Contents
Title Page
Welcome. You Are Most Wanted.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Preview: Goosebumps® Most Wanted #5: Dr. Maniac Will See You Now
About the Author
Also Available
Copyright
Come in. I’m R.L. Stine. Welcome to the Goosebumps office.
Have a seat over there. Just move the pile of skulls onto the floor. I keep meaning to return them to their owners. But all skulls look alike to me. Know what I mean?
“OUCH!” Did Irving, my pet cobra, just bite you on the arm? Well, don’t worry. That means he likes you.
No worries. Really. The venom won’t paralyze you for half an hour. So we have plenty of time to talk.
Let me ask you a question while you can still move your lips. Who do you think is the Most Wanted monster of all time?
No. I wasn’t thinking of your brother. Although, he’s pretty high on the list.
And I wasn’t thinking of the drooling, grunting monster creeping up behind your chair right now. Don’t turn around. He’s very shy. He hates being watched when he’s preparing to pounce on a helpless victim.
The Most Wanted monster? I was thinking of Dr. Frankenstein’s monster.
That monster was sewn together from pieces of bodies. Then a real human brain was stuffed inside his head. Victor Frankenstein built the monster — and let it escape. It terrified the villagers, who had to fight to destroy it.
That was a long time ago. Our story today is about Victor Frankenstein’s great-grandson. Guess what? He’s also named Victor Frankenstein.
Is Victor a mad scientist like his great-grandfather? Is he also building a monster?
A girl named Kat Parker will tell you the story. She’s going to visit Victor Frankenstein because he’s her uncle. You and Kat will find some surprises at her uncle’s creepy, old mansion — surprises and terrifying danger.
And watch out for Frankenstein’s dog. Sure, he looks cute. But is he man’s best friend — or monster’s best friend?
“Ouch.”
The bus bumped over a rut in the narrow road. I gripped the seat in front of me and gazed out the dusty window.
We were riding through rolling green hills. Down below, I could see my uncle’s village with its tiny stone houses and shops and slanting red roofs. From up here, it looked like a toy village, little doll houses, a village for storybook elves.
I suddenly felt all fluttery, and I had to force myself to breathe normally. Hey, this was totally exciting. A long flight over the ocean. Then an eight-hour bus ride to a distant village hidden in the hills to see my uncle, Victor Frankenstein. I couldn’t believe it was happening.
My name is Kat Parker. I’m twelve, but I haven’t traveled like a lot of kids.
My parents are teachers, and there are five of us in our family. So we don’t have a lot of money. When we go on family vacations, it’s usually to a cabin at the lake a few hours from our house.
This spring, I had an idea for a project I wanted to do about my uncle Victor. So I wrote to him and asked if I could come visit for a week.
Uncle Victor and I are very close. I mean, I don’t see him that often, and I’ve never been to his house. But he flies to the United States and comes to our house for holidays. And he and I spend hours talking about his science projects and all his wild ideas.
I know. He’s a brilliant scientist and I’m just a sixth-grade girl. But I really think we have a lot in common. He’s kind of my idol. I mean, I’d love to be a scientist and inventor like him when I’m older.
He spends all his time just dreaming up amazing things and then building them. How much fun is that?
And now the bus was following the road down, curving through the grassy hills to the village. And I was getting more excited with each bump in the road, each turn taking me closer to him.
I couldn’t wait to tell Uncle Victor my project idea. I didn’t tell him in my letter. I wanted it to be a surprise.
My plan was to record a video blog of his work. I wanted to show his laboratory and his office, where he works, where he thinks up his wonderful science inventions.
Yes, it’s a school project. But it’s also something I’ve dreamed of doing for a long time.
I pressed my forehead on the glass and peered out the window as we rumbled past a tiny one-pump gas station, then a feed store with bags of seed stacked in front, then a café with a blue neon coffee cup filling the front window.
The bus squealed to a stop at a corner. No bus station. Just a wooden bench with a man in overalls sharing his lunch with a brown-and-white mutt.
I gazed around but didn’t see my uncle. I climbed into the aisle and pulled my suitcase down from the overhead rack. Then I made my way to the door, my heart pounding.
I was the only passenger getting off in the village. I thanked the bus driver. He gave a bored sigh and murmured, “Have a good one.”
I stepped off the bus, and he closed the door and pulled away. I glanced around. The man and the dog on the bench both stared at me. Like I was a Martian or something.
Guess the village doesn’t get many visitors.
A boy in baggy jeans and a long black T-shirt came out of a small grocery store carrying an ice cream cone. Two orange-and-white cats scampered across the road and disappeared into a narrow alley.
I shielded my eyes from the sun with one hand. It was a hot summer day. The air felt dusty and damp.
No sign of Uncle Victor.
My suitcase was getting heavy. I set it down on the curb. My uncle promised he’d be here to greet me. But I wasn’t surprised that he wasn’t here.
Victor is forgetful sometimes. I mean, he’s a genius scientist, right? He gets caught up in his work, and he just forgets about time.
I turned and peered up the street. No cars moving. I could hear voices from the café down the block. A young blond-haired guy leaned against the gas pump at the filling station, looking lonely and bored.
It’s such a tiny village, I thought. It can’t be very far to walk to Uncle Victor’s house.
A sweet smell floated on the air. I saw a woman walk out of a bakery shop across the street. I hoisted up the suitcase and crossed to the shop to get directions to Uncle Victor’s house.
A bell rang over the glass door as I pulled it open and stepped inside. I took a deep sniff. The air smelled like cinnamon. A glass counter displayed cakes and breakfast rolls. Coffee brewed on the counter beside it.
A white-haired woman with a round, red-cheeked face stood behind the counters. She wore a long white apron over a plain gray dress. She was chewing on a small brown chunk of bread. She watched me with narrowed gray eyes as I stepped close.
“Can I help you, miss?” Her voice was younger than her appearance.
“I … just got off the bus. Can you tell me how to walk to my uncle’s house?”
r /> She squinted harder. “Well, who’s your uncle?”
“Oh. I’m sorry,” I said. I could feel myself blushing. “Victor Frankenstein.”
She dropped the bread onto the plate. Her mouth formed an “O” of surprise. “Don’t go there,” she murmured.
I wasn’t sure I heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t go up there.”
I did hear correctly. “He … he’s my uncle —” I started.
She raised both hands, as if pushing me back. “He’s crazy. Like his great-grandfather before him,” she said. “Up in that old mansion.”
“If you could just tell me —”
“Building monsters. That’s what he’s doing,” she said. She was breathing hard now, her face even redder than before.
I took a step back. I felt frightened. I didn’t know what to say. “He — he’s a scientist,” I said. “He isn’t —”
“Building monsters,” she repeated. “No one is safe with him in town. No one. He’s up in that mansion. Crazy as the first Victor Frankenstein all those years ago. Building monsters.”
“You’re wrong,” I said. “That can’t be true.”
“Don’t go there. I’m warning you.” She waved me toward the door.
I spun away, pushed open the door, and stumbled to the street. She followed me outside.
“Oh!” I uttered a gasp as I saw that a crowd had gathered. A crowd of villagers, young and old. They formed a wide circle around me. They didn’t look friendly.
“Wh-what’s wrong?” I cried. My voice came out tiny and high.
“Who are you?” a woman shouted.
“She’s Frankenstein’s niece!” the woman from the bake shop announced.
“Go home!” a man shouted. I recognized him. The one with the dog on the bench. “Go home!”
The crowd took up the chant. “Go home! Go home! Go home!”
“We don’t want you here!”
“Your uncle is a monster-maker! Your family isn’t welcome in this village!”
“Go home! Go home! Go home!”
And then two angry young men — dark-haired twins — grabbed me by the arms.
“Hey, let go!” I cried. “What are you doing! Let go! Let go of me!”
“Let go! You’re hurting me!” I cried. My legs felt weak and rubbery, but I struggled to pull myself free.
“Go home! Go home!” the crowd chanted. The faces were red and angry.
I tried to cry out for help. But my voice caught in my throat.
Suddenly, the twins let go of my arms. I stumbled forward, into a blond-haired boy. We both almost fell over. But he grabbed me by the shoulders and steadied me.
I pulled back. My heart raced in my chest. What was he going to do?
“You’re okay,” he shouted over the angry crowd. “Your uncle sent me. My name is Robby.”
He spun angrily to the crowd and raised both hands for silence. It took a while for the chanting to end.
“Why are you doing this?” he shouted. “Why are you trying to scare her? She’s a visitor. Is that the way you treat visitors?”
I was still panting, gasping for breath. I stared at the crowd, silent now. But would they attack me again?
“If she’s a Frankenstein, we don’t like her,” one of the dark-haired twins said. He had his fists clenched, his jaw tight.
“We don’t like what her uncle is doing up there,” his brother snarled. He pointed up the hill at the end of town.
“You are superstitious fools!” Robby cried. “He is a scientist. He isn’t building monsters!”
Monsters?
Why did the villagers believe Uncle Victor was building monsters?
“Leave her alone,” Robby shouted. “Show her some kindness.”
He stuck his chest out, as if ready to fight them. But he didn’t look tough. He was an inch or two shorter than me and kind of skinny. With his blond hair, pale blue eyes, and freckled nose, he didn’t look like much of a fighter.
But the villagers backed away. The twin brothers glared at me. Then they turned and walked into the bakery shop. People muttered and shook their heads as they went off in different directions.
“Sorry about that,” Robby said. “Are you okay?”
“I … guess,” I replied. “Just a little freaked out. I didn’t expect to be attacked by an angry mob.” I wiped some dust off the front of my T-shirt.
“They’re more frightened than angry,” Robby said. He picked up my suitcase from the curb. “That’s because they like to spread dumb rumors. They talk about your uncle as if he’s some kind of crazed horror-movie scientist. But it’s not true.”
He motioned with his head toward the hill at the edge of town, and I started to follow him. “I think I know Uncle Victor really well,” I said. “He’s so quiet and shy.”
Robby nodded. Our shoes crunched on the sandy road. We passed a small bank, another café, and a post office with faded travel posters in the window.
People stared at us from the café window. I felt a chill seeing their hard, unfriendly faces.
“My mom says Uncle Victor is kind of forgetful. And he gets wrapped up in his work,” I said. “But he’s too sweet to be a mad scientist.”
Robby nodded. “Yeah. He seems like an okay guy.” He shifted my suitcase to his other hand.
The sun grew hotter as we left town behind and started to climb the sloping hill. Tall grass tilted in every direction on both sides of the road.
As the road curved, a house came into view up high in the distance. It was huge and gray, and I could see several chimneys towering over the wide, dark roof.
“Is that my uncle’s house?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the sun.
Robby nodded. “Yeah. That’s the Frankenstein mansion. It’s very old. The house has been in the Frankenstein family for generations. I mean, it’s ancient.”
“Uncle Victor told me about it,” I said. “But he never said it was as big as a castle.”
Robby swatted a bee off his hair. The bee circled his face, then darted away. “Why’d you come?” he asked. “Just for a visit?”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “I’ve never been here.” The hill grew steeper. I had to hurry to keep up with Robby.
“And I have a project I want to do,” I said.
He squinted at me. “Project? Like a science project?”
“No. I want to do a video blog. You know. About my uncle and his work. Show his experiments and have him talk about them.”
Robby nodded. “For school?”
“Yes,” I said. “And I’m hoping if it turns out really good, maybe it’ll help me get a scholarship to this special science school I want to go to.”
“Cool,” he muttered.
I had another idea. “Maybe I’ll do a video tour around the old house, too. Like something extra. I want the blog to be really good.”
Robby said something in reply, but I couldn’t hear him. A crowd of fat crows huddling in the tall grass began cawing their heads off.
Robby laughed. “They sound like the villagers.”
The crows flapped their wings noisily but didn’t fly away. Some of them watched Robby and me as we walked past.
As we neared the top of the hill, I could see the house clearly. It was built of smooth gray stone with black shutters on the sides of tall windows stretching up to a slanting roof.
Were those crows circling the chimneys high above us — or bats?
We stepped up to a tall metal fence. Robby set down the suitcase. Then he unlatched the gate. I led the way.
We had gone two or three steps when I heard the low growls. I stopped short and Robby bumped into me.
The growls became louder. I let out a cry as two snarling black dogs came furiously galloping across the vast front yard toward us.
They were big and tall, angry, red-eyed, their mouths open, teeth bared. Their backs were arched, ready to attack.
“Don’t move,” Robby said. “Guard dogs.” He pulled
a whistle that hung around his neck. “No problem. This controls them.”
“Hurry!” I said. “Blow it!”
He raised the whistle to his mouth.
“Nooo!” I shouted as it slipped out of his hand. The whistle sank into the grass.
And the snarling dogs leaped at us, gnashing their pointed teeth.
I ducked and made a frantic grab for the whistle. My hand fumbled in the tall grass.
A shadow swept over me, and I felt a burst of wind on my back. One of the dogs leaped right over me. I heard it land with a hard thud behind me on the grass.
I found the whistle and wrapped my fingers around it.
Robby was wrestling with the other dog. The creature had Robby pinned to the ground, and it was standing on Robby’s chest, snapping its teeth at his shirtsleeve.
The dog spun around and was preparing to leap at me again.
I raised the whistle to my mouth. And blew it with all my strength.
Silence.
The whistle didn’t make a sound.
But the dogs went limp. Robby’s attacker lowered its head and backed off him. The other dog uttered a long sigh. It shook itself, then turned and slumped toward the house.
I pulled Robby to his feet. His sleeve was torn, but the dog hadn’t bitten his arm. He shook his head, as if shaking the attack from his mind.
“Close one,” he murmured.
The tall front doors to the house swung open. Uncle Victor came running out. “Kat, are you okay?” he called.
“I’m fine,” I said.
He wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so sorry. I meant to chain those dogs. But I got tied up in the lab and …” He pushed me back to take a look at me. Then he smiled and hugged me again. “Well, you sure got an exciting welcome. The rest of your stay probably won’t be as exciting.”