The Attack of the Aqua Apes Page 5

  “Mom,” Kelly whined. “We have to go. Puh-lease.”

  “Okay, okay,” their mom gave in.

  Kelly turned back to them before she stepped into the hall. “My dress is on the couch,” she said. “Don’t you dare touch it while we’re gone.” Then she slammed the door behind her.

  Glen crossed over to the couch and touched the dress. “There. I touched it,” he said.

  “It doesn’t seem like my mom knows anything about Mac,” Scott said, relieved.

  “If you’re lucky, she’ll never find out,” Glen replied. “At least he hasn’t done anything bad since this morning.”

  “We’ve got about an hour before my mom gets back. We’ve got to find him.” Scott headed out of the den. “Let’s start with my room.”

  As they passed the kitchen, Scott heard a noise. A loud, crunching noise. Glen heard it, too.

  “What is that?” Glen asked.

  “I don’t know.” Scott walked slowly into the kitchen toward the sound. It came from one of the cabinets.

  Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

  “What is that?” Glen repeated.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Scott answered. He reached out and grabbed one of the cabinet handles.

  He really didn’t want to open it.

  He knew that there was trouble behind that door. Big trouble that started with the letter M!

  But he had no choice.

  He had to open that door.

  18

  Scott slowly swung the cabinet door open.

  And Mac tumbled out—in an avalanche of cereal, pasta, beans, sugar, and flour.

  “Look what he did!” Scott cried.

  Every box in the cabinet had been clawed to shreds. And half-eaten food littered the cabinet everywhere—chewed-up cookies, gnawed macaroni, crunched Cruncho-Crispies—Kelly’s favorite cereal—nibbled lima beans, chomped crackers, munched potato chips.

  “He opened every single box and tasted everything,” Glen noted. “Except the prunes.”

  It was true. The box of prunes remained untouched on the cabinet shelf.

  Scott glanced around the kitchen. The food had tumbled out of the cabinet, onto the counter, and had spilled onto the floor.

  And there was Mac. Standing in the middle of it. Covered in flour. He looked like the Abominable Snowman.

  As he stomped around the crumbs, picking out cracker pieces, little clouds of flour puffed from his furry body.

  “My mom’s going to go crazy when she sees this!”

  “Don’t worry,” Glen told him. “We’ll clean it up before she gets home.”

  Scott hoped they would have time to do that. But first he had to figure out a way to get Mac under control. And he didn’t have a lot of time to think about it.

  There was only one thing for Scott to do. He was going to have to grab Mac quickly and find something to put him in. Something with a lid.

  Scott knew that he had to move fast. He couldn’t give Mac time to escape again. So, without any warning, Scott dove right at Mac, sliding on some flour and rice.

  But, as usual, Mac was quicker than Scott. In fact he was so quick it took Scott a minute to realize that he didn’t have Mac in his grip.

  “Get him, Glen!” Scott shouted as Mac tore across the kitchen floor.

  Glen lunged for Mac. Only Mac was way too fast for Glen. He dodged him. And Glen went sailing across the floor right smack into one of the legs of the kitchen table. Head first.

  “Oooooouch!” Glen moaned. “I think I broke my head!”

  “You did not break your head,” Scott groaned.

  “Yeah, well it sure feels like it,” Glen shot back, rubbing his forehead. “My whole head is pounding.”

  “If we don’t catch Mac and clean this place up before my mother gets home, it’s going to be pounding even more,” Scott said as he pulled Glen to his feet. “Because she’s going to be screaming at us at the top of her lungs.”

  Glen bolted out of the kitchen. “Come on,” he shouted. “If Mac ran straight when he left the kitchen, he should be in your father’s study.”

  Scott nearly choked at the sight in his father’s study. Glen was right. Mac was in his father’s study. Or at least he had been.

  Papers and files and books covered the floor. The old-fashioned inkwell his father kept in the center of the desk had been knocked over. And ink was dripping all over his father’s fancy leather blotter.

  “Your mother’s not going to be the only one screaming at the top of her lungs,” Glen said as he stood staring at the mess.

  “Tell me about it.” Scott’s heart sank. He knew that there was no way in the world they would be able to clean up his father’s study and the kitchen before his mother returned home.

  “Wh-what are we going to do?” Glen stammered.

  “First we have to find Mac,” Scott answered. “And we’d better find him fast—before he destroys the whole house!”

  Scott took off down the hallway, with Glen right behind him. If Mac was still moving in a straight line, he was probably headed for the one room that was off-limits to everyone—the dining room!

  “Hurry up,” Scott urged Glen. All of his mother’s expensive china and crystal were displayed in the dining room. And if something happened to any of her “good stuff,” his mother would kill him. It was as simple as that.

  Scott rushed into the dining room and glanced around frantically.

  It took him a minute to realize that everything was okay.

  Nothing was broken.

  Mac hadn’t been in the room.

  “At least he’s not in here,” Scott said, feeling incredibly relieved.

  Only he wasn’t relieved for long.

  When he left the dining room and headed into the den, he saw something so horrifying that he wished Mac had broken all of his mother’s fine crystal instead.

  A pile of smashed crystal would have been a whole lot easier for his mother to forgive.

  19

  Kelly’s dress. The dress for the dance.

  The one that Scott’s mother had been working so hard on for weeks . . . was ruined.

  Scott covered his face. He couldn’t stand to look at what Mac had done.

  Both sleeves had been torn off. One of them was on the floor, ripped to shreds. The other was stuck to the side of the couch with pins.

  There were gold beads tossed all over the room. But there wasn’t a single one on Kelly’s dress anymore. It had taken his mother days to sew on all those beads!

  Worst of all, horrible stains covered almost every inch of the material. Stains that looked like they had come from a thick black marker.

  “Your mom is going to go ballistic if she sees this!” Glen shrieked.

  “Yeah.” Scott uncovered his face and stared, dumbfounded, at the disaster. “And she’s going to blame us.”

  “Not if we fix it before she gets home. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll fix it. You’ll see. Everything will be okay. We’ll fix everything.” Glen ran around the room trying to collect all the beads.

  Scott slowly walked over to the couch and peered down at the remains of Kelly’s dress.

  It wasn’t going to be okay. And Scott knew it. There was no way in the world the two of them could ever fix what Mac had done now.

  “It’s no use, Glen,” Scott said numbly, too shocked to panic. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  Then Scott spotted Mac—climbing up the side of the curtains behind the couch. “There he is!” Scott screamed.

  Mac scurried up the curtains and ran across the top of the curtain rod before Scott could grab him.

  “Mac!” Scott screamed. “Get back here!”

  But Mac jumped off the top of the curtain rod and tore across the room.

  Glen tore after him. And so did Scott.

  “Stay with him!” Scott ordered Glen as they chased Mac down the hallway and back toward the kitchen. “If we lose him again, who knows what he’ll do!”

  “He’s t
oo fast.” Glen panted. “We’re never going to catch him!”

  Then Scott had a brilliant idea. If they couldn’t catch Mac, maybe they could just chase him right out of the house.

  “Glen,” Scott called as they ran through the kitchen and into the hallway. “Forget about Mac, and go open the door in the den that leads out to the garage.”

  “Why?” Glen asked.

  “Because I’m going to try to chase Mac right out into the garage. Then we can get rid of him,” Scott whispered. “Forever!”

  “Good thinking!” Glen trotted toward the den, while Scott raced after Mac.

  Mac led Scott through every room on the first floor of the house. Finally the furry creature darted back into the den.

  “Get away from the door!” Scott screamed as he chased Mac across the room. “You’ll scare him and he’ll run the other way!”

  Glen quickly jumped aside. And Mac dashed through the open door, just the way Scott hoped he would.

  “Come on!” Scott yelled. “I’ll chase him outside. You get ready to hit the switch that closes the garage door.”

  Scott and Glen darted out the den door and slammed it behind them—just as a bucket of nuts and bolts crashed down from a shelf that ran along the left side of the garage wall.

  Scott peered up and spotted Mac zipping across the shelf.

  “Oh, no!” Scott gasped as Mac stopped to push a can of paint off the shelf. As it hit the floor, the lid blew off.

  Splat!

  Red paint flew everywhere—the walls, the floor, the workbench. And worst of all, a big blotch splashed across the side of Scott’s father’s white car.

  Scott stared at the car, horrified. “Why couldn’t Dad have been driving the car pool today?” he moaned.

  “If your father sees this, we’re dead meat.”

  Mac jumped down from the shelf and landed on top of the car.

  “You’re going to be the dead one!” Scott screamed at Mac. Then he lunged for the hood of the car. But Mac escaped once more.

  Only this time Scott was happy. Because this time Mac ran straight out of the garage. And straight down the driveway.

  “Close the door!” Scott yelled at Glen. “Close the door!”

  Glen hit the button on the side of the wall that controlled the automatic garage door.

  And as the door started to move down, Mac turned around and started running back up the driveway.

  “Hurry up! Hurry up!” Scott jumped up and down and hollered at the door, as if that would make it move faster.

  He held his breath as the door came down. Closer and closer to the floor.

  The door was only inches away from the floor now.

  Mac was only inches away from being gone forever.

  We did it! Scott thought. We did it!

  And then Scott heard the cry.

  A terrifying cry.

  20

  “We squashed him!” Glen screamed.

  Scott could see that for himself. Poking out from under the closed garage door were one of Mac’s arms and one of his legs. And they weren’t moving. The rest of Mac had to be smashed under the door.

  Scott felt sick to his stomach. He never really wanted to kill the creature. He just wanted to get rid of it.

  Scott hit the button to make the door go back up again. Outside, a fine drizzle had begun to fall.

  Well, he thought. It doesn’t look as though Mac is going to be a problem for us anymore.

  Scott moved closer to take a better look. Mac’s head was almost flat. His body was surrounded by a puddle of slime. Little raindrops splattered in the goo.

  “He’s totally smushed,” Scott announced.

  “Too gross,” Glen said.

  “Yeah,” Scott agreed, peering down at Mac. “We probably ought to bury him or something,” he said to Glen.

  Glen nodded. “We’re going to have to scrape him off the floor first,” he pointed out. He nudged Mac with the tip of his sneaker—and one of Mac’s legs fell off.

  “Oh, gross!” Scott shouted. He turned his head away.

  “Come on. We’d better move fast,” Glen said. “It’s starting to rain hard now.”

  Mac was getting wet. Raindrops bounced off his squished head, his pancake body, his crushed arms and legs.

  But now . . . he seemed to be . . . changing.

  He wasn’t so flat anymore.

  He seemed to be puffing up.

  “Oh, no,” Scott gasped. “Not again!”

  21

  “The water is bringing him back to life!” Scott screamed.

  “And look at his leg!” Glen cried. “It’s growing back!”

  “That’s impossible,” Scott shouted. But as he bent closer, he realized Glen was right. Mac’s leg was growing back.

  A piece of jagged bone stuck out from the place where Mac’s leg should have been. And it was growing longer and longer. Then strands of muscles and veins sprouted around the bone.

  Scott noticed that the old leg, the one that had fallen off, was shriveling up as fast as the new one grew. “This is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Scott said, backing away from Mac.

  “How can this be happening?” Glen backed away from Mac, too.

  “It must be the water,” Scott answered. “Remember when we came home from the arcade and he was all shriveled up? Once we placed him back in the water he was fine. Better than fine. It made him grow. It looks like water can cure Mac of anything!”

  “Yeah,” Glen gasped. “Even death!”

  Scott watched in horror as Mac jumped to his feet, looking as big as before—and stronger than ever!

  We’re never going to get rid of Mac! Scott realized. Never! He’s totally indestructible!

  “What are we going to do now?” Glen asked in a nervous little whisper.

  Mac stood there, with his eyes glued to the two of them.

  Scott’s mind raced. He had no idea what to do.

  “Maybe if we just leave him alone out here, he’ll go away,” Glen suggested hopefully.

  Scott thought about that for a second. He wished with all his heart that Mac would just go away. But that wasn’t going to happen. And Scott knew it.

  There was only one thing to do. Somehow, someway, they had to catch Mac and keep him locked up forever.

  Without a word Scott started inching toward Mac.

  Mac didn’t move.

  “What are you doing?” Glen asked.

  “Just shut up,” Scott told Glen. He took another step toward Mac.

  Mac still didn’t move.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, Mac,” Scott said in a gentle tone. He didn’t want Mac to tear off again. “I just want to pet you,” Scott lied. “That’s all.”

  “Are you crazy, or what?” Glen asked in disbelief.

  Scott reached out to snatch Mac. Mac screeched in fury, and swiped at Scott’s face with his sharp claws.

  Scott jerked his head back, but Mac dug his claws right into the top of Scott’s hand. “Ow!” Scott screamed.

  Mac screeched again. Then he leaped from Scott’s hand onto one of the shelves in the garage.

  As Scott cradled his hand, Mac picked up a hammer and sent it hurling right for Scott’s head.

  “Look out!” Glen screamed.

  Scott ducked just in time. The hammer missed his head by an inch.

  Then Mac picked up a screwdriver and threw it—like a spear—at Glen.

  “He’s trying to kill us!” Glen screamed. He barely escaped being hit. “Let’s get inside!”

  They both ran for the door.

  “Hurry up!” Scott yelled as Glen struggled with the doorknob. “Hurry up!”

  Glen finally pushed the door open, and he and Scott rushed into the den.

  Scott tried to slam the door behind them. But it wouldn’t shut.

  Because Mac was pushing on it from the other side.

  “Help me, Glen!” Scott called. He pushed the door with all his might.

  Glen threw his weight against
the door, too.

  But Mac was stronger than both of them combined. Scott and Glen fell on their backs as Mac burst through the door, tore through the den, and disappeared into the house.

  22

  “Come on.” Scott jumped to his feet. “We have to call the police.”

  “And tell them what?” Glen demanded. “That we’ve got a giant killer aqua ape running loose in the house? Like they’re really going to believe that.”

  “So we’ll tell them that a burglar broke in or a wild animal or something. Anything to get them over here,” Scott answered.

  “They aren’t—” Glen began.

  “Mac thinks we tried to crush him with the garage door,” Scott interrupted. “He’s mad—and he’s going to come after us. I’m calling 9-1-1 right now.”

  Scott and Glen rushed to the kitchen phone. Scott started to dial. And then he heard the screams coming from the den.

  “Scott!” The sound of his mother’s voice was almost more terrifying than anything Mac had done. “You get in here right this second!”

  Scott’s stomach clenched. Now he felt really sick. As he and Glen trudged into the den, Scott’s mind raced to find a way to tell his mother about Mac.

  “What have you done!” Scott’s mother shrieked at him the moment he stepped into the room.

  “Mom, I didn’t do it,” Scott said. “I swear I didn’t.”

  Scott’s mother glared at him as she stood holding the shreds of Kelly’s dress. “Then who did?”

  “We grew an aqua ape,” Scott blurted out. “He got way bigger than the instructions said. Now he’s loose in the house. He’s destroying everything. And he’s after me and Glen! You’ve got to help us.”

  “Oh, Scott.” His mother shook her head in disgust. “Do you really expect me to believe that story?”

  “Mom, please,” Scott begged. “I’m telling the truth. Right, Glen?”

  Glen nodded his head, looking terrified.

  “I don’t want to hear one more word of this nonsense,” Scott’s mother yelled. She was angrier than Scott had ever seen her. She threw the ruined dress onto the couch.