The Attack of the Aqua Apes (5 page)

Mac seemed to love playing ball. Sometimes he threw it right to Scott or Glen. And sometimes he threw it past them so that they would have to go fetch it. But when Scott or Glen tried to make Mac fetch, Mac refused. He simply sat down and waited for one of them to get it.

“Hey, do you think Mac is shrinking?” Scott asked as he fetched the ball for the little ape.

“Gee. I think he is. He looks smaller—and sort of flatter.”

Scott rolled the ball gently to Mac. But Mac ignored it. He slowly crawled back to Scott's desk. Then, just like a bug, he climbed right up the side and pulled himself into his aquarium.

Scott stood and stared at Mac, who was now floating in the water. “Look!” he called to Glen. “He's starting to puff up again. I guess he can't
be out of the water for too long. It wears him out.”

“We should let him rest,” Glen suggested, picking up his jacket. “Why don't we go to the mall and play Thunder Racer at the video arcade?”

Scott grabbed his jacket off the bed. “Why would you want to do that? You stink at Thunder Racer. It can't be much fun for you.”

“You're the one who stinks,” Glen shot back, heading for the door.

“You crash and burn every time you step on the gas pedal,” Scott insisted. He glanced around the room for his baseball cap. He found it hanging on the back of his desk chair near Mac's tank. He grabbed it and stuck it on.

“Yeah, well, the only reason you don't crash is because you drive five miles an hour,” Glen told him as they leaped down the stairs.

“First one to the bus stop gets the first turn!” Glen yelled. He shoved through the front door ahead of Scott and took off down the street.

“The only way you can beat me is by cheating,” Scott called, racing after him. Then he stopped. “Hey, wait. Mac's aquarium doesn't
have a lid! We have to go back and cover it with something.”

Glen turned around and trotted backward toward the bus stop. “Don't worry,” he shouted. “Mac's resting. Besides, what could happen?”

“W
atch out!” Glen yelled. “You're gonna get creamed!”

But it was too late. Scott had already lost control of the video race car. He closed his eyes just as he was about to hit the wall. The sound of the crash echoed all around him.

Thunder Racer was the coolest game in the arcade. The seats of the car bounced around as if the car were actually speeding around a racetrack. The video screen in front of the car was gigantic. And huge speakers made everything sound totally real.

“Give me another quarter,” Scott said to Glen.
He was having so much fun that he had almost forgotten all about Mac.

Almost.

He couldn't help wondering if he should have used distilled water to grow the aqua apes. He was afraid using the Fear Lake water had made Mac turn out . . . wrong.

“No way,” Glen answered. “It's my turn.”

“Come on,” Scott pleaded, refusing to budge from the driver's seat. “I let you go twice.”

“Yeah, but this is my last quarter,” Glen said. “And it's my turn!”

“If you got to go twice in a row, I get to go twice in a row,” Scott insisted.

Scott dug through the pockets of his jeans, searching for change. No luck. He tried his jacket pockets next.

But instead of quarters, Scott found something else. Something he hadn't put there.

And whatever it was, it definitely did not belong in his jacket. It felt damp and yucky, like a wad of wet tissues.

And then it moved!

“Aaaagh!” Scott screamed, yanking his hand out of his pocket.

“What's wrong?” Glen asked, startled.

But he didn't have to wait for an answer.

Mac leaped out of Scott's pocket and landed on the steering wheel!

Scott's jaw gaped open. “Hey! How did you get in there?”

He was quite a bit smaller—but they had been at the arcade for an hour now. Scott figured Mac shrunk because he'd been out of the water all that time.

Scott reached down to pick Mac up. But Mac was too fast. He jumped onto the side of the car and dived into the coin return slot.

“Uh-oh,” Glen gasped. “How are we gonna get him out of there?”

“I don't know,” Scott groaned, peering down into the slot.

“Maybe this will work,” Glen said. He pushed the coin return button.

Mac didn't come back out. But a quarter did.

“Cool,” Glen said, reaching for the quarter. But before he could pick it up, another quarter dropped out.

And then another.

And another.

Then quarters started pouring out of the machine.

“Oh, no,” Scott moaned, trying to shove the quarters back in. “It looks like Mac broke the machine.”

Glen pushed Scott's hands out of the way so the quarters could keep coming. “So what's the problem? This is great!” Glen exclaimed as he scooped up a handful of change.

“Hey! You!” a really deep, really mean voice called from behind them. “What do you two clowns think you're doing over there?”

Scott and Glen turned toward the voice.

“Uh-oh. It's the manager—Big Bruno,” Scott whispered. “And he's heading this way!”

“W
e've got to get out of here!” Scott cried.

The manager stomped through the crowds of kids. Getting closer and closer.

“What about Mac?” Glen asked. “We can't just leave him here!”

As if he heard Glen, the aqua ape popped out of the coin slot as quickly as he'd jumped in.

“Here he is,” Scott cried, spotting Mac. He reached out for him but Mac was too fast. He sprang from the top of the coin slot to the floor. Then he scurried away.

Scott and Glen charged after Mac. Scott glanced over his shoulder—and breathed a long
sigh of relief. The manager wasn't chasing them. He was too busy picking up all the quarters they'd left behind.

That was the good news. The bad news was that Mac was lost in a sea of sneakers. Sneakers attached to kids who were playing video games—yelling, screaming, and jumping. Jumping up and down in excitement. Pounding the floor. Narrowly missing Mac as he weaved in between them.

Nobody seemed to notice Mac as he zigzagged through the crowd.

“Look out!” Scott yelled as a tall, stocky kid with major muscles almost smashed Mac flat.

Mac dove over the shoe and escaped. But Scott ran right into the kid. “Look out, yourself,” the kid snarled, shoving Scott hard.

Scott fell backward into Glen. Then they both tumbled to the floor. By the time they scrambled to their feet, they had lost sight of Mac.

“Oh, no!” Scott cried. “Where is he?”

“I don't see him anywhere,” Glen answered.

Then, suddenly, a pinball machine near Scott came alive—all by itself.

The balls started zinging around inside.

The lights flashed on and off.

Bells clanged.

Buzzers buzzed.

Scott had the terrible feeling that he knew exactly where Mac was.

And he could tell Glen was thinking the same thing. Glen leaned over and peeked into the coin return slot.

“Can you see anything?” Scott asked. The balls began zipping around the machine faster and faster. Bouncing off the bumpers. Disappearing down secret traps, then popping out again. The bells clanged louder as more balls flew—flew around the machine, which was shaking madly now. It looked as if it were about to blast off!

Glen tried to peer into the coin slot, but the machine wouldn't stand still. A crowd of kids had gathered to watch, as smoke started to pour out of the top.

“It's going to explode!” one of the kids yelled.

Then, suddenly, all the pinball lights popped off. The metal balls stopped rolling. The bells and buzzers wheezed into silence. And, from the bottom of the machine, Mac dropped to the floor.

As Scott started to reach for Mac, a big hairy hand clamped down on his shoulder. Hard. It was Big Bruno.

“What's going on here?” he boomed. Then he glanced down and spotted Mac. Mac's claws were wedged in the wooden floor. He was struggling to free himself.

Big Bruno squinted. Scott could tell he wasn't exactly sure what he was looking at.

Bruno lifted his face and shoved it inches away from Scott's nose. His hot, stinking breath filled Scott's nostrils as he roared, “No pets allowed!”

Then he lifted his huge foot.

Scott glanced at Mac. He was twisting and turning. Frantically trying to free himself from the wooden planks.

Scott watched in horror as Bruno brought his black boot down.

Down.

Down on Mac.

To grind him into the floor—forever.

S
cott shot out his hands and plowed right into Big Bruno. The manager stumbled backward, trying to keep his balance.

Glen quickly scooped Mac up from the floor. “Got him!” he yelled to Scott. He stuffed Mac into his jacket pocket. Then the two boys ran.

As they raced out of the arcade, they could hear Big Bruno hit the floor with a huge thud.

“Guess we can't go back there again!” Scott shouted as they dashed to the bus stop.

“That's for sure,” Glen replied, panting.

Scott couldn't stop trembling on the bus ride home. He didn't feel much like talking, and Glen didn't either.

“What are we going to do with Mac now?” Scott finally asked when they were safely back in his room.

“What can we do?” Glen shrugged. “I think we're stuck with him.”

“Well, from now on he's staying in his aquarium,” Scott said firmly. “And we'll definitely have to make a cover for it.”

Glen reached into his pocket and pulled Mac out.

“What happened to him?” Glen cried. “He looks horrible!”

He really does, Scott thought. Mac was all shriveled up. And wrinkled—like a prune. He had shrunk to the size of a tiny bug.

Scott stared at his face. His eyes were sunken in. And his lips were cracked and curled back so that his jagged teeth jutted out. He resembled a dry sponge with baby fangs.

His little chest heaved up and down. And he was wheezing. Gasping for breath. Scott couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He took him from Glen and gently slid him inside his aquarium.

Then, the instant Mac hit the water, it happened.

Mac started to change.

Into something no one—not even the kids who lived on Fear Street—would believe.