Mutant Bunny Island

  Rain lay on the horn and yelled, “Coming through!”

  The people just stood there as Rain swerved around them.

  “Bunny Mooners!” he yelled. “No matter what happens, they never notice anyone but themselves! They come here and think they’re all that matter. They should really work on their self-awareness.”

  I sort of thought Rain could do a little work on his own.

  “Oh, there’s the mall. It’s one of the few places with air-conditioning.”

  The mall didn’t look that different than most of the malls I had seen in Ohio. The only difference was that on the top, there was a giant pair of bunny ears sticking up.

  “Could you pleeeeeease try and stop!” I pleaded.

  “I can’t,” Rain said happily. “There really are no brakes! We’ll need something to crash into when we want to stop. But don’t worry, the universe always provides a way.”

  “I don’t think we should be friends!” I yelled.

  “I’m thirteen! I wouldn’t be friends with a ten-year-old for anything. Especially a Bunny Mooner!”

  “Okay, fine! Why doesn’t your bike have brakes?!”

  “I built it myself. I’m still saving up for them!”

  We whizzed past a field filled with flowers that looked like pink suction cups. Rain swerved to miss a brown bunny and hit a tree root that was stretched out across the sidewalk. The bike bounced two feet up and came down, hard.

  I looked back to make sure my suitcases were still okay. One of the yellow bungee cords was slipping off! This was now a life-or-starve situation—my snacks were in danger. And who would save my uncle if I died of starvation? Rain bounced over another root. If only I had been born with tentacles, I could wrap them around Rain, grab the handlebars, and bring this dangerous ride to a stop.

  I raised my fist to the sky and cursed the universe for only giving me two puny arms.

  As the bike shook again, I did the only thing I could: I imagined my arms and legs were tentacles and wrapped them as far as I could around Rain’s body. I hung on to him like a limited edition Admiral Uli backpack.

  I’ll be honest—it wasn’t my finest idea.

  Rain hollered as I bound both his arms and caused him to take his hands off the handlebars again. The bike raced down the road. It shot out from between two palm trees and rocketed onto a bumpy dirt path.

  “Let go of me!” Rain yelled.

  “For the love of lobsters, stop this bike!”

  “I can’t steer while you’re holding me.”

  The bike raced down the path with both of us still on it. Ahead I could see white sand covering everything like a heavenly coating of sugar and salt. Beyond that, ocean. Between the dirt road and the beach was a curb made of rocks.

  “Let go!” Rain screamed again.

  I let go and unwrapped my legs so Rain could grab the handlebars and pull up. The front wheel popped over the rocky curb and we went whizzing between two golf carts and onto the sandy beach.

  Ahead of us were three grown men working on a large sand castle. A normal person would have tried to avoid them, but Rain wasn’t normal. He steered directly toward their creation. The three men waved and yelled, but nothing they shouted helped slow us down, and we plowed into the sand castle with a giant WHACKTHUDSMOOSH!

  Rain and I flew off the bike and into the ocean. Waves splashed all around me as I frantically tried to pull myself above the water. I thought I was going to drown until I remembered I was actually a pretty good swimmer. I had begged my dad for lessons when I was seven, right after I nearly drowned in a large puddle of rainwater because I was pretending it was a portal to a different world. Anywho, now those swimming lessons were really paying off.

  I swam toward the shore fighting the waves and marveling over how salty the water tasted. It reminded me of Admiral Uli and of the mashed potatoes my dad made. He always oversalted everything, which was just the way I liked it.

  I really missed him.

  At the edge of the water I sat down and coughed and choked while pulling bits of seaweed out of my hair. I felt like I was under attack from a wet salad. And I was soaked in both body and mind. I had always wanted to see the ocean, but I had hoped for a better introduction. A few feet to the right of me, Rain stepped out of the waves.

  The three men were staring at what used to be their large castle. Now it was just a sand dump with a bike sticking out of it. My suitcases had broken the bonds of bungee and were lying near the water on dry land.

  Rain walked up to me and stuck out his hand to pull me up.

  “You’re pretty tough,” he said. “I probably should have told you about the brakes before you got on.”

  I guessed that was his version of an apology. “That would have been nice,” I said.

  Rain opened his palm and held it toward me. Not knowing what to do I slapped it and gave him five.

  “Actually, you owe me ten dollars.”

  “Oh, is there any discount for almost dying?”

  “Nine dollars is fine.”

  “Also, we’re not even at my uncle’s house.”

  “I’ll take eight then. And his house is two blocks that way.” Rain pointed to a street at the end of the beach. “It’s just past that glass payphone.”

  As I stood up, water drained from all the pockets of my green cargo pants. I fished out some wet money and handed it over.

  “If I can ever be of service again, just let me know,” Rain said.

  I was too frustrated and wet to even reply.

  He pulled his bike out of the sand while the sand castle builders yelled. I collected my suitcases and did a quick inspection. They were both sandy but otherwise okay. If they had landed in the water, my life and appetite would have been ruined for good.

  I pushed the buttons on the handles and pulled them up.

  I dragged my suitcases through the sand and toward the Gray Hare subdivision. My sneakers sloshed with water and made disgusting noises with every step I took.

  So far Bunny Island was sweaty and wet. I missed my dad, Rain had almost killed me, and my butt was itchy from sand. On the brighter side, I had finally swum in the ocean, which was something all wannabe squids should do. I thought about stopping for a moment to give myself a high five, but I didn’t. Not only was my uncle in trouble, but it sounded like someone was following me.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JUST LIKE I THUNK, NO UNK

  As I continued up the street toward my uncle’s house, I was sure I heard something coming up behind me, clicking and scraping like a newt with a bionic metal tail. My heart began to pound, and sweat dripped on my forehead. I looked straight ahead and tried to stay calm. I wasn’t in the mood to fight anything. Actually, I would probably never be in the mood. Sadly, I had no real fighting skills. I had always wanted to learn karate or kickboxing or cephalopod slap dancing, but the only thing I knew how to do was kick blindly and run.

  I picked up my pace, still dragging my suitcases and listening carefully to whatever it was behind me. It didn’t really sound like the footsteps of a newt, but I couldn’t be certain. At the glass phone booth at the front of the Gray Hare subdivision, I paused. I had never seen a real-life phone booth in the wild, only on TV and in old movies. The booth looked a little blurry from the nervous sweat getting into my eyes and clouding my vision. I needed to do something quickly, or I might not even be able to see who was after me. I spun around and kicked as hard as I could while yelling, “Eel the pain!”

  Unfortunately, they didn’t “eel” anything, because my kick completely missed its target. My leg kept swinging and I spun around and fell over onto my side. Sand busted up my nose as my face hit the ground.

  I could hear the creature screaming . . . or was it laughing?

  I rolled over and blew sand out of my nose. Standing over me and looking way too happy was Rain. He was holding on to his bike and laughing like this was all just one big laughing contest and he was determined to win.

  “Why are you sneaking
up on me?” I wiped my stinging eyes.

  “I wasn’t sneaking!” Rain insisted. “We all have places to go.”

  Places to go? That seemed suspicious. He probably snuck away to wash the salt water off himself. I tried to peek around him to see if he had a newt tail.

  “Are you okay, Perry?”

  I was a little surprised that he remembered my name.

  “Can I ask you a question, Rain?”

  He didn’t say no.

  “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Pizza.”

  Shoot. If Rain was a newt he was trying to throw me off his trail—pizza was something any real newt hated.

  “You sure you don’t like mealworms?”

  “Good-bye, Perry.”

  Rain crossed the street as I sat there picking sand out of my eyes, ears, nose, and hair. After a moment, I stood up and looked around for any newt tracks or tail marks in the sand. There was nothing but sunshine and the scent of the ocean.

  When I looked up the street, I couldn’t see Rain anywhere. It appeared that he had just disappeared into the neighborhood. Or maybe he was hiding himself by blending into the scenery.

  “Very newt-like,” I whispered.

  Camouflage was also squid-like, but there was no way Rain was a squid.

  The Gray Hare subdivision was filled with small houses that didn’t match. Some had grass roofs and peeling paint, and some were modern-looking glass boxes. A few were decorated with colorful plastic statues in their front yards or flags waving in the wind. Soon I was standing in front of what must have been my uncle’s place.

  “This is it.”

  I’ll be honest, I never thought I would travel here. When Zeke told me about his home, Bunny Island had always sounded like a pretend place. Now here I was. His house looked just like I thought it would. It was small, square, and bright yellow, and it reminded me of a giant Lego brick. The multicolored shingles on the roof reflected the afternoon sun. And to my pleasant surprise, a squid was painted on the faded green front door. Zeke’s garden was overgrown and he had a mailbox shaped like a pelican.

  I took a deep breath and made my way up to the door with the painted squid. If only I had more in common with it than I actually did, I’d be better equipped to save my uncle. I traced my finger around the picture and then knocked three times, hoping against hope that my uncle would open it and inform me that this was all just a big misunderstanding, or that he had already escaped on his own. Then we could hang out for a bit and I could fly home, go to my room, and never get sand in my butt crack again.

  Nobody answered. As I’d feared.

  I reached out and turned the doorknob. The door wasn’t locked, and when I pushed it open I could hear something moving around inside the house. My heart hammered in my chest. I reached into one of my still-wet pockets and pulled out a pen. Sure, it wasn’t an ink blaster, but it had ink. Clutching the pen in my right hand, I prepared to jab like crazy. With my other hand, I reached down and picked up some dirt from a potted plant on the porch. Newts had sensitive eyes. A little ink and dirt to the eyes can stun them considerably.

  “You can do this,” I whispered. “Then again, maybe you can’t.”

  I wasn’t sure I was brave enough to walk into the house. Let’s face it, I’m not a very scary opponent.

  I felt like Admiral Uli when he was about to step into the Cave of Cod in Ocean Blasterzoids Issue #30. He had been nervous and excited to find the Kelp of Resistance. Well, I was nervous and excited to find my uncle.

  I counted to five and then screamed, “It’s tentacle time!”

  Dashing through the door, I stumbled over a white bunny sitting in the entryway. I lurched forward onto an old leather couch that was covered with a blue knitted blanket. The blanket wrapped around my head like a warm octopus.

  Valiantly, I fought it off.

  It was a quick fight. When it was over, I threw the blanket to the ground and sat up straight on the couch. The bunnies on the carpet ignored me. I wasn’t surprised to see them. They seemed like just the kind of distraction a newt would use against me.

  I quickly began to search the place, looking for any clue that might reveal where my uncle had been taken. Everything was a mess. Drawers were pulled open, and trash and piles of dirty clothes were scattered across the floor. A couple of bunnies chewed on chair legs and scratched at the walls. In a corner of the living room, I found a lopsided red desk.

  On top of the desk sat a plastic radio shaped like a whale next to a silver picture frame. Inside the frame was a photo of my uncle and me at an amusement park in Ohio. Zeke was making bunny ears behind me. My father had taken the picture a few years ago when my uncle had come to visit us. I studied Zeke’s face. He was tan and had a mustache like my dad. His eyes looked like they were lit from within, and he was smiling like always. It was a nice picture, but a lousy clue.

  In the top drawer of the desk I found a small, blank Ocean Blasterzoids notepad.

  “Perfect.”

  I grabbed a pen and jotted down a few known facts. Like Uli, if I was going to solve this mystery, I needed to take notes.

  • Bunny Island smells like sand and salt water: newts hate salt water.

  • No cars, so kidnapping by: golf cart, very strong newt, ocean ship?

  • What is Rain? Is it possible for newts to be out in the daytime? Possible to hide tail?

  • My butt itches.

  Zeke’s living room had some strange pictures hanging on the wall. There was one of a cow wearing a swimsuit and another of a big plate of scrambled eggs and pancakes. In the kitchen, a dirty pan soaked in a bucket of water on the counter, and some brown bananas sat on the counter.

  I checked the ugly yellow refrigerator and found nothing but a jar of pickles and a tube of toothpaste. That didn’t surprise me. My whole life, my father had stored our toothpaste in the refrigerator to keep it fresh.

  I opened the freezer. It wasn’t out of the question for a newt to hide weapons in ice. More than once, Admiral Uli had found newt tooters buried in the underwater snows of Mount Briny.

  There was nothing in my uncle’s freezer besides a bag of ice.

  Inside the scratched-up old cabinets, I found some canned food and a few boxes of wheat crackers.

  My father would have been glad to see that my uncle was supporting wheat, but what got me pumped was the three boxes of baking soda I found in the last cabinet.

  Newts hate baking soda! Hate it. Their slimy skin reacts poorly to it and makes it hard for them to breathe. Baking soda and ink are a newt’s two biggest fears. In Issue #17, Admiral Uli takes down a whole nest of newts by gifting them an explosive, ink-grilled, baking soda–stuffed shrimp.

  I took all three boxes out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. In one of the drawers, I found a plastic bag, filled it with some of the baking soda, and put it into one of my bigger pant pockets.

  “This could come in handy,” I said, patting the pocket.

  I left the kitchen and checked out my uncle’s room. He had a lumpy bed, a closet, and a beanbag in the corner. It seemed pretty normal. However, there were a lot of clothes scattered around. Either Zeke had gone somewhere in a hurry, or he had been attacked. Newts were notoriously messy. But I still didn’t have any solid leads.

  I glanced out the large bedroom window and into the backyard.

  Zeke’s big backyard was mostly filled with a garden: rows and rows of huge green plants.

  On the right side of the garden stood a rusty tin shed with a wooden roof. I was staring at the shed wondering if there could be clues in there when I heard the sound of hinges whining. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up. I thought about screaming, but Admiral Uli always says, “Why scream when you can squirt ink?”

  For the record, I totally agree with Admiral Uli. Newts, along with most living creatures, hate being inked. There’s one small problem—personally, my body’s inkless. I’ve been begging my dad for an ink transplant for years, but he always
says no, because he thinks it’s a bad idea.

  I bet he would feel differently now.

  I crept out of the bedroom and could clearly hear that the whining was coming from the kitchen door. The door popped open farther.

  Since I had no ink, I screamed. While I was screaming, two fat brown bunnies hopped in from the backyard.

  “Sweet crab meat,” I said, holding my right hand to my heart. “You two scared the squid out of me.”

  The bunnies didn’t reply. I pulled the back door open all the way. Someone—or something—had left it ajar, and that’s how the rabbits had been getting in. I walked out onto the small porch.

  As I stepped down, my back foot slipped on something wet, and I flew backward. My legs shot out in front of me, and my arms waved spastically like a nerdy squid as I fell hard on my bony butt.

  “Ouch!”

  Whatever I had slipped on was all over the back porch. It was now also on my hands and back and butt and felt slimy and wet. I hate to jump to conclusions, but I almost always do.

  “Newts!”

  I jumped up and steadied myself. The surface oozed with slime. It would take much more than a couple of newts to leave the kind of mess that was coating my uncle’s porch.

  I got back inside, locked the door, and ran water over my hands in the kitchen sink while freaking out. Finding slime was not a comforting thing. Newts had most certainly been here. I needed more information.

  I needed to call my dad.

  He wouldn’t have any clues, but he was waiting for my call. I double-checked the back door to make sure it was locked and then bolted from the kitchen, through the living room, and into the not-so-great outdoors.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A POUNDING ON THE GLASS

  It took me only about ten giant steps and three impressive leaps (and two unimpressive ones) to get to the phone booth. Inside, the concrete floor was sandy. The phone itself looked old enough to be the great-grandfather of any phone that now existed.