Space Invaders

by Davy Ocean

I can hear a rumbling, like a sudden storm, or the huge propeller on a leggy airbreather’s ocean-going liner. But this is bigger. Much bigger.

  SIX SECONDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  I switch off my hammer-vision and scan the sky.

  O.M.C.!!!!!!!!

  The air is turning black around us. Rick is staring up with his mouth open. The Yappy-Fur is going even crazier!!!!!

  There is a WHIRLPOOL in the air, but instead of being made of water, this one is made of wind and is tearing up the ground, the hedges, the dirt, and the alien creatures we have seen.

  It’s a TORNADO!!!!!

  I see a Moo-Monster spin off its feet and spiral high up into the column of air. This moving, twisting, terrifying air pool of destruction that’s going to rip through Rick, me, and the Yappy-Fur in . . .

  “FIVE SECONDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  “Rick, we have to get back to the ship!”

  “FOUR SECONDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  Rick and I turn our buggies around as the Yappy-Fur leaps up onto my tail and hangs on with his sharp little teeth!

  “THREE SECONDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  I hope he doesn’t puncture my terrasuit, but I can’t leave him here to get swallowed up like the Moo-Monster!!!!

  “TWO SECONDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  We race off!!!

  “ONE SECOND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  The rumble of the tornado is catching us. We’re not going to make it! It’s going to . . .

  LIFT us OFF the ground!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  WHHHHHHOOOOOSSSSSSHHH!!!!

  And we’re up, off and spinning into the air, whirling around, out of control, and completely out of luck!!!!

  Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghghghghg!!!!!!!!!!!

  Dark.

  I open my eyes.

  Still dark.

  I can’t hear the tornado anymore. That’s a good thing.

  I can’t see. That’s not a good thing.

  I use my fins to check that the terrasuit is okay.

  The water is still in it and I can still breathe. That’s a good thing.

  But I can’t move my tail or turn my head. I’m trapped under something heavy. That’s a bad thing.

  “H . . . H . . . Harry?” I hear Rick in my helmet radio. At least the communicator is still working. That’s a good thing.

  “Where are you, Harry?”

  “I’m here!”

  “Where’s here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Yap! Yap! Yap!”

  The Yappy-Fur is obviously close by, but I can’t see it.

  I feel something jump up onto my chest.

  “Yap! Yap! Yap!”

  It walks around on my terrasuit, and there’s a clink as teeth bite into something.

  “Yamph! Yamph! Yamph!”

  WHAM!!!!

  Suddenly my eyes can’t cope with all the light that’s flooding in!

  The Yappy-Fur has pulled a piece of twisted coral off my helmet. Through the blinking and the squinting I can see I’m trapped under my wrecked buggy. It’s been completely destroyed by the tornado, and the Yappy-Fur is trying to dig me out from under it.

  Rick’s buggy is about two miles away, upside down but intact. Rick’s hanging by the seat belt, but he can’t see me because his helmet is covered in Moo-Monster hats blown there while we were being spun around in the air pool.

  “I can see you, Rick!”

  The Yappy-Fur is dragging a seat off my tail, and now I can move. I use my fins to begin to drag myself out of the pile of wreckage. By pushing with my tail, and using my hammer to hook into ridges in the ground, I can make good, if slow, progress.

  Eventually I get to Rick, and I begin to use my tail to rock it backward and forward.

  “What are you doing, you goon?!” yells Rick, his voice terrified and his fins flapping around trying to find something to hold on to.

  “Just be quiet, Rick! I’m trying to help!”

  With one final heave I push the buggy over and Rick is upright. The Yappy-Fur jumps up and down and does a spinny little dance to show how happy he is.

  I start wiping some of the Moo-Monster hats from Rick’s helmet.

  “W-where . . . are we?” Rick says.

  I look around. “I have no idea.”

  We seem to have landed between two huge box-like structures. Both have strange symbols on the front, like the ones on the Yappy-Fur’s collar.

  I can’t read the symbols, but one has a huge yellow sign in a shape like this: M. And the other one has a white sea apple with a chunk bitten out of the side.

  I crane my neck to look in through a window.

  The M structure has loads of tables and chairs blown over by the tornado, and there’s thousands of what look like mini Moo-Monster hats all over the floor.

  I have no idea what they could be.

  I look in the Sea-Apple-with-a-Chunk-Bitten-Out’s window.

  This place is just as much of a mess. There’re tons of smashed stuff all over the floor and everything is white. Little white boxes, big white boxes, medium-size white things, and other white stuff. Again. No idea what’s going on there, but they could do with adding a bit of color.

  “Toto! You found him! Come here, boy!”

  Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghghghghgh!!!!!

  Rick and I jump in our terrasuits and spin around.

  In front of us is the last thing I expected-or wanted-to see.

  A leggy airbreather!!!!!

  I’m completely confused. Why would there be one here, in this alien world? I thought the leggy airbreathers just lived on floaty boats or near the beaches of the oceans.

  This leggy airbreather is no taller than me, has big glasses, lots of red hair, freckles on his nose, and is wearing a T-Shirt with a rocket on the front.

  The Yappy-Fur jumps up at the leggy airbreather and licks his face all over, obviously pleased to see him. The leggy airbreather’s eyes suddenly widen when he realizes what he’s looking at.

  We look at him. Terrified.

  All our lives we’ve been told to keep away from leggy airbreathers because they take us from the ocean with hooks and nets and turn us into dinner.

  “Swim!” screams Rick.

  “How?” I scream back.

  “Cooooooooooooooooool car!” says the leggy airbreather.

  Rick and I freeze.

  The leggy airbreather comes up to us. “Thanks for finding my dog. When the tornado hit I thought I’d lost him forever. Also, radical buggy, dudes. I love your spacesuits, too. Are you, like, aliens?”

  “Ummm,” says Rick.

  “Ummmmm,” I say. Amazingly, I can understand his language.

  “ ’Cause if you are aliens, guys, you’d better get out of town pretty fast. All the adults went to their shelters when the warning sounded, and they’ll be out very soon. And once the government realizes there are aliens in town, they’re gonna wanna capture you and do experiments on you or take you to Area 51 or something.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  “I watch a lot of science fiction movies.”

  “Aren’t you scared of us?” I say. “If we’re aliens?”

  “Nah,” says the leggy airbreather. “If the movies I watch are true, then you’re really the good guys just trying to get back to your spaceships, and have come in peace. You have come in peace, right?” The leggy airbreather pushes his glasses back up his nose and begins chewing on what looks like a fish sandwich.

  “Yes,” I say, nodding so hard I bang my head on the inside of my helmet.

  “So,” he says. “Where’s your rocket?”

  “Ummmmm,” I say.

  “Ummmmmmmmmmm,” says Rick.

  The leggy airbreather looks serious. “Then, guys. We have a problem.”

  BE-BOR! BE-BOR! WHOOP, WHOOP, WHOOP!!!

  We loo
k around wildly.

  “What’s that?!?!??” Rick asks.

  “It’s good news; it’s just the cops letting everyone know it’s safe to come out of the tornado shelters.”

  “What in the world . . . ,” a voice bellows from behind us, “is that?”

  “Actually, it’s bad news,” says the leggy airbreather.

  The three of us spin around.

  Blocking one exit between the buildings are two leggy airbreathers in blue uniforms. They have mirrored glasses over their eyes, and they’re both wearing sea cowboy hats.

  “What is that?” says one of them.

  The leggy airbreather reaches between Rick and me and yanks the starting control for the buggy. The engine roars to life. “Go!” he shouts.

  “Which way?” I scream.

  “Any way!” he shouts.

  “YAP! YAP! YAP!”

  The Yappy-Fur starts running away, then stops, spins, and runs away again.

  “Follow the dog!” yells the leggy airbreather.

  Rick hits the accelerator and I hang on for dear life as we shoot off. The buggy is really only made for one shark, so I have to squeeze myself in down by Rick’s tail, grip tight to his dorsal, and stick my hammer in his finpit.

  ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!

  I look back to see that the leggy airbreather has tripped up one of the ones in a sea cowboy hat, and is blocking the other one with his legs.

  “Faster!!!!” I yell.

  “I am!!!” shouts Rick. “And get your head out of my finpit. It t-t-t-t-tickles!”

  Rick starts laughing uncontrollably and the cart veers off to the left.

  We just about miss a wall, and then burst out into clear air.

  All around us the leggy airbreather town is coming to life.

  There are metal boxes on wheels zooming around the place. There are leggy airbreathers starting to pick up the mess caused by the raging tornado. And there are others just looking happy that they’re okay.

  Luckily, not many of them are taking much notice of us as we roar past.

  “Hey, wait for me!”

  I look behind to see that the leggy airbreather who helped us is peddling furiously on his own set of wheels, trying to catch up. In the far distance the sea cowboys are running after us too, puffing hard, nearly out of breath.

  “I’m Elliot,” the leggy airbreather says, shaking my fin.

  “I’m Harry,” I say. “And this is Rick.”

  “Glad to meet you,” says Elliot, peddling his feet in a blur, “but we aren’t going to be safe for long.”

  Oh. That sounds bad. “Why?”

  “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Elliot points way back in the distance. The sea cowboys, or “cops” as he calls them, are climbing into a huge yellow metal box on wheels. There are windows all down the side of it, and at the windows we can see the faces of lots of leggy airbreathers the same size as Elliot.

  “They’ve commandeered the SCHOOL BUS!!!!” shouts Elliot. “DRIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  Rick presses his fin down on the accelerator and we go top speed!

  Things get a little complicated at this point, but I’ll list what happens the best I can . . .

  We zoom out of town, following the Yappy-Fur.

  The school bus chugs after us, with the cops driving as hard as they can.

  We fly across a bridge, with the metal boxes, or “cars” as Elliot calls them, having to skid out of the way.

  We head for the hills.

  The bus starts gaining on us!

  We drive into a gloomy place that Elliot calls the “woods.” They look exactly like a spooky seaweed forest.

  Elliot tells us to hide behind a tree.

  The bus whizzes past.

  We go in the opposite direction! The Yappy-Fur jumps up onto the vehicle and points with his nose in the direction we should go.

  We burst out of the woods, and there’s the school bus parked across the road—waiting for us. Our trick didn’t work!!!!

  I grab the controls from Rick and ram my tail down on the accelerator. I point the buggy up the slope next to the road, and as we blast above the treeline, we . . .

  “ARRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH!!!!”

  “OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

  “MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYY!!!!!”

  “YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP! YAP!”

  Suddenly we’re airborne!

  YES!!! HIGH IN THE AIR!!!

  HOW IS THIS HAPPENING???

  There’s no tornado, the buggy isn’t equipped with a flying mechanism, and yet here we are. Soaring over the woods, the road, and the trees, and the school bus is disappearing below us as we go up, up, and away!!!!

  I look at Elliot, who is still pedaling his bike. In midair!

  I look at Rick. He has his eyes closed and is saying, “Mommymommymommymommy,” under his breath.

  I look at the Yappy-Fur. He’s yapping at something behind me.

  I turn.

  I see it.

  I can’t believe my hammer!

  “But . . . ,” I say to myself, “that’s IMPOSSIBLE!!!!!!!”

  “FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  Buzz’s voice crackles to life in my helmet.

  “FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  He shouts, “I need you to get ready, boys!

  “THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  “What’s happening, Buzz???”

  “TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  “No time to tell you,” he calls back. “Just hang on, it’s going to be some ride!

  “ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  “Traction beam! Full POWER!!!!!

  “HERE WE GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

  Rick and I grab the flying buggy for dear life as Buzz flies the Apollock 11 out from behind a cloud, swoops over us, opens the door in the side, and operates the traction beam to yank us all inside!

  In a tangle of fins, arms, buggies, bikes, and Yappy-Fur, we lay in a heap in the hold as the rocket powers us away from danger.

  We’re saved!!!!!

  “So after the tornado had blown past and I couldn’t find you boys, I got on with fixing the controls,” Buzz explains. “Once they were all up and running, I used the rocket’s W.A.D.A.R. to locate you both and the buggies, flew to where you were, saw you were in trouble, then used the TRACTION beam to lift you up and into the hold!” Buzz is sitting back on his flight couch, looking very pleased with himself.

  Elliot is openmouthed with wonder, looking at all the flight controls. “I’ve never been in an Unidentified Fishy Object before,” he gasps. “But IT’S JUST LIKE THE MOVIES! Only with more . . . you know . . . sharks.” Elliot shakes my fin. “Thank you! This is the best thing ever!”

  Yappy-Fur is loving it too, jumping up and down and doing little somersaults.

  “We’ll drop you off back in town, and then we’ll head for home,” Buzz tells us, smiling.

  Elliot’s grin is so wide, you could probably swim a dolphin through it.

  “Bye, Elliot!” I say as the young leggy airbreather walks back across the field we landed in. Yappy-Fur gives me a cuddle and licks my terrasuit all over.

  “Bye, Harry,” Elliot calls. “That was amazing!”

  Buzz and I wave as the door closes in the side of the rocket. “Okay,” says Buzz. “You two tidy up in here, and I’ll get the preflight checks started.”

  Buzz presses a button on the wall and the compartment starts to fill with water. I can’t wait for it to reach the ceiling. I am desperate to get out of my terrasuit and have a swim. My skin itches like crazy.

  “Hey, Rick, it’ll be great to get back to Shark Point, won’t it?” I say as the water goes up past my hammer.

  Rick has been strangely quiet for ages. As I watch him now, hi
s eyes are downcast and he’s just looking at his tail, not making any attempt to take off his terrasuit.

  “What’s up?” I ask him.

  Rick says nothing.

  “Come on,” I say. “We’ve just had the adventure of a lifetime. Why are you so sad?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?” he says.

  “Why?”

  “You’re going back a hero. I’m going back as the shark who shouted ‘Mommy’ four hundred times whenever there was danger. I’m worse than that butt-tooting Joe the Jellyfish!”

  I’m confused.

  “How will they find out?” I ask.

  Rick locks eyes with me from inside his helmet. “Because I’ve always been horrible to you, and I bet you can’t wait to get back to tell everyone what a coward I am.”

  With that, Rick turns around and floats up to the cockpit, slamming the door hard behind him.

  “And as I’m sure you’re all aware, it was my only son, Harry, whom I bravely let travel with Buzz Sharkfin.”

  As usual, Dad is hogging the limelight. We’ve landed back at the John F. Kelpy SeaSpace Center-Buzz had flown us in perfectly.

  It had been a strange journey, with me writing up all my alien reports, and Rick refusing to speak to me, however many times I tried.

  We float out of the Apollock 11 to a full hero’s welcome. Thousands of oceankind have gathered at the landing pad, watching us descend from the high, sparkly waves above, down into the safe, gloomy depths of the sea.

  Mom is the first to greet me in a flurry of kisses and fins. Luckily, I’m still wearing my hammer helmet so she can’t plant yucky, sloppy kisses all over me. But I do want to throw up when she calls me her “Little Spangly Starfish!”

  And just to make things worse, Dad has gotten himself in front of the cameras and is pretty much interviewing himself.

  Buzz raises a fin, and the crowd come to a hush. “Friends and relatives, we are home.” His voice booms around the landing pad. “We had the pleasure of discovering a wealth of alien creatures and have brought back many pictures and samples of a world you can scarcely believe exists.”

  The TV news crew lobsters rush up to us, eager for an interview. All microphones pointing at Buzz.