Frankenstein's Dog Page 4

  Frank finally took his eyes off me. “How are you, Robby?” he asked.

  “Hey,” I said to Robby. “You told me you’ve never been in my uncle’s lab. How does Frank know your name?”

  Robby’s cheeks turned pink. “Uh … he probably heard your uncle phone me to come over here and keep you company.”

  I turned back to Frank. “Is that true?” I asked. “How do you know Robby’s name?”

  The robot’s shoulders moved up and down, as if it was shrugging. “I have many names in my memory bank. My face recognition system works with my memory cells.”

  I didn’t really understand that answer. My heart was still beating hard. I wanted to switch the robot off. Before Uncle Victor came back. He seemed nice now, and calm. But I remembered how Frank got violent for no reason at all.

  “Frank, can you show us around the lab?” Robby asked.

  Frank nodded. “Yes. I can give you both a short tour. What would you like to see?”

  “No,” I said, stepping between Robby and Frank. “I think we have to stop right now, Robby.”

  “Just a few more minutes,” Robby said. “I want to see —”

  “I can heat up some chemicals and give you a really big surprise,” Frank said. His eyes blinked rapidly.

  “No way!” I cried. “I mean, not now, Frank. Robby and I have to go. Uncle Victor will be home soon. I think —”

  Robby laughed. “Kat, why are you so stressed? Frank wants to show us what he can do with chemicals.”

  I scowled at Robby. “You said we’d turn him on for just a few seconds. I don’t think this is right.”

  “Okay, okay,” Robby muttered, raising both hands like he was surrendering.

  “You can show us your trick with chemicals later, Frank,” I said. I reached for Frank’s arm to click off the power switch.

  But he ducked to the side.

  I gasped in surprise. He moved so quickly.

  I made another grab for his arm. But he slid out of my grasp. And then he took off, running to the open lab door.

  “Hey, stop!” I screamed.

  The robot’s shoes pounded the hard lab floor. He ran with amazing speed.

  Robby and I ran after him. “Stop!” I screamed again. “Frank, stop! STOP!”

  The robot darted through the open doorway and slammed the door behind him.

  Were we locked in? No. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

  Frank was halfway down the long hallway, running hard.

  “Get him!” I cried to Robby. We both squeezed through the doorway at the same time and began to run side by side down the hall.

  “Frank — come back! Frank!” My shout came out hoarse and frightened.

  The robot paid no attention. He dove around a corner and disappeared from view.

  I tripped over a hole in the carpet and stumbled into the wall. Robby stopped to grab my arm and pull me back to my feet.

  “He … he’s getting away,” I stammered. “Uncle Victor will be furious.”

  “He won’t get far,” Robby said.

  We both started to run again, past room after room. I saw a mouse staring, perched on a bed in an empty guest room. Window blinds rattled in front of an open window in the next empty room.

  Robby and I turned the corner. I squinted into the dim light down the hallway.

  “Oh, nooo,” I moaned. “Where is he? Where?”

  No sign of Frank.

  Robby pointed to the row of doors along the right side of the hall. “He must be hiding in one of those rooms.”

  “But why?” I cried. “Just to get me in trouble?”

  “Maybe he wants his freedom,” Robby said. He gave me a gentle push. “Come on. Start searching.”

  We ran to the first room. The door was closed. I pulled it open and peered inside. I saw cardboard cartons piled to the ceiling. Several boxes marked FRAGILE. No Frank.

  Robby was already on his way to the next room. I saw him stop. His eyes gazed down the hall. He pointed. “Kat — look!”

  At the end of the hall, I saw the front door to the house. Frank stood at the front door, struggling with the lock.

  “He … he’s trying to get out!” I gasped. “Stop him.”

  Robby and I took off, running as hard as we could. Frank turned and saw us coming. He fiddled frantically with the door.

  I heard him snap the lock. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.

  “Noooo!” I cried. “Frank — stop! Frank — don’t go outside!”

  I ran past Robby. I was so close to Frank. I took a deep breath. Stretched out my hands to grab him. And dove to tackle him.

  I let out a scream as I tripped. No. Something tripped me.

  My head swung around as I went down. I saw Poochie at my feet. I’d tripped over Poochie.

  I landed hard on my elbows and knees.

  And stared helplessly as the robot hurried out the front door.

  Robby reached the door first and darted outside. I pulled myself to my feet, stepped around Poochie, and followed him.

  Frank was running across the front lawn, heading toward the gate. Robby ran after him.

  “Where are you going?” I screamed at Frank. “Please — stop! Don’t go to the village. I’m warning you, Frank. Don’t go to the village!”

  He’ll terrify the villagers if he shows up there, I thought.

  What will the frightened villagers DO to him?

  Frank was nearly to the front gate. Robby and I were running hard, leaning forward, arms outstretched. But I could see we weren’t going to catch him.

  Then I heard a heavy thud of footsteps behind us.

  Startled, I swung my head around — and saw the two guard dogs galloping after us.

  Their heads were lowered, mouths open in angry snarls, teeth bared. Ready to pounce.

  Up ahead of us, Frank stopped. He turned to the dogs. I could see his eyes go wide.

  “Look! Frank is afraid of the dogs,” I said to Robby.

  The robot stood frozen as the dogs came charging across the lawn.

  I stepped up to Frank. Raised his arm. Found the switch in his armpit — and clicked him off.

  His body went stiff. His eyelids shut.

  The dogs barked excitedly as they prepared to attack.

  “Robby —” I cried. “The whistle! Blow the whistle! Hurry!”

  Robby reached around his neck, then uttered a gasp. “I don’t have it, Kat. You took it — remember?”

  Oh, no. Oh, nooooo.

  “I … I don’t have it!” I stammered. “It’s up in my room.”

  “We are so … doomed,” Robby murmured. “Doomed.”

  Robby and I both cried out in terror as the dogs leaped to attack us.

  I heard a sound from the house. A high squeal of a dog bark.

  To my shock, the dogs appeared to stop in midair. They landed hard on the ground. Panting, they gazed at one another.

  I turned to the house and saw Poochie on the front stairs. He had his head tilted back and was barking furiously.

  The huge guard dogs lowered their heads. Their arched bodies, still ready to attack, slumped and appeared to collapse. One dog shuddered, shaking its whole frame.

  Poochie continued his shrill bark.

  The dogs turned and trudged away, their ears down, heads lowered.

  “I don’t believe it!” I cried. “They’re afraid of little Poochie.”

  “I’ll bet your uncle trained them to back off when Poochie barks,” Robby said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “Uncle Victor did say Poochie was the boss.”

  I stared at Poochie. He had finally stopped barking. He had his head raised, as if in triumph.

  I realized I was shivering. I could still feel the blood pulsing at my temples. I let out a long breath. “Close one.”

  Robby mopped sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand. He swallowed hard. “I’m going to have nightmares about this.”

  The guard dogs had retreated to the s
ide of the front walk. But they kept their eyes trained on us.

  I looked back at Poochie. But the little dog had disappeared into the house.

  I motioned to Robby. “Come on. We have to get Frank back to the lab.”

  Robby frowned at the robot. “What a jerk. Why was he running away?”

  “Don’t think about it,” I said. “Hurry. I’ll take the head. You take the feet. We’ll carry him —”

  Robby grinned. “Why don’t we just click him back on and let him walk back to the lab?”

  “Ha-ha. Funny,” I said. “No way I’m ever turning him back on without Uncle Victor around. I think we learned one thing. Frank can’t be trusted.”

  I wrapped my hands around Frank’s head. His skin felt like human skin. Robby took the feet, and we hoisted the robot off the ground. He was heavier than I thought he’d be. We carried him like a log to the house.

  The guard dogs watched us in silence. Their ears drooped. They still looked frightened.

  Poochie is one tough little dude, I thought.

  Into the house. I carefully closed the front door behind me. Then we slowly made our way down the long hallway.

  “This guy weighs a ton,” Robby said. “Must be all the circuits and controls inside.”

  “I think his brain weighs two tons,” I said. “His head is like a bowling ball.”

  “Careful. Don’t drop him,” Robby warned.

  I shifted my hands on the robot’s head and stepped up to the lab door. “If Uncle Victor ever finds out what we did …” I didn’t finish my sentence.

  I struggled with the door. “I … think it’s locked,” I said. “I think we’re locked out.” A wave of dread rolled down my body. Uncle Victor will never trust me again.

  Gripping the robot tightly, Robby and I traded places. I watched Robby push the door with his shoulder. He pushed with all his strength.

  Then I burst out laughing.

  He spun around. “What’s so funny?”

  “Try pulling,” I said.

  He grabbed the handle and pulled. The door opened easily. He shook his head. “Okay, okay. We’re both a little tense.”

  We hoisted Frank up and carried him into the lab. We set him down near the window where we found him. He stood stiffly with his eyes shut. I tugged down his shirt and brushed his hair back with my hand.

  “There. He looks okay,” I said. “Let’s get out of here before Uncle Victor finds us.”

  I started to the door — but stopped as Poochie scampered into the lab. He darted across the room and stopped to sniff a dark spot on the floor near the computer table.

  “Poochie, let’s go,” I called. “Out. Out of here. We have to go.”

  The little dog ignored me. He sniffed the spot, then moved quickly under the table with all the bubbling chemicals.

  “No. Get out of there,” I said. I hurried toward him, ready to pick him up. “You’ll get in trouble, Poochie. You shouldn’t be in here.”

  I reached for the dog, but he slipped out of my grasp. He let out a short yip and scurried back to the computer table.

  I turned to Robby. “Don’t just stand there. Help me catch him.”

  Robby laughed. “The little guy is a speed demon.” He grabbed for Poochie and the dog scampered away. “I think he’s playing a game with us now, Kat.”

  “I don’t like this game,” I said, moving toward Poochie. “He’s going to get us in trouble.”

  I moved to trap the fluffy white troublemaker in the corner. But he saw me coming and ran behind Frank. “Come out of there,” I said. “Stop it, Poochie. First Frank, now you. You’re making me angry.”

  The dog let out another yip and darted toward the chemical table. “Enough!” I cried.

  I dove for him. Missed. And bumped the table hard. The whole table shook.

  “Unnh,” I groaned as pain shot up my side.

  I turned to see one of the glass beakers topple over. A thick green liquid came pouring out …

  … pouring out …

  … pouring onto Poochie.

  Poochie uttered a growl as the green chemical splashed onto his back, spreading over his white fur.

  I gasped. “Oh, no! What have I done?”

  And as I gaped in horror, the dog began to grow.

  The dog made weird growling, grunting noises. He rolled his head around and twitched his back.

  I grabbed the glass beaker and stood it back up. Too late. The green chemical had formed a wide puddle on Poochie’s back. And it dripped thickly down his sides.

  Robby stepped up beside me, and we both watched as the dog twitched and grunted — and grew.

  “This … isn’t happening,” Robby murmured.

  But it was. Standing on all fours, Poochie had been less than a foot tall. But now, the fluffy white fur appeared to puff up. As if someone was blowing it with a hair dryer.

  The dog twisted uncomfortably. His little black eyes gazed up at me.

  I jumped back. “Robby — he’s stretching. He’s —”

  “He’s nearly as high as my knees!” Robby cried.

  The head ballooned. The ears stretched as if they were rubber. The tail grew longer, and the whole body plumped up … wider … wider …

  “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.” I pressed my hands to the sides of my face. “I don’t believe it!”

  I took another step back. The dog almost reached my waist, and he was still growing. The fur puffed up and the legs stretched … stretched….

  “He’s as big as a sheepdog!” Robby cried in a trembling voice. He grabbed my shoulder. “Kat — what are we going to do?”

  The big dog shook himself. Green liquid splashed off his back.

  “M-maybe if we wash the stuff off …” I stammered.

  Poochie let out a loud growl. He shook himself again, sending more splashes of green chemical flying across the lab.

  “Let’s try it,” Robby said. “Let’s wash the chemical off. Maybe he’ll stop growing.”

  “But, how —” I started.

  Robby grabbed the dog’s big head with both hands. The head was as big as a soccer ball! “Help me, Kat.” He started to tug Poochie toward the sink in the corner.

  I bent down and grabbed the dog’s back legs. I started to shove him forward. But my hands slipped — and slid over the thick fur on his back.

  “Oh!” I raised my hands quickly. Too late. I touched the green gunk.

  Robby still gripped Poochie’s head. He raised his eyes to me. “Are you okay?”

  “No!” I screamed. “No. I’m not okay! The green gunk! I touched it! I touched it!”

  “Oh, wow.” Robby’s face filled with horror.

  I staggered back. “I … I’m growing!” I screamed. “Oh, help! Help me! What am I going to do? I’m GROWING!”

  Holding on to Poochie’s head, Robby squinted at me. “No, you’re not,” he said.

  I gasped. “Huh? What do you mean?”

  “You’re not growing, Kat. Look at yourself. You … you just panicked, that’s all.”

  I was panting like a dog. I tried to slow my breathing. I gazed at my hands, sticky with the green chemical. I lowered my eyes to my shoes. “You’re right,” I murmured. “I’m okay. I’m not growing. Sorry.”

  “Hurry,” Robby said. “To the sink.”

  I bent down and grabbed Poochie from behind. The dog tried to pull free. The poor guy must have been totally confused.

  I grabbed his back legs and pushed hard, sliding him across the room. Robby tugged at the head, pulling hard with both hands.

  As I pushed, I saw that Poochie had grown even taller. He was now higher than my waist.

  Uncle Victor loves this dog, I thought. He’s going to be furious when he sees what I’ve done.

  “It isn’t going to work,” I said. “Pouring water on him …”

  “We have to try,” Robby insisted.

  Somehow we dragged the big dog to the sink. “Okay. Let’s lift him up and put him in the sink,” I said.

>   Robby squinted at me. “Are you serious? He must weigh two hundred pounds.”

  I spotted a bucket against the wall. And I saw a drain in the floor. “Okay. Hold him still. Hold him over the drain.”

  I filled the bucket with water. Poochie watched me, bobbing his big head hard, struggling to free himself from Robby.

  I tilted the bucket over him and let the water pour down his back.

  The dog stopped struggling. The water loosened the thick green chemical. Some of it ran into the drain on the floor.

  “Is it working?” I cried in a high shrill voice.

  “I can’t tell,” Robby said. “Keep going.”

  I poured another bucket of water on Poochie. Then another.

  Poochie shook his head hard. He sent water and chemical droplets flying in the air.

  I stared down at him. “Robby, I think it’s working. Look. Does he look smaller to you?”

  Robby studied the dog. “Maybe. Come on. More water. Let’s wash off all the gunk.”

  I poured another bucket of water over Poochie. Then I found a brush and scrubbed his fur with it. The chemical was dissolving, melting away. It was all slipping down the drain.

  And Poochie … Poochie was definitely shrinking. He was no taller than my knees now.

  He had grown shorter — and calmer. He stood very still with his head lowered and let me pour another bucket of water over his back.

  “Look at him,” I said. “He knows we’re helping him.”

  “It’s working! It’s really working!” Robby cried. He pumped his fists in the air. “He’ll be back to his normal size by the time your uncle returns.”

  Suddenly, I had an idea.

  “Hold him still,” I said. “I’m going to run and get my phone. I want to record this for my video blog. I want to show Poochie shrinking. It will be awesome. No one will believe it.”

  “Better hurry,” Robby said. “He’s almost normal size already.”

  I jumped to my feet. My clothes were soaking wet from all the splashing water. But I didn’t care. Poochie growing huge, then shrinking, was amazing. And I wanted to get at least a little of it on video.

  Wiping my hands on the legs of my jeans, I ran out of the lab. I hurried down the long hall, turned into the next hall, and found the stairway that led to my room.