Frankenstein's Dog Page 2

  I laughed. “I hope not.”

  “It was my fault,” Robby said. “I dropped the whistle.”

  “No. You were a hero,” I told him. I turned to Uncle Victor. “Robby saved me from a crowd in the village.”

  Uncle Victor frowned and rubbed his chin. “Those people … They’re very confused. And I guess they’re bored. They spend their time making up horror stories about me.”

  “I’d better get home,” Robby said. “See you, Kat.” He turned and strode toward the gate.

  “Thanks for your help,” Uncle Victor called after him. Then he picked up my suitcase, and I followed him into the house. The two big dogs watched meekly as we passed, heads lowered.

  The front hall was all black-and-white marble with an enormous sparkly chandelier high overhead. A stained glass window sent beams of light dancing over the walls.

  “Wow,” I murmured. “Uncle Victor, you never told me —”

  A fluffy white dog came scampering into the room. A little guy, a terrier of some kind, with round black eyes half-hidden behind wisps of white fur, and an adorable pink nose.

  The dog ran right past my uncle and padded up to me. It sniffed my jeans, then raised itself onto my legs, jumping for me to pick it up.

  Uncle Victor laughed. “Poochie likes you,” he said. “He’s usually shy.”

  I bent and lifted Poochie into my arms. The dog licked my nose. I laughed. I’m ticklish. “Hi, Poochie.” I raised my head to my uncle. “Seriously. He’s so cute.”

  “He’s totally spoiled,” Uncle Victor said. “He really thinks he’s boss here. And he is.”

  I gave Poochie a hug. His little heart was beating fast. His fur was way soft. I set him down and he trotted over to my uncle.

  I took a moment to study Uncle Victor. I hadn’t seen him since Christmas. He is tall and very thin. His wavy brown hair is mixed with gray. His square black glasses make his dark eyes look very big. His face always seems serious to me, even when he smiles. I guess it’s the lines on his forehead and the dark circles under his eyes.

  I think he’s in his forties. He dresses like an old man. He usually wears dress shirts and suit pants that are baggy and too big for him. Today, he had a white lab coat over his clothes.

  “Why are you staring at me?” he asked. The light flashed over his glasses. I couldn’t see his eyes.

  “Because I haven’t seen you for so long,” I said. “I’m so happy to finally see your house.”

  He swept a hand back through his hair. “I’ll take you to your room in a minute. First, I want you to meet Frank.”

  Our shoes clicked on the marble floor. He led me into the front room. The living room. The size of our gym at school.

  “Frank? Who is Frank?” I asked.

  Uncle Victor turned around. A strange, tight smile stretched over his face. “Frank is my monster,” he said in a whisper. He leaned closer and whispered in my ear. “He’s my monster, Kat. I’ve created a monster. And together, we’re going to rule the world!”

  I took a step back. Uncle Victor’s hot breath was still in my ear.

  His eyes were wild. And he still had that frightening smile frozen on his face.

  The villagers are right about him, I thought.

  But then he burst out laughing. “Kat? Did you really believe me?”

  “I — I — I —” I stammered.

  He squeezed my shoulder. “I’m not a mad scientist. Really. That was my horror movie impression. All those scary movies they made about my great-grandfather and the creature he built. I think they’re a riot.”

  I could feel my face turning red. I should have remembered that Uncle Victor has a wild sense of humor. Why was I so ready to believe that he was a madman who created a monster?

  He kept his hand on my shoulder and led me to the lab at the back of a long, carpeted hall. “I’m interested in artificial intelligence,” he said. “Computer brains. Robots that can think for themselves. Monsters aren’t my thing.”

  He pushed open the door and we stepped into the lab. I nearly tripped because Poochie ran right over my feet. “Is he allowed in the lab?” I asked.

  Uncle Victor nodded. “He’s allowed everywhere. I told you — he’s the boss.”

  A sharp alcohol smell invaded my nose. I coughed. The lab smelled like a doctor’s office. The air was hot and damp.

  The room was huge, with gray stone walls rising up two stories. A row of tiny square windows along the top let in the only sunlight.

  I saw long tables with all kinds of computer equipment. A million cables and boxes and monitors. A table against the far wall held glass beakers with colorful liquids, a tangle of long glass tubes, and jars of chemicals. Some of the beakers were bubbling over low fires.

  And at the end of the table stood a young, dark-haired guy. He had his back against the wall. His eyes were down, and he didn’t look up when Uncle Victor and I entered.

  “Hello,” I called to him. But he didn’t move.

  Uncle Victor chuckled. “That’s Frank,” he said. “Don’t expect him to greet you, Kat. I haven’t powered him up yet.”

  I gasped. “He’s … a robot? But he looks so real.”

  We walked closer, and I saw the glassy stare in the robot’s brown eyes and the frozen expression on its face.

  “I developed a new synthetic skin,” Uncle Victor said. “It looks real, doesn’t it? But I created it in the lab and molded it over his aluminum frame.”

  I stepped up close and rubbed my fingers over Frank’s cheek. “Oh! It’s warm.”

  Uncle Victor nodded. “The skin is self-heating. I’m very proud of that.” He squeezed Frank’s shoulder. “Actually, I give myself a pat on the back every time I work with Frank. I’m very proud of my creation. And when you see him in action, I think you will understand why I am so pleased.”

  I studied the robot. “I like his Grateful Dead T-shirt,” I said. “It’s really retro.”

  “I found it in a dresser drawer,” Uncle Victor said. “It fits him pretty well, don’t you think?”

  “Better than those ratty cargo jeans,” I said.

  “Okay, okay. Forget his outfit. The best thing about Frank is his brain.” Uncle Victor tapped Frank’s head. “I’ve spent years and years building a brain for him that can think and even make decisions.”

  I blinked. “You mean —?”

  “Frank doesn’t need me to tell him what to do. He can make plans and choices on his own.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s amazing. Are you —”

  I stopped because of a sudden loud noise. I heard a bump, then a thumping. I turned. It was coming from the back wall. It sounded like someone was knocking against the narrow gray door there.

  Uncle Victor’s cheeks turned red. “Don’t pay any attention to that,” he said. “It’s nothing. Sorry it scared you, dear.”

  Another thump. Another.

  “Is someone knocking on the other side of the door?” I asked.

  “Just ignore it,” he replied. “And when you’re in the lab, always stay away from that door. Okay? Promise?” He hesitated. “It … it’s where I keep my failures.”

  Did he mean there were robots on the other side of the door? Robots that didn’t work right? Robots he kept locked up?

  I didn’t get a chance to ask. He walked over to the long table and picked up a beaker filled nearly to the top with a purple liquid. He poured some of it into a drinking glass and walked back to me.

  “Kat, I’ve been so rude,” he said. “After your long trip, you must be thirsty. Here. I made this especially for you.”

  He handed the glass to me. I stared at the purple liquid inside. “What is it?”

  He smiled. “It’s like that grape juice you used to like when you were little. I think you’ll like it. It’s very sweet.”

  I held it in front of me. The purple liquid gleamed in the light from the ceiling. Why was Uncle Victor watching me so intently? So eagerly?

  I love my uncle. I knew he wou
ldn’t give me anything that was bad for me. But why did he have that weird look on his face?

  Finally, I raised the glass to my mouth and took a sip.

  “Mmmm. It’s good,” I said.

  I took a longer drink. It did taste like very sweet grape juice. I wiped my upper lip with my free hand.

  Uncle Victor’s smile grew wider. His eyes flashed behind his eyeglasses.

  “Kat! It worked!” he cried. “It really worked. You’re invisible!”

  “Huh?” I nearly dropped the glass.

  He took it from my hand. He laughed. “You believed me, didn’t you!”

  “Well … I … I …”

  “You’re too easy to fool,” he said. “You fall for every one of my jokes. Just like when you were little.” He finished the juice in the glass.

  “My friends play tricks on me, too,” I confessed. “I always believe everything. Mom says I’m gullible. I had to look that word up. I guess she’s right.”

  “Well, maybe I can toughen you up,” he said. “After a week with me …”

  “I’ll try not to believe a word you say!”

  That made him laugh. He raised his right hand. “No more tricks. I promise.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha. Seriously. I don’t believe you.”

  His smile faded. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Do you want to see Frank come to life?”

  “For sure,” I said. I gazed at Frank’s frozen face, his glassy eyes. His straight brown hair appeared to be real hair. “How do you power him up?”

  “Simple. Flip a switch.” Uncle Victor pulled up the left T-shirt sleeve. He lifted Frank’s arm. “See?”

  I leaned forward and saw the small metal switch in the robot’s armpit.

  Uncle Victor flipped the switch. Then he lowered the arm and pulled the T-shirt sleeve back into place. “Watch, Kat. He boots up quickly.”

  Frank blinked his eyes. His lips moved silently up and down. Not like a puppet’s lips. They looked soft, and they moved like human lips. He twitched his nose. The shoulders rose, then fell, as if he was testing them.

  “Good afternoon,” Frank said. His voice was nice, a young man’s voice, not a computer voice.

  “Frank, what time is it?” Uncle Victor asked.

  “Two-thirteen,” Frank answered instantly.

  Uncle Victor poured some of the purple juice into the glass and held it up to the robot. “Frank, are you thirsty? Would you like a drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Frank answered. “I’m a robot. I don’t have a stomach, so there is nowhere for the juice to go.”

  “Do you have a tongue?” I asked him.

  “My speech is a brain function,” Frank replied. “I do not need a tongue to speak clearly. But I can use my tongue for this.” He stuck out a pink tongue and made a rude spitting noise.

  I burst out laughing. “Uncle Victor, does he have your sense of humor?”

  My uncle seemed very pleased. “I tried hard to make him entertaining. I want him to be more human than any other scientist’s creation. His brain is so highly developed, even I don’t know everything it can do.”

  Frank turned his brown eyes on me. “I don’t believe we have met,” he said.

  I blinked, surprised. “My name is Kat,” I said. “I’m Victor’s niece.”

  Frank nodded. “My name is also Kat,” he said. “What an interesting coincidence.”

  Uncle Victor moved forward quickly and grabbed Frank’s arm. “Your name is not Kat!” he shouted. “Correct yourself.”

  The robot stared hard at me. The lips moved silently.

  “Correct yourself,” Uncle Victor insisted. I could see he was upset.

  “My name is Frank. Pleased to meet you, Kat.”

  Uncle Victor blew out a breath of air. “That’s better.” He turned to me. “He’s not perfect. There are still some bugs.”

  “Kat, aren’t you going to shake hands with me?” the robot asked. He sounded hurt.

  “Go ahead.” Uncle Victor motioned me forward. “He doesn’t really have feelings. But he’s programmed to think he has feelings. Shake hands with him.”

  I reached out my right hand. He raised his hand at the same time. He took my hand and squeezed it gently. We shook hands.

  I pulled back to end the handshake, but Frank held on. He squeezed harder.

  “That’s enough, Frank,” Uncle Victor said.

  But the robot’s hand clamped down tighter around mine. I could feel the hard metal under the skin. It started to hurt.

  “Hey!” I cried out, struggling to free myself.

  “Let go, Frank,” my uncle growled.

  The hand clamped tighter around my hand. Tighter.

  I heard a craaack. A stab of sharp pain shot up my arm.

  “Uncle Victor — do something! Do something!” I cried. “He’s breaking my hand!”

  I heard another craaack. The pain shot up and down my whole right side.

  Uncle Victor dove forward. He hoisted up Frank’s left arm and clicked the switch in his armpit.

  The robot’s hand loosened and slid off mine. Frank blinked two or three times. His head nodded forward, and his body slumped. He didn’t move.

  “Kat, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” Uncle Victor said. He took my hand gently. The skin was red, but the pain was fading. He moved the hand carefully in his hands, one finger at a time.

  “Nothing broken,” he said softly. “Must have been your knuckles cracking. I’m so sorry. Really. What a terrible introduction.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I just didn’t expect —”

  Uncle Victor pushed the glasses up on his nose again. He studied Frank. “I have some problems with him,” he said. “I still have a lot to work on.”

  “Was he deliberately trying to hurt me?” I asked. I shook my hand in the air. It still stung a little.

  “I’m not sure,” Uncle Victor replied. “Sometimes he gets confused. It’s like a blip in his brain. Like a bad circuit. And then sometimes …” His voice trailed off. He moved the robot’s arm up and down. “Sometimes Frank acts angry.”

  “Angry? Seriously?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Angry. I don’t understand it. I didn’t program him that way. I programmed him to have no emotions or feelings at all. So I don’t understand how he could possibly be angry.”

  “Weird,” I murmured. I didn’t know what else to say.

  The robot gazed blankly down at the floor.

  “So be careful around him,” Uncle Victor warned. “Most of the time, he’s perfectly okay. But it’s good to stay alert. And one other thing, Kat …”

  “Yes?”

  “Always make sure the lab door is closed. Always double-check to see that it is closed. Frank is my finest creation. I couldn’t be prouder of this robot. But he definitely isn’t ready to leave the lab.”

  * * *

  Uncle Victor directed me to my room. I followed the winding staircase up to the second floor. I found myself in a long, dark hallway. Tiny lights shaped like candles lined both sides of the hall but didn’t cast much light. My shoes caught on the thick, faded carpet.

  The walls were covered with big paintings of hunting scenes. I passed a painting of a dozen men on horseback chasing a herd of buffalo. The next painting had a man in a buckskin outfit with a knife raised in his hand, facing down an angry bear.

  Did Uncle Victor choose these paintings? I wondered. Or did he find them here when he took over the house? They were all dark and frightening and violent.

  The floorboards groaned and squeaked beneath the carpet as I walked, carrying my suitcase. Shadows stretched across the hallway floor as if reaching for me.

  I was a little freaked. I mean, it looked like haunted-house-time up here. At least there weren’t any cobwebs or skeletons lurking around corners.

  I found my room at the end of the hall. A ceiling lamp cast bright light over a pretty, striped bedspread, a nightstand, two comfy-looking armchairs, a yellow dresser, and a small desk.
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  Uncle Victor had left a vase of purple tulips on the dresser. The tall window was open, letting in a warm breeze. The yellow curtains fluttered in the wind.

  I set down my suitcase and hurried to the window to check out the view. Leaning out the window, I looked down on the side of the yard. A wilted flower garden and tall weeds everywhere, and a hedge that hadn’t been trimmed in centuries.

  I guess Uncle Victor didn’t have any time for yard work.

  I was up so high. Beyond the hedge, I could see the sloping green hills that led down to the village.

  I turned away from the window, opened my suitcase on the bed, and started to unpack. I’d just started to pull out some shorts and jeans when I remembered my phone.

  I pulled it out of my bag and started it up. I had strict instructions to call home and tell Mom and Dad I’d arrived safely.

  I started to push my home phone number — then stopped. No service. No bars. I checked for a Wi-Fi network.

  “Oh, wow. I don’t believe it,” I murmured to myself. Uncle Victor didn’t seem to have any Wi-Fi.

  I’ll use his phone to call, I decided. I set the phone down on the little nightstand beside the bed. I could still use the phone to record my video blog.

  I returned to my suitcase and started unpacking more stuff. I’d packed way too much. I wouldn’t need half the skirts and tops I brought. I could see we wouldn’t be going out much.

  I saw Poochie watching me from the door. “Don’t stare, Poochie,” I said. “It isn’t polite.”

  And then I gasped when the little dog whispered: “Be careful, Kat.”

  “Huh?” I gazed down at the fluffy white dog. “Did you just say —”

  Then I saw Uncle Victor standing in the doorway, half in shadow.

  I burst out laughing. “I must be losing it. I just thought Poochie warned me to be careful.”

  Uncle Victor chuckled and stepped into the room. He had a purple stain on the front of his lab coat. “Poochie is a smart dog, but I haven’t taught him how to talk yet.”

  His eyes went to the window. “I came to warn you about the bedroom window.”