Frankenstein's Dog Read online

  I turned. “The window? What about it?”

  He crossed the room and pulled back the yellow window curtains. “See? The window is so low. It comes down almost to the floor. It might be easy to fall out.”

  I made a face at him. “I’m not five, you know. I haven’t fallen out of any windows lately.”

  He frowned at me. “There are no window guards. If you fall, it’s a steep drop to the ground.” He pulled the window shut.

  “But, Uncle Victor — I really like fresh air. I —”

  He lowered his eyes to the dog. “I worry about Poochie, Kat. He isn’t as smart as you think he is. He might venture to the window, see a squirrel outside, and jump out.”

  Poochie rolled onto his back and stretched his legs in the air.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll be careful about the window.”

  I had a sudden idea. I picked up my phone and pressed the video icon. I raised the phone to my eye and aimed it at Uncle Victor. “Go ahead. Pull back the curtains again,” I said. “This might make a nice start for my video.”

  His eyes went wide behind his glasses. “Excuse me? Video?” He raised the sleeve of his lab coat and hid his face. “What are you doing?”

  I lowered the phone. “Uncle Victor, I didn’t know you were so shy.”

  “I’m not shy,” he said. “If I’m going to be on camera, I need my makeup and hair stylists. I need to know my lines. Where is the script?”

  “Funny,” I said. “I guess I should have told you about it. See, I thought I’d do a video blog. To help me get a science scholarship.”

  He bent down and rubbed Poochie’s belly. “A video blog of me straightening the window curtains?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No. Seriously. I want to record you at work. You know. Show what you do in the lab. Have you demonstrate Frank and maybe some of your other robots. It’ll be, like, A Scientist at Work.”

  He made a pouty face. “And I thought you came to spend time with your dear old uncle.”

  I set down the phone. “Of course I did. But the video blog could help me so much. You’ll do it, right?”

  “Of course, dear,” he said, giving Poochie one last rub. He stood up. “Oh. I almost forgot. I invited Robby to come back. You liked him, right? It’s probably not a good idea to visit the village. So I asked him to come here and keep you from getting lonely.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I studied him as he wiped the dog fur off the front of his lab coat. Uncle Victor is so sweet, I thought. Why do the villagers hate him so much?

  Sadly, I would soon find out.

  I spent the morning playing with Poochie in the backyard. Poochie loved the freedom of being outside. But it made me nervous. The weeds and shrubs were so high, I kept losing him. He would disappear for five or ten minutes. And he never came when I called him.

  Finally, I picked him up in both hands and carried him back into the house. Robby was sitting at the long wooden table in the kitchen. Uncle Victor was slicing a freshly baked chicken for sandwiches.

  Robby wore a long black T-shirt over baggy khaki shorts. He kept tapping the tabletop with both hands, pounding out a rhythm. He looked up as I carried Poochie in. “Hey, Kat. How’s it going?”

  “Good,” I said, setting the dog down. “Poochie and I were playing hide-and-seek in the back. I didn’t really want to play that game. But Poochie loved hiding from me in the weeds.”

  “He has a devilish side,” Uncle Victor said. “He’s not as sweet as he looks.” He set the sandwiches down on the table. “Lunch is served. If you don’t mind, I’m going to take mine to the lab.”

  “See you later,” I said. I took a seat across the table from Robby and we dug into the sandwiches.

  “This house is awesome,” Robby said. “Whenever I’m in here, I feel like I’m in a movie.”

  I snickered. “A horror movie?”

  “Well … kind of.” He swallowed. “What do you want to do today?”

  “It’s a beautiful day,” I said. “I’d love to take a walk down to the village.”

  Robby shook his head. “No way. You know your uncle wants us to stay away from the village.” He took another bite of his sandwich.

  “Then let’s explore the house,” I said. “There are so many rooms and so many long, twisting halls. Maybe we can get lost. You know. Spend days marooned in a distant hallway. Wandering from room to room, calling for help. I could video the whole thing. It could be awesome.”

  Robby squinted at me. “You’re weird.”

  I laughed. “I was just messing with you,” I said. “I always try to make things more interesting than they are. Mom calls me a drama queen.” I snickered. “She doesn’t mean it as a compliment.”

  Robby grinned. “Maybe we should bring these sandwiches with us in case we get lost for days.”

  I scooted my chair back. “Come on. Let’s go. I really am excited to see this house. When I was little, Uncle Victor liked to tell me ghost stories that happened here. He said ghosts walked the halls at night, clanking their chains.”

  Robby shook his head. “Why do ghosts always have to clank chains?” he said. “If they are ghosts, couldn’t they just slip out of their chains?”

  “Maybe we can find some ghosts, and we’ll ask them,” I replied.

  Robby and I headed down the back hall that led away from the kitchen. I liked him. He was easy to talk to, and he had a nice laugh. I think he liked me, too. But I couldn’t really tell.

  The back hall led to Uncle Victor’s lab. But before we reached the lab, we turned and climbed a wide, carpeted stairway. The air grew warmer as we climbed. A tall window, covered in dust, let in pale sunlight.

  I gazed down a long, straight hall with rooms on both sides. The only windows were at the ends of the hall. So the sunlight gave way to deep shadow as Robby and I walked.

  My eyes stopped on a tall, black stone statue. A man, standing straight and stiff, a long cape down his back. One hand was raised. It carried a human skull in its palm. The statue’s eyes stared toward the stairway, as if guarding the hall.

  “I think that’s Victor’s great-grandfather,” Robby said. “The original Victor Frankenstein.”

  “Cool dude,” I said. “A little scary. I mean, he looks kind of angry. Like he doesn’t want to be standing here.”

  “He caused a lot of trouble in the village,” Robby said, gazing at the skull.

  “Maybe the statue comes to life at night,” I said. “Frankenstein walks the halls, looking for his monster.”

  Robby clapped his hand over my mouth. “Stop making up stories, Kat. You’re giving me the creeps.”

  I pulled his hand away. “Let’s check out these rooms.”

  We started exploring, room by room. The first room appeared to be a guest bedroom. But the thick cobwebs over the window and the layer of dust on the bedcover showed that it hadn’t been used in a long time.

  The next room had shelves from the floor to the ceiling filled with old radios. I mean real antiques. The kind you see in old movies. There were dozens of them. A back shelf held cartons filled with radio parts, glass tubes, and wires.

  “I guess Uncle Victor likes old radios,” I said.

  Robby sneezed. “Wow. So much dust in here,” he said.

  “Race you to the next room.” I bumped him out of the way and darted out the door. I beat him easily into the next room and glanced around.

  This room was huge, with tall, dirt-smeared windows on one wall. Bookshelves covered the other three walls, and the shelves were filled with old books, their dark covers worn and tattered.

  Two ratty-looking armchairs and a small table stood in the middle of the room. Cone-shaped lights hung from the ceiling over the two armchairs.

  “A library,” Robby said. He walked over to one shelf. His eyes ran down the spines of the old books. “All science books. Wow.”

  I spotted an old trunk at the far wall. I walked over to it, bent, and pried the lid open.
I was greeted by the sharp aroma of mothballs. And a gross sour smell. Like bad meat.

  Robby stepped up beside me. He reached into the trunk and lifted out a wrinkled white shirt. “Check out the ruffled cuffs.”

  I pulled out a silky red vest and a rhinestone mask. “It’s costumes,” I said. “Weird old Halloween costumes.”

  “Your uncle has some strange collections,” Robby said.

  “I know. A long time ago, he told me he likes to collect everything. He said that’s why he loves this old mansion. There’s room for all his junk.”

  Robby sneezed again. He pinched his nose with two fingers. “This old stuff totally stinks. Close the trunk.”

  I squatted down, stuffed the mask and vest back inside, and slammed the trunk shut. I started to climb to my feet. But Robby bumped me back to the floor.

  “Race you to the next room!” he cried, and took off.

  “Not fair!” I yelled. I scrambled after him.

  I was surprised to find the hall covered in darkness. Clouds had swept over the sun, and the two tall windows at the end of the hall were solid gray. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim light. Then I stepped into the next room.

  “Robby?”

  I glanced quickly around. No sign of him. Squinting into the gray light, I saw a pool table in the center of the room and a row of tall stools.

  “Hey! Robby?”

  No answer.

  I turned and trotted back into the hall. “Robby?” My voice came out muffled in the long, dark hallway. Behind me, I could see the caped statue of Victor Frankenstein, black against the gray light, still watching the stairs.

  Did he go into the next room?

  My shoes snagged on the ragged carpet as I walked to the next open doorway. The light was cold and silvery, light enough to cast long shadows in front of me.

  “Robby? Are you in here?”

  I peered into the room. At first, I didn’t see him. I saw only the tall stacks of magazines and newspapers piled nearly to the ceiling.

  But then I lowered my eyes — and my breath caught in my throat.

  I saw him. Robby. Sprawled facedown on the floor, arms spread.

  Not moving. Not moving.

  I opened my mouth in a frightened scream.

  But my scream was cut off as someone grabbed me from behind.

  “Let GO of me!”

  The words burst from my throat.

  I lurched forward and tore free of the hands holding me. I spun around. “Robby?”

  He nodded. “Don’t be scared, Kat.”

  “But — but —” I sputtered.

  He motioned to the figure sprawled facedown on the floor. “Did you think that was me?”

  “Why — yes,” I stammered. “I saw you. There on the floor, and —” I realized I was still shaking.

  Robby strode into the room and bent down over the fallen figure. “It’s just a robot,” he said. He lifted one arm, then let it fall limply back to the floor. “It’s a broken robot.”

  “It … looked so lifelike,” I said, starting to feel a little more normal. “I really thought —”

  Robby shook his head. “Your uncle isn’t a very good housekeeper. Why did he leave a broken robot lying here?”

  “Good question,” I said.

  Robby motioned down the hall. “Let’s see what surprises there are in the next room.”

  I sighed. “No, thanks. I mean, really. I think maybe I’m through exploring for now.”

  We turned back to the stairs. The statue of Victor Frankenstein kept its guard. I rubbed my hand over the cape as we passed by. The stone felt surprisingly warm.

  I shivered. I kept seeing those arms and legs sprawled on the floor. This old house was definitely creepy. But that was one reason I came. I wanted to explore my uncle’s world. I wanted to capture it all on video.

  “Too bad you didn’t bring your phone up here,” Robby said, as if reading my thoughts. “You could have started your video blog.”

  “I know. I left it in my room,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  We made our way down the stairs, half-walking, half-sliding down the creaking wooden banister. At the bottom, we found ourselves facing the door to Uncle Victor’s lab.

  “Let’s go in and see what he’s doing,” I said. I knocked on the door. No reply. I knocked again, a little harder.

  I brought my ear close to the door and listened. I couldn’t hear any activity in there.

  “Uncle Victor? Are you in there?” I called.

  Silence.

  I turned to Robby. “He must have gone out. Have you ever seen the lab?”

  “No,” Robby said. “Never.”

  I turned the knob and pulled open the door. “Come on,” I said. “It’s amazing. I’ll show it to you.”

  Robby held back. “Are you sure we should go in there?”

  “Of course,” I said. “What could happen?”

  I led the way into the lab. The lights were all on. Computer screens flickered. Big glass tubes of chemicals bubbled and fizzed.

  No sign of Uncle Victor.

  The air smelled like my dentist’s office. A sharp, clean medicine smell.

  “It’s like we stepped into an old horror movie,” Robby said. “A mad scientist uses this lab to turn animals into humans.” He picked up a test tube containing a purple liquid. “One drink of this, and you become a werewolf!”

  “Put it down,” I said. “My uncle is not a mad scientist.”

  He tilted the test tube to his mouth and pretended to drink the purple liquid. Then he opened his mouth wide and let out a wolf roar.

  “You’re not funny,” I said. “See all these computers? Uncle Victor isn’t making werewolves. He’s learning about artificial intelligence. He’s making robots that can think for themselves. Robots that are definitely smarter than you.”

  “Sorry,” Robby said. He set down the test tube. “Just joking, you know.”

  “Well, you sounded like the villagers. All that mad scientist talk isn’t funny.”

  Robby walked around the long table filled with beakers and tubes and huge glass containers of colorful liquids. “Wow,” he murmured. “Wow. This lab is awesome.”

  I followed him over to the table of computers. He counted them. “Twelve? Your uncle has twelve computers going at once? What’s that about?”

  “About being a genius,” I said.

  I don’t know why, but I felt like defending Uncle Victor to Robby. I didn’t like the mad scientist jokes. I knew how serious and smart my uncle was.

  Robby just kept muttering “wow.” He was impressed.

  He walked back to the lab table and gazed at the brightly colored chemicals running through tubes, fizzing in their glass containers. “I wonder what he’s mixing up here,” he said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Wish he was here. He could tell us. He could —”

  I stopped when I heard a soft thud. It was followed by a low groan. Like an animal in pain.

  “What was that?” I cried.

  Robby motioned to the narrow door at the back wall. “It came from back there, I think.”

  We heard another groan. Then a rustling sound. It was definitely coming from the other side of that door.

  Robby started toward it.

  “Stop,” I called. “Uncle Victor said to stay away from there.”

  “Huh?” Robby spun back to me. “Stay away?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “He said he keeps his failures in there.”

  Robby scrunched up his face. “His failures? What does that mean?”

  Another thud against the door. Then silence. Silence, except for the bubbling of the chemicals in their tubes and beakers.

  I spotted Frank, my uncle’s most advanced robot, standing by the window. The robot stood stiffly, arms hanging limply at his sides, eyes shut.

  “Robby, check this dude out,” I said, motioning to Frank. “It’s Uncle Victor’s most awesome robot. He named the robot Frank.”

/>   Robby stepped up to the robot. He raised its right hand and shook hands with it. “How do you do, Frank. Nice to meet you. Are you smarter than me like Kat says?”

  Robby let go of the hand and it dropped back to Frank’s side.

  “He’s so smart?” Robby said. “He can’t even answer me.”

  “He’s shut off, dummy,” I said.

  Robby laughed. “Who’s the dummy?”

  “When he’s powered up, he’s totally human,” I said. “Seriously. He talks like a human, and he moves around naturally. He answers your questions. He can really think.”

  Robby stared at Frank’s human-looking face. Then he turned to me. “Go ahead, Kat. Power him up. I want to see him come alive.”

  “I … I don’t think we should,” I replied.

  Robby frowned at me. “You mean you don’t know how to power him up?”

  “I know how,” I said. “I just don’t think Uncle Victor would like it. Frank can be a little dangerous. I mean, he squeezed my hand and —”

  “Just for a minute,” Robby said. “Half a minute. Come on. I want to see him open his eyes and say something. That’s all. Then you can turn him right off.”

  “Hmmmm.” I thought hard about it. “Okay,” I said finally. “Just for a few seconds.”

  I stepped up to the robot. I lifted his arm and pushed back the sleeve of his Grateful Dead T-shirt. My fingers found the switch in his armpit — and I clicked him on.

  I took a step back. My heart was pounding. I knew I shouldn’t be doing this.

  Why did I listen to Robby? I guess I wanted him to like me.

  Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then the robot blinked his eyes. His mouth twitched. He turned his head and stared hard at me, as if booting up his memory. Trying to remember me.

  “Wow. He moves,” Robby said.

  “Of course I move,” Frank replied in his soft whisper of a voice.

  Robby and I burst out laughing. I’m not sure why. I guess we both were nervous.

  Frank stretched his arms over his head. He tilted his head from side to side, as if stretching his neck. It was just like a human waking up.

  Robby stood next to me. He didn’t talk. He just stared at the robot as he came to life.