They Call Me the Night Howler!

by R. L. Stine

  “Dad, thanks for helping. You can go downstairs now,” I said.

  We waited until Dad was at the bottom of the stairs. Then Cory waved his fingers in the air again to remove the shadow over him. “He won’t remember a thing, Mason.”

  He gave me a push. “Hurry. Get into your costume. We’re late.”

  I scrambled into the black tights and the dark blue satiny top. I swirled the long cape around me. It took me a while to get it right, but I finally managed to pull the mask over my head and set my eyes behind the eyeholes.

  Cory looked me up and down. “Okay, dude. We have a dangerous night in store. Are you ready to capture your first real criminal?”

  “No, I’m not,” I said.

  Cory frowned at me. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s the cape,” I said. “I can’t figure out how to snap it shut.” I fingered the satiny cloth around my neck.

  “It doesn’t snap,” he said. “It’s Velcro.” He reached for the cape with both hands and closed the top. “That makes it easier to get it on and off if you’re in a tight jam.”

  I swept the cape back. “Are we going to be in a tight jam tonight?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Probably.”

  I took a few steps toward my bedroom door. The costume felt heavy. I could feel a low current pulsing through my body. My arm muscles were suddenly tight. I felt stronger. My shoes thudded heavily on the floor.

  I heard the TV downstairs. “My parents will see us come down,” I said. “How do we get out of the house?”

  “No problem,” Cory said softly. He raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. A dark cloud formed above us. It lowered itself and covered us in shadow.

  I squinted, struggling to see through the dark mist. Then I followed Cory down the stairs. We walked right past my parents, and they didn’t take their eyes from the TV screen.

  “Wow. It’s almost like being invisible,” I whispered.

  We were out the front door and into a warm, cloudy night. A pale half moon sat low over the houses. The air felt heavy and damp.

  “Stay in the shadow cloud,” Cory said, close beside me. “You can travel inside the cloud. It’s almost as good as flying.”

  I followed him as he took off running. He was right. The shadow cloud seemed to carry us. I felt my feet lift off the ground as we crossed the street. The darkness seemed to propel me forward.

  Cory and I were floating over cars, carried by the mists, moving faster than I could ever run. The powers of the amazing costume raced through my body, the powers that were now MINE.

  I felt awesomely brave—until I remembered why we were out here.

  Cory had his eyes straight forward, his arms down at his sides. I floated closer to talk to him. “Where are we going?”

  “Manders Park,” he said, without slowing down. “On the other side of town.”

  “Wh-why?” I stammered.

  “There’s someone I’ve been trying to capture,” he replied. We whirled around a corner and kept floating. “A cheap thief who hangs out there. He waits for old people to go out for a late walk. And then he grabs them from behind and robs them.”

  “And … and I’m supposed to capture him?” I stammered. I suddenly felt weak with fear.

  Cory nodded. “That’s your mission, Night Howler.” We turned another corner. A wide area, black against the pale moonlight, came into view at the end of the next street. Manders Park.

  “Use the shadow cloud,” Cory said. “And use the powers of your costume.”

  “But … what if this thief tries to hurt me?” I choked out. I wanted to sound brave. But my voice came out high and whiny.

  “I picked this mission for you because it’s a good first job,” Cory replied. “The thief is named The Quitter. Don’t quit until you have defeated him and taken him prisoner.”

  “But—but—” I sputtered.

  We were swallowed in darkness as we floated into the park. I squinted through the trees and saw a faint yellow light. I followed the light to a path that twisted under pale streetlamps.

  The park appeared empty. A strong gust of wind shook the trees and made them whisper. An old newspaper on a park bench made a rattling sound as the wind tossed its pages.

  The path curved around a small supply shed. A bronze statue of a German shepherd stood guard at the side of the shed.

  I uttered a sharp cry when I heard a scream on the wind.

  I stopped short. Under a streetlamp up ahead, I saw an old, white-haired couple, a man and woman in long raincoats. They had their hands raised above their heads.

  They stared openmouthed at a huge man wrapped in an enormous black coat, with a black ski mask pulled down over his head. He was barking words at them, and they were quivering in fear.

  The Quitter!

  There he was.

  My legs suddenly started to give way. I forced myself to keep standing. But panic shot through my body. My teeth began to chatter, and shudder after shudder ran down my back.

  This is really happening.

  I can’t do this.

  Why did I think I could do this?

  Was I out of my mind?

  “I’m sorry,” I told Cory. “I’m not as brave as I thought I was. I can’t—”

  I spun around. “Cory? Hey—Cory?”

  He had disappeared.

  I was on my own.

  I could see the terror on the couple’s faces. The Quitter had his back to me. I watched him grab the man’s wallet.

  I had no choice.

  I had to take him down.

  I raised my hand and moved my fingers the way Cory had done. Yes! A dark shadow lowered over me. I was invisible. But did that mean I was safe?

  I knew my only chance was to take the thief by surprise.

  I could feel the powers of my costume begin to hum. A pulsing current gave me strength.

  I tossed back my head. Took a deep breath. And let out the famous terrifying howl of the Night Howler.

  “Aaaaaaaaawoooooooooooooh!”

  The thief let out a startled scream. The old couple held on to each other, their faces tight with terror.

  The thief dropped the wallet onto the walk and spun around to face me.

  His eyes were wide behind his ski mask. Of course, he couldn’t see me. I was deep in shadow.

  My heart pounded like crazy. The current surged through me.

  Now what?

  Now what?

  He raised both hands above his head. “I quit!” he cried. “You’ve got me. I recognized your howl, Night Howler. You win. I quit.”

  He picked the wallet up from the ground and handed it back to the old man. I could see that the couple was totally confused and still frightened.

  “You can go home,” I told them. “You’re safe now.”

  They turned and started to walk away quickly. “Thank you, Night Howler. Wherever you are,” the woman called back.

  I grabbed the thief by the shoulders and pulled him inside the deep shadow.

  “Don’t hurt me!” he cried. “I quit. Really. I quit. They don’t call me ‘The Quitter’ for nothing!”

  I had to chuckle. Cory had picked the best first case for me. The Quitter had to be the wimpiest thief in history!

  Riding in the shadow, I brought the Quitter to the police station two blocks from the park. I lifted the shadow. A cop hurried to greet us. His nametag read SERGEANT GARCIA.

  He grabbed the Quitter. “Good work, Night Howler,” he said. “How did you get this guy?”

  “It was simple. He just quit,” I said.

  Garcia laughed. “Wish they were all this easy.” His smile faded. “Hey, Night Howler, I heard you were retiring.”

  “Huh? Me?” I shook my head. “No way, Sergeant Garcia. I’m not retiring. I’m just starting.”

  Just for fun, I tossed back my head and let out the Night Howler howl:

  “Aaaaaaaaawoooooooooooooh!”

  I hurried home. It was nearly midnight. If Mom and Dad heard me com
e in, I’d be in major trouble. How could I explain what I was doing out this late at night in this costume?

  I had one big victory under my belt. I didn’t want my superhero career to end after just one adventure.

  The house was dark and silent. I tiptoed up the stairs to my room. Across the hall, Stella’s door was open. Her room was dark. She had to be sound asleep.

  But I didn’t turn on my bedroom light till my door was tightly closed.

  Safe.

  I pulled off the heavy costume and tossed it onto my bed. Then I crossed the room to my dresser, pulled out a pair of pajamas, and tugged them on.

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and started to fold up the costume.

  That’s when the bedroom door swung open and Stella came bursting in. Her pink nightshirt was twisted. Her hair stood out in tangles on the sides of her head.

  She blinked a few times, then squinted at me. “Mason? You’re awake?”

  Before I could answer, she lowered her eyes to the costume in my lap.

  Her eyes grew wide and she pointed. “Huh? What’s THAT?”

  My brain froze for a moment. Was this it? Was this the end?

  I had to think fast.

  “It’s a Halloween costume,” I said. “Grandma Pearl sent it.”

  “But it’s spring,” Stella replied. “Why would she send you something for Halloween?”

  “She probably found it in some bargain store,” I said, feeling beads of sweat roll down my forehead. “You know how much she likes bargains.”

  Stella laughed. “Did you ever go to the supermarket with her? She always picks the egg cartons that have one or two broken eggs inside. She knows the manager will sell it to her cheaper.”

  “The costume is way too big,” I said. “Check it out.” I held up the tights for Stella to see.

  She laughed. “Grandma Pearl always thinks we’re enormous. Remember that sundress she sent me? It was too big for Mom!”

  We both laughed. My laugh was phony.

  I held my breath. Did Stella really believe I was holding a Halloween costume?

  She yawned. “I heard you moving around in here. Why are you trying on costumes in the middle of the night?”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I said. Not a great answer. But I could see she was buying it.

  She yawned again. “Good night.”

  I followed her to the door. I waited until she was back in bed, then I closed my door again.

  I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. “That was a close one,” I muttered to myself.

  I folded up the Night Howler costume, tucked it into the hole in my floor, and lowered the floorboard over it. Then I climbed into bed and hoped I could fall asleep.

  I didn’t have another close call until two nights later.

  My friend George Browning and his twin brother, Walter, invited me to a sleepover at their house on Saturday night. I love hanging with these guys because they’re all about fun. What’s the best way to describe them? Party animals?

  They’re both always in trouble with Mrs. Stuckhouse in school. Not for anything serious. Just for goofing around or messing up their homework, or for their famous laughing fits that always get the whole class giggling out of control.

  One of the twins’ longest laughing fits went viral on Instagram with more than three thousand likes. That’s how funny it was. But their parents didn’t think it was funny. They had to go to school and have a long discussion with our principal, Mr. Santini.

  It must not have been a happy discussion. Because when their parents returned home, they took away George’s and Walter’s phones for a month and shut down their Instagram accounts.

  I agreed with my two friends that it was unfair. I mean, laughing isn’t exactly a crime, is it?

  Anyway, when Dad dropped me off in the driveway to their house, I could hear loud voices from inside. And their little dog, Spartacus, was yapping his head off.

  I had my sleeping bag under one arm. We were all going to sleep on the floor of their huge basement rec room. And I had packed my Night Howler costume in my backpack—just in case I was called out on a mission.

  Through the front window, I saw George and a couple of other guys in the living room. They were just standing and talking.

  I knocked on the front door. It swung open instantly, and I gasped. I was staring at an ugly monster, green face, two rows of enormous jagged yellow teeth, three bulging eyes, and a long forked tongue hanging limply down like a snake.

  “Hi, Walter,” I said.

  He stood there for a moment. “How’d you know it was me, Mason?”

  “The three eyes,” I said. “That gave you away.”

  “Ha.” He stepped back and let me enter the house. It was hot inside and the air smelled of pizza. I saw two large pizzas in open boxes on the living room coffee table.

  Walter took my sleeping bag and backpack and tossed them down the basement stairs.

  “Hey, Mason—what’s up?” Alonso Ferrer called. He stood next to another guy in my class, Mickey Rowse. (Of course, we call him Mickey Mouse.) George kept punching Mickey on the shoulder for some reason.

  I stepped over to them. “Why are you punching him?” I asked George.

  “Because I don’t have a punching bag,” George answered.

  It wasn’t that funny, but we all laughed.

  “We’re all here. We can start the video,” Walter said.

  I spun around. “Video?”

  “That’s why I’m wearing this monster mask,” Walter said.

  “You’re wearing a mask?”

  More laughter.

  “Pizza first,” Alonso said. He grabbed a slice from one of the boxes.

  “Where are your parents?” I asked George.

  He motioned toward the steps. “They’re hiding upstairs. They said we should have a good time. But not such a good time that the police have to come.”

  Mickey slid a pizza slice from the box. “Why are we doing a video?” he asked Walter.

  Walter shrugged. “Why not?”

  “I thought we were just going to hang out,” I said.

  “We’re going to hang out in the video,” Walter replied.

  “Walter wants to start a new YouTube channel,” George said, crushing an empty can of Coke in one hand. “He thinks it will make us rich.”

  I finished a slice and grabbed another.

  Walter burped really loud. It echoed from behind the mask. The twins are serious burpers. I mean, their burps are inhuman! They did an amazing burping video on Instagram. It didn’t go viral, but if burping was an Olympic sport, they’d both be wearing gold.

  “Hey, Mason, how was the comic art museum?” Mickey asked. He wiped tomato sauce off his chin.

  “Uh … pretty interesting,” I said.

  I thought about my Night Howler costume rolled up in my backpack. If I received the Mission Alert signal on my phone, what would I do? How would I get into my costume and get out of here without my friends noticing?

  A good question.

  I crossed my fingers, hoping there wouldn’t be a Mission Alert tonight.

  “The museum has a lot of cool stuff,” I told Mickey. “It’s huge. I couldn’t see it all. The movie posters were awesome. And they have some of the real costumes that superheroes wear.”

  “Was there a Dr. Maniac display?” he asked.

  I blinked. “Dr. Maniac? Why did you ask that?”

  Mickey shrugged. “I think he’s cool.”

  I stared at Mickey. I never thought he was into comics or superheroes before. Why did he mention that evil supervillain? Did he know something about me?

  Or was I just being paranoid?

  Walter let out another long burp, so loud it made his mask rattle. That was the signal for us to shut up so he could tell us about the video he wanted to make.

  His three bulging eyes rolled around on his green face as he started to talk.

  “The video is called Mutant in the Basement. We’re a
ll going to go down to the rec room and spread out the sleeping bags. George is going to record everything. Mason, Alonso, and Mickey will climb into their sleeping bags and pretend to be asleep. When I enter the room, you sit up and scream your heads off. Simple.”

  “You mean we’re terrified of a kid wearing a mask?” Alonso said.

  Mickey and I laughed.

  Walter didn’t. “Not funny. You’re terrified of the mutant in the basement. It’s basic, Alonso. Basic horror. Check your attitude, dude.”

  I moved closer to Alonso. “Don’t start up with him,” I whispered. “Let’s just get this over with so we can have fun.”

  “Then what happens?” I asked. “After we scream.”

  “I know,” Mickey said. “We grab the mutant. We wrestle him down to the floor. And we tickle him to death because mutants can’t survive if they’re tickled.”

  George laughed. He dove at Mickey, grabbed him from behind, reached around, and started tickling his belly with both hands. “Die, mutant, DIE!” he screamed.

  Laughing, Mickey squirmed free. “Did you know there are these guys who tickle each other? It’s like a sport. There are tickling teams. And they see who can take it the longest.”

  “That’s stupid,” I said.

  “No. It’s a thing,” Mickey insisted. “I saw it on Netflix.”

  “No tickling,” George said. “The mutant is going to rip all three of you to pieces. I have a special-effects app on my phone. The whole thing is going to be awesome CGI.”

  Walter let out a groan. “This mask is smothering me. And my face is going to itch off. Can we do this video now?”

  So … that’s what we did. We trooped down to the basement and prepared for the video scene.

  Did it go the way George and Walter wanted?

  Three guesses.

  The rec room is huge. There are couches and chairs and a big game table. Air hockey and foosball. It’s all warm and comfortable, with a thick shag rug over the floor.

  Soft, pale moonlight washed into the room from a long window at the ceiling. The window was at ground level outside. Gazing up, I could see a little of the black sky through it.

  Mickey, Alonso, and I spread out our sleeping bags and climbed inside. George dimmed the basement lights. He raised his phone and poked at the screen, getting the settings right.