The sound roared in my head like a jackhammer. I strained at the cords. I tried to kick myself free. “Help me, Robby. Get me out! Hurry!”
I could see the terror on Robby’s face as he moved toward me.
“Stop!” Uncle Victor cried. “I’m warning you, Robby. Stop right there!”
Robby was just a few feet away from me when the door at the back of the lab flew open. He stopped and turned at the sound.
A man came bursting out.
He wore a white lab coat. He wore square-framed eyeglasses. He had Uncle Victor’s face and wavy brown hair. “Finally! I broke open the lock!” he shouted.
My uncle jumped to his feet. “Get back inside!” he screamed at the new arrival. “Get back inside. I order you!”
But the man didn’t move. All three of us froze.
“I’m not going anywhere!” he boomed. “I’m Victor Frankenstein.” He turned to me. “I’m your real uncle!”
“He’s a liar!” Uncle Victor stepped away from his computer. His face was red with anger. His eyes bulged. He shook his finger at the intruder. “Liar! Liar!”
“Don’t listen to him, Kat,” the man from the closet warned. “I built him. Then he locked me up and took over my life. I made him too smart. He’s been building robots on his own. An evil army of robots. He’s spreading them everywhere.”
“Liar!” Uncle Victor screamed, shaking with rage. He turned to me. “I never should have built this copy of myself. He’s the most advanced. But he’s dangerous. We have to get him into the failure room.”
“You’re the one going in the failure room!” the second Uncle Victor cried, stepping away from the wall. “Back where you belong, once and for all.”
I stared from one to the other. I didn’t know which one to believe. I wanted to believe the one who had just appeared from behind the door. The first Victor Frankenstein had put me to sleep and was forcing me to share my brain with a robot.
He didn’t act like my uncle Victor.
But … but … They looked so much alike. I didn’t know what to think.
“I’m warning you — go back to the failure room! I’m warning you!” Victor One cried. He darted across the lab to Frank. He reached his hand under the arm of the sleeping robot and clicked the power switch.
Frank blinked a few times, then sprung to life. “Frank — grab him! Return him to the failure room! Now!”
Frank nodded, turned, and started to walk stiffly toward Victor Two.
“Don’t come any closer, Frank,” Victor Two warned. He stiffened, preparing to fight the robot.
Frank stuck out both arms, ready to grab the intruder. Victor One moved across the room to help fight the new arrival.
I motioned to Robby. “Hurry. Over here. Untie me.”
Robby dropped beside my chair and worked frantically at the cords that held me down. The two Victors were screaming furiously at each other. I watched Frank step up to Victor Two.
Robby tugged the cords away, and I jumped to my feet. My heart was pounding. My head spun as I glanced from one Victor to the other.
Which is my real uncle?
I gasped as Frank wrapped his hands around Victor Two’s waist — and hoisted him off the ground. Victor Two squirmed and twisted, and swung both hands wildly. But Frank was too strong for him.
“Yes!” Victor One pumped a fist in the air. “Dump him in the failure room, Frank!” He turned to me. He blinked when he saw I was standing up. “Don’t be afraid, Kat,” he said. “This will all be over in a second.”
Don’t be afraid? I thought. You tied me to a chair and tried to drain my brain. Of COURSE I’m afraid!
Frank held Victor Two in his powerful grasp and began to march toward the door on the back wall. Victor Two slumped in defeat. He uttered a sigh.
And then he reached out both hands and grabbed Frank’s head by the sides. He twisted the robot’s head with a quick hard motion — and ripped it off Frank’s body.
A high, shrill squeal escaped the headless robot.
Victor Two heaved Frank’s head against the wall. It made a shattering sound and bounced across the floor. Frank’s body slumped lifelessly in place.
Victor Two stepped away easily. He turned and came toward Victor One. His face twisted in fury. His hands were balled into tight fists.
Victor One turned to Robby and me. “Help me!” he cried. “Don’t let him get away with this. You have to believe me. He’s an evil robot.”
“I’m your uncle,” Victor Two cried. “I’m no robot. Step back. The two of you — step back. I built this robot, and now I’m going to destroy him.”
Which one? Which one?
How could I tell?
Suddenly, as they prepared to fight, I had an idea.
I saw Poochie standing at the door to the lab. The little dog peered into the room, his head lowered as if frightened by all the shouting.
I hurried over to him and lifted him into my arms. His little heart was pounding hard. I carried him to the center of the room.
The two Victors were still shouting at each other, circling each other, preparing to fight.
Robby turned to me. “What are you doing with the dog?”
“Poochie knows his real master,” I said. “The dog knows who is human and who is a robot. He’ll show us which one is my uncle.”
Robby shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”
I set Poochie down gently on the floor. “Go ahead, boy. Go to him. Go to the real Uncle Victor. Go!” I gave him a push toward the two Victors.
Robby and I stood tensely, watching as the little dog padded across the floor. He ran straight to Victor One. He began tugging on Victor One’s pants leg.
“See? He wants to play with his real master,” I said. “Poochie just showed us who the real Uncle Victor is!”
“Now you know I spoke the truth!” Victor One cried. “Hurry. Help me get this faulty robot locked up safely in the failure room.”
Poochie tugged at his pants leg. Victor One grabbed the other Victor by the shoulders.
“Kat, you’re making a big mistake!” Victor Two cried.
“No, I’m not. Poochie knows his real master!” I said. “I’m not confused anymore.”
Robby and I grabbed the Victor robot. He kicked and thrashed. But the three of us overpowered him and pushed him into the back room. Uncle Victor latched the door carefully after him.
Then he made his way over to the wall and bent to examine Frank’s head. The head was lying faceup on the floor. Victor lifted it carefully and turned it around in his hands.
Poochie continued to tug at his pants leg. Victor gave the dog a gentle shove, trying to remove him. “Not now, boy,” he said. “We can’t play now. Not now.”
“Oh, NOOOO!”
I let out a cry as I realized what Poochie was doing. The dog tugged Victor’s pants leg up — and I saw the power switch on Victor’s ankle.
I grabbed Robby by the shoulder. “Look! Oh, wow. We got it wrong! Robby, we got it wrong!”
We both quickly realized that Poochie hadn’t shown us the real Victor. He wanted to show us which one was the robot!
Victor gave Poochie a hard kick, sending the little dog sliding across the floor.
“We locked up the wrong Victor!” I cried. “We know you’re the robot!”
He turned with a scowl on his face — and heaved Frank’s head at me. I ducked and it flew into the wall.
“Maybe you did lock up the wrong one, Kat dear,” he sneered. “What are you going to do about it?”
He moved quickly toward us. “I know what you’re going to do. You’re going to get back in that chair so I can finish transferring your brain. After today, you won’t be needing it anymore.”
Robby and I didn’t wait. We didn’t have to say a word to each other.
I leaped high and tackled the Victor robot around the neck. Robby tackled him around the waist.
He dropped hard to the floor. Before he could put up a struggle, I reached for his
ankle — and clicked off the power switch.
The Victor robot uttered a groan. His eyes rolled up in his head. He didn’t move.
Struggling to catch my breath, I ran to the door against the back wall. Robby hurried close behind me.
“My poor uncle,” I said breathlessly. “How long has he been trapped back here?”
I unlatched the door and tugged it open.
“Oh, wow.” In the dim light, I saw faces staring back at me. They all looked like Uncle Victor. Packed into the little room were at least a dozen Victors, all in long white lab coats.
My eyes moved frantically from one to the other.
“Which one of you … ?” I cried in a trembling voice. “Which one of you is my real uncle Victor?” I choked out.
“I am!” the one closest to me shouted.
“I am!” said the one next to him.
“I am!” came a shout from the back.
“I am!”
“I am!” “I am!” “I am!” “I am! I am! I am! I am!”
“No!” I cried. “No! This can’t be!”
I stumbled back. I had to get out of that room.
“I am!” “I am!” “I am!” The shouts continued until the voices made my head throb.
I let out a gasp as I bumped into someone behind me. Robby? No. Robby stood by the door.
I spun around — and stared at a man in a black suit, a white shirt, and a red-and-black-striped tie. He carried a brown briefcase in one hand and a large suitcase in the other.
He squinted at me. “Kat? What are you doing here?” he said.
My mouth dropped open. “Uncle Victor?”
He nodded. He moved quickly to the door and slammed it shut. As he latched it, the cries from the other side faded.
“Kat, I’ve been in France,” he said. “I was expecting you next week.”
“N-no,” I stammered. “I arrived on Friday. You said —”
He dropped the two cases and slapped his forehead. “Oh, no. I don’t believe it. I could swear I wrote you down for next week. Oh, my goodness. Why can’t I ever keep any dates straight?”
He rushed forward and wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so sorry. So sorry I wasn’t here to greet you. I hurried back here to get ready for you. I wanted everything to be nice when you arrived.”
“I … I …” I was so happy to see him, I was speechless.
Poochie yapped and jumped up on his legs. Uncle Victor bent and lifted the dog high. Whimpering with happiness, Poochie licked his face.
“Stop! Stop!” Uncle Victor cried, lowering the dog. He laughed. “You know how ticklish I am.”
I had to ask. “Uncle Victor? Can robots be ticklish?”
“Of course not,” he said. “They’re machines.” He glanced at the door. “Hey, I hope those robots didn’t give you any trouble. They can be a real pain.”
“Well …” I started.
But I didn’t get any further, because four yapping white dogs came trotting into the lab. “Whoa!” I cried. “They all look like Poochie!”
“Of course they do,” Uncle Victor said. “They’re clones. They’re all clones of Poochie. I took them to Paris to show them off. Aren’t they wonderful?”
The five Poochies barked and jumped gleefully on my uncle and me.
“I’m finished with robots,” Uncle Victor said. “I can’t get them to work properly. That’s why I locked them away. Now I spend all my time cloning. I can’t wait to tell you about it, Kat.”
“Cool,” I said. I could barely hear him over the yapping dogs.
Uncle Victor grabbed my arm. “Hey, I have a great idea. Why don’t I clone you? Would you like that, Kat? Would you like a clone of yourself to keep you company?”
I pulled my arm free and frowned at him. “You’re joking, right?” I said. “That’s your crazy sense of humor, right? Uncle Victor — please … Tell me that you’re joking.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Why not four of you? How about it, dear? Four Kats. Or maybe ten? You could rule the world! How about it?”
Then we both burst out laughing.
I stepped into the wide front entryway to the museum. The ceiling was a mile high, lined with tall windows. A huge red-and-blue chandelier hung down over the long front desk.
My shoes clicked on the white marble floor. The sound echoed through the huge room. My eyes swept over the big posters of superheroes that covered the walls.
“Hey, Kahuna. How’s it going?” I shouted.
Behind the desk, Kahuna looked up from the graphic novel he was reading. “Yo, Richard. Keeping it real?”
Big Kahuna is the main greeter and curator of the museum. I don’t know his real name. I call him Kahuna. We’re like friends. I mean, I spend more time with him than with my own family.
Kahuna has a long, serious face. He wears black-framed glasses. He has dark brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. Dangling from one ear, he has a big silver pirate hoop earring. And he has colorful tattoos of his favorite superheroes up and down his arms and across his chest. He wears sleeveless T-shirts to show them off.
He’s a cool guy, but I’ve never seen him smile.
I stepped up to the desk. “Shazam, bro,” he said. We bumped knuckles. “Where have you been lately?”
I spun around and sneezed. I held my breath and made sure I wasn’t going to sneeze again. Then I turned back to him. “Just been to the allergy doctor,” I said. “He gave me a shot.”
Kahuna snickered. “I don’t think it’s working.” He pulled open a drawer under the desk and reached inside. “Got something for you.”
He pulled out two comic books. I couldn’t see the covers, but they looked pretty old. The paper was yellow.
Kahuna is the greatest dude ever. He always finds comics he knows I’ll like. And he pretty much lets me do whatever I want in the museum. I can go into any of the rare comics rooms and spend as much time as I want looking at the old collections.
He raised the comics for me to see. On the covers, I saw a chimpanzee with a black mask pulled down over his head. “The Masked Monkey!” I cried.
Kahuna nodded. “These are very rare, bro. The only two Masked Monkey comics ever produced. From 1973. You seen them before? Of course you haven’t.” He answered his own question.
My hands shook a little as I took the two comics from him. These were very rare and valuable. “Awesome,” I said. “Totally awesome. I’ll take them to the Reading Room and read them. Thanks, Kahuna.”
We bumped knuckles again. Then I carefully gripped the comics in front of me as I made my way to the Reading Room at the back of the long front hall.
My shoes clicked on the marble floor. I hurried past the bronze statues of the Martian Mayhem and his archenemy, Plutopus.
Some days I stopped to look at the hundreds of framed comic book covers that spread over one entire wall. But not today. I was too eager to study these valuable Masked Monkey comics.
I didn’t see anyone else in the museum. Why wasn’t it more popular? Didn’t people realize this was the best comic book museum in the world?
I passed the video projection room and the tall statue of Captain Protoplasm. The auditorium stood dark and silent.
I trotted to the end of the hall. I knew I didn’t have much time. My parents were probably at home now, arguing over what we should have for dinner.
“Oh, wow.” I let out a cry when I saw the Reading Room doors were closed. I grabbed the knob and turned it. “No. Please.”
The doors were locked.
I turned and started back to the front to get the key from Kahuna. As I walked, I carefully wiped my hands on the legs of my jeans. I didn’t want to get sweat on the valuable comics.
I was halfway to the front desk when I heard shouts. I heard a crash. Then a dull thud. Another shout.
Was Kahuna fighting with someone?
I took off, running to the desk. My shoes skidded on the slick floor. My heart started to pound.
The desk came into view. Bu
t — whoa. Where was Kahuna?
He wasn’t in his usual place, sitting on the tall stool behind the desk.
I skidded to a stop. I stared at the stranger behind the desk. I couldn’t see his face. He had his back turned.
I tucked the Masked Monkey comics into my backpack and stepped up to the desk. “Hey, where’s Kahuna?” I asked. My voice came out high and shrill.
“He had to leave,” the man replied. He didn’t turn around.
I blinked. Something weird. The man was standing in the tall trash can behind the desk.
I stared at his back. He wore a long black trench coat. He had silver hair falling down over the collar.
Slowly, he turned to face me — and I let out a startled gasp.
His eyes — they had no pupils. They were solid white.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
I stared into those blank white eyes. No pupils. No pupils at all. Was he blind?
“Can I help you?” he repeated. His voice was scratchy and hoarse. His head was bald and shiny and shaped like a lightbulb.
“Uh … no,” I said. “I mean …”
He picked up a pencil and scribbled some words on the desk pad.
He’s not blind. But he has no pupils.
“I’m … uh … late for dinner,” I stammered. “I’ll come back when Kahuna is here.”
He nodded. “Have a super evening,” he said. But he said it coldly. Like a threat.
A chill of fear made me shudder. What was this about? I knew I’d heard a shout and then a crash. And then suddenly, this weird dude stood behind Kahuna’s desk.
“Bye,” I said. I spun away from the desk and ran out of the museum.
* * *
I didn’t realize I’d taken the Masked Monkey comics home with me until after dinner.
We had a typical dinner at the Dreezer house. Mom and Dad argued about whether the short ribs were tender enough. Ernie was clowning around and acting like a jerk, pretending he was a string puppet. And he spilled his apple juice. But they didn’t shout at him or anything because everything he does is adorable.
I dropped a carrot on the floor, and Mom and Dad started shouting about what a clumsy klutz I am. Then I sneezed on my dinner plate, and they told me to leave the table.