Attack of the Mutant

by R. L. Stine

  He took one more step. Then stopped.

  A bright white light circled his body. The light became a crackling electrical current.

  The Mutant uttered a low moan. Then he began to melt.

  His head melted down into his mask. Tinier and tinier — until it disappeared completely. The empty mask slumped onto the shoulders of his costume. And then the rest of his body melted away, shrinking until there was nothing left but a wrinkled costume and cape, heaped on the carpet.

  Libby and I stood staring down at the costume in silence.

  “It — it worked!” I finally managed to choke out. “The toy gun — it worked, Libby!”

  “Of course,” she replied with surprising calm. She walked over to the empty costume and kicked it with her sneaker. “Of course it worked. I warned him it was a Molecule-Melter. He wouldn’t listen.”

  My brain was doing flip-flops. I didn’t really understand. It was just a toy pistol. Why did it destroy the mightiest mutant on Earth?

  “Let’s get out of here!” I pleaded, starting toward the door.

  Libby moved to block my path. “I’m sorry, Skipper,” she said softly.

  “Sorry? What do you mean?”

  She raised the plastic pistol and aimed it at me. “I’m sorry,” she said, “because you’re disappearing next.”

  At first I thought Libby was joking. “Libby, put down the gun,” I told her. “You have a sick sense of humor!”

  She kept the plastic gun aimed at my chest.

  I let out a feeble laugh.

  But I quickly cut it short when I saw the hard expression on her face. “Libby — what’s your problem?” I demanded.

  “I’m not Libby,” she replied softly. “I hate to break the news to you, Skipper — but there is no Libby.”

  As she said those words, she began to change. Her red hair slid into her head. Her cheeks grew wider. Her nose lengthened. Her eyes changed from green to black.

  She stretched up, growing taller. Muscles bulged on her skinny arms. And as she grew, her clothing changed, too. Her jeans and T-shirt appeared to melt away — replaced by a familiar-looking costume.

  The costume of The Masked Mutant.

  “Libby — what’s going on?” I cried in a tiny, frightened voice. I still didn’t understand. “How are you doing that?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t catch on very fast, do you?” she said, rolling her eyes. Her voice came out deep and booming. A man’s voice.

  “Libby, I —”

  She swept her cape behind her. “I’m The Masked Mutant, Skipper. I changed my molecules into a girl your age and called myself Libby. But I’m The Masked Mutant.”

  “But — but — but —” I sputtered.

  She tossed the toy gun aside and grinned at me triumphantly.

  “But you just melted The Masked Mutant!” I cried. “We both saw him melt!”

  She shook her head. “No. You’re mistaken. I just melted The Magnificent Molecule Man.”

  I gaped at her in astonishment. “Huh? Molecule Man?”

  “He worked for me,” she explained, glancing down at the crumpled, empty costume on the floor. “Sometimes I ordered him to dress like me. To keep people off my track.”

  “He worked for you — and you melted him?” I cried.

  “I’m a villain,” The Masked Mutant replied, smiling. “I do very bad things — remember?”

  It all started to come clear. There never was a Libby. It had been The Masked Mutant all along.

  The Masked Mutant stepped over the crumpled costume to move closer to me. Once again, I pressed my back against the wall. “Now I have no choice. Now I have to do something very bad to you, Skipper,” he said flatly, his black eyes staring hard into mine through his mask.

  “But — why?” I cried. “Why can’t I just leave? I’ll go straight home. I’ll never tell anyone about you. Really!” I pleaded.

  He shook his head. “I can’t let you leave. You belong here now.”

  “Huh?” I gasped. “What are you saying, Libby — I mean, Mutant?”

  “You belong here now, Skipper,” he replied coldly. “I knew it when I saw you on the bus for the first time. I knew you were perfect when you told me you knew everything about my comics.”

  “But — but —” I sputtered again.

  “It’s so hard to find good characters for my stories, Skipper. It’s so hard to find good foes. I’m always looking for new faces. That’s why I was so pleased when I discovered you.”

  His evil grin grew wider. “Then when you recognized my headquarters building, I knew you were right. I knew you were ready to star in a story.”

  The smile faded quickly. “I’m so sorry, Skipper. But the story is over. Your part has come to an end.”

  “What — what are you going to do?” I stammered.

  “Destroy you, of course!” The Mutant replied coldly.

  I pressed my back against the wall. I stared back at him, thinking hard.

  “Good-bye, Skipper,” The Masked Mutant said softly.

  “But you can’t do this!” I screamed. “You’re just a character in a comic book! But I’m real! I’m a real, live person! I’m a real boy!”

  A strange smile formed on The Mutant’s lips. “No, you’re not, Skipper,” he said, snickering. “You’re not real. You’re just like me now. You’re a comic book character, too.”

  I pinched my arm. It felt as warm and real as always.

  “You’re a liar!” I shouted.

  The Masked Mutant nodded. A pleased smile formed on his face. “Yes, I’m a liar,” he agreed. “That’s one of my better qualities.” His smile faded. “But I’m not lying this time, Skipper. You’re not real anymore.”

  I refused to believe him. “I feel the way I always have,” I declared.

  “But I changed you into a comic book character,” he insisted. “Remember when you entered this building for the first time? Remember when you walked through the glass door and a beam of light passed over you?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I remember that,” I muttered.

  “Well, that was a scanner,” The Masked Mutant continued. “When you stepped through it, it scanned your body. It turned you into tiny dots of ink.”

  “No!” I shouted.

  He ignored my cry. “That’s all you are now, Skipper. Tiny dots of red, blue, and yellow ink. You’re a comic book character, just like me.”

  He slid toward me menacingly, his cape spreading out behind him. “But I’m sorry to say you’ve made your last appearance in my comic book. Or in any comic book.”

  “Wait!” I cried.

  “I can’t wait any longer,” The Masked Mutant replied coldly. “I’ve already wasted too much time on you, Skipper.”

  “But I’m not Skipper!” I declared.

  “I’m not Skipper Matthews,” I said. “There is no Skipper Matthews.”

  “Oh, really?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “Then who are you?”

  “I’m The Colossal Elastic Boy!” I replied.

  The Masked Mutant uttered a low gasp. “Elastic Boy!” he exclaimed. “I thought you looked familiar!”

  “Good-bye, Mutant,” I said in a deep voice.

  “Where are you going?” he asked sharply.

  “Back to my home planet of Xargos,” I replied, starting toward the door. “I’m not allowed to guest-star in other comic books.”

  He moved quickly to block the door. “Nice try, Elastic Boy,” he said. “But you have invaded my secret headquarters. I have to destroy you.”

  I laughed. “You can’t destroy Elastic Boy!” I boasted. “I’ll stretch out my elastic arms and wrap you in them, and squeeze you into Play-Doh!”

  “I don’t think so,” The Masked Mutant replied dryly. He let out an angry growl. “I’m tired of all this talk, talk, talk. I’m going to tear you to pieces — and then tear your pieces into tiny pieces!”

  I laughed again. “No way!” I told him. “I’m elastic, remember? I can’t be torn into
pieces. I bend — but I don’t break! There’s only one way that Elastic Boy can be destroyed!”

  “What’s that?” The Masked Mutant asked.

  “By sulphuric acid,” I replied. “That’s the only thing that can destroy my elastic body!”

  A pleased smile spread behind the masked face.

  “Oops!” I cried. “I didn’t mean to let that slip out!”

  I tried to make it to the door. But I wasn’t fast enough.

  I saw The Masked Mutant quickly begin to change. He changed into a steaming hot wave of sulphuric acid.

  And before I could move, the tall wave of acid swept toward me.

  With a loud cry, I leaped away.

  The tall wave swept past. It missed me by inches.

  I turned and watched it splash over the carpet. The carpet began to sizzle and burn.

  “Yes!” I shouted gleefully. “Yes!”

  I had never felt so happy, so strong, so triumphant!

  I had defeated The Masked Mutant. I had totally tricked him. I had destroyed the most evil supervillain ever to walk the planet!

  Me! A twelve-year-old boy named Skipper Matthews! I had sent The Masked Mutant to his doom!

  Such a simple trick. But it had worked.

  From reading the comics, I knew that The Masked Mutant could change his molecules into anything solid. And then change back again.

  But I tricked him into changing himself into a liquid! And once he changed into a liquid, he could not re-form himself.

  The Masked Mutant was gone forever.

  “Skipper, you are a clever guy!” I shouted out loud. I was so happy, I did a little dance on the thick carpet.

  I couldn’t believe The Masked Mutant had believed that I was Elastic Boy. I’d made that name up. I’ve never heard of any Elastic Boy!

  But he fell for it. And now the evil supervillain is gone! I thought happily.

  And I am alive! Alive!

  I couldn’t wait to get home and see my family again. The bus ride seemed to take hours.

  Finally, I was running up my front lawn. Into the house through the front door.

  I immediately saw a brown envelope lying on the mail table. The new issue of The Masked Mutant.

  Who needs it? I asked myself.

  I ignored it and hurried to say hi to my parents. I was so glad to be home, I was even happy to see Mitzi. “Mitzi — how about a game of Frisbee?” I asked.

  “Huh?” She gaped at me in shock. I never want to play anything with my little sister.

  But, today, I just wanted to be happy and celebrate being alive.

  Mitzi and I hurried out to the backyard. We threw a Frisbee around for about half an hour. We had a great time.

  “How about a snack?” I asked her.

  “Yeah. I’m starving,” she replied. “Mom left some chocolate cake on the counter.”

  Chocolate cake sounded just right.

  Humming happily to myself, I trotted into the kitchen. I pulled down two plates from the cabinet. Then I found the big cake knife in the drawer.

  “Don’t make your slice bigger than mine!” Mitzi warned, watching me carefully as I prepared to cut the cake.

  “Mitzi, I promise I won’t cheat you,” I said sweetly. I was in such a good mood, even Mitzi couldn’t get me upset.

  “This looks like awesome chocolate cake!” I exclaimed.

  I slid the big knife over the cake.

  It slipped.

  “Ow!” I cried out as the knife blade cut the back of my hand.

  I raised my hand and stared down at the cut. “Hey!” I uttered in surprise.

  What was trickling out from the cut?

  Not blood.

  It was red, blue, yellow, and black.

  INK!

  “Cool!” Mitzi cried.

  “Where’s that new Masked Mutant comic?” I asked. I suddenly had the feeling that my comic book career wasn’t over!

  For the zillionth time that night, I threw the covers off my legs and bolted up from the bed.

  I definitely heard something that time.

  And it wasn’t the wind, either. I’m always hearing things. But no matter what I hear, Mom says, “It’s just the wind, Cooper. Just the wind.”

  But the wind doesn’t sound like heavy footsteps crunching through the leaves. And that’s what I heard this time. Definitely.

  I stood next to my bedroom window. Then I leaned over and peered out. It sure was spooky out there.

  I squinted to see better in the dark. Don’t lean over too far, I thought. Don’t let whoever or whatever is out there see you.

  My eyes searched the backyard. I lifted my head — and spotted them. A few feet away. Huge, black, gnarly arms. Reaching out toward the window.

  Ready to grab me.

  No. It was only the branches of the old oak tree.

  Well, give me a break. I said it was dark out!

  My eyes swept over the yard again. The sound. There it was!

  I ducked. My legs trembled as I crouched beneath the window. I broke out into a cold sweat.

  Crunch. Crunch.

  Even louder than before.

  I swallowed hard and took another peek. Something moved in the shadows. Under the oak tree. I held my breath.

  Crunch. Crunch, crunch.

  A gust of wind blew the tree branches furiously.

  Crunch, crunch, crunch.

  The frightening sounds grew louder. Closer to the house.

  As I peered out, two eyes suddenly flashed in the dark. My throat went dry. I couldn’t cry out.

  The eyes flashed again. They were even closer to the house this time. Right outside my window.

  Staring at me.

  Moving toward me.

  The creature’s dark shape began to take form. It was a —

  — bunny rabbit??

  I let out a long sigh.

  The first night in my new house — and I was already shaking in terror.

  I shuffled into the bathroom for a towel. As I mopped the sweat from my forehead, I stared at my reflection in the medicine chest mirror.

  Whenever I’m scared, my freckles really stand out. There they were. Millions of them.

  I ran my fingers through my hair. I wear it long. To help cover my big, droopy ears.

  I’ve had these huge ears my whole life. Mom keeps telling me not to worry. She says I’ll grow into them. But I’m twelve now, and nothing has changed. My ears are still huge. Huge and droopy.

  I wear a cap most of the time to help hide them. It’s my favorite cap from my favorite baseball team — the Red Sox. So I don’t mind wearing it.

  “A bunny rabbit,” I mumbled as I stared at myself in the mirror. Scared by a bunny rabbit.

  I’d made it through the entire day without being scared once. That’s pretty good for me.

  Back where I used to live — in Boston, Massachusetts — my best friends, Gary and Todd, always made fun of me.

  “Cooper,” they’d say, “you probably scare yourself on Halloween!”

  They were right. I get scared a lot. Some people just scare easier than others. I’m an easy scarer.

  Take last summer at camp. I got lost in the woods on my way to the bathroom cabin. What did I do?

  Nothing. I just stood there.

  When the kids from my bunk finally found me, I was shaking all over. Practically in tears. Turns out I was standing a few feet from the dining hall the whole time.

  So, okay. I admit it. When it comes to bravery, I’m not exactly Indiana Jones!

  When my parents announced we were moving from the city into a house in the woods, I was a little tense.

  Maybe even scared.

  Scared to leave the apartment I’d lived in my entire life.

  Scared of a house in the woods.

  And then I learned that our new house was deep in the woods, somewhere in Maine. Miles from the nearest town.

  The only two scary books I’d ever read took place in Maine. In the woods.

  But
I had no choice. We were moving. Mom’s new job landed us in Maine, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I left the bathroom and crept back to my bed. The floorboards creaked and cracked with each step. It was going to be hard getting used to that.

  It was also going to be hard getting used to all the other strange noises this old house made. The rattling pipes. The scraping shutters. And some weird noise that thumped really loudly every hour.

  At dinner, Mom said that the thumping noise was only the house “settling.”

  Whatever that means.

  At least she didn’t say, “It’s just the wind, Cooper.”

  I jumped into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. Then I fluffed my pillows two or three times, trying hard to get comfortable. I felt a little safer in bed.

  I love my bed. Mom wanted to trash it when we moved. She said I needed a new one. But I said no way. It had taken me years to break this bed in. The mattress had just the right amount of lumps, and they were in all the right spots.

  In the dark, I glanced around my new room. It was so weird seeing all my things in this strange place. When the movers carried my stuff in here this morning, I had them put the furniture exactly the way it was in my old room.

  Across from my bed, my dad built a really cool bookcase for all my snow domes. It has a light in it and everything.

  I can’t wait to unpack my snow domes. I have seventy-seven of them from all over the world — even Australia and Hong Kong. I guess you could call me a snow dome collector.

  Anyway, I was finally beginning to relax, thinking about my snow domes — when I heard another noise.

  Not a bunch of little crunches like before — but one long, drawn-out crunch.

  I shot straight up in bed. This time I was sure. One hundred percent sure. Someone — or something — was creeping around out there. Right outside my window!

  I threw off the covers. Then I dropped to the floor on my hands and knees. Moving slowly, I crawled to the window. Then I carefully pulled myself up and peered outside.

  What was it?

  A snake?

  I flung open the window. I grabbed a softball from the floor and tossed it at the snake. Then I fell back down to my knees and listened.