I turned to the Rage. “You came through the door. Tell us where it is.”
He scratched his forehead. “I know it’s right here somewhere,” he said. “But where? I was so angry, I forgot to look. Doesn’t that PUNCH your PETUNIA?”
I had a flash. “The wastebasket,” I said.
They both stared at me. “What about the wastebasket?” Bree asked.
“There were two comic book characters,” I said. “Standing behind the desk. They were both standing in the wastebasket.”
The Rage clapped his purple gloves together. Then he slapped me a high five. “Yes. I remember now!” he said. “They were coming up from the other world — through the wastebasket. Just like me. Good work, Richard.”
But then his expression changed. His face darkened. “Know what PUNCTURES my PECCADILLO? It makes me angry that I didn’t remember that!”
“Never mind,” I said. “Let’s go. Ernie may be in big trouble. We don’t want to waste another second.”
My heart pounding, I swung myself around to the back of the desk. Bree and the Rage scrambled after me.
“Quick — into the wastebasket!” the Rage cried.
“Hey, wait —” I uttered. “I don’t believe it!”
The wastebasket was gone.
“It — it can’t be,” I stuttered. “It was always right here.”
“AAAAARRRRRGGGGH!” The Rage bellowed a furious cry. “That totally BOGGLES my BABUSHKA!”
He roared again, swinging his fists over his head in a total rage.
With a swing of his boot, he kicked the whole desk over. It crashed onto its side.
And as he danced around in pain, I stared at the floor. At the shiny black metal handle poking up in front of me. I bent down and grabbed the handle with both hands. I tugged it up.
A trapdoor. A trapdoor that had been hidden under the desk.
“Hey — look!” I shouted.
The Rage leaned over me. “Yes! That’s it,” he said. “Now I really remember. That’s the passageway.”
I gazed down into the opening. I saw only total blackness.
A wave of panic chilled my entire body. I don’t want to go down there. If I do, will I ever get back? The frightening thoughts made my head spin.
But I knew I had no choice. I had to find Ernie.
I turned to Bree. “Are you coming?” I asked.
She shrugged. “If we go down there, maybe we’ll get extra credit for our museum project.”
I dropped onto my knees and started to lower myself into the opening. Bree tapped me on the shoulder. “But I really don’t want to be seen with you in the other world, either,” she said. “You understand, right?”
“Right,” I said. I didn’t really care. I only cared about rescuing my brother.
I turned and lowered my legs into the darkness of the hole. My feet found a ladder on the side of the opening. I stepped onto a rung and waited for my heart to stop racing. Then I lowered my feet to the next rung.
“Climb down and wait for me.” I heard the Rage call. He seemed very far above me as I took the next rung down. Then the next.
I couldn’t see a thing. Darkness covered me like a blanket.
I gripped the sides of the ladder with both hands. My hands felt slippery and wet. I peered down, hoping to see some light or the ground. But I saw only solid black without a glimmer. So dark I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed.
“Take your time, Richard. Easy does it.” The Rage’s voice seemed very far away now. Almost in another world.
I took one more step and — whoooooah!
My foot hit air. Only air. No ladder rung.
Both feet dangled now. I struggled to find a place for them to land. But — no.
Oh, no.
My hands slipped off the sides. I fell free from the ladder.
Too frightened to let out a cry, I fell through the thick blackness.
How far would I fall? How long before I hit?
The air whooshed up around me as my body dropped down the passageway.
I finally screamed as I splashed into icy water. My scream cut off as I sank, sank into the bottomless black water.
I thought I’d sink forever. Swim! I told myself. Move! Do something! You’re going to drown.
My chest already felt about to burst. I thrashed my arms hard, and I struggled to kick my legs.
My clothes clung to my skin. I felt as if my shoes weighed four hundred pounds. But I forced myself to swim. Stroking hard, I pulled myself up … up toward the surface.
The darkness lifted. The water filled with an olive-green light. I needed to get to the surface. I needed to breathe.
I pulled myself up … up … and finally my head rose above the bobbing green water. I sucked in breath after breath, raising my eyes to a charcoal-gray sky.
I was still breathing hard when I saw an enormous tentacle rise up from the water. It was dark brown, covered with pulsing pink suction pods.
The creature raised a second tentacle and began to glide toward me. And then I gasped in horror as I realized there were two giant bulgy-eyed creatures moving to attack.
Two enormous squids splashed up on a wave in front of me. Their tentacles were like tree branches. They waved them toward me, as if reaching for me. Their fat bodies pulsed and … and …
And … I recognized them from their comic book. Squeezer and Squisher, the Squid Twins. The Squid Twins who always squeezed their enemies to death and then battled each other to see which squid would swallow them whole.
ULLLLLP.
Panic swept over me. But I knew I had only seconds. I forced my brain to work.
From reading their comic, I remembered how to avoid them. I froze. I tightened every muscle. And let my body slide down into the water. I imagined that I was a log, a solid, heavy, sinking log.
Holding my breath, I tried not to move a muscle. I let myself drop. I kept my eyes on their giant, dark bodies and ugly, curling tentacles. And waited … waited …
Sure enough, they swam right over me. Their giant shadows rolled over me, darkening the water. They bobbed with the water, moving slowly, heavily. It seemed to take hours. But finally, they floated out of sight.
I pushed myself back up to the surface. I raised my head to the sky and took several breaths. Air never tasted so good!
Blinking away the salty water, I pushed my wet hair out of my eyes.
I shielded my eyes with one hand and searched for land. There had to be land somewhere nearby. Those superheroes and villains didn’t all live in the water.
The waves rocked me back and forth as I squinted into the distance. I spun all the way around. The water gleamed and sparkled like gold, making it even harder to see.
“Yes!” I uttered a cry when an island came into view. I saw a narrow stretch of white beach. Close enough to swim to.
I can do it. I can make it over there.
I took a deep breath, lowered my head into the water, and began to swim. The waves rocked against me, as if trying to push me back.
I kept a steady pace, raising my head to breathe, but my arms and legs began to ache. My head throbbed.
Closer. Closer …
I can make it. I know I can.
As the island grew nearer, I stared at the white shore.
What a strange island. No trees. No vines or bushes of any kind. It gleamed under the sky like a white rock.
I’m almost there. I can almost touch it.
The waves rose higher, rocking me back. But I lowered my head into the foaming water and pulled myself … harder … harder.
I stretched out both arms, grabbing for the land. Grabbing for the safety of the island.
And uttered a high scream of horror when the island opened a gaping mouth. And I saw rows of jagged teeth the size of tombstones. And it whipped around, revealing a giant black eye as big as a basketball.
And I knew instantly … knew it wasn’t an island, after all.
It was a white whale as BIG
as an island!
Comic Book World was such a dangerous, horrifying place. What made me think I could just swim to safety here?
That was my last thought as the gigantic jaws opened wider, and the waves washed me inside … past the pointed teeth … over the slippery warm tongue …
I shoved out both hands and tried to stop my slide. But the fat tongue flicked me back. I toppled onto my back and, in a rush of water, fell into the creature’s vast belly, dark and icy.
I came to a stop against the spongy stomach wall. Small fish swirled and splashed around my feet along with tangles of slimy seaweed.
Shivering, my whole body shuddering, I hugged myself. The whale’s belly made loud gurgling sounds. More water washed in, carrying dozens of fish into the darkness.
I gagged. The whale’s belly smelled of dead, rotting fish.
Doomed, I realized. I’m whale food.
And then I heard a shout.
“This RIPS my RUTABAGA! This RUFFLES my ROTUNDA!”
The Purple Rage. His voice boomed and echoed through the dark whale belly.
In the dim, flickering light, I saw him and Bree. They leaned against one side of the pulsing stomach wall. Seaweed washed and tangled around them.
Bree shook a fist at me. “When will I forgive you for this? Try never.”
“Wh-what are we going to do?” I stammered in a tiny voice. “What can we do?”
“We’re … trapped,” Bree said softly. “Trapped. Until we’re … digested.”
The Rage opened his mouth in an angry roar that shook the whole whale belly.
He shut his eyes. He squeezed his face, tightening it like a fist. The Purple Rage went into a furious rage. He screamed. He bleated like a goat. He roared like a lion.
And then … and then …
The Rage EXPLODED.
Like a powerful bomb blast. His body flew apart. Pieces of it flew everywhere. The blast roared and shook the whale belly.
A tidal wave rose and swept forward. And I felt myself being lifted out of the belly … sliding along the smooth tongue…. Yes, the explosion blasted me out of the whale, sent me flying high on top of the cresting wave.
“Ohh!” I was hit by a blinding light. The sun!
I sailed high … high and far. I landed hard on my back on solid ground. A beach. A real beach.
I hit so hard the breath whooshed out of me. Choking, gasping, I struggled to breathe.
When I looked up, I saw Bree lying on her back on the beach. From here, I couldn’t see her face clearly, but I could see her blond hair. She was digging her elbows in the sand, struggling to sit up.
Was she okay?
“Bree!” I shouted. My voice came out hoarse and high. “Bree!”
“Richard!” she cried. “My leg — it’s broken. Oh, it hurts. It hurts. My leg! Ohhh, help!”
My lungs still aching, I pulled myself to my feet. I brushed sand off my clothes. I started to run to Bree. But I stopped with a horrified cry.
Bree’s leg …
… her leg …
I held my breath and struggled to fight down my horror and panic.
Bree’s leg had come off. It sat a few feet away, in the sand, like a piece of driftwood. All by itself.
“Help me, Richard. My leg! My leg!”
I spun away and shut my eyes. I couldn’t stand to see the leg lying there. But even with my eyes closed, I couldn’t erase the horrifying picture.
What can I do? How can I help her?
She was screaming and beating the sand with her fists. Was she in horrible pain?
I turned back. And a thought flashed through my brain.
We’re not in the real world. We’re in Comic Book World now. The rules are different. Anything can happen. Maybe.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to walk over to the leg. My shoes squished in the wet sand. My clothes were soaked and smelly from the inside of the whale.
I carefully lifted Bree’s leg with both hands. Her white sneaker was still attached to the foot. I brushed sand off it. I carried it over to Bree.
“What are you doing?” she screamed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Calm down,” I said. “I’m trying something.”
I bent down and shoved the leg back into place. I held on to the shoe, pushing the leg hard for a moment. Then I let go. “Try to move it.”
Bree kicked her leg. She raised it into the air, then lowered it. It was attached again! Amazing.
With a groan, she climbed to her feet. She didn’t thank me. Instead, she gave me a hard shove. “If we survive this, I’m going to kill you,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But it’s kind of exciting being in a whole new world, isn’t it?”
“No,” she said. She kicked sand on my legs.
“Well, I have to find Ernie,” I said. “My brother is here somewhere, and —”
That’s when I saw the footprints. Small footprints in the sand, leading toward the trees at the edge of the beach.
“Those could be Ernie’s,” I said. “Let’s follow them.”
“Whatever,” she muttered.
Following the trail of footprints, we started off the beach. But Bree was limping badly. She groaned with each footstep.
“Now my other leg hurts,” she moaned. “Hope it doesn’t fall off, too. I definitely need a doctor.”
“Do you want to wait here until I find one?” I asked.
“No way,” she said. “We’re not splitting up in this creepy place.” She turned and led the way, limping along the path through the trees.
We walked through a jungle of tangled trees and vines. I didn’t hear any birds. I didn’t see any other creatures.
“How are you going to get Ernie away from that maniac?” Bree asked. She brushed a dead leaf from her hair.
“Easy,” I said. “We can tickle him and make him helpless like we did before.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
Sunlight spilled over us. The trees gave way to a flat, open field of tall grass. We followed the narrow dirt path through the grass.
Bree was limping badly. I could see she was biting her lower lip to keep from crying out in pain.
“Look. There’s a town up ahead,” I said, pointing. “Maybe we can find a doctor there.”
“Do you think Mrs. Callus will give us extra credit on our project for coming here?” Bree asked. “I mean, if we survive.”
“I don’t want to think about that,” I said. “I just want to find my brother.”
We walked through the town. Past a large bank, a supermarket, a bookstore. All empty. The whole town was deserted. No one anywhere. Nothing moving. No cars. No dogs. No superheroes flying overhead.
Bree stopped and leaned against the front of a bakery window. “How come we’re the only ones here?” she said. “This is seriously freaking me out.”
“I guess they all escaped through the trapdoor,” I said. “They all left Comic Book World and went to the real world.”
“Why were they so eager to get away?” she asked.
I shrugged. “Beats me. This looks like a nice town.”
But Bree was right. The silence was frightening. The empty streets … the empty stores … all terrifying. Wasn’t anyone left in Comic Book World?
“Hey, check it out,” Bree said. She limped across the street and I followed her.
We stood in front of a low white building. The windows were covered by dark window blinds. But a sign at the front door revealed that the building was a doctors’ office: TWO DOCTORS — NO WAITING.
I gripped the door handle. “Do you think they’re still here?” I asked Bree. “Or did the doctors leave with everyone else?”
“Only one way to find out,” she said. She shoved me out of the way and pulled open the door.
I stepped in after her. We were in a brightly lit waiting room. I saw a row of black chairs, a table piled high with magazines, a bubbling fish tank on one wa
ll.
And then I turned to the front desk — and let out a cry of surprise.
The woman behind the desk wore a red costume. Her face was half-hidden under a red mask. Her red cape was draped behind her chair.
Of course I recognized her. The Scarlet Starlet.
In her comic book series, she was a Hollywood star. When she wasn’t in front of the cameras, she was a superhero. What was she doing in this doctor’s office? Was she playing a part in some movie?
I gazed around. No movie cameras.
She glanced up from the papers on her desk. “Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?”
“No,” I said. “We just —”
“The doctor is very busy,” she said. “If you don’t have an appointment, scram.” She motioned to the door.
“But there’s no one else here!” I said.
“And I think my leg might be broken,” Bree chimed in.
The Scarlet Starlet squinted at Bree. “Interesting. The doctor has never treated a broken leg before. You’d be the first.”
Bree’s eyes went wide. “The doctor doesn’t treat legs?”
“He doesn’t treat patients,” Starlet replied. “Sick people make him nervous. He only sees people who have no problems.”
“That’s crazy,” Bree said. “What kind of a doctor doesn’t treat sick people?”
“He’s a very good doctor,” the Starlet said. “He just isn’t interested in your health. He —”
She stopped. A shrill scream from the back office interrupted her. The door was closed. But I heard the scream clearly. And then more shouts, sounds of a scuffle, and another scream.
“What’s going on back there?” I asked.
The Starlet didn’t answer. She stood up and walked to the office door. She pulled it open, then turned back to us. “Dr. Maniac will see you now,” she said.
Huh? Dr. Maniac?
Yes. He stood grinning at us in front of an examination table. Dr. Maniac, wearing a white lab coat under his leopard-skin cape, with a stethoscope around his neck.
“You — you’re not a real doctor,” I blurted out.
“I’m not a doctor — I’m a MANIAC!” he cried.
Bree narrowed her eyes at him. “What were those screams we heard?”