Goosebumps Most Wanted #5: Dr. Maniac Will See You Now (5 page)

I let out a sharp cry. Bree’s mouth dropped open. I could see she was breathing hard. Ernie scratched his head, his face twisted in confusion.

“It’s the end of the comic book world as we know it,” Maniac said softly.

“Excuse me?” I cried. “The
comic book
world?”

Bree frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

Dr. Maniac’s eyes flashed. “I have another riddle for you,” he said. “What’s the difference between an angry bumblebee and Christmas morning?”

Bree rolled her eyes. “Can we skip the riddles? Can you just tell us what you mean?”

“Give up?” Maniac said.

“Yes, we give up,” Bree replied.

Maniac grinned. “I don’t know the answer, either. But it’s a pretty good riddle — isn’t it?”

“Please,” I begged. “Tell us what’s happening here.”

He swept his leopard-skin cape behind him. “There was always a wall between the comic book world and the real world,” he said. “But do you see what has happened? Someone has opened the door between the two worlds. And the comic book characters are escaping into the real world.”

I swallowed. “You mean like you, and the Purple Rage, and the Star-Spangled Banger?”

Maniac nodded. “Yes. We’re all out in the real world now.” He shook his head. “This could be a total disaster, kid. There’s
no way
comic characters can fit in. No way we can get along with real people. There will be fights on every street corner. It will be WAR!”

I gasped.

“Uh … can I go home now?” Bree said. “I’m not really into comic books. This is kind of boring.”

I turned to her. “Bree, you heard what he just said. Don’t you want to save the world?”

“Not really,” she answered. “I have a lot of homework.” She tugged at a thick strand of her blond hair. “Also, I really don’t want people to see me hanging out with you, Richard. You understand, right?”

Ernie burst out laughing. “Because he’s a jerk?”

I gave Ernie a hard shove. Dr. Maniac stepped between us. “Forget about going home,” he said. “I can’t let any of you leave.”

Bree scowled at him. “What do you mean?”

“I need you three kids to bring the comic book characters back to the museum.”

“Us?” Bree cried. “You’re crazy.”

“I’m not crazy. I’m a MANIAC!” he exclaimed. He tossed back his head and laughed up at the ceiling.

Bree took off, running to the front doors. But Maniac flew across the hall, swooped in front of her, and blocked her way. She dodged left, then right. But he stayed with her.

“You can’t keep us here!” she cried.

“Yes, I can,” Maniac insisted. “You’re my hostages now.”

A stab of fear made me gasp. “Hostages?”

“That’s my brilliant plan,” he said. He grinned, thinking about his own brilliance. “It’s going to work. I know it will.”

“What’s your plan?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“Simple,” Maniac replied. “I’m holding you three as hostages, see. I’m going to tie you to chairs. Then I’m setting up TV cameras. Then I’m going to torture you with live tarantulas until you scream in agony.”

“Th-that’s your plan?” I stuttered. My heart was thudding in my chest. I glanced down at Ernie. His eyes were wide with fear.

“We have to get away from this nutcase,” Bree whispered in my ear. “How can we get out of here?”

Dr. Maniac grinned at me. “That’s my plan. Brilliant, huh? Especially the tarantulas part.”

“But — but — how does that help with the escaped comic book characters?” I asked.

“Simple as pineapple upside-down cake,” he said. “The comic book characters see you three kids screaming in pain from tarantula bites — and they come rushing back here to rescue you.”

I stared hard at him. “And then?”

“Then I send them back to Comic Book World,” he replied.

“Huh?” Bree uttered. “You call that a plan? That’s insane.”

“Of course it’s insane,” Maniac replied. “I’m a MANIAC!”

He forced us over to three folding chairs by the wall. Then he pulled out long black cords. “Don’t just stand there. Sit down so I can tie you to the chairs,” he said. “Then I have to go find me some hungry tarantulas.”

I opened my mouth in a loud, explosive sneeze. “I have bad allergies,” I told Maniac.

He squinted at me. “So?”

“So … I’m allergic to being tortured by tarantulas.”

“I have to go home now,” Bree said. “You can have your little comic book war without me. Seriously.”

Ernie looked up at Maniac. “Torture Richard first — okay?” he said. “Not me. Richard really wants to go first.”

Nice kid, right? I told you. He’s a peach.

I sneezed again. My brain was spinning. I was trying to come up with a way to escape from Dr. Maniac. I pictured my body covered in tarantulas. Snapping tarantulas crawling all over me, dozens of them, snapping and clawing and biting while people all over the world watched on TV.

My whole body itched and throbbed. I could feel the intense pain already.

I had to do something. But
what
?

Maniac was already strapping Ernie’s hands behind the chair.

Think of something … anything!

“Dr. Maniac, are you ticklish?” I asked.

He was leaning over Ernie, wrapping the cord around his hands. “Me? Ticklish? Yes, I am. Why?”

I dove to the floor. I grabbed one of Dr. Maniac’s boots and quickly pulled a bunch of yellow feathers off it. Then I jumped to my feet and began to tickle him under the chin.

Maniac started to giggle. He tried to squirm away, but I kept the feathers under his chin.

He giggled some more. His giggles turned to wild laughter.

He stood helplessly as I tickled him harder. Faster.

The dude was incredibly ticklish. While he laughed and squirmed, Ernie ripped the cords off his hands. He and Bree raced to the front doors.

“Stop! Stop! Oooooheeey! Oooohey!” Maniac laughed like a maniac. Tears rolled down his face. He laughed till he couldn’t breathe. He laughed till he choked.

Then he toppled onto his back, giggling and snorting. His arms and legs thrashed in the air, like he was a big turtle that had fallen over.

That’s how we left him. Laughing at the top of his lungs, flopping like a fish on the floor. Totally helpless.

I followed Bree and Ernie out the door. I didn’t look back.

We ran down the steps. The sun was nearly down. A cold evening breeze gusted at us. I could see a pale half-moon in the sky.

I couldn’t wait to get home. I knew Mom and Dad would be worried about Ernie and me.

“We could take the bus to your house,” Bree said.

“Let’s just
run
,” I said. “I don’t want to wait for a bus.”

We darted across the street and started to run along the sidewalk side by side. We only made it half a block.

Then we stopped — and gasped in shock.

“I — I don’t believe it!” I cried. “This is
too horrible
!”

Across the street, two red-caped superheroes were fistfighting on the roof of the bank. The bank alarm blared. The doors shot open — and two other masked characters ran out, carrying big bags of cash.

A gigantic dude with red lobster claws instead of hands slapped his claws against the window of a jewelry store. The glass shattered. The claws frantically grabbed up the jewels in the window.

People screamed. A group of frightened teenagers ran down the center of the street. Cars crashed. Sirens cut the air.

Two costumed characters battled on top of a black SUV, trading punches while the driver screamed at them from down below. A brown-fur-covered supervillain as big as a rhino grabbed a screaming woman’s purse and bounded off with it. Two hawklike characters with wide bird wings flapped into the air and took off after the enormous thief.

The frightened screams. The sirens. The THUD of fists as costumed characters pounded one another. The pounding footsteps as ordinary people tried to run from the scene …

It was all too much.

I covered my ears as I watched in horror. Dr. Maniac was right. It was definitely a war. The real world was being taken over by battling, robbing, screaming, out-of-control comic book characters.

Bree huddled beside me, her hands pressed to the sides of her face. “I
knew
we should have gone to a different museum,” she said. “What a mistake.”

“Huh?” I gaped at her. “We didn’t cause this. Just because we were there doesn’t mean —”

I ducked as a bald-headed, silver-costumed character flew low over our heads. I recognized him — the Bullet.

“This is cool!” Ernie declared. “Like being in a video game.”

“But it’s
real
,” I said. “And it’s dangerous.”

“Look OUT!” Bree shrieked.

Two characters wearing tiger masks and yellow-and-black capes leaped off a building and crashed to the ground right behind us. I heard their bones crack as they hit. But they climbed to their feet and continued punching each other.

“We’re
out
of here!” I cried. I dodged around the two battling tiger-dudes, lowered my head, and started to run.

The three of us ran without stopping until we reached my house. We passed two store robberies, an explosion, and several fistfights. A car squealed to a stop, and with a deafening crash, three cars piled into the back of it. The drivers burst from their cars and started punching one another.

Strange shadows swept over us as we ran, the shadows of comic book characters flying low in the sky.

I ran up the driveway to the back of the house. I pulled open the kitchen door and darted inside. Ernie and Bree followed closely behind. Did my parents have any idea what was going on out there?

“Mom! Dad!” I shouted. “Where are you? Mom! Dad!”

The kitchen was dark and empty. No food on the stove. The table hadn’t been set for dinner.

“Mom? Dad?”

I ran through the hall, into the living room. And stopped with a startled cry. “Oh, nooooo!”

Ernie couldn’t stop himself and banged into me. Bree stepped up beside me, her eyes wide with horror.

The two characters I’d seen on the way to school that morning — Captain Croaker and Terry Tadpole — slouched in their green costumes on our living room chairs. And Mom and Dad —

Oh, wow. Mom and Dad —

My parents were in cages. Metal dog crates. They were down on their hands and knees, crammed into cages against the wall.

“Mom! Dad! Are you okay?” I cried.

Inside her cage, Mom lifted her head. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for your father,” she said.

“My fault? How is it
my
fault?” Dad demanded.

“You opened the front door and let them in,” Mom replied.

“I did not!” Dad said. “They hopped in through the window. If you hadn’t left the window open, maybe we’d be okay.”

Mom banged her cage bars with her fist. “Shut up, Barry. Can you just shut up?”

I couldn’t believe it. Locked in cages — and they were still arguing!

I turned to the two froggy villains. “What are you
doing
here?” I shouted. “Let my parents
out
!”

Captain Croaker raised his feet to the ottoman and settled deeper into the chair. He patted the chair arms. He took his time answering me.

Finally, he croaked, “Don’t make waves, kid. This is
our
lily pad now.”