Frankenstein's Dog Read online

  I took the stairs two at a time, my hand bouncing over the wooden banister. My heart was pounding by the time I reached the second floor.

  Into my room. I glanced at the dresser. Where did I leave my phone?

  I spotted it on the bed table beside my unmade bed. I crossed the room, grabbed it, turned it around — and uttered a shocked cry.

  “Oh, no. Noooo.”

  The glass was cracked. A crisscross of cracks across the front of the phone. “Oh, wow. I don’t believe it,” I murmured.

  I raised the phone closer to my face — and realized it was destroyed. Totally crushed.

  Gripping the phone in my hand, I hurried back to the lab. “Robby — look!” I cried. I pushed it into his face.

  He was squatting down, rubbing Poochie dry with a red-and-white checked towel. “Poochie is back to his sweet little self,” he said. “See?”

  “Good,” I said. “But look. Look at this.” I waved the phone in front of him. Robby dropped the towel. As soon as he was free, Poochie scampered out of the lab.

  Robby took the phone from my hand and examined it. “It’s busted,” he said. “Totally smashed. How did that happen?”

  “I — I don’t know,” I stammered. I balled my hands into tight fists. My anger burned my throat. “Who would do this? Someone had to be in my room.”

  Robby turned the phone over in his hand. “But that’s crazy. There’s no one else here, Kat. Your uncle’s housekeeper is away.”

  “Someone was in my room,” I insisted. I was so upset, my voice was shaking. “Someone wrecked my phone.” I let out a long whoosh of air. “Robby, do you think someone was sending me a message? Am I in danger here?”

  * * *

  Uncle Victor returned to the house in time to prepare vegetable soup and lamb stew over rice for dinner. After we sat down at the kitchen table, Poochie stood by my uncle’s chair, waiting for handouts. Poochie was quite a beggar.

  “I hope you and Robby had fun with Poochie today,” Uncle Victor said, spreading the napkin over his lap. He wore baggy khakis and a plaid flannel shirt. It was strange seeing him out of his white lab coat.

  “Uh … yeah,” I said. “We played with Poochie a little.”

  No way I was going to tell my uncle that I spilled a green chemical on the dog and turned him into a giant.

  We spooned up our soup for a while. It was hot and very tasty. But I didn’t have much appetite. I had only one thing on my mind. I planned not to bring it up until after dinner. But I just couldn’t hold it in till then.

  “Uncle Victor, take a look at this,” I said. I slid my phone across the table.

  He set down his soup spoon and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “What’s wrong, dear?”

  I motioned to the phone, and he picked it up. He studied it for a long moment. Then he raised his eyes to me. “Goodness. What happened?”

  “It’s smashed,” I said through gritted teeth. I suddenly felt like crying. But I forced it back. “Totally smashed.”

  He held the phone close to his face, turning it over and over in his hand. “I … I don’t understand, Kat. Was there some kind of accident?”

  “Accident?” I cried. “Look at it. Uncle Victor, someone was in my room. Someone broke my phone.”

  His cheeks turned red. He shook his head. I could see he was thinking hard. “But there’s no one else in the house,” he said finally. “Myra, my housekeeper, is away till next month visiting her sister. You and I are all alone here, dear.”

  “But — but —” I sputtered.

  He patted my hand. “Kat, it must have fallen off your bed table and cracked.”

  My breath caught in my throat. I stared at him. How did he know it was on my bed table?

  Uncle Victor slid the phone across the tablecloth to me. “So sorry,” he murmured. He patted the back of my hand again.

  Then he bent and lifted Poochie off the floor. He cradled the dog in his arms and stroked the thick white fur on his back.

  I suddenly pictured giant, sheepdog-sized Poochie. The dog stared at me as if reading my thoughts. I felt guilty for not telling Uncle Victor what had happened this afternoon. But I just didn’t want to get in trouble my first day in the house.

  Uncle Victor shook his head. “So sorry,” he said again. “Now you can’t do your video blog, dear. I know how disappointed you must be. I’m very disappointed, too.”

  I nodded. But then I had an idea. “Maybe I can buy a new phone in the village,” I said. “There must be a shop there that sells phones.”

  Uncle Victor set Poochie down on the floor. He brushed white fur off the front of his shirt. “I don’t think you should go to the village, Kat,” he said softly. He locked his eyes on mine. “It’s not a friendly place.”

  “But, Uncle Victor —” I started.

  He pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet. “I’m sorry. I have to get back to the lab. I’ll be working late tonight.”

  He took a few steps toward the hall, then turned back. “I have just one request for you, dear,” he said.

  I squinted at him. “Request?”

  He nodded. “Yes. Don’t ever leave your room at night.”

  I blinked. His request shocked me. “Why?” I said. “What’s that about? Why can’t I leave my room?”

  “I bring the guard dogs in at night,” he replied. “If you are out in the hall, they might think you are an intruder.”

  “Excuse me? You bring them into the house?”

  He nodded. “My work is very important. And I worry about intruders. The villagers. They are very superstitious people. I worry they might come here and try to destroy my work.”

  “Uncle Victor,” I said, “do you ever talk to people in the village? Do you ever try to explain to them that you’re building robots with computer brains — not monsters?”

  He sighed. “I can’t talk to them, Kat. They won’t listen. They are afraid of science, afraid of anything new. They only think of the first Victor Frankenstein. And they remember his monster.”

  He turned and strode down the hall toward his office in the back of the house. He has changed, I thought.

  Whenever he visited our house, he was lively and fun. He made silly jokes, and we always laughed a lot. I guessed that his work had made him tense. He really didn’t seem like the same person.

  With a sigh, I gathered up my broken phone and made my way upstairs to my room. The old wooden stairs creaked as I climbed, and I heard soft footsteps behind me.

  I turned to see Poochie following me. “Are you coming to keep me company?” I asked.

  He let out a yip, turned, and scurried back down the stairs.

  “You’re weird,” I said, shaking my head.

  I stepped into my room. The air felt cold and damp. I decided I’d better sleep in a sweater tonight.

  I turned and closed the heavy wooden door behind me. I tried to lock it, but the lock was broken. I stood at the door for a moment, listening to the silence out in the hall. I shuddered, thinking of those two vicious guard dogs patrolling the halls at night.

  I forced myself to think about something else. I thought of Mom and Dad back home. I wanted to drop them an e-mail. Or maybe post something on their Facebook page.

  But, of course, I couldn’t. My laptop was useless since Uncle Victor had no wireless or phone connection up here.

  Of course, he had a dozen computers in the lab. But he probably wouldn’t want me using one.

  So, I sat down at the desk facing the window. I found paper and envelopes in the top drawer. Sitting on the edge of the squeaky old leather desk chair, I wrote a long letter to Mom and Dad.

  I told them I was fine and Uncle Victor was taking good care of me. I told them how hard he was working and about the robots he was building.

  Of course, I didn’t tell them about spilling a chemical on Poochie and making him grow huge. I did tell them about Frank the robot escaping. But I made it sound funny.

  Then I told them about my broken phone. I
asked them to rush me another phone as fast as they could. Please send it overnight, I wrote. Without a phone, I can’t record my video blog about Uncle Victor. And my whole trip will be ruined.

  I sealed up the letter, and I was addressing the envelope when I heard a sound at the bedroom door. A scraping sound. I dropped the letter and listened.

  I heard a thump, then more scraping.

  A chill rolled down my back. I pictured the two attack dogs. Pushing their way into the room.

  I glanced around frantically and spotted the whistle on the dresser where I’d left it. I jumped to my feet, dove for the dresser, and grabbed up the whistle.

  Another scratching sound. Soft pawing.

  “Poochie? Is that you?” I cried in a tiny voice. “Poochie?”

  Gripping the whistle in my hand, I crept to the door. I listened. Silence now.

  “Poochie? Are you out there?”

  I grabbed the knob and carefully pulled the door open a crack. Squinting into the dim light, I saw a man hunched at the wall, half hidden in shadow.

  “Wh-who are you?” I stammered. I squeezed the doorknob, ready to slam the door shut. “Who are you?”

  His face slid out from the shadow. His dark eyes glowed. “I’m Victor Frankenstein,” he said in a whisper. “Who are you?”

  I gasped.

  He took another step toward me.

  I could see him clearly now. He was lanky like my uncle. And his face was serious and dark-eyed as my uncle’s face.

  But he didn’t wear the black, square-framed eyeglasses. I never saw Uncle Victor without them. And his dark hair was bushy and unbrushed. Not like my uncle’s thinning brown hair.

  He wore a white lab coat over dark pants. His shoes were heavy-looking with raised heels. Not at all like Uncle Victor’s worn black shoes.

  “You — you’re not my uncle,” I blurted out. My voice sounded hollow in the long hallway.

  “Yes, I’m Victor Frankenstein,” he rasped. He took another step toward me.

  I let go of the doorknob and backed away, shaking, frightened.

  His face was pale. Something was wrong with it. It was too long. Kind of twisted.

  “You’re not,” I insisted. “You look like my uncle. But —”

  He moved forward quickly and brought his face close to mine.

  “Get out of here!” he cried in a hoarse whisper. “Get away from here while you still can!”

  “Huh? Wh-what do you mean?” I choked out.

  “Run. Get away — as fast as you can!”

  A choked gasp escaped my throat. “Why are you saying that?” I cried.

  His dark eyes flashed. His pale face appeared to ripple in the dim light. As if he was in a mirror. As if he wasn’t really standing there in front of me.

  He didn’t answer my question. I heard rapid footsteps in the hall.

  Uncle Victor appeared suddenly, his eyes wide with alarm. His white lab coat flapped behind him as he burst into my room.

  He grabbed the other man by the shoulders and held him in place. “How did he get out?” he cried. “I was in the lab. I didn’t see him escape.”

  “Who — who is he?” I stammered.

  “I am Victor Frankenstein,” the man said.

  Uncle Victor uttered an angry growl. He lifted the man’s arm and reached inside his shirtsleeve. He found the power switch in the armpit and clicked it off.

  A robot!

  His eyes shut. His body stood stiffly in place, arms lowered at his sides. Uncle Victor held on to the shoulders, as if expecting the robot to come to life again.

  “One of my failures,” he explained. He scrunched up his face. “I don’t know how he got out. I’m really sorry if he scared you, Kat.”

  “Only a little,” I said. “He — he said he was you. For a second, I was confused. I —”

  “He looks a little like me,” Uncle Victor said. He turned the robot’s face from side to side with one hand. “But I think I’m better looking, don’t you?”

  We both laughed.

  “But … why did he say he was you?” I asked.

  “I gave him my name,” Uncle Victor replied. “As a joke.” He brushed back the robot’s hair. “But he never worked properly. His brain isn’t right. He says crazy things.”

  “Yes. He told me to run away,” I said. “He said I should run away as fast as I could.”

  Uncle Victor chuckled. “Well, maybe you should. That’s not bad advice, with these crazy escaped robots walking the halls.”

  He hoisted the robot off the floor and tossed it over his shoulder. “I’m going to carry him to the failure room. He won’t bother you again.”

  He turned and started down the hall toward the stairs. The robot’s arms dangled down his back, bouncing as Uncle Victor walked.

  Halfway there, Uncle Victor turned to face me. “Be sure to keep your door closed — okay?”

  “No problem,” I said. “No problem at all.”

  I realized I was shivering. From the cold air slipping in through the old window? Or from my scare with the creepy robot?

  I finished addressing the letter to my parents. Then I climbed into bed and pulled the heavy covers and bedspread up to my chin.

  After a while, I felt warm and cozy. I was just about to fall asleep when I heard another sound on the other side of the bedroom door.

  Scratching. Clawing.

  Go away, I thought. Please — go away!

  But the clawing continued. Animal claws scratching at the wooden door.

  I lay there under the heavy covers wide awake, too frightened to move. Too frightened to see who was clawing at my door.

  The next morning at breakfast, I lied and said I’d slept well.

  I blamed myself for acting so scared. I knew it was probably Poochie scratching the bedroom door. The poor dog was being friendly. He probably wanted to cuddle up for the night. And I just lay there, shivering, not moving.

  Well … I’m going to be brave from now on, I told myself.

  I swallowed a forkful of scrambled eggs. Uncle Victor made them just the way I like them — dry, not too runny. We had discussed the right way to make scrambled eggs the last time he visited my family. It was so sweet of him to remember how I liked them.

  But I was determined to be tough with him today.

  “Uncle Victor, I really need to go to the village,” I said.

  He lowered his coffee mug and frowned at me. His eyes flashed behind his square eyeglasses.

  “I don’t want you going there alone,” he said. “I don’t have to remind you, dear, what happened when you arrived. Robby said you had a pretty scary welcome from our village neighbors.”

  “I’ll run there and run right back here,” I said. “No one will see me. I promise.”

  Uncle Victor shook his head. “Not a good plan, dear,” he said. “I have to go out today. Maybe you and I can go to the village together tomorrow or the next day. Why do you want to go?”

  “I have a letter to mail,” I said.

  “A letter?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I wrote to my parents. I thought maybe they could send me a phone. I’m wasting so much time. I really want to make that video about you. You have overnight delivery here, right?”

  “Yes,” he said. “No problem. You don’t have to risk going to the village, Kat. Just give the letter to me.” He climbed to his feet. “I’m going out now. I’ll mail it for you.”

  I hurried to my room and brought him the letter. He tugged on his long raincoat. The weather was windy with storm clouds low in the sky. “See you later.” He waved to me and disappeared out the front door.

  I finished my breakfast. I felt restless. I wasn’t scared to be in the house alone. I just didn’t feel like staying indoors today.

  Poochie watched me as I got dressed in jeans and a sweater. “I’m going to the village,” I told him. “Just to explore. I’ll be careful. And I’ll be back before Uncle Victor even knows I went.”

  The dog tilted his head to
one side, trying to understand me.

  “I’m going to go in disguise,” I said. I slid on my gray hoodie and pulled the hood up over my head. It wasn’t much of a disguise. But it covered up some of my face.

  The dog followed me to the front door. He stared up at me expectantly.

  “I’m sorry, Poochie,” I said. “I can’t take you with me. I’m in a real hurry. Maybe some other time?”

  He tilted his head again. It made me laugh. He was trying so hard to understand me.

  I pulled open the front door. The strong wind almost blew the door shut. Ducking my head against another strong blast of air, I crept outside and shut the door behind me.

  I was happy to see the two guard dogs chained to a tree at the side of the house. I stepped down the front stairs — and saw a big trash can on its side near the wall. The wind must have toppled it over. Trash was spilling out onto the grass.

  I reached down and started to lift the can back up. “Whoa.” I stopped with a startled cry. And picked up something I saw in the trash.

  A letter. My letter to my parents. Ripped in half.

  I jammed the torn letter into my jeans pocket. Then I tightened the hood around my head and made my way to the front gate.

  With a clap of thunder, the sky opened up and heavy sheets of rain poured down. The big raindrops slapped the ground hard. The wind made the water splash around me like ocean waves.

  Maybe I won’t go to the village today, I decided.

  I had a lot to think about as I hurried back into the house, shaking the rain off my hoodie.

  I thought hard about Uncle Victor. He had always been my favorite uncle. He was so smart and quick and funny. And he really seemed to like me a lot. When he came to visit, he always spent more time with me than with my mom and dad.

  He also loved the idea of my visit to his house. At least, he said he loved the idea in his letter. And he seemed totally happy to see me when I arrived. And eager to show off his robot and his lab.

  So … Why was my letter ripped in half and thrown in the trash? Why was my phone smashed?

  I told Uncle Victor I’d asked my parents to send a new phone in the letter.