When the Ghost Dog Howls

by R. L. Stine

  “Just be calm. You’re safe and sound,” the woman said. She smoothed her warm hand over my forehead, brushing my hair up.

  “You had a bad shock,” Marnie said. “At the mall.”

  The man turned to the woman. “Did he fry his brain?” he asked her in a loud whisper. “Did he fry it?”

  “They think you fried your brain,” Marnie said.

  “No!” I cried. A stab of pain made me cringe. “My brain is okay. But I don’t know these people!”

  A blond-haired little girl poked her face over mine. “Andy, are you faking?” she demanded.

  “Huh? Faking? Who are you?” I cried.

  She rolled her eyes. “Your sister, of course. Don’t you remember me? Margaret? But you call me Muggy?”

  “Muggy?”

  My mouth was suddenly too dry to talk. My heart pounded.

  I didn’t remember her. I didn’t remember any of them, except for Marnie.

  Did I fry my brain? Was my memory wrecked?

  The red ceiling light started to spin. The bed tilted. I grabbed the sheets to keep from falling out.

  “Marnie — help me!” I cried. “Help me remember. I don’t know these people.”

  “Is his brain fried?” the man repeated. “Is it fried?”

  The little girl pushed her face up to mine and started to sing: “Muggy Muggy Muggy, you’re so Uggy Uggy Uggy!”

  She poked me in the ribs. “Don’t you remember that song? You made it up? You always sing it to make me mad?”

  “I — I don’t remember,” I choked out. “I — I’m so sorry, everyone. I don’t remember you. I really don’t.”

  “The tooth was wet,” Marnie said. “Jonathan Chiller said you’d get a shock. You didn’t dry off the tooth, Andy. And you fried your brain.”

  “NO — PLEASE!” I cried. “DON’T SAY THAT!”

  “He fried it,” the man said to the woman. They both shook their heads. “He fried it.”

  The little girl pinched my shoulder really hard. “Muggy Muggy Muggy, you’re so Uggy Uggy Uggy!”

  “Stop — please!” I moaned. “Stop singing that.”

  “I’m going to sing it till you remember me!” she said. She pinched me again. Pain shot down my body.

  “Muggy Muggy Muggy, you’re so Uggy Uggy Uggy!”

  “Don’t you see?” Marnie said. “The tooth was wet. You made a wish when the tooth was wet.”

  “And you fried your brain,” the man said. “I’m your dad. And I’m telling you the truth. You fried it.”

  “NOOOO!” I let out a howl. “You’re not my dad! And you’re not my mom! And I don’t have a sister! This is crazy!”

  I grabbed my head with both hands and screamed: “I — I wish I was ten thousand miles away from all of you!”

  And: RRRRRRRRRRRIPPPPPPP!

  I heard a loud ripping sound, like someone tugging open a Velcro shoe.

  And then I felt myself being ripped away — torn from the bed … from the strange room. Ripped away as if pulled by a powerful vacuum cleaner.

  I shut my eyes.

  Was that ME screaming?

  RRRRRRRRRRRIPPPPPPP. The sound followed me.

  I landed with a jolt on something hard. My eyes shot open.

  I blinked, struggling to focus. Where was I?

  I was buckled into a hard metal seat. Staring out a wide window. Staring out into darkness.

  No. As my eyes adjusted, I saw twinkling stars. Millions of twinkling stars.

  And then a planet floated into view far above me. A green-and-blue planet. It took me a while to recognize the shape — and then I gasped.

  I swallowed hard. My breath caught in my throat.

  What was EARTH doing way out there?

  My seat bounced. I glanced down and saw some kind of control panel spread out in front of me.

  Lights blinked. Numbers flashed on LED screens. Computer monitors showed views of the stars outside.

  I gazed from the controls to the floating ball that was Earth, high outside the window. It took me a long while to realize I was in some kind of space capsule.

  My heart pounded. I gripped the sides of the chair so hard, my hands ached.

  And I stared into the black depths of space all around me. The blinking stars were tiny bright dots, like pinpricks against the blackness.

  Am I really ten thousand miles from Earth?

  The question repeated in my mind.

  Impossible. Impossible.

  But here I was. I wished it — and here I was.

  All alone, floating in outer space.

  Chill after chill rolled down my back.

  Was I afraid? Yes. Of course.

  I grabbed for the tooth on the cord around my neck. I was ready to wish myself back home.

  But I stopped myself. I was too dazzled by the awesome view.

  I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off our blue-and-green planet.

  How many people were lucky enough to see Earth this way?

  “Wow,” I said out loud, “I wish Marnie could see this.”

  I didn’t think. I didn’t mean to make a wish. The words just burst from my mouth as I gazed out the capsule’s window. And …

  RRRRRRRRRRRIPPPPPP.

  That sound again. Like someone tearing fabric. The capsule rocked. I was tossed forward, then back.

  Marnie popped into the seat beside me. She bounced once, then settled on the metal chair.

  “NOOOO!” She uttered a frightened cry. Her eyes bulged at the view out the window.

  And then she saw me beside her. “Andy? Where ARE we?” she asked in a tiny voice.

  “Outer space,” I said. I pointed toward Earth floating above us.

  “NO!” Marnie cried again. “You wished …?” I nodded. “I wished for you to see this, too,” I said. “Isn’t it amazing?”

  “No! It’s not!” she cried. “I don’t like it, Andy. I don’t want to be in outer space! Why did you do this to me? Why?”

  “I told you —”

  “Get us back!” Marnie screamed. “I don’t want to be here. You KNOW I’m afraid of flying!”

  “Huh? Flying?”

  “I am terrified. Do you understand?” Her whole body trembled. Her eyes rolled crazily in her head.

  “Marnie, don’t freak,” I said. “Take a deep breath. Look how awesome it is!”

  “I don’t want to look!” she wailed, covering her eyes. “Get us home, Andy! Get us home! Get us home!”

  She started pounding the control panel with both fists. “Get us home! Get us home!” She was going totally berserk.

  “Okay!” I cried.

  But before I could make a wish, she turned and grabbed the cord around my neck. She swung her hand up and pulled the tooth over my head.

  “Give it back!” I cried. I made a grab for it — and it floated out of Marnie’s grasp.

  “It — it’s weightless!” I stammered.

  I made another grab. Missed.

  The tooth floated higher, toward the ceiling of the capsule.

  Marnie unbuckled her seat belt. She floated out of her chair. She reached out both hands and swiped at the tooth.

  Missed.

  The tooth floated higher. Toward some kind of air vent.

  I unbuckled myself, kicked off — and went sailing up out of my chair. I floated toward the top of the capsule — and dove for the tooth.

  My fingers wrapped around it. But the tooth slid right through them and sailed higher.

  Marnie and I bumped heads.

  “OW!” I cried. “Look out!”

  “How can I look out?” Marnie cried. “I’ve never flown before.”

  “It’s going into that vent!” I cried. We both stretched our arms out, trying to fly higher.

  “Yes!” I shouted as I grabbed the tooth and pulled it down to me.

  But Marnie and I flew into each other again. My arms got tangled in hers. We struggled to pull apart.

  I gasped. “We’re upsi
de down!”

  Marnie tried to swing herself around — and kicked me in the chest.

  Now we were both sailing down headfirst.

  “Can’t … turn … around …” I said. And then my head bumped the control panel. “Ouch!”

  I heard another thud. Marnie winced as she bumped the panel, too.

  The whole capsule jerked and tilted from side to side.

  And then I could feel it start to fall.

  Floating in front of the window, I felt a strong pull against me. Like a magnet pulling me down.

  “We’re dropping!” I cried.

  Out the window, I could see the blue-and-green ball of Earth appear to grow larger.

  The capsule picked up speed as it fell. Faster … faster. I could feel the pressure. Feel the incredible pull.

  It felt like someone was trying to pull my skin off! I couldn’t move … couldn’t breathe.

  The Earth rose up in front of us, bigger … BIGGER.

  “We’re falling FAST!” Marnie shrieked. “We’re going to crash!”

  I gaped in horror as our planet filled the whole window.

  The tooth. Andy, the tooth.

  The words flew through my brain. In my total panic, I’d forgotten about it.

  I had it gripped tightly in my fist.

  I squeezed it hard. I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t think straight.

  We were hurtling toward Earth. About to smash into the planet.

  I pictured us crushed, like an egg tossed against a brick wall.

  What should I wish for?

  “I — I wish I was back in my own bed!” I choked out.

  Will it work?

  RRRRRRRRRRRIPPPPP.

  I heard the sound again. And felt myself being snapped away.

  A bright whir of dancing colors flew past my eyes. They spun so fast, they made me dizzy.

  I clamped my eyes shut.

  And felt a hard thud. The landing knocked my breath out.

  Choking, I opened my eyes. And stared up at solid blue.

  It took me a long moment to realize I was lying in bed. My head rested on a pillow. The covers were pulled up to my chin.

  A black-and-red bedspread. MY bedspread.

  Yes! The tooth had come through again and granted my wish. I was definitely in my own bed.

  But where was I?

  I stared up at the solid blue. A pale, white cloud floated into view.

  The sky. I was gazing up at sky.

  How did my bed get outdoors?

  I pushed down the bedspread, swung my feet to the ground, and sat up.

  My eyes focused on a curtain of metal bars. A wall of thin bars, rising up high above my head.

  Cage bars?

  Yes. I twisted around and gazed behind me. Bars all around. A cage. I was in a large cage.

  The ground was soft black dirt. I saw leafy trees inside the cage.

  “Huh?” With a gasp, I jumped to my feet. My heart began to race in my chest.

  The cage was huge. Bigger than my front yard. I saw a tire swing hanging from a limb of a tree. A row of tall bushes. A red-and-blue beach ball rested in a big sandbox, like you see in kiddie playgrounds.

  “What’s up with this?” I said out loud.

  I took a few steps across the dirt — and realized I wasn’t alone.

  Eyes stared in at me from the other side of the cage bars.

  I gasped when the faces came into focus. People were staring into the cage … staring at ME!

  Was I in a zoo?

  I saw about a dozen people. Some of them had goofy grins on their faces. They stared in at me, and poked each other, and giggled and pointed.

  Were they laughing at me?

  I struggled to get over my shock. “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey — where am I?”

  They jabbered back at me in funny, squeaky voices. Like cartoon voices.

  I couldn’t understand them at all. It sounded like, “Hubbahubbahubbahubba.”

  I could feel the panic sweeping over me. “Hey — answer me!” I shouted. “Where am I?”

  “Hubbahubbahubba.”

  I gripped the cage bars with both hands. “Do you think I’m some kind of monkey?” I shouted.

  That’s when I realized they weren’t staring at me. They were staring past me.

  I wasn’t alone in the cage.

  I heard heavy thuds pound the ground behind me.

  I swung around — and stared at a huge creature with dark brown fur. At least four or five feet taller than me, and as wide as a Jeep! Lumbering forward on two fat, furry legs. Kicking up black clouds of dirt.

  He gnashed two giant rows of teeth together as he thundered closer. His big black eyes were locked on mine.

  An enormous APE. Like out of a horror movie.

  King Kong versus Andy Meadows!

  He kicked the beach ball against the cage bars and kept coming.

  “I’m not a monkey!” I screamed. “I’m not a monkey!”

  I was out of my head with fear. I didn’t know what I was saying.

  The big ape didn’t seem to care. He tossed back his furry head and snarled. Then he gnashed his teeth together furiously.

  He stopped for a moment. Picked up a disgusting blob of grass and weeds from the dirt. Shoved it into his big mouth and swallowed it whole.

  Like he was showing me what he planned to do with me!

  But apes don’t eat meat — DO they?

  Outside the cage, the crowd grew quiet. No one moved. No one blinked.

  The snarling ape strode closer, kicking up a tornado of dirt.

  “The tooth!” I cried out loud.

  Yes. The tooth. My way out.

  Why had I waited so long?

  I grabbed for it. Wrapped my hand around it and lifted it from the front of my shirt.

  But before I could make my escape wish, the ape reached out an enormous paw — and swiped it from me.

  “Hey!” I made a frantic dive for it.

  I bounced off his leg. Landed hard in the swirling dirt.

  And watched the ape stomp away with the tooth.

  The huge ape smacked the tire swing as he stomped past it. The tire rocked back and forth so hard, the whole tree shook.

  “Give that tooth back!” I shouted.

  The furry ape turned and raised the tooth in the air.

  Was he going to toss it out of the cage?

  I froze.

  In my panic, I knew I had to get that tooth back. If I didn’t, I could spend the rest of my life in this zoo cage.

  The big ape held the tooth up close to his face, like he was studying it. He held the tooth out to me.

  Then he pulled back his arm and tossed the tooth over the cage bars.

  No. He only pretended to toss the tooth. He held it up to show me the tooth was still gripped tightly in his paw.

  The creature was teasing me with it!

  What could I do?

  Fear paralyzed my brain. I couldn’t think of anything.

  A gust of wind blew through the cage. The beach ball bounced against my legs.

  With a sigh, I started to kick it out of my way.

  But then I stopped. I had an idea. I picked up the big ball in both hands.

  Was the huge ape ready for a game of catch?

  I raised the beach ball over my head — and heaved it at the ape.

  The ape caught the ball in midair.

  And the tooth fell from his hand to the ground.

  I made a wild dive. Into the dirt. My hand scraped the ape’s foot. My fingers wrapped around the leather cord.

  Wet. The tooth had landed in a puddle of water.

  I snatched the tooth up. Raised it to my face.

  The ape leaned down — and made a wild grab for me with both paws.

  I rolled out from under the big creature. Squeezed the wet tooth.

  And screamed: “I wish I was back home safe and sound!”

  ZZZZZZZAAAAAPPPPPPP!

  A powerful current shocked my body. My arms
shot up over my head. All my muscles tensed, then throbbed with pain.

  Another electrical shock.

  My teeth clamped together. I bit my tongue.

  My throat closed. I couldn’t breathe.

  And still the current jolted through me, making me toss and spin and dance, a dance of pain and terror.

  The last thing I saw were those big black ape eyes … gleaming black … staring at me in surprise.

  The creature’s eyes seemed to grow … to inflate to the size of black balloons.

  And then, everything went black.

  “Ohhhh.” A sharp pain made the back of my head throb.

  I tried to raise my head, but it felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

  I opened my eyes. I saw a bright blur of yellow and white. Like a fried egg in front of my face.

  I blinked until my eyes started to focus. I was gazing up at a high ceiling. The yellow yolk was a ceiling light.

  “Where am I?” I groaned. My voice sounded hoarse, as if I’d been asleep for a long time.

  I stretched my arms at my sides. I was sprawled on my back on a hard floor. I tried my legs. I pulled my knees up, sliding my shoes on the floor.

  Yes. Legs and arms were working.

  Faces appeared over me. Worried faces, squinting at me, studying me with tight-lipped frowns.

  And then Marnie’s face floated over me. “Andy? Are you waking up?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmured. I rubbed the back of my head. “Am I awake? Where are we?”

  Several people were kneeling at my sides. A white-haired woman was leaning over me, squeezing my wrist. Taking my pulse. A very pale man with thick eyeglasses helped pull me to a sitting position.

  I leaned my head against a tile wall. In front of me, I saw a familiar store window. Shoe Universe.

  “Did anyone call for an ambulance?” a man said. “Does he need an ambulance?”

  “Did he faint?” a woman said. “Does he have a medical condition?”

  “I don’t think he needs an ambulance,” the white-haired woman said. She let go of my wrist. Then she squinted at me. “Do you remember your name and address?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m Andy Meadows.” I told her my address.

  She climbed to her feet. “If you have a headache later, you should call your doctor.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  Shaking their heads and murmuring to each other, people started to leave.