Night of the Giant Everything

by R. L. Stine

  “This way,” Dr. Marcum said. He lifted me carefully out of the van.

  Inside the lab, I heard the screech and squawk of birds. The air smelled sharp and sour.

  We walked past a front desk. No one was sitting there. As we made our way deeper into the lab, the bird squawks grew louder. And the sharp odor in the air made my eyes water.

  Dr. Marcum carried me down the long aisle, past two rows of birdcages. Some of the cages held flapping birds, all different kinds and colors. Some cages were empty.

  “Tell me,” I said. “How are you going to turn me back to my old size?”

  “We’re not,” he said.

  He opened a cage door. Then he pushed me inside and clamped the door shut.

  30

  “Let me out of here!” I screamed. “You can’t DO this to me!”

  Dr. Marcum shook his head and frowned at me. “We can’t let you out,” he said. “We need to keep you top secret.”

  I grabbed the cage bars with both hands. “But—but—but —” I sputtered. A wave of panic swept down my body. I struggled to breathe.

  “We don’t want anyone to know about our secret experiments,” he said. “It might scare people.”

  “But I’m not one of your experiments!” I cried.

  He brought his face close to the cage. “You are now,” he said. “Don’t worry, Steven. We’ll feed you and take care of you. Till we figure out what to do with you.”

  “Do with me?” I cried. “You mean … you don’t know how to make me big again?”

  “Not really,” he said.

  Down the long rows of cages, the birds squawked and flapped. A big yellow bird in the cage beside mine chewed at its cage bars.

  “We can try some experiments,” Dr. Marcum said. “But we can’t let you out.”

  “But Mr. Pinker knows what you did. And my parents know who you are,” I said. “My parents saw you and —”

  “Your parents never saw us,” Dr. Marcum said. “They weren’t home. We broke into your house and took the bird. We saw your clothes on the floor. And the missing doll clothes.”

  “Then we saw tiny footprints in the soapy water on the floor,” Dr. Beach said. “Those little shoes left prints all over the living room. It didn’t take us long to figure out somebody had been shrunk. So we waited on the stoop to see who would show up.”

  I shook the cage bars. “Let me out!” I screamed. “You can’t keep me here. Let me out!”

  My shouts scared the big bird next to me. He stopped biting his cage bars and began flapping his huge wings hard.

  Dr. Marcum turned away and walked down the row of cages.

  I shouted after him, but he didn’t turn back.

  I squeezed the metal cage bars till my hands hurt. My voice was hoarse from shouting. I knew no one could hear me over the caws and chirps and honks of the birds.

  I held my hands over my ears. The sound was deafening.

  I had to think. But how? I sat down on the cage floor and rested my back against the bars.

  How could this happen to me? Here I was a real person, but so small. Sitting in a birdcage. In a lab hidden in the woods on the edge of town.

  Did I know a magic trick that would make me disappear from this cage?

  No. My tricks were only tricks. They weren’t going to help me with anything real.

  I stood up and started to pace back and forth on the metal cage floor. I stared at the door, which was tightly latched.

  This is a birdcage, I thought. It’s made to hold birds inside.

  But I’m not a bird. I’m a person. I know how to work that latch.

  All I have to do is push it hard, undo the latch, and the cage door will slide open.

  Dr. Beach and Dr. Marcum weren’t even good at keeping birds prisoner, I decided. After all, they let Bugsy escape.

  So, it will be even easier for me to get out of here.

  This idea gave me some hope and new energy. I raced to the door and studied the latch. It was just above my head. I had to stand on tiptoe to reach it.

  But it was a simple latch, like a hook that caught over a cage bar.

  “No problem,” I said out loud.

  The big bird in the next cage had stopped flapping its yellow wings. It was watching me now. I suddenly realized the bird looked like a canary. But it was huge, as big as a turkey.

  I leaned forward and climbed on tiptoe. I reached up and grabbed the latch with my right hand. I pushed.

  No. It didn’t move.

  I pushed harder. No.

  I slumped down and took a deep breath. Then I raised myself back up and grabbed the latch with both hands.

  I pushed. Pushed. Pushed harder, straining every muscle.

  No. I couldn’t loosen it. I couldn’t budge it.

  With a sigh I stumbled back from the door. I wiped sweat off my face with the sleeve of my jumpsuit.

  Time for Plan B.

  But what was Plan B?

  31

  I gazed at the yellow plastic water dish in the side of the cage. Could I stand on it and try to climb to the top of the cage?

  No. No way to escape through the top.

  Could I hide in the water dish, then surprise Dr. Marcum or Dr. Beach when they came to find me? And maybe run out while they had the cage door open?

  I stepped closer to examine it. No. It was filled with water. Deep enough for me to swim in. I’d done enough swimming in that soapy bucket back home.

  I spun around, trying to find something … anything….

  The giant canary watched me silently as I paced the cage. I turned to it. I took a few steps toward it.

  The two scientists must have given it a lot of Growth Hormone. It was at least twenty times the size of a normal canary.

  I studied it for a long while. “You’re going to be my magic trick—aren’t you?” I said. “You are going to help me escape—aren’t you?” I said.

  The bird tilted its head as if trying to understand.

  “You’re going to work some magic,” I said softly, gently. “I know you are.”

  I stepped to the edge of my cage and pressed my cheek up close to its huge orange beak. “Kiss?” I said. “Give me a kiss?”

  The yellow bird didn’t move. It just stared at me with one round black eye the size of a coat button.

  “Kiss?” I pressed my face through the bars. “Come on, birdie. Give me a big, wet kiss.”

  I gasped as the bird lowered its beak and slurped its wet tongue down my cheek.

  32

  I swung away from the giant canary. I raised my hand. I touched the wet bird saliva on my skin.

  Then I walked to the cage door and waited.

  I crossed my arms in front of me and stared straight ahead. And waited for my body to start to feel different.

  I waited a minute. Two minutes. Three. I didn’t move. I could still feel the touch of the bird’s tongue on my skin. Thinking about it made my whole face tingle.

  And then I felt a rumbling in my stomach. A sudden ache in my arms and legs.

  Was it happening? Was the Growth Hormone from the bird’s tongue going to make me bigger?

  I stood perfectly still. My knees began to hurt. My toes throbbed.

  The jumpsuit felt tight across my chest … around my waist.

  Yes!

  I started to grow. I could feel myself sliding up. Feel my skin stretch … my legs creak … my head shoot up.

  My head rose to the top of the cage. I nearly filled the cage. Another few seconds and I’d be too big to get out!

  I pushed hard against the latch. It popped open. I shoved the door. Swung it all the way out.

  I could just barely squeeze out the opening. My arms were stretching. My legs lengthened rapidly. My stomach grew. My feet tore out of the little plastic shoes.

  I hit the floor and my jumpsuit made a ripping sound—and flew off.

  I stood there, startled. Totally naked. But I didn’t care. I was free. And a few seconds later, I stood tall nex
t to the cages. I was my old height again.

  Birds squawked and flapped, as if they were celebrating with me.

  But I knew I still wasn’t safe. I had to get out of that lab. I had to get away from the two scientists.

  Over the squawk of the birds, I heard their voices far down the hall. The exit to the lab seemed a mile away.

  How could I distract them and get out the door?

  Only one way. I began moving down the row, opening cage doors. I pulled and prodded the birds out of their cages.

  They came flying out, eager to be free. Birds of all sizes. Birds that had been shrunk. Little birds that had been stretched into giants.

  Cages toppled and crashed to the floor as I moved down the row. Birds flapped and flew and soared overhead.

  Dr. Beach and Dr. Marcum came running into the aisle. They shouted angrily as birds rushed at their heads. The two men frantically grabbed at birds, trying to capture them and return them to their cages.

  They were surrounded by escaped birds. Screaming and cursing and swinging their hands furiously, the two men didn’t even see me as I darted past.

  I reached the exit and hurtled outside. I left the door wide open. Birds flew out and soared toward the sky.

  I took off, running down the gravel path in my bare feet. Behind me, I could hear the men’s angry shouts over the deafening bird cries.

  I watched to see if they were coming after me. But no. They were too busy with their escaped birds.

  How did I get home? It was all a dark blur to me.

  I ran all the way. I kept away from the roads. I tried to stay behind hedges and trees. I ran through backyards.

  It was a dark night, no moon or stars. I don’t know if anyone saw me, a naked twelve-year-old boy running as hard as he could.

  Mom and Dad were so happy to see me. Of course, they had a million questions for me. I said, “I’ll tell you everything. Just let me get some clothes on!”

  I can’t tell you how happy I was when my jeans and T-shirt fit!

  At the dinner table, I told Mom and Dad everything, from the beginning. Dad called the police to tell them about the two men and their science lab in the woods.

  Then I settled down to my favorite dessert. Chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup over it.

  The spoon felt good in my hand. It was the right size.

  I was the right size. The world was the right size again.

  The chocolate ice cream was helping to calm me down. All three of us had big smiles on our faces.

  Then I heard a flapping sound at the window.

  I gasped as Bugsy came flying in. Mom and Dad cried out in surprise.

  The bird fluttered over the dining room table.

  “He—he followed me home!” I stammered.

  And then Bugsy landed on my shoulder. His claws dug into my T-shirt.

  He leaned his beak forward.

  “No!” I cried. “No, Bugsy! Don’t kiss! Don’t kiss! Bugsy! Oh, nooooo!” I wailed. “He kissed me!”

  WELCOME BACK TO

  THE HALL OF HORRORS

  Well, Steven, that’s quite a tall tale you told me. Or should I call it a short story?

  Here. Let me pick you up and carry you to your room for the night. Whoa. Are you putting on weight? You must weigh at least two pounds.

  Tonight you will sleep in the guest deadroom. I have a comfy dresser drawer made up for you.

  Don’t be afraid. There are no birds flying around in the Hall of Horrors. Well … only vultures.

  I am the Story-Keeper, and I will keep your story here where it belongs.

  But now I’m being rude. We have a new guest.

  Come right in, young woman. Don’t be afraid of my pet scorpions. They only sting when they haven’t been fed for a while.

  Hmmmm … Have I fed them recently? I don’t remember.

  What is your name, dear? Monica? I see you are carrying a Halloween mask. A very ugly, frightening mask. Does this mean you have a Halloween story for me?

  Come in. Plenty of room in the Hall of Horrors. You know … There’s Always Room for One More Scream.

  Ready for More?

  Here’s another tale from the Hall of Horrors:

  THE FIVE MASKS OF

  DR. SCREEM

  1

  My brother, Peter, tightened the belt around his white karate uniform. “Monica,” he said, “if you get more Snickers bars than me, can we trade?”

  He didn’t wait for me to answer.

  “Mom, are we allowed to eat unwrapped candy?” he shouted. Mom was downstairs. How did he expect her to hear him?

  He did a little dance and gave me a hard karate chop on the shoulder.

  “Ow. Stop it, Peter,” I groaned. I rubbed my shoulder.

  He laughed. “You’re such a wimp.” He pretended to chop me again. I ducked away.

  “Can you get dizzy from eating chocolate?” Peter asked. “Freddy Milner says if you eat enough chocolate, you get so dizzy, you can’t walk straight.”

  “Don’t try it tonight,” I said.

  He staggered around the room till he crashed into the wall. Then he leaped in the air and did a high karate kick.

  “Look out!” I screamed. He almost kicked my laptop off the desk.

  “Why don’t you get out of my room and wait downstairs?” I said.

  “Why don’t you make me?” he said. He grinned his toothy grin as he raised both fists.

  Peter thinks he’s cute, but he isn’t. For one thing, he’s too tall to be cute. He’s ten — two years younger than me — but he’s nearly a foot taller than I am. He has stringy blond hair and a long, bent nose and funny teeth. He’s my brother but let’s face facts — he’s a beast.

  He picked up a postage stamp from my desk. Licked it — and stuck it to my forehead. Then he collapsed laughing on my bed.

  “Why did you do that?” I growled.

  He shrugged. “Why not?”

  Guess you can understand why I spell Peter’s name P-A-I-N.

  He talks too much. He can’t stand still. He’s always dancing and chopping and kicking. And he thinks he’s funny, but he isn’t.

  My friends can’t stand him.

  Some kids take pills to slow them down to normal speed. But my parents make excuses for Peter. They say he’s just high energy.

  Like I’m some kind of lazy slob. I’m only captain of the gymnastics team and star sprinter of the Hillcrest Middle School track team.

  “What kind of costume is that?” Peter asked with a sneer. “A pair of black shorts over purple tights?”

  “It’s my gymnastics uniform,” I said.

  He laughed. “You look like a freak.”

  “Mom!” I shouted down the stairs. “Do I have to take him?”

  I heard her footsteps on the stairs. I stepped out into the hall. She stopped halfway up and leaned on the banister.

  “Monica, are you still complaining?” She blew back a strand of her curly copper-colored hair.

  She and I have the same color hair. Actually, we kind of look like sisters. We’re both small and thin. Unlike Peter and Dad, both gangly hulks.

  I sighed. “I just want to meet up with Caroline and Regina and hang out with them.”

  “Well, you can’t,” Mom said. “You have to take Peter trick-or-treating.”

  I rolled my eyes. “But, Mom, all he does is practice karate on us till we’re black and blue.”

  That made Peter laugh. Behind me in my room, he picked up one of my stuffed pandas and gave it some hard chops.

  “You girls can defend yourselves,” Mom said. “Kick him back.”

  Peter dropped the panda to the floor. “Huh?”

  “Besides, he’ll be too busy collecting candy,” Mom said. “You know he’s a total candy nut. He won’t have time to pester you and your friends.”

  She shouted to Peter. “Am I right?”

  “Whatever,” Peter replied.

  I sighed again. “Okay, let’s get it over with,” I said.
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  I returned to my room and pulled a silvery mask over my eyes. Maybe people wouldn’t recognize me. The elastic band caught in my hair. As if being with my brother wasn’t enough pain.

  I turned and saw Peter pull a black mask down over his eyes. It matched the black belt around his uniform. Peter is nowhere near a black belt. But he wears one anyway.

  A few seconds later, we stepped out the front door. Peter hopped down the steps and went running to the street.

  It was a dark October night. A half-moon hung low over the houses across the street. The wind gusted, making dead leaves swirl in circles in the front yard.

  I shivered. Maybe my shorts and tights and sleeveless T-shirt were a mistake. Maybe I needed a jacket.

  But as I followed Peter away from the light of the house into the blue-black darkness, I realized I wasn’t shivering from the wind.

  Normally, I’m not a fraidy cat. But I just had a feeling …

  … A very bad feeling about this Halloween.

  2

  Caroline wore a top hat, a ragged man’s overcoat, big floppy shoes, and a bumpy rubber nose. She spoke in a high, creaky voice and said she was a Munchkin from The Wizard of Oz.

  Regina wore gray spandex workout clothes. She had black whiskers painted on her cheeks. She said she was Catwoman. With her olive-colored eyes, she looked like a cat even without the whiskers.

  All three of us are on the gymnastics team at school. So we are pretty strong and athletic.

  But we were no match for Peter.

  He kept dancing around us, making wide circles. Then he’d dart in and snatch something out of our trick-or-treat bags. He was a total thief.

  “Give that back!” Regina cried. She made a grab for the candy bar Peter swiped. “That’s my favorite!”

  “Mine, too,” Peter said, dancing away, giggling his head off. He shoved Regina’s candy into his big shopping bag.

  Regina didn’t give up easily. She let out a roar and dove at Peter.

  He dodged to the side and gave her a hard karate chop — in the neck.

  “Ullllp.” Regina made a horrible noise and started to choke.