Then, with a grunt, she threw her weight into the door, attempting to shoulder it open. RePete's body slid a few more inches, but she could still not enter.

"C'mon, Rachel," Jack yelled. "Back here."

Rachel turned toward his voice, just as Maria thumped against the door again. One more try and she would gain entry. Reaching out, Rachel allowed Jack to pull her toward the back of the platform, where a darker area in the wall indicated a passageway.

They were about to duck into it when Maria screamed.

Jack and Rachel turned just in time to see the axe fall from Maria's hand onto the floor. Her body thumped against the door again, but this time, it was as if another force had thrown her.

An incredibly strong force.

The door swung open, pushing RePete's body aside as if it were a feather pillow. Maria careened off the opening door and landed to the side of the doorway. Then a large figure strode casually through.

Jack recovered from his shock more quickly than Rachel. "Ron!" he cried at the bloody half-Elvis who had just entered. "I thought you were dead, man."

"Dead? Me?" Ron asked, smiling brightly — and lethally, Rachel thought. Jack was struggling to pull free of her, but she held his hand tightly, knowing that if she let go, he would die. "Actually, dude," Ron chuckled. "I am dead."

The words hit Jack like buckshot.

"Stop kidding around," Jack said nervously. "This evening is too freaky for you to joke like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ron said, as if he had been extremely rude. He looked down at himself. "I still have my costume on, don't I?" Subtly, Ron's voice was changing. It was becoming deeper, more guttural. "Let me take off this mask. It's getting hard to breathe in it anyway." His voice was now totally changed. It had become monstrous.

In the dim, available light, Jack and Rachel watched aghast as Ron brought a hand up to the slash in his throat.

"Ron..." Jack started but fell silent when his friend ignored him completely, digging his fingers into the wound across his throat. A wet, tearing sound followed, as Ron peeled his face off, much like Jack had done earlier with his latex Phantom of the Opera makeup.

Only this was not makeup.

Ron tore off his own face.

Beneath it resided the face of a monster. Wet with blood, surrounded by a tattered frame of flesh, a burned, scarred creature leered out at them.

"Trick or treat!" growled Freddy Krueger.

    Freddy Krueger's Tales of Terror: Deadly Disguise, chapter 11

This time, it was Rachel who acted without warning. With the hand that had so desperately been holding onto Jack, she pulled him into the passageway behind the exhibit. She caught a glimpse of Krueger's face as they fled. He watched them with devilish amusement.

"Where does this go?" she barked at Jack, who seemed stunned.

Back in the room, Krueger started laughing. The sound filled the passageway, surrounded them, threatening to drive them mad.

"Around the outside of the rooms, back to the top of the ballroom Staircase," he finally answered, and took the lead. "What was that?" he asked desperately. "Are we hallucinating? Has the gas gotten to us?"

"I don't think so," Rachel told him. What they had seen was beyond comprehension, but she did not doubt its reality. "We have to get into a car and drive out of here. You still have the rifle?"

"Yeah. For whatever good it will do us against... that."

"Maybe," Rachel responded. "But if we can get outside... when we get outside," she corrected herself. "We may get a chance. You any good?"

"Actually, yeah. Went to firing ranges all the time in LA."

"Maybe the rifle won't be effective against Krueger, but it's better than nothing." What was Freddy Krueger? And could he be killed? Somehow, Rachel didn't think so. But there must be a way for them to escape, or by now, no one in Springwood would be left alive. No teens, at least.

"Here we go," Jack said, pointing out the exit. They emerged on the landing opposite the entrance to the Haunted Mansion. Taking the stairs two at a time, they ran down into the ballroom. If they reached the exit, they were home free.

But Freddy Krueger appeared at the ballroom entrance. He had carved off the remainder of Ron's skin, but ribbons of flesh still clung to the tattered, striped sweater he wore. Leaning against the doorway, as if without a care in the world, Freddy addressed the gleaming blades of the claw at the end of one hand.

"What? No last dance? I was really looking forward to... cutting the rug." With a metallic clicking, Freddy scissored the blades together several times in rapid succession.

Jack and Rachel froze, trying to decide what to do next. Luckily, Freddy didn't seem like he was in any hurry to dispose of them, though he did turn and face them.

"Homecoming turn into a bit of a nightmare?" he asked Jack. Turning to Rachel, he asked, "Your reunion with your dreamy old boyfriend not so dreamy?"

He started to walk slowly toward them, his claw dropped to his side. They backed up, each eyeing possible exits. Freddy saw them and was amused.

"Maybe you can get out that way," he teased, pointing with the claw. "Or maybe that way." Each time he reached out, they jumped, further amusing Freddy.

"Maria had been dreaming about meeting the famous Jack Spyder since she first laid eyes on you. And with my help, she managed to keep her obsession hidden for quite some time. So when things didn't work out the way they had in her dreams, can you blame her for getting a little... out of sorts?"

"You manipulated her?" Rachel asked.

Freddy snarled. "Don't get the idea you're buying time, little girl. Any time you have left I'm giving to you." He gave her a withering stare, then smiled solicitously — and grotesquely. "I manipulated all of you. She was the easiest, because she was off-balance. Then there was your ‘friend’ Ron, who had planned such a nice little coup." At Jack's look of disbelief, Freddy laughed. "Oh, he was no more your friend than a black widow, my little Spyder. I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you all about his scheming when you join him in my boiler room. Because that's where you're going. Straight to hell!" With that, he lunged forward, swiping at them with his blades. They jumped back, but did not run.

"Just seeing if you were on your toes," Freddy laughed. "Ron has been mine since late this past summer. He was sleeping on the job, which is a bad idea around a gas leak. It's the kind of thing that you don't normally wake up from, if you know what I mean." He chuckled sinisterly. "But I must admit, it's been a gas to be Ron all this time."

Rachel was stunned. According to what Freddy was saying, he'd been guiding events leading up to this evening's massacre for months. And all the while, he had been inhabiting Ron's body.

"We can't win," she whispered softly to herself.

Freddy, who had driven them into the center of the ballroom, smiled.

"Now that's the spirit."

He held up his gleaming talons.

"Time to give Freddy his treat." His voice was low, seductive, but still horrible. He reached forward, holding his claws point-up underneath her chin.

But Jack had other plans.

Taking advantage of Freddy's distraction, he flipped the rifle so he was holding the muzzle and quickly swung it at Freddy's claw. The butt of the rifle struck Freddy's wrist, nearly shattering as it drove his hand downward. Freddy roared with rage. In another deft move, Jack jabbed the gun forward, nailing Freddy in the stomach. He doubled over, but before Jack could pull the rifle away, Freddy's unclawed hand shot out, grabbing the rifle in the center. His fingers quickly worked their way toward the trigger. The muzzle of the rifle now pointed directly at Jack's chest.

Freddy's gnarled finger squeezed the trigger. Jack braced for impact.

But nothing happened. The safety was on.

At that moment, Rachel overcame her paralysis. With all her might, she drove her foot into Freddy's side. By reflex, his hand dropped away from the rifle and clutched what should have been broken ribs.

But Rachel had no such hope that she had caused that much damage. She only knew that Jack could now pull the rifle free of Freddy.

"Take it!" she yelled.

He immediately yanked the rifle away and the two ran off. They both knew that they had to get out of the house immediately. If Freddy didn't get them, the gas soon would. It was only by sheer force of will that they had survived this long. But their will was fading. It suffered a further blow when they heard Freddy bellow with rage. He spoke no words, but simply roared furiously. If he caught them again, there would be no more facetious smiles, no more grandiose toying.

In that sound, both Rachel and Jack heard the promise of their own painful deaths.

Still, they made it to the front door. And outside, the fresh air seemed to sharpen their minds immediately. Acting quickly, John locked the house from the outside. The steel-lined, hardwood security door would prove at least an obstacle to Freddy in his pursuit. And there was no question he was pursuing them. A series of crashes — large items being flung aside — marked Freddy's progress through the mansion.

From about a hundred yards across the lawn they heard the sounds of Freddy attempting to break through the door. They turned and faced the mansion.

"If we try to run, we won't make it," Jack said.

Rachel nodded. There seemed to be no real escape. That realization was the downside of their new clarity of mind. Inside, brains clouded by a lack of oxygen, they had found some reason to hope. Now, there was none. Even the sight of her car nearby gave her no hope of escape. They could drive away, but Freddy, now unleashed would follow.

And bring destruction along with him.

Thunderous booms emanated from the front door. Even from a distance, its buckling was obvious. And in the next moment, with a tremendous crack, the door exploded forward. And framed within the doorway was the menacing figure of Freddy Krueger.

Jack dropped to his knees and flicked off the safety of the rifle. He drew a bead and fired. Freddy jerked slightly, but did not fall.

"I hit him," Jack said hopelessly. "Maybe if I hit him in the face." His eyes narrowed in determination and he pulled off another shot. This one fell short, striking the wreckage of the door.

As the bullet careened off the steel reinforcement, sending off a tiny spark, Rachel got an idea.

Jack squeezed off another shot. This one appeared to hit Freddy in the left shoulder, but it only slowed the monster.

"Jack," Rachel said quietly as he took aim again. "I have an idea of how to stop Freddy, but you may end up losing everything in the process."

He looked at her, trying to read her mind, but failing. In the distance, Freddy marched forward inexorably.

"Will it get me killed?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"I don't think so."

He considered her uncertainty, then fired at Freddy again. This time, he seemed to hit the monster squarely in the chest, driving him back several feet. He was still within thirty feet of the front door.

"Will it get you killed," he asked much more seriously.

"I hope not," Rachel replied.

"Then do it," Jack decided quickly. "I'm not going to be able to hold him off much longer."

"What's the plan?" Jack asked, not taking his eye off Freddy. His slow, deliberate movements reminded Jack of Godzilla wading through Tokyo. The gun he held amounted to a pea shooter against this monster.

The sound of a car engine revving to life reminded him that Rachel had never given him an answer. The sound of tires spinning in dirt made him turn.

In her car, Rachel took off like a shot, steering straight for Freddy.

Damn! Jack thought. She's gonna try and run him down. That'll kill her for sure. There was only one thing to do. Rapid-firing, he rained bullets on Freddy. If he scored enough hits, the monster might be momentarily driven back into the mansion. And if so, maybe Rachel would abandon her suicide mission. After the fourth rapid shot, his part of the plan seemed to be working. Freddy was forced almost back into the doorway.

But Rachel did not slow down.

Freddy saw the oncoming car, and spread his arms wide, almost welcoming it.

    Freddy Krueger's Tales of Terror: Deadly Disguise, chapter 12