The tires on Uncle Ben’s truck squealed to a stop, and we stepped out into the strangest disaster zone you can possibly imagine. For a minute, we were too stunned to move. We just stood there taking in the bizarre scene.
“What is this?” Uncle Ben said.
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
I’m not sure anyone did. There were aliens fighting robots, and mutants fighting people dressed like robots, and people dressed like robots fighting each other. Meanwhile, vampires and werewolves and mummies brawled like monsters in the street. It was as if all the creatures in the Mega-Monster Film Festival had suddenly jumped off the screen and started rioting.
“This is insane,” I gasped. “What are we going to do?”
“You wait here and keep an eye on things. Don’t go down there, you hear me? Just stay where you are and see where they go,” Uncle Ben said. “I’ve got a plan.”
He hopped back into his truck and sped away.
Now, I knew Uncle Ben had told me not to go down to where the fight was taking place, but how could I not? This was all my fault! I couldn’t just stand there doing nothing. So I waded into the battle.
Once I reached the crowd, all I could see was a bunch of odd figures pushing and fighting and yelling. Some of those figures looked like robots, and some of the robots looked like Monster, but a lot of them didn’t. I saw barrels with legs, and wooden crates with arms, and shiny metal people who could’ve been giant wind-up toys. Who knew what was underneath? Who knew what was real?
Then, about twenty-one feet away, I spied my first target. It was tall and silver with a funnel for a hat. My internal robo-radar was going crazy! Fortunately, the invader was locked in a wrestling match with Count Dracula at the moment, which made it the perfect time for a sneak attack. Carefully, I closed the gap and prepared to fling myself onto the mechanical beast. But at the last second, I stopped.
“Hey, are you a robot?” I said.
“Of course not!” it shouted. “I’m the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz!”
“The Wizard of Oz is not a monster movie!” Dracula screamed.
Then he punched the Tin Man in the stomach.
That’s when it dawned on me that these two were not fighting about my robots. In fact, a lot of the people who were fighting didn’t even seem to know there were any robots. But I knew. I knew because I could see one of them headed straight for a lighted movie sign.
This time, I was sure. Except for his hands, which were claws, he looked almost exactly like Monster. I blazed toward him at top speed, but my path was blocked when a chubby alien hunter ran in front of me.
“Take my picture!” he yelled.
“What?” I said.
He tossed me his cell phone.
“Cheeeeeese!” he said, and put his arm around the robot.
I snapped the photo. What else could I do? The man took his phone back and ran off laughing like he was having the time of his life.
Sci-fi people are weird.
I guess I shouldn’t have watched the man for as long as I did, because that’s when the robot hit me. I felt his goo-filled arm bash against my chest, launching me against the side of the brick building. Now, instead of heading for the sign, he was headed for me. I was trapped! I looked for a weapon, but it was too late. The robot was coming closer, and I saw him raise up a terrifying metal pincher. I held my hands in front of my face and waited to be squashed like a skinny grape. But just then, a quick, hairy blur sailed in front of me.
BAM!
The collision was ground-shaking. A figure in a Wolfman mask had thrown a flying body block on the attacking robot, sending it crashing against the pavement. The wolf sprung up and put its foot on the robot’s back.
“Hey robo-dork!” the Wolfman said. “Keep your claws off my little brother!”
It was Stick! Stick, my tormentor-in-chief, had come to my rescue! I was speechless — but not for long.
“Watch out!” I yelled.
Two more robots suddenly appeared. Stick wheeled around, but they were already right behind him, and then . . .
WHAP!
One of the robots punched the other. He socked him hard in the side of his boxy skull, and the unsuspecting goo-man staggered. Without saying a word, Stick fell onto all fours behind the stumbling robot’s legs.
“Now!” he said.
The puncher kicked the woozy robot in the gut, sending it over Stick’s back and onto the ground.
I was confused. That confusion turned into panic when I saw the standing robot do exactly what I’d been dreading — he pulled his head off! But instead of a squishy, multiplying ooze, I saw my dad’s face.
“You guys OK?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Howard, you shouldn’t be here,” Dad said. “Something very strange is going on.”
“Fun, though,” Stick said.
“Dad, there’s something you should know,” I said. “About these robots, I . . .”
I didn’t get the chance to finish my confession. A superbright light shined into my eyes, and I winced and covered my face.
“Howard!” Uncle Ben shouted. “Come on!”
“That’s Uncle Ben,” I said. “I’ll go with him.”
Dad looked around. The police had arrived and were breaking up fights, but the battle was still raging.
“Your sister and Hannah are out here somewhere,” he said. “As soon as we find them, we’ll head for home. In the meantime, you stay with Ben.”
Dad winked at Stick, and then they both picked up metal trash can lids, which they held like shields. I had a sneaky suspicion they weren’t finished robot hunting.
Turning around, I ran to Uncle Ben’s truck. When I got there, I saw that he’d loaded a large portable spotlight in the back.
“It took me a while to find one of these,” he said, tapping the mega-bright light. “If we’re lucky, we can use it as bait.”
Of course! The robots were hungry for power — that’s why they’d headed for the lights of downtown. So, to lure them away, we needed to show them a brighter light. My uncle was a genius! I climbed into the back of the truck.
“I’m going to drive down the street. When you see anything that looks like a robot, hit it with the light,” he said.
We cruised past the theater, and I shined the giant beacon into the crowd. Sure enough, the robots began to emerge. We kept moving, and I shot the light beam down every street and into every dark alley. Before long, we were being followed by a lengthy chain of robots. They marched behind us like electric zombies looking to feed.
It was working! The robots were drawn to the light. Uncle Ben drove really slowly, and there were a couple of times the metal pinchers were so close I had to duck down into the bed of the pickup to keep from getting clawed. But at least we had them away from the film festival.
We rolled steadily back toward Uncle Ben’s store. But I knew we’d never make it. Something strange was happening. The robots farthest away from the truck were turning and going in another direction. We were losing them! Then the robots in front turned too — and that’s when I saw it. A huge, powerful beam of light was piercing the night sky like a knife. It was a searchlight, the kind they use at grand openings and football games . . . and it was . . . coming from the school!
“Uncle Ben!” I screamed. “They’re headed for the Winter Formal!”