Free 02 - Stay Out of the Basement by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) Page A

the plant with the face.
Inside a cluster of broad leaves there appeared to grow a round, green tomato.
But the tomato had a human-shaped nose and an open mouth, from which it
repeatedly uttered the most mournful sighs and groans.
    Another plant, a short plant with clusters of broad, oval leaves, had two
green, nearly human faces partly hidden by the leaves, both wailing through open
mouths.
    “Let’s get out of here!” Casey cried, grabbing Margaret’s hand in fear and
tugging her away from the closet. “This is—gross!”
    The plants moaned and sighed. Green, fingerless hands reached out to
Margaret and Casey. A yellow, sick-looking plant near the wall made choking
sounds. A tall flowering plant staggered toward them, thin, tendril-like arms
outstretched.
    “Wait!” Margaret cried, pulling her hand out of Casey’s. She spotted
something on the closet floor behind the moaning, shifting plants. “Casey—what’s that?” she asked, pointing.
    She struggled to focus her eyes in the dim light of the closet. On the floor
behind the plants, near the shelves on the back wall, were two human feet.
    Margaret stepped cautiously into the closet. The feet, she saw, were attached
to legs.
    “Margaret—let’s go!” Casey pleaded.
    “No. Look. There’s someone back there,” Margaret said, staring hard.
    “Huh?”
    “A person. Not a plant,” Margaret said. She took another step. A soft green
arm brushed against her side.
    “Margaret, what are you doing?” Casey asked, his voice high and frightened.
    “I have to see who it is,” Margaret said.
    She took a deep breath and held it. Then, ignoring the moans, the sighs, the
green arms reaching out to her, the hideous green-tomato faces, she plunged
through the plants to the back of the closet.
    “Dad!” she cried.
    Her father was lying on the floor, his hands and feet tied tightly with plant
tendrils, his mouth gagged by a wide strip of elastic tape.
    “Margaret—” Casey was beside her. He lowered his eyes to the floor. “Oh,
no!”
    Their father stared up at them, pleading with his eyes. “Mmmmm!” he cried, struggling to talk through the gag.
    Margaret dived to the floor and started to untie him.
    “No—stop!” Casey cried, and pulled her back by the shoulders.
    “Casey, let go of me. What’s wrong with you?” Margaret cried angrily. “It’s
Dad. He—”
    “It can’t be Dad!” Casey said, still holding her by the shoulders. “Dad is at
the airport—remember?”
    Behind them, the plants seemed to be moaning in unison, a terrifying chorus.
A tall plant fell over and rolled toward the open closet door.
    “Mmmmmmm!” their father continued to plead, struggling at the tendrils that
imprisoned him.
    “I’ve got to untie him,” Margaret told her brother. “Let go of me.”
    “No,” Casey insisted. “Margaret—look at his head.”
    Margaret turned her eyes to her father’s head. He was bareheaded. No Dodgers
cap. He had tufts of green leaves growing where his hair should be.
    “We’ve already seen that,” Margaret snapped. “It’s a side effect, remember?”
She reached down to pull at her father’s ropes.
    “No—don’t!” Casey insisted.
    “Okay, okay,” Margaret said. “I’ll just pull the tape off his mouth. I won’t
untie him.”
    She reached down and tugged at the elastic tape until she managed to get it
off.
    “Kids—I’m so glad to see you,” Dr. Brewer said. “Quick! Untie me.”
    “How did you get in here?” Casey demanded, standing above him, hands on his
hips, staring down at him suspiciously. “We saw you leave for the airport.”
    “That wasn’t me,” Dr. Brewer said. “I’ve been locked in here for days.”
    “Huh?” Casey cried.
    “But we saw you—” Margaret started.
    “It wasn’t me. It’s a plant,” Dr. Brewer said. “It’s a plant copy of me.”
    “Dad—” Casey said.
    “Please. There’s no time to explain,” their father said urgently, raising his
leaf-covered head