Akiko in the Sprubly Islands Read online

  I had no idea what a skugbit storm was, but I could tell by looking at Mr. Beeba’s face that it was something pretty bad.

  “Now, hang on, everybody,” Spuckler said. “Let’s not get worked up into a panic over this. Poog might be wrong”

  “Poog’s never wrong!” Mr. Beeba warned.

  “We’ll see about that,” said Spuckler, turning to his trusty robot. “Gax, switch on your weather sensors and see what’s goin’ on out there.”

  “WEATHER SENSORS?” Gax asked hesitantly. There was an embarrassing pause, as if he had no idea what Spuckler was talking about.

  “OH, WEATHER SENSORS!” he added a second later, his head popping up a few inches in recognition. “JUST A MOMENT, SIR. I KNOW THEY’RE DOWN HERE SOMEWHERE. . . .” And with that he began searching through the various compartments and pieces of junk that were hidden inside his body.

  Just then something dropped down and hit Gax right on the top of his helmet.

  TWANG!

  Spuckler reached out and caught it as it ricocheted into the air.

  “Hang on, Gax,” he said, “I think we got your forecast right here.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, leaning over to get a better look.

  “It’s a skugbit,” he answered, dropping it into my hand. It was a round rock, about the size of a golf ball, but covered with little scratches and pockmarks. It was also warm, as if its quick fall through the air had heated it up.

  “When there’s a storm, millions of these little suckers start fallin’ down outta the sky,’’ Spuckler added. The sky grew darker and we heard high-pitched whistling sounds as more and more skugbits began to whiz by the ship on all sides, some of them missing by just a few feet.

  “Sh-should we be worried, Spuckler?” Mr. Beeba asked, looking nervously at the sky.

  Suddenly there was a huge crash just a few feet away from me as an enormous skugbit smashed right down into the middle of the deck. Pieces of the deck shot up in all directions and the whole ship shuddered from the impact. The skugbit was about the size of a beach ball, or even bigger! We all circled around the monstrous thing and stared at it in horror.

  “Yeah,” Spuckler said, leaning over to inspect the damage, “if you’re thinkin’ about bein’ worried, I’d say now’s as good a time as any.”

  Within a few minutes we were in the thick of the storm. Skugbits of all sizes were raining down on the ship, tearing great big holes in the sails. With each skugbit that landed on the deck, the ship dropped a bit lower in the sky, moving ever closer to the surface of the Moonguzzit Sea. Spuckler took charge of the situation.

  “Throw ’em overboard, everybody!” he shouted, pointing at the dozens of skugbits that had accumulated on the deck. “They’re weighin’ down the ship!”

  So we started throwing the skugbits overboard as fast as we could. They were incredibly heavy, though, and for every one or two we succeeded in getting off the deck, seven or eight came crashing down in their places. Even Spuckler, who had the muscles to work a lot faster than the rest of us, just couldn’t keep up.

  The ship dropped lower and lower under the weight of the skugbits. We sank slowly at first, then faster and faster until we reached a dizzying speed. Before long the waves of the Moonguzzit Sea were rushing up to meet us.

  “Brace yourself, guys!” Spuckler hollered. “It’s gonna be a rough landing!”

  The ship hit the water so hard it almost broke in half. Water poured over the sides and up through the holes that had been made by the skugbits. Soon we were all soaking wet, and the waves were lapping over the ship from all directions.

  “Dear heavens, we’re sinking!” I heard Mr. Beeba squeal as another wave came crashing down on top of us.

  “Grab a piece and hang on!” Spuckler shouted back to him.

  Before long the entire ship was submerged, leaving Spuckler and me clinging to a piece of the mast. Mr. Beeba ended up staying above water by clutching Gax (who turned out to be surprisingly seaworthy), and Poog hovered in the air just a foot or two above the spot where Spuckler and I were floating.

  It had all happened so quickly that we didn’t have a chance to think what we’d do next. Fortunately the skugbit storm began to blow over, so at least we didn’t have to worry about more rocks crashing down on top of us.

  However, we soon had something much more frightening to worry about.

  As we bobbed up and down in the freezing cold waters of the Moonguzzit Sea, we saw the surface begin to bubble and churn just a few yards away. Something was coming up from underneath us, something really, really big. The water started swelling and spraying high into the air. Then it was forced outward in all directions in a giant circular wave, finally falling away to reveal the head of a huge underwater creature! It towered about fifty feet above the sea, staring down at us with four black, glassy eyes. It had shiny skin like a dolphin, but its head was shaped like a giant slug, complete with thick, slimy antennae slowly twirling in the air.

  “What . . . ,” I gasped, “. . . what is that thing?”

  “I ain’t exactly sure,” Spuckler replied. “But I sure hope it ain’t hungry.”

  Hungry or not, the gigantic beast started coming after us, mouth open wide. We tried our best to swim away, but it was much too late for that. Plunging its mouth into the sea, the creature just sucked the five of us inside along with a large gulp of water. Before we knew it, we were sliding into the creature’s throat and down into the darkness of its body, with nothing at all to slow our fall. It got darker and darker, and all I can remember is the sensation of falling and sliding, slipping through slimy passageways, being carried along by a wave of water and who-knows-what-else.

  Finally I felt myself coming to a stop. I was lying on a slimy, spongy surface that felt like it was covered with a mixture of oil and algae. The air was heavy and moist, and there was a very unpleasant smell like rotting fish. It was so dark, I couldn’t tell the difference between having my eyes open and keeping them shut.

  A moment later there was a sudden flash of light just a few feet from my face. I jumped back and turned away as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. With a big sigh of relief, I realized that the warm glow was coming from Gax.

  “Hey, whaddya know, Gax?” Spuckler said, adjusting a knob on Gax’s side. “This torch of yours still works!”

  “YOU NEEDN’T SOUND SO SURPRISED, SIR,” Gax replied, admiring the steady yellow flame that he had produced. I looked around and saw Poog floating nearby, and Mr. Beeba flat on his back, his eyes still closed, his chest slowly rising and falling. It was a big relief to see that we were all still together.

  “Spuckler!” I said as I crawled out of the shadows. “Are you okay?”

  “Course I am!” he said with a grin. Knowing how much Spuckler liked adventure, he was probably enjoying all this stuff. “How ’bout you?”

  “I’m all right, I guess. Where do you think we are?”

  “I reckon we’re right smack-dab between that snake’s mouth and her belly,” Spuckler answered calmly.

  “No wonder it’s so gross in here,” I moaned, glancing around at the shiny pink walls. It looked like we were sitting inside a gigantic intestine or a throat or something equally slimy.

  “Hey, Beebs!” Spuckler said, crawling over to Mr. Beeba. “C’mon, big guy, snap out of it!”

  Mr. Beeba’s eyes opened very slowly. He was still a little groggy.

  “Spuckler?” he whispered, coughing once or twice. “Inconceivable! Even in death I can’t escape you. . . .”

  “Aw, you ain’t dead, Beeba,” Spuckler assured him. “You jus’ got swallered up like the rest of us.”

  Mr. Beeba sat up and took a better look at his surroundings. Before long he seemed wide awake.

  “Good heavens!” he said at last. “By the looks of these internal walls, we must be inside the belly of a Moonguzzit water snake. If I’m not mistaken, we’ve come to rest inside the plipto-thotamus.” Under the circumstances, I’d say Mr. Beeba was handling
things pretty well. He was examining the surface of the walls as if he were a scientist sent down here to do research or something.

  “Well, I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no plippy-what-zamus,” said Spuckler, “but it sure is gooey in here. If you’d take us to the nearest exit, I’m sure we’d all be much obliged.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba scoffed. “We’re probably miles beneath the water’s surface by now.” There was a pause as we all took in the frightening meaning of this statement. Gax whirred and rotated his head a bit, and Poog floated over to where I was sitting, as if to offer me some sort of protection.

  “Besides,” Mr. Beeba added, a pained expression coming over his face, “there’s only one exit I know of, and it’s . . . most disagreeable.”

  “We can’t just sit here, Mr. Beeba,” I said, a panicky tone coming into my voice. “We’ll get . . . I don’t know, digested or something.”

  “Girl’s got a point, Beebs,” said Spuckler, folding his arms in front of him. He seemed less frightened than simply uninterested in the confined surroundings.

  “Well, I say we have a look around,” Mr. Beeba replied. “There are bound to be some fascinating anatomical lessons to be learned down here.”

  Mr. Beeba started walking along the passageway, inspecting certain things very closely and saying stuff like “What have we here?” and “Indeed. Just as I suspected!” Spuckler gave me a knowing look, as if to say “Yeah, he’s kind of a nutcase, ain’t he?” Within seconds Mr. Beeba had made a very important discovery. Important to him, anyway.

  “Look the spleeductum gland!’’ he announced with a happy shout, pointing at a slimy little thing dangling above his head. It was round and pink and was slowly expanding and contracting. I couldn’t help thinking of those gross medical shows on TV where they stick a camera in somebody’s body while they’re having an operation. Mr. Beeba caressed the thing, though, as if it were a long-lost friend or something.

  “Boys back at school thought I was perfectly mad when I suggested that a water snake had one of these.”

  “What’s it do?” I asked, not sure I really wanted to know.

  “Why, a great many things, Akiko,” he answered, like a proud father. “I wrote my dissertation on the subject, as a matter of fact. First and foremost, it tells the mouth what to eat and what not to eat. . . .”

  “You stupid gland!” Spuckler growled, pulling the thing down to his eye level. “You’ll rue the day you crossed Spuckler Boach!”

  Clearly it was time to move on. We all walked together from one passageway to the next, but it didn’t seem to be getting us anywhere. For one thing, we had no idea if we were heading out of the creature’s stomach or into it. Mr. Beeba knew all about glands and ventricles and stuff, but somehow he was still getting us completely lost.

  “Since we took a left at the glorplaxia, we should have reached the troochea by now,” he said, as much to himself as to anyone else. “You don’t suppose this snake could have had a troochectomy, do you?”

  “Well, gang,” Spuckler said with a yawn, “I say we make camp here and take a load off our legs for a while.”

  “Good idea, Spuckler,” I said. “I think we all need the rest.”

  We all sat down on the spongy surface and tried to get as comfortable as possible. I couldn’t really sleep, so I just sat there thinking about how badly the whole mission was going. I was starting to get homesick again too. Sure, it was nice to have made such interesting friends on the planet Smoo, but at that particular moment I’d have much rather been back on Earth. Anywhere back on Earth.

  I stared into the darkness and thought about my parents. I wondered what they were doing. It was weird to think that they probably hadn’t even noticed I was gone. As long as that look-alike Akiko robot was on Earth taking my place, they’d both just go about their daily routines as if nothing had changed. It bothered me to realize that I was missing them so much and they weren’t missing me at all.

  I started thinking about how badly I wanted just to see them for a minute or two, or talk to them by telephone or something. What if something really awful had happened to them while I was gone? It was certainly possible, There was no way of knowing one way or the other until I got back to Earth. And when would I get back to Earth, anyway? How many more days? Or would it turn out to be weeks? Or months? The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became.

  “Hey, ’Kiko,” Spuckler said. “What’s with the sad face? Things could be worse, trust me.”

  “You’re right, Spuckler,” I sighed. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just thinking about things too much, I guess.”

  “That’ll do it every time,” Spuckler said. I think it’s safe to say Spuckler makes it a practice never to think too much.

  “Say, I know something that’ll cheer you up,” Spuckler continued, his face brightening. “Let’s see if Poog will hum us a tune!”

  “Poog can sing?” I asked. I was pretty intrigued, I have to admit. It had never occurred to me that Poog might be able to sing.

  “Can he ever!” Spuckler answered. “Poog sings prettier’n anybody in the whole galaxy!

  “C’mon, Beebs,” he continued, turning to Mr. Beeba. “Make him sing that one I like, the one about the Toog Dogs.’’

  “I can’t make Poog do anything, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba replied indignantly. “He’s not a machine.”

  Gax gave a little shudder after this last remark, and Mr. Beeba hastily added, “Er, no offense, Gax.”

  “NONE TAKEN, SIR,” Gax replied graciously.

  “Poog doesn’t sing at the drop of a hat,” Mr. Beeba explained, turning back to Spuckler. “He has to be in the right mood.”

  “Well, let’s try’n put him in the right mood!” Spuckler suggested. You could tell he wasn’t going to give up on the idea.

  “It’s a very subtle matter of atmosphere, Spuckler,” Mr. Beeba said dismissively. “Quite beyond your understanding, I’m afraid.”

  “Gax,” Spuckler said without a second’s pause, “cool that torch of yours a little.”

  Gax immediately brought the fire on his torch down to a small, flickering glow, and suddenly it felt like we were in a dimly lit cave or something. There was a long pause. We all turned and looked at Poog, wondering if Spuckler’s idea would do the trick.

  Slowly we became aware of a quiet little hum coming from Poog, as if he were warming up. A moment later Poog began to sing.

  I wish you could have heard it, because it’s really hard to describe what it was like. It was a weird mix of clear, high-pitched sounds, like flutes and crickets and other soft little noises all mixed together. One thing’s for sure. It was just about the prettiest music I’d ever heard in my whole life.

  I tried to stay awake, but Poog’s singing was so peaceful and relaxing that I just couldn’t resist closing my eyes. A minute or two later I fell into a deep, deep sleep.

  I don’t know how long it was before I woke up. All I remember is that when I opened my eyes I found Spuckler and Mr. Beeba asleep, both of them snoring like crazy. Poog had stopped singing by then. He had his eyes closed and was just humming quietly to himself. As for Gax, he was wide awake. Robots always are, I guess. But he looked even more alert than usual, and I couldn’t help thinking he was nervous about something.

  “What’s up, Gax?” I whispered, crawling over to him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’M QUITE FINE, MA’AM,’’ he answered. “IT’S MY QUAKE SENSORS; THEY SEEM TO BE GOING HAYWIRE.”

  “Quake sensors?” I asked.

  “THEY DETECT GROUND MOVEMENT, MA’AM,” he continued, “AND RIGHT NOW THEY’RE TELLING ME THAT THE GROUND BENEATH US IS HIGHLY UNSTABLE!”

  “Wait a minute, Gax,” I said, putting my hands on the walls around us. “I can feel it too!” There was only a slight vibration, but it was getting stronger and stronger.

  “Spuckler!” I said, giving him a good shake. “Wake up!”

  “Nguh?” Spuckler
sputtered as he got up on his elbows. He was still half asleep, I thought.

  “This snake is moving!” I told him, “Can you feel it?”

  “Moving?” he repeated, rubbing his eyes.

  “Mr. Beeba!” I said, rocking Mr. Beeba back and forth by the shoulders. He was still sound asleep, though, and showed no signs of waking up.

  “Hey, you’re right,” Spuckler said, “she is sorta shakin’ around a little, ain’t she?” By then the movements were becoming more and more obvious.

  “Mr. Beeba!” I said, shaking him as hard as I could.

  “Here, ’Kiko, lemme help you out there,” Spuckler said, crawling over to where Mr. Beeba was. Before I could stop him, Spuckler hauled off and smacked Mr. Beeba with his hand, good and hard, right on the side of his head.

  “Aaughf!” Mr. Beeba groaned as he struggled to his feet.

  “Look alive, Beebs,” Spuckler said calmly. “The snake’s startin’ to fidget.”

  “You idiot!” Mr. Beeba shouted, now fully awake and very angry. “Don’t you know any civilized ways of rousing a fellow from slumber?”

  “Worked,” Spuckler said with a shrug, “didn’t it?”

  By then the snake’s movements had become impossible to ignore.

  “My word!” Mr. Beeba whispered in alarm. “She is moving, isn’t she?”

  “She ain’t just movin’,” Spuckler shouted as there was a sudden lurch. “She’s goin’ vertical on us!”

  Spuckler was right. It was like we were standing in the middle of a big long tube and someone was slowly raising it on one end, bit by bit. Before long what used to look like the floor was beginning to look like a wall, and we all started slipping and sliding down into the darkness. Meanwhile, Gax’s torch was flickering all over the place, making it even harder to see straight.

  “Heavens!” Mr. Beeba cried. “We’d better grab on to something!”

  “B-but . . . ,” I stammered, starting to panic, “there’s nothing to grab on to!”