Free The Second Evil by R.L. Stine Page B

off.
    â€œWhat?”
    Corky blinked. Total darkness now.
    The frogs sang louder. Corky covered her ears with her hands.
    â€œWhat’s going on? Is someone here?”
    The singing of the frogs was the only reply.
    She stood, uncertain, leaning against the tall lab table. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light. “Is there a blackout?” she wondered out loud.
    Then she heard an unfamiliar
pop-pop-pop.
It took her a while to realize it was the sound of the glass lids popping off the specimen jars.
    She saw the lids fly up to the ceiling, then crash back to the floor, the glass shattering, flying across the floor.
    The contents of the jars floated up. Hundreds of dead flies rose up from one jar and darkened the air. Dozens of caterpillars followed them, floating silently in formation like a flock of birds.
    The croaking became deafening.
    As she stared in disbelief, Corky realized that the frogs were free. Their glass case had also shattered. About two dozen of them were leaping over the countertops, scrabbling toward her.
    â€œHelp!” Corky managed to yell.
    She gasped as something large and soft plopped onto the counter in front of her, splashed her, spread stickily over her test paper.
    The cow eyeball.
    It stared up at her as if watching her!
    The frogs were on her countertop too, leaping over one another, climbing onto the disgusting eyeball, crying out their excitement.
    The Venetian blinds began to clatter noisily, open-shut, open-shut, flying out into the room as if blown by the wind even though all the windows were closed.Sunlight flashed on and off, as fast as Corky could blink.
    I have to get out of here, she told herself.
    She brushed a croaking frog off her shoulder. Another one leapt at her face. The cow eyeball rose up, plopped down again, then rose up as if trying to fly.
    With a disgusted cry, Corky ducked as the wet eyeball flew at her face. It floated over her head. She could feel it spray her hair. Then she heard it land with a sickening plop on the floor.
    She had started running to the door when something at the front of the room caught her eye. The skeleton. It was no longer hunched over. It was standing straight, straining to free itself from its pedestal.
    Corky grabbed the doorknob and pulled. The door wouldn’t budge.
    â€œHelp!”
    She gasped as the room filled with a foul odor that invaded her nostrils, choked her throat. So sour.
    Sour as death.
    She tried the door again. “Help me! Is anyone out there?”
    Silence.
    â€œPlease! Help me!”
    And then over the clatter of the flying Venetian blinds and the mad croaking of the frogs, she heard a disgusting crack. So dry. The sound of cracking bones. And, looking to the front of the room, Corky saw one bony hand break off the skeleton.
    She watched, frozen in horror, as the hand, its fingers coiling and uncoiling as if limbering up, floated up over the countertops.
    The now handless skeleton continued to strain against its stand, attempting to free itself.
    The bony hand flew toward Corky as if shot from a gun.
    Corky tried to cry out, tried to duck. But the hand zoomed in on her, flew over the wildly hopping frogs, over the quivering eyeball, through the curtain of dead insects that choked the air.
    The hand slammed into her, grabbed her by the throat. The force of the collision sent her sprawling against the door.
    â€œHelp me! Somebody!” she shrieked in a voice she no longer recognized.
    And then the fingers tightened around her throat. The cold, bony hand squeezed tighter, tighter.
    Tighter. Until she could no longer breathe.

Chapter 13
Cut

    C orky noisily tried to suck in a deep breath.
    But the bony fingers dug farther into her throat, tightening their already steely grip. The room pulsed with noise. The clanking of the fluttering blinds competed with the frantic croaking of the frogs. The light brightened again, then dimmed.
    Then stayed dim as the hand choked off the last of Corky’s