Attack of the Jack

by R. L. Stine

  They both laughed. “You don’t know where you are?”

  “We were kind of kidnapped,” Shawn said.

  The girls stopped laughing. “Why do you look so frightened? Are you in trouble? Are people coming after you? We don’t want any trouble.” They jumped down from the railing and started to hurry away.

  “No, please—” Salty called after them. “Just tell us what island this is.”

  “Is this Banana Island?” Pepper asked.

  The girls laughed again. “Banana Island? No way!”

  “It was a good guess,” Pepper said.

  “This isn’t Banana Island,” one of them said. “It’s Clam Island.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. The others reacted in surprise. “Clam Island? But it’s all bananas. Why is it called Clam Island?”

  “Because the island is shaped like a clamshell,” a girl said.

  “Clam Island!” I exclaimed. “That’s just where we want to be!”

  “Well, you made it,” one of them said. “Good luck.” And they hurried away, disappearing around the corner of the little store.

  Salty and Pepper slapped their foreheads. “Do you believe it? Captain Billy dropped us off exactly where we were supposed to go,” Salty said. “How lucky is that?”

  “And there is something even luckier,” Pepper said. “Look. You won’t believe it.” He pointed to a low bush.

  Perched on the top branch of the bush was a yellow canary.

  I gasped. This was impossible. Could we really be this lucky? If we returned the canary to Jack the Knife, my uncle Jim would be safe, and the pirates would all go back in their boxes. Our lives could return to normal.

  I was nearly bursting with excitement. “Wh-what does Captain Jack’s canary look like?” I whispered.

  “It has a pip on its forehead,” Salty whispered back. “That’s why he’s named Captain Pip.”

  We crept on tiptoe closer to the bush. I held my breath. Would we scare it away?

  “What does a pip look like?” Shawn whispered.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “See that dot on his forehead?” Pepper said. “That’s a pip. That’s him, all right.”

  Madeline and Salty held back, eyes locked on the canary. I took another step closer … Another …

  And in the fastest move I ever made in my life, I shot my hand forward, gently grabbed the canary, and wrapped my fingers around it.

  “Got it!” I cried. “Look! I got Captain Pip!”

  I spun around and raised my hand to show it to the others. Pip cheeped once—and flew out of my hand.

  The four of us watched in silence as the canary fluttered out of sight.

  “I don’t believe it!” I cried. “I had him. I really had him.” I tightened my hands into fists and pumped the air angrily.

  “I guess it was too good to be true,” Shawn said.

  Madeline stepped up to us. “No worries,” she said. “Watch.”

  She sat down on the sandy ground and crossed her arms in front of her. Then she tilted her head to the sky, and began to go “tweet tweet tweet” in a high bird voice.

  The rest of us stared down at her, our mouths open.

  “Tweet tweet tweettweet tweettweet chirp-chirp.”

  “I think she’s gone crazy again,” Shawn whispered to me.

  “I heard that,” Madeline said. “I’m not crazy. How do you think you get a canary to come back? By making canary sounds.”

  She turned away from us and began chirping and tweeting again.

  Shawn and I exchanged glances. Did she really know how to call a canary back?

  We didn’t have to wait long to find out. Madeline was chirping her head off when the canary appeared. It fluttered over her for a few seconds. Then it sailed right into her open hand.

  “Captain Pip, we’ve got you!” she cried happily. The rest of us cheered. She cupped the bird carefully in her hands.

  We had come to Clam Island. We had captured Captain Jack’s canary without hardly trying. We all agreed we had been very lucky.

  But would our luck continue?

  The answer was definitely yes. We found a little wooden birdcage in the village store that we could carry Captain Pip in. Lucky.

  Then we walked back to the ocean through the banana tree fields. When we got to the dock, Captain Billy Bottoms’s pirate ship was still there. Very lucky.

  We crept on board and quickly discovered that the ship was empty. That’s because Captain Billy and all his men were on Clam Island searching for us. The four of us lifted anchor and we set sail in Captain Billy’s ship. Very, very lucky.

  Salty and Pepper found a map in the captain’s cabin, and we followed it on a calm sea right back to Sea Urchin Cove, Uncle Jim’s town.

  Luck, luck, and more luck.

  By the time we climbed off the ship at the little dock in front of Uncle Jim’s house we were very happy. In fact, Shawn and I were so happy, we did a crazy dance on the beach, flinging our arms in the air and shouting at the top of our lungs.

  I’ve never been more happy or more excited, and I could see that Shawn felt the same way.

  Of course, as we carried the cage with Captain Pip to the gray house over the shore, we knew we still had to face Jack the Knife.

  And that’s when our luck ran out.

  He was waiting in the front room when the four of us came bursting in. We were all excited, all talking at once.

  I saw Celeste, sitting up against the wall, her green eyes wide with surprise. The other pirates were all there. And their empty jack-in-the-boxes were still scattered over the floor.

  Captain Jack raised his hook to silence us. He squinted at the wooden cage. “Well, I see ye all made it back,” he said. “What have ye brought me?”

  “Here he is, Captain Jack,” I said, handing him the cage. “We did what you asked. We brought back your canary.”

  Jack took the cage from me with his good hand and raised it in front of his face. He brought it close and studied the bird for a long moment.

  Then he turned to me with a low growl. “Sorry. That’s not Captain Pip,” he said.

  I gasped. A heavy feeling of dread swept over me. My knees started to fold. “Oh no, oh no,” I murmured.

  “Ye failed,” Jack said, lowering the birdcage to his side. “Captain Pip has a pip on his forehead. This canary doesn’t have the pip.”

  “But—but—” I sputtered. I pointed into the cage. “What’s that on the canary’s head?”

  “It’s a pip,” Jack replied. “But it’s not the right pip.”

  Against the wall, Celeste raised her head. “Too bad,” she murmured in her scratchy cat voice.

  I saw Shawn’s shoulders heave up and down. He was about to start crying. Madeline lowered her head and gazed at the floor. Salty and Pepper remained silent.

  “Wrong canary,” Jack repeated. “But that’s no problem. This canary will do fine.” He raised the cage to his face. “Pretty bird. Pretty bird.”

  “Huh? What did you just say?” I cried. “You’ll take this canary?”

  “Sure enough.” He shrugged. “A canary is a canary. Who cares which one it is?” He poked a finger into the cage and tickled the bird’s bill.

  I wanted to jump for joy. I saw a big grin spread over my brother’s face. “Yaaaay!” Shawn and I both burst out cheering.

  “Does this mean you will keep your promise?” I demanded. “You will return our uncle Jim? And all of you pirates will go back in your jack-in-the-boxes?”

  Captain Jack set down the birdcage. He lifted a square box off the floor. He turned the crank.

  Shawn and I stared as Uncle Jim sprang up from the box. Jim’s tiny hands bounced at his sides. His mouth hung open. His face was locked in an expression of horror.

  “If ye ask me,” Jack growled, “old Admiral Jim looks good right where he is. I think I’m going to leave him in his box.”

  He tossed back his head and laughed. It sounded like his throat was filled
with gravel.

  “But you promised!” Shawn cried. “You promised if we brought you the canary—”

  Jack picked up Celeste and cradled the cat in one arm. “I know what I promised, young fella,” he said. “But that was a pirate’s promise. Do you know what a pirate’s promise is worth?”

  “What?” Shawn said.

  “Nothing,” Jack told him. “It’s worthless. I made a pirate’s promise. And a good pirate—like me—never keeps a promise!” He laughed his gravelly laugh again.

  “How sad,” Celeste said, lifting her head from Jack’s arm.

  I let out a long sigh. That whole terrifying trip we made was all for nothing.

  “Tell ye what I will do,” Jack said, a grin lingering on his face. “I’ll turn ye and your brother into jack-in-the-boxes so ye can join your uncle. How’s that for a deal?”

  Jack started to laugh again, and all his pirates joined in.

  He began to twirl his hook slowly in front of Shawn and me. And the room began to spin.

  I gazed at the twirling hook in front of my face as it moved faster and faster in a small circle. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. My body started to feel strange, as if it was beginning to shrink. And I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Shawn and I would soon be trapped in boxes, too.

  Then—suddenly—the hook stopped moving.

  The room came back into focus. I blinked away my dizziness. And I saw that Jack and all the pirates were staring wide-eyed and openmouthed at the wall.

  Shawn and I turned and followed their gaze.

  A cry escaped my throat as I saw an arm poking through the wall from outside. A bony arm wrapped in a torn shirtsleeve.

  “What on earth—!” I murmured.

  The arm poked straight through the wall, followed by a shoulder, then a man’s chest. And as we all stared in silent shock, a man slid into the room.

  But not a real man. Not a solid man. He appeared to be made of smoke. I could see right through him!

  He stopped in front of the wall and stared around the room. His shirt and trousers were tattered, nearly in shreds. His eyes were wide and unblinking. They were solid white, like two eggshells. His beard was tangled and knotted. His long, patchy hair fell to the sides of his face.

  I realized I was holding my breath. As the man took a step forward, I could see that some of the skin was missing on his forehead. I could see a square of his gray skull underneath.

  He was drenched from head to toe, and his clothes dripped water onto the floor. Slowly, he raised a bony finger and pointed it at Captain Jack.

  “Wh-who are you?” Jack demanded, squeezing Celeste in his arms.

  It took the man a long time to answer. His mouth moved up and down, but no words came out at first. Water dribbled out over his tongue.

  “I am Danny Lubbins,” he said finally, his voice a terrifying whisper, like crackling leaves. “I am Danny Lubbins. Three hundred days at sea, and never made it to shore. But I’m here at last. Here at last.”

  Celeste’s eyes went wide. She tilted her head, suddenly alert.

  “Give me my cat!” the ghost cried, shaking a bony finger at Captain Jack. “Give me my cat—or I’ll take all of you to the grave with me!”

  Captain Jack’s eyes bulged in terror. He dropped Celeste to the floor. His whole body shook as he pointed his hook. “You—you’re a ghost?”

  The ghost nodded. More water rolled out from his mouth. “I’m the ghost of Danny Lubbins, and I’ve come for my cat.”

  Captain Jack went pale. His shoulders slumped. His body started to collapse. “I … I’m afraid of ghosts,” he murmured. “And I’m afraid of the grave.”

  That’s when the room went crazy. The pirates began to scream and slink back. Captain Jack backed up, his mouth open, frozen in horror. He stumbled over a box and fell to the floor.

  The pirates’ screams rang off the low ceiling. I watched in amazement as Jack and the pirates all grabbed boxes off the floor. In their terror, they began to shrink. It took only a few seconds.

  Shawn and I stood with our mouths open as the tiny pirates jumped back into their jack-in-the-boxes and slammed the lids shut after them.

  The room was suddenly silent.

  I pressed my hands to my cheeks and stared in disbelief. The pirates were gone. One box stood by itself against the back wall. It popped open—and the puppet-sized Uncle Jim sprang up.

  “Oh, wow!” I cried.

  Uncle Jim grew quickly until he regained his normal size. He blinked several times, shaking his head, dazed. Then he hurried over to us.

  And then the three of us watched as Celeste jumped into the ghost’s arms. “Good-bye and thanks,” she called in her scratchy voice. And the ghost of Danny Lubbins disappeared back into the wall and vanished with the cat.

  It was all too much, too frightening, too crazy. I struggled to catch my breath.

  “Well, well. A busy day,” Uncle Jim said. He squinted at Shawn and me. “How are you kids doing? Sorry I didn’t check in sooner. Don’t know where the day went! Hope you weren’t bored.”

  Uncle Jim seems a little out of it, if you ask me. Where has he been living—in a box? Hahaha.

  Do you know the best thing about being a jack-in-the-box? It’s always springtime! Haha. Get it?

  That’s one of Slappy’s little jokes.

  Jack the Knife and I have a lot in common. For one thing, we both like canaries. Only I like mine cooked and served on rice! Hahaha!

  Well, don’t worry, slaves. I’ll be back soon with another Goosebumps story.

  Remember, this is Slappy’s world.

  You only scream in it!

  Hey, guys, I’m Luke Harrison. I’m the redheaded kid poking around in the tool chest in the garage, trying to figure out what a Phillips screwdriver looks like.

  Yes, I’m twelve, and I probably should know more about tools by now. But I’m not the mechanical type. I mean, the most complicated thing I ever built was a snowman!

  That’s a joke. Actually, I’ve never built anything in my life—until we decided to build this drone for a school contest.

  “Hurry up, Luke. I can’t hold this forever.”

  That’s my sister, Kelly, across the garage. She’s holding two pieces of the frame together. Kelly isn’t much help, either. Well … she’s good at holding things. And she’s good at telling us what we’re doing wrong. So I guess that’s helpful.

  Luckily, our friend Jamal is a mechanical genius. No. Seriously. He’s a genius at this stuff. He was one of those kids who built an entire city as big as his living room out of Legos when he was still in diapers.

  Jamal bought the “Make-Your-Own-Drone” kit we’re using. And when he spread all the pieces out in our garage, he didn’t like the instructions. So he threw them out. He said he could do it better, and we believed him.

  The drone is going to be pretty big. Bigger than our power mower. And yes, it’s going to fly. Dad bought a tall propane tank to fuel it up once it’s built.

  And I know it will be built as soon as I find the Phillips screwdriver. I rattled the stuff around in the tool chest, searching for it.

  “It’s the one with the yellow handle,” Jamal called. “Right on top.”

  He could spot it from across the garage. I told you he’s a genius.

  I brought him the screwdriver. Kelly held the two pieces of aluminum together and Jamal fastened them, working the screwdriver easily, and tightening it until he couldn’t turn it anymore.

  “What’s this piece?” I asked. I held up a narrow strip of aluminum. I waved it in Jamal’s face. “This would make an awesome sword.”

  “That’s one of the propellers,” Jamal said. “We’re not ready for that.”

  “Give Jamal some space,” Kelly said, waving me away.

  Kelly is two years younger than me, but she’s very bossy. She’s always telling me to back off and let Jamal work. She’s the baby in the family, and she’s cute and blond with dimples in her cheeks. So she thinks she’s
something special.

  I don’t mean to sound harsh. Kelly and I get along really well. Especially if I do whatever she says.

  “Here’s what has to happen,” Jamal said. “We do it in the right order. First the frame. Then the propellers. Then the motors.”

  I set the propeller piece down beside the others. I turned and studied the motors that were lined up against the wall. The drone had four motors. We had special batteries for the motors. And then a small propane tank for the back of the frame. I guess for liftoff.

  Kelly and Jamal began to assemble another side of the frame. The afternoon sun slid behind some trees, and shadows swept over the garage. I stepped to the back wall and clicked on the garage lights.

  “Don’t say I’m not helpful,” I called to them. They ignored me.

  I turned and stumbled over the big propane tank. The tank was huge, about three feet taller than me. It looked like the water heater we have in the basement.

  I stumbled into it, and as I watched in horror, the tank began to tilt and fall over.

  I made a wild grab for it. But it was too heavy. It slipped right out of my hands.

  Like a nightmare, the whole thing seemed to be happening in slow motion. The tank was going down, about to crash onto the hard concrete garage floor.

  I grabbed for it again. Missed.

  And then I screamed. “Look out! It’s going to BLOW!”

  With a gasp, I lurched forward. I wrapped my arms around the tall metal tank. “Hunnnh.” A groan escaped my throat as I held on … held the tank upright. And with a desperate tug, I managed to stand it up again.

  My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my chest. I turned and saw Kelly and Jamal staring at me. They hadn’t moved. They were still on their knees on the garage floor, holding on to the drone frame.

  “Luke—were you joking?” Kelly demanded.

  “I wish,” I muttered, wiping the sweat off my forehead.

  Jamal narrowed his eyes at me. “You mean you almost turned this into a horror movie?”

  I nodded.

  We talk about horror movies a lot in my house because that’s what my dad does for a living. Dad is owner of Horror House Films. He produces horror movies.