Mutant Bunny Island #3

  DEDICATION

  To my brother, Jeff

  There are few people in the world I like more.

  Thanks for being so OG and so Jeffish.

  —Obert Skye

  To my mother, who showed me

  that real heroes do exist! Miss you, Mom.

  —Eduardo Vieira

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Paws and Pas

  Chapter Two: Deception and Secrets

  Chapter Three: Wrong People in the Right Place

  Chapter Four: First-Mate Disappointment

  Chapter Five: No Help at All

  Chapter Six: Attacked on a Track

  Chapter Seven: Wrong Floor

  Chapter Eight: Desperate Times

  Chapter Nine: Some Secrets Are Embarrassing

  Chapter Ten: Messed Up in More Than One Way

  Chapter Eleven: Take This Soap and Shove It

  Chapter Twelve: Cruising Into Trouble

  Chapter Thirteen: Rained Out

  Chapter Fourteen: Pamphlets of Wonder

  Chapter Fifteen: A Sickening and Empty Feeling

  Chapter Sixteen: The Lost Hutchman’s Booty

  Chapter Seventeen: A Squid, Two Kids, and a Cabinet

  Chapter Eighteen: Conveying Fear

  Chapter Nineteen: Waiting to Burst

  Chapter Twenty: Having a Vision

  Chapter Twenty-One: Urgency of the Bun-Fire

  Chapter Twenty-Two: When All the Sea Salt Settles

  Acknowledgments

  Books by Obert Skye

  Back Ads

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  PAWS AND PAS

  The plane bounced as it flew through the air. Out my window I couldn’t see anything besides blue sky. I have no problem with blue sky, but I’d rather I was a squid traveling through the ocean. Luckily, I was heading back to a spot on the globe where there would be plenty of ocean. Unluckily, the plane ride was bumpy. Not that the bumps were making me nervous—something else was. You see, leaving Ohio used to give me jittery legs, but this was my third trip to my uncle Zeke’s home and I felt like a pro. What made me nervous was that for the first time I was making the journey with my dad. He was in the seat next to me, reading a book called The Cauliflower Caper.

  I love my dad, but there are times when he can be embarrassing. For example, like the time he was sitting next to me reading a book about cauliflower.

  My dad looked up from his book and smiled at me. His big mustache wriggled, and the lines on his forehead scrunched up and then disappeared.

  Since I was eleven, I was also a little too cool to smile back. So I nodded and pushed my brown hair up off my forehead. My fingers got caught in my hair, and I ended up yanking a bunch of strands out. Okay, maybe I’m not that cool.

  My dad went back to reading.

  Here are the deets. My dad and I live alone. My mother died when I was three, and since then it has been just us. I have no brothers or sisters, and no pets. My father and I don’t always see eye to eye, but he tries hard to be the kind of dad a squid cadet like me needs. Two days ago, he surprised me by announcing that we were going to Bunny Island together. It was Bunny Break on the island, and my dad had earned enough miles on his credit card to pay for the tickets. I was flipper-gasted! We’d never gone on a big trip together before, and my dad had never been to Bunny Island.

  It seemed like a good idea.

  But now, as I sat next to him, I was growing worried. I had friends on Bunny Island. It was sort of my place. There was a very good chance that my dad would cramp my style. I thought I wanted to share the island with him, but I also knew how painful sharing can be.

  My dad closed his book and then blew his nose loudly into his handkerchief.

  “Planes make me phlegmy,” he said with a smile.

  Yes, I was definitely worried about the wisdom of bringing him along.

  “So, Uncle Zeke really doesn’t know we’re coming?” I asked as my dad tucked his handkerchief back into the pocket on the front of his shirt.

  “No,” he replied. “I want to surprise him. He was always surprising me when we were kids. One time he filled my shoes with Jell-O.”

  “And this trip is to get him back?”

  “Also, to spend some quality outdoor time with my son.”

  The worry grew.

  “I’m sure my friends will want to hang out with me most of the time,” I warned him.

  “Great. We can all hang out together,” he warned me.

  By the time we landed, I had almost convinced myself that things were going to be fine. But then as we were walking through the airport, my dad kept waving at everyone and embarrassing me.

  “Do you know that person?” I asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Nobody waved back. I don’t blame them—my dad looked like a seal who couldn’t control his flippers. Plus, the outfit he was wearing was outdated. He had on a large wide-brimmed hat, a floral shirt, white shorts that needed to be a couple of inches longer, white tennis shoes he had bought thirty years ago, blue socks that came up to just under his knees, and a fluffy bunny tail that he had been given when we got off the plane stuck to the back of his pants. Somehow he managed to look more ridiculous than all the other out-of-touch Bunny Mooners who visited the island.

  As we exited the airport, my dad saw some posters on the doors and stopped to read them. The posters welcomed visitors to the island and invited everyone to have a fun but safe Bunny Break.

  “Fun but safe,” my dad said. “I like that.”

  There was a smaller poster with information about a bun-fire they would be having on the beach in a couple of days.

  “Maybe we should go to that?” my dad suggested.

  “I do like fire.”

  Stepping out of the airport, we got our first great view of the island. Everything looked beautiful—the flowers were in bloom, the birds were singing, and the ocean sat like a blue jewel in the far distance. Things looked like I remembered, all except the sky. It was an unusual shade of purple that I had never seen before.

  My dad breathed in the warm tropical air.

  “I’m going to need to moisturize my nostrils,” he said. “This warm wind will dry them out for sure.”

  Usually I don’t go out in public with my dad. Typically, I find any excuse I can to stay home. I like to stay indoors and close to my comics and computer. I never go grocery shopping with my dad or to the mall or to the movies. We don’t go camping or on many vacations or spend time at museums. We both enjoy just hanging around our house and doing what we like. Occasionally, we’ll watch TV together or play board games. Sometimes he forces me to go out into the backyard, where he throws various balls at me until one of them accidentally hits my face and causes my nose to bleed.

  I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve done something outside our house with him. Now, as he talked about his dry nostrils in public, I was reminded why.

  The scene outside was not only beautiful—it was busy. Tourists were running around the front of the airport. There were some people driving golf carts up and down Rabbit Road, and a few were rolling around on Segways. On the ground there were hundreds and hundreds of bunnies. Some were hopping, some were sitting, and some were shuffling across the landscape like fuzzy splotches with floppy ears. My dad gently nudged a brown one near him with the toe of his shoe. The bunny looked up but didn’t move.

  “You’re a nice-looking kitten,” he cooed.

  “This isn’t Cat Island,” I informed him.

  “Baby bunnies are called kittens.”

  “Right,” I said, having forgotten
that. “Well, there are way more rabbits here than I remember.”

  The two of us gazed out toward the ocean. I could see the long Rabbit Road as it ran directly toward the sea. I saw the Bunny Hotel with the large bunny statue on top of it and the hundreds and hundreds of palm trees that lined the road, their long leaves swaying slowly in the warm, weak wind. There were Bunny Mooners carefully driving golf carts around as they tried to avoid the bunnies.

  “Seriously,” I whispered. “I can barely see the ground.”

  “Rabbits can multiply quickly,” my father said. “Now, is that our hotel way down there?”

  My dad pointed down Rabbit Road to the Bunny Hotel with the big bunny statue on top. The statue had recently been painted gold, and it stood out against the purple sky.

  “That’s it,” I said, feeling sheepish.

  Every local knows that the Bunny Hotel is for tourists and Bunny Mooners. It’s not the kind of place someone who has saved the island twice stays. Not that it isn’t nice; it’s just not cool.

  The two of us slowly dragged our suitcases behind us as we walked down the stone path toward the hotel while constantly pushing bunnies out of the way.

  Two old and rich-looking Bunny Mooners almost knocked us over as they rushed to take pictures of a large black rabbit near us.

  Bunny Island had grown in popularity since the first time I had come, and not to brag, but my friends and I sort of had a lot to do with that. The stories and rumors about mutant bunnies and giant rabbits have made the place larger-than-life. It also made it more crowded. Port O’Hare on the other side of the island was bringing in cruises filled with people who just wanted to see the places mentioned in the stories and to witness all the thousands of bunnies on the ground.

  “We should hurry and check into our hotel,” my dad insisted while shooing a bunny off the path. “I don’t want them to worry.”

  “I don’t think the hotel will worry,” I told him. “But I did tell my friends to meet me there at four.”

  We walked over and around hundreds of hares. For some reason, the rabbits weren’t getting out of the way like they usually did. They just sat there, twitching their whiskers and ears and making us maneuver carefully. A big fat yellow one was sitting in front of me, and it didn’t flinch as I got closer. I leaned down to pick it up and lift it out of the way, but it growled and its eyes flashed angrily.

  “Whoa.” I backed away quickly.

  “Aren’t bunnies supposed to be adorable?” my dad asked with concern.

  “I don’t know what’s up with him,” I said as I stepped over the demented rabbit.

  When we got to the Bunny Hotel there was a man in a bellhop uniform standing under the overhang by the front door. He was pushing away bunnies so that people could walk in without the animals coming in.

  The woman at the front desk had incredibly thick glasses on and a pile of curly blond hair stacked up on top of her head. There were green, grassy-looking earrings dangling from her earlobes, and her lips were painted a shade of red that flattered her brown eyes and dark skin. If I had to guess, I would say she was old, like my dad. She looked up from what she was doing to welcome us.

  “Hello, my name is Summer. Welcome to the Bunny Hotel.”

  “We feel welcomed,” my dad said. “I hope we didn’t keep you waiting. The name’s Zane Owens.”

  Summer began to type on her keyboard while staring at me as if I had boogers in my nose or food on my face.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Aren’t you that boy?”

  I was afraid of this. I had become quite famous on Bunny Island. So her noticing me made perfect sense. After all, my friends and I had saved the place a couple of times. Because of that I was like a local celebrity, and now I had been recognized again.

  “Guilty,” I said, trying to act humble.

  “You know him?” my dad asked her with surprise. “Perry, you never told me you were acquainted with such a charming person.”

  “No, Dad,” I said embarrassed. “She recognizes me from saving the island before.”

  “What?” Summer sounded confused. “You saved the island? I thought you were the kid in my neighborhood who ate that cardboard box on a dare last week.”

  Both my dad and Summer looked at me.

  “Cardboard actually has some nutritional value,” my dad said, turning to face her. “It can be a good source of fiber.”

  Okay, I could be wrong—no, no, I wish I was wrong—but Summer was smiling at my dad and acting like what he was saying made sense.

  “I have a nephew who eats dirt,” she replied. “He says it has minerals.”

  Now it was my dad’s turn to smile at her.

  “Your nephew’s right. Dirt is underrated. At least once a year, I take a dirt bath. It does wonders for the skin. I soil myself to stay youthful looking.”

  My dad’s choice of words was unfortunate, but Summer kept looking at him as if a conversation about people soiling themselves was acceptable.

  “Go on,” she said.

  My head felt dizzy. I don’t know what was happening, but for some gross reason my dad and Summer were locking eyes and smiling like the two dopey spectacle-porpoises in Ocean Blasterzoids Issue #21: “The Porpoise of Love.”

  “Um, Dad,” I spoke up. “We should check in.”

  “Right,” he said to Summer. “And I need to find moisturizer for my nostrils. This sea air is making them scaly.”

  It would have been fine if the weird-colored skies had opened up and I had been struck with lightning. At least then I wouldn’t have to endure my father’s nostril talk.

  “We sell moisturizer in the hotel store,” Summer said lovingly.

  “What a wonderful place,” my dad replied.

  “There’s also going to be a mixer in the Angora Room in a few minutes,” she announced. “Just people mingling and socializing. There will be carrot-aid and carrot cake served.”

  “I do like vegetable-based cakes,” my dad admitted.

  Summer smiled so wide, I thought the edges of her mouth were going to pop off the sides of her face. She then handed my dad our room keys.

  “I gave you a room with one of the best views,” she said. “You can see both the ocean and the Volcanto mountain range.”

  “I look forward to staring at both things.” My father paused to point at his own eyes. “I want to see everything while I’m here.”

  “You should,” she said excitedly. “If you like, there are a number of pamphlets by the elevator that show some of the attractions and natural wonders on the island. I think there’s one about Volcanto.”

  My dad thanked her for all her help, and as we walked away she hollered.

  “I hop your stay is enjoyable!”

  My dad stopped and smiled at her. “It’s already been very bun.”

  I wanted to crawl into one of the thousands of bunny holes on the island and never come out. My dad was more embarrassing than a young squid accidentally inking himself in front of a school of fish.

  Instead of crawling into a hole, however, I waited as my father gathered dozens of tourist pamphlets from the rack. We then got into the elevator and headed up to our room.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DECEPTION AND SECRETS

  I brushed my teeth and tried to comb my hair a little before going to the lobby to meet Juliet. My brown hair was short and a little puffy, but the red Ocean Blasterzoids T-shirt I was wearing brought out the blue in my eyes.

  Juliet had not replied to the emails I had sent yesterday telling her that I was coming, so there was a solid chance she wouldn’t show. But at four o’clock exactly, and while I was standing by a big green vase in the lobby, someone slipped up behind me and put their hands over my eyes.

  “Guess who?”

  I knew it was Juliet, but I decided to flatter her by pretending her hands were as soft as the nubbins on a seahorse.

  “Stacy Horse?”

  Juliet laughed. “Of course you would say something ridiculous like that.�
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  I turned around and there she was. I wasn’t sure what to do. We had become good friends thanks to the adventures we had gone through and the problems we had solved. We had even held hands a couple of times. Also, I had told everyone back in Ohio that she was my girlfriend—whether she knew that or not, I couldn’t tell. Now, as I saw her, I wondered if we should hug or bow or click.

  I have no idea how to act around girls.

  Leaning forward, I reached out and tapped Juliet on her right shoulder with my left hand.

  As usual, Juliet didn’t care about what I did. She gave me a real hug with no clicking or bowing or loss of dignity.

  Juliet looked as cool as any squid or seahorse I had ever seen or read about. Her popcorn-colored hair was a little shorter than when I had last seen her—coming down to just below her chin. The green in her eyes looked dark and deep, like the color of kelp. Her lips were covered with some sort of sparkly lip gloss that made her shine even brighter than she usually did. She was wearing a red tank top, white shorts, and sandals that showed off her purple-painted toenails. I probably should have spent more time combing my hair or choosing what I was wearing. Because the Admiral Uli T-shirt and my cargo shorts I had on suddenly seemed a little less impressive now that I could see how she looked.

  “When I checked my email at the library this morning, I was thrilled,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re here. And you brought your dad?”

  “Yes. He’s in the room washing up and combing his mustache. I think he’s hoping to impress the woman working at the front desk.”

  “Summer?”

  I nodded while trying to stand as tall as I could. I don’t know what it was, but Juliet was making me wish I had done a few push-ups today. She also had my head feeling as light as the Puffer, Admiral Uli’s enemy in Ocean Blasterzoids Issue #66: “The Deadly Buoy.”

  “Are you okay?” Juliet asked. “You look a little pale.”

  “That’s because squids have the ability to blend into their scenery,” I said as I stood in front of a white wall. “I have something for you.”

  Needing a distraction, I pulled out a small blue box from one of the big pockets in my cargo shorts. Juliet would no longer notice how pale I was when she saw the present I brought her.