The Adventures of Shrinkman Read online

  “We won’t let that happen,” she said softly. “You’ll be safe in here, Danny. And everyone can keep an eye on you.”

  I sat cross-legged on the cage floor, my back pressed between two thick metal bars. Megan carried me down to the kitchen.

  Mom and Dad were sitting at the breakfast table, white mugs of coffee in their hands. They both jumped up when they saw Megan carry in the cage.

  “He’s in here,” Megan said, setting the cage on the table. “I had a lot of trouble finding him.”

  Mom gasped. She covered her mouth with one hand.

  Dad’s mouth dropped open.

  “You’ve got to do something!” I squeaked, standing and staring out at them, gripping the bars like a prisoner. “I’m shrinking fast!”

  They didn’t have time to reply. The phone rang.

  The deafening sound echoed off the metal bars of my cage.

  Mom and Dad both dived for the phone. Dad reached it first. “Hello?”

  He turned to Mom. “It’s Dr. Hayward.”

  I heard Dad repeat into the phone, “Yes…Yes…Yes…”

  My heart thudded in my chest. My hands were suddenly ice-cold. I poked my head out between the bars, trying to hear.

  Finally Dad set down the phone. He exchanged a long glance with Mom.

  Mom’s chin trembled. She bit her bottom lip.

  “What did he say?” I called. “What did Dr. Hayward say?”

  “He wants to see us,” Dad replied. “Right away.”

  “That’s good news!” I cried. “That means he’s found a cure—right?”

  Mom and Dad exchanged another glance.

  “Maybe,” Dad said.

  “He wouldn’t bring us in unless he had good news for us,” Mom added, forcing a smile. “Are you hungry, Danny? Let me give you a quick breakfast. Then we’ll go hear what Dr. Hayward has to say.”

  I was too nervous and excited to feel hungry. I couldn’t wait to hear Dr. Hayward’s cure. I couldn’t wait to grow back to normal size.

  But when Mom slipped half a strawberry into the cage, I ate it hungrily. I broke off pieces and shoved them into my mouth.

  Of course, I couldn’t eat an entire half a strawberry. I felt full after only a few bites.

  “I’ll back the car out of the garage,” Dad said, making his way to the kitchen door. “And I’ll make sure Rocky has food and water. Then we’ll go.”

  “I’d better get to school,” Megan said, picking up her backpack from the counter. “I’m already late. It’s been crazy at school, Danny. Tonight is the fifth grade Science Fair. Everyone has been going nuts trying to get all the projects finished.”

  “I’m sure you’ll win, Megan,” I called out of the cage.

  A strange smile spread over her face. Her dark eyes flashed. “Yes. I’m sure I will, Danny.”

  She turned to my mom. “Call me as soon as you get back home, okay? Everyone at school is dying to hear that Danny will be okay.”

  Megan hurried out the door.

  Mom leaned down, bringing her face close to me. I could see that her eyes were red. She looked pale and tense. I guessed that she hadn’t slept much the night before.

  “Have you finished your breakfast, Danny?” She pulled the chunk of leftover strawberry out. “Here. Have some orange juice. Then we’ll go.”

  She slid a sewing thimble into the cage. It was filled to the top with orange juice.

  I picked it up in both hands and took a few sips. “Enough,” I said. “Come on. Let’s get going. I can’t wait to hear Dr. Hayward’s good news.”

  “M-me, too,” Mom replied, removing the thimble and pushing the cage door closed.

  She lifted the cage by the handle. The cage floor rocked, and I fell to my knees. I dropped to a sitting position and held on tight to the swinging perch above my head. The cage bounced and tilted as Mom carried it outside.

  The bright sunlight shooting through the cage bars made me squint.

  I heard a deafening roar and realized it was the car backing out of the garage.

  Mom started to jog across the lawn to the car.

  The cage bounced harder.

  I lost my grip on the wooden perch.

  I started to slide over the metal floor.

  And, to my horror, the cage door flew open!

  “No—!” I made a frantic grab for the bars.

  Missed.

  The cage bounced hard—and I went sailing out the open door.

  I dropped to the asphalt driveway. I screamed all the way down.

  I landed hard on my elbows and knees. And turned instantly toward the car. “Mom—!”

  Did she see that I had fallen out of the cage?

  No.

  I watched her slide into the passenger seat. She set the cage down in her lap.

  “Mom—nooooo!” I shrieked. “Can’t you hear me? I fell out! Mom—stop! I fell out!”

  The passenger door slammed shut.

  I jumped to my feet and waved frantically with both hands. “Mom—wait! Wait!” I screeched at the top of my lungs.

  I stared frozen in the middle of the driveway, praying they would notice, praying they would see the empty cage.

  But no.

  The car idled for a few moments. Then it started to move. Started to back down the drive. The chrome bumper flashed in my eyes. The huge black tires made a grinding sound.

  And I realized I was about to be run over!

  Roadkill.

  The word flashed in my mind.

  I dropped facedown on the drive. The hot asphalt burned my skin.

  I tucked my arms beneath me. Shut my eyes…

  …And the car rolled over me, chugging, grinding, roaring.

  Something on the bottom of the car scraped my back. But the car passed over me. The fat, black tires missed by inches.

  “Sometimes it helps to be the size of a bird,” I muttered to myself.

  Breathing hard, sweat pouring down my face, I leaped to my feet. Spun around. Again, I waved frantically at the car and shouted for them to come back.

  But they still hadn’t realized the cage was empty.

  I watched, trembling, as our blue Taurus backed into the street, then roared away.

  “Now what?” I asked myself.

  I’ve got to get to Dr. Hayward’s office. I have to be cured by him before I disappear completely.

  But how can I get there?

  If my parents came back, how would they be able to find me?

  I didn’t have time to think of answers.

  I heard a low growl.

  I turned to the open garage.

  And saw Rocky come trotting out, his back arched, teeth bared…his eyes on me.

  The big dog lowered his head, snarling a warning. He pulled back his lips, revealing two rows of teeth.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Rocky—it’s me!” I shouted. “Rocky—it’s Danny!”

  My cry didn’t settle him down. He began to bark furiously. He snapped his jaw, dark eyes glaring.

  “Rocky—no!” I yelled. “Don’t you recognize me? Can’t you smell me?”

  Growling again, the Irish setter took a few more steps toward me. From down on the driveway, he looked as big as a horse!

  Was he going to trample me?

  Or chew me to bits?

  Once, a few years ago, Rocky carried a dead mouse into the kitchen. He had ripped it apart with his paws and teeth. I watched him bite the mouse’s head off. I still remembered the sick crunch it made.

  Rocky stared down at me, eyes narrowing, snapping his jaw menacingly.

  I swallowed hard, my stomach lurching.

  Now I’m the mouse…

  He hesitated for a second, sniffing hard.

  “Rocky—listen to me! Down, boy! Down!”

  He uttered one more sharp bark.

  Then he raised both giant front paws—and leaped.

  I raised my hands to fight him off. But I wasn’t strong enough to push the huge dog away. He lowered his
head. Snapped his jaw around me—and lifted me into the air in his teeth.

  “No, Rocky! Noooooo!” I screamed.

  He tossed me into the air. I sailed up over the Irish setter’s head and fell back onto the driveway.

  “Owwwww!” I landed hard on my shoulder. Pain shot down my body.

  Before I could move, I saw his big head lowering again. His mouth opened wide and his teeth closed around me.

  Hot, sticky saliva clung to my face, my arms.

  Grunting loudly, the dog clamped his teeth tighter over me.

  Then he tossed me up again.

  A trail of saliva flew behind me as I sailed up, then back to the driveway. I hit harder this time. Skidded on my stomach.

  He’s playing with me! I realized.

  He’s just playing now. But what is he going to do when he’s finished playing?

  Again, I pictured the mouse in Rocky’s mouth. Again, I heard the crunch of its head being bitten off.

  I scrambled to my feet and tried to dive into the flowerbed at the side of the driveway.

  But Rocky was too fast for me. He picked me up in his teeth again. Swung me around. Swung me like one of his pull-rope toys.

  And as I hung helplessly in his mouth, dripping, sticky with saliva, frozen in terror, I saw another dog come running across the yard.

  A large yellow dog. Teeth bared, head down for the attack, it bounded rapidly over the grass, taking long strides.

  Tightening his grip on me, Rocky growled at the newcomer.

  The yellow dog growled back.

  To my shuddering horror, I realized they were about to fight over me.

  With a furious snarl, Rocky spun away from the other dog.

  The yellow dog leaped forward. I let out a scream as his jaw snapped at my feet.

  Growling, panting hard, Rocky sat back on his haunches.

  The yellow dog made another leap for me.

  This time his teeth dug into my ankles.

  I screamed again as a wave of pain swept over me.

  Oh no! It’s a tug of war.

  The two dogs snarled menacingly at each other, pawing the ground, as they took turns sinking their teeth into my skin.

  With a frantic effort, I reached up both hands. I grabbed Rocky’s snout. And I pinched as hard as I could, squeezing the tender, soft part.

  Rocky let out a startled squeal.

  His jaw slid open, and I sailed out of his mouth.

  Dripping and sticky, I hit the driveway running. I dived into the flowerbed and hid under a clump of fat, green leaves.

  I could hear Rocky sniffing hard. I saw his shadow sweep over the flowerbed.

  I peeked out and watched him sniff at the yellow dog. Then, to my relief, the two of them loped off toward the backyard, trotting side by side.

  Thank goodness dogs have such short attention spans, I thought.

  I rubbed dog saliva off my chin and neck and checked myself out. I had a few cuts on my legs, but nothing serious. My pajamas were soaked and torn to shreds. I wiped my bare feet off with a leaf.

  I peered out to make sure the coast was clear. Then I made my way through the flowerbed to the front lawn.

  I sighed, realizing I must have shrunk even more. The blades of grass came up over my waist. Now I’m the size of a sparrow, I decided.

  How can I ever get to Dr. Hayward’s office?

  I shielded my eyes with one hand and looked down the street. Our front lawn suddenly appeared to be a mile long!

  I’m going to need help, I saw. I can’t get all the way across town by myself. It would take years!

  I heard the rumble of a car. My heart started to race. Was it Mom and Dad? Did they come back for me?

  I stood on tiptoe to see over some tall grass. I let out a disappointed sigh as a red minivan roared past.

  Maybe I can make it to a bus stop, I told myself. Maybe I can hop onto the crosstown bus. It will take me really close to the doctor’s office.

  It seemed like a plan.

  I started to make my way toward the street, pushing the blades of grass out of my way with both hands.

  I had gone only four or five steps when I heard a clattering sound from nearby.

  A rustling, scratching sound.

  I stopped to listen.

  The curtain of grass in front of me suddenly parted.

  And a figure lurched forward. A green stick figure.

  A grasshopper.

  Nearly as tall as me, it rose up, clicking its stick legs. It opened a round mouth and spit a gooey, black blob onto my chest.

  “Owww!” I cried out, more startled than hurt.

  Searching desperately for a hiding place or an escape route, I tried to back away.

  But the grasshopper moved quickly.

  Its slender body arched up in front of me. It raised a gleaming, green leg.

  It swung the leg and slapped me. Slapped me so hard, I toppled to the ground.

  And then it scrabbled over me, lowering its head to my throat, moving in for the kill.

  Frantically I grabbed one of the insect’s legs with both hands. It felt warm and hard as a lobster claw. Gripping the leg, I pulled myself up off the ground and swung out from under the creature.

  It opened its round mouth and spit again. But this time the sticky, black blob shot past my face.

  With all my strength I tugged on the insect’s leg. Tugged hard until I pulled it down to the ground. Then I dived onto its hard, spiny back. As I struggled to shove its head into the dirt, I felt a rumbling beneath me.

  The grasshopper’s wings shot out. They fluttered rapidly and sent me sailing off the insect’s back, facedown onto the grass.

  Pulling myself to my knees, I heard the grasshopper snap its legs. The snapping sound reminded me of celery cracking.

  It suddenly dipped low, then came hopping at me, leaping high off the ground.

  I tried to crawl out of its way.

  But it came too fast.

  Its front legs stung my back. It felt like darts plunging through my skin.

  I cried out and struggled to roll away.

  But the big insect stung me again. Slapped my face with the bone-hard legs. Stung my chest. My arms.

  Reeling in pain, I rolled away.

  And to my surprise, started to fall.

  Down a steep dirt tunnel. A hole in the ground?

  I toppled down the damp, dark dirt, rolling over and over. Rolling away from sunlight. Falling into a deep darkness.

  I landed on my back. Landed on something soft.

  Landed on something alive!

  I felt warm bodies pulsating beneath me. My body bobbed up and down on their wavelike motion.

  Something scratched my face. I felt something heavy crawl onto my chest.

  I tried to stand up. But I was on top of a sea of living creatures moving rapidly. I fell back to my knees.

  And felt the prickle of tiny feet as something crawled onto my back.

  Gripped in horror, I struggled to stand again.

  What were these creatures? How far into the ground had I fallen?

  A flash of sunlight—like a bolt of lightning—answered my question.

  In the brief second of light I saw the giant ant on my chest, the ants on the tunnel walls, the carpet of ants beneath me.

  Ants as big as dogs!

  I felt a wave of terror sweep down my body. I opened my mouth to scream—and one of the ants stuck its hairy, round head into my mouth!

  Choking, gagging, I shoved it away.

  I could taste the creature on my tongue. Metallic tasting and sour.

  My disgust gave me new strength.

  I grabbed an ant on my stomach and flung it aside. Then I began crawling frantically, grabbing ants and pushing them out of my way, my knees scrabbling over their soft, warm backs.

  I elbowed ants away. Shook one off the back of my neck. Plucked one off my leg.

  I crawled till I landed on dirt. Then, digging my hands into the soft, damp earth, I pulled mysel
f up, up, up the ant hole, scrambled up like an insect searching for light.

  Yes! I made it. Into the bright sunshine. Surrounded by the glowing grass of the front yard.

  I stood and brushed the dirt off my hands, off my face, off my shredded pajamas. Then I gazed down the lawn to the street, so far away.

  I don’t care how far it is, I decided. I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to make it to the street. And I’m going to make it to Dr. Hayward’s office to get my cure.

  I stared at my bare feet, dirt-stained and scratched. If only I had shoes…

  But who makes shoes for a boy the size of a mouse?

  Shoving grass blades out of my way, I began to push through the lawn, heading to the street. I felt as if I were walking through a thick jungle.

  I don’t know how much time passed. But my arms and legs ached and throbbed, and my whole body was drenched with sweat when I finally reached the curb.

  I jumped off the sidewalk and into the street.

  The hot road burned my toes. But I didn’t care.

  “If I can make it to the street,” I told myself, stopping to catch my breath, “I can make it to the bus stop.”

  I turned and began walking quickly, keeping the curb—high as a cement wall—close at my right.

  I wiped sweat off my face, then shielded my eyes with one hand from the bright sun. It was high in the sky when I finally reached the bus stop on the corner. The pavement shimmered like silver.

  Two women carrying large shopping bags stood at the bus stop, waiting for the blue-and-white city bus.

  I pulled myself up onto the curb. Then I hid behind a soda can someone had tossed on the grass and waited.

  A few minutes later the bus rolled up, squealing to a stop. I stepped out from behind the soda can—and my heart sank.

  The bus rose up into the sky, as tall as a skyscraper.

  The door hissed open. The first woman began to climb on.

  And I stared in horror at the first step. Miles over my head.

  No way I could jump onto it. Or even reach it to pull myself up. I needed help.

  I ran up beside the second woman. I gazed at her long blond hair trailing behind her white blouse, down to her tight-fitting blue denim jeans. She seemed a mile high, too!