Noted: this story is more fun to write than most stories I've ever written. Hope you're havin as much fun readin it as I am writin it. Of course, I ain't too good at writin, so waddaya think so far? Wilbur is gonna screw it up again, believe me. It's no secret, so why hide it, right?

CHAPTER TWO

The train delivered Wilbur to a square metal room. It was featureless except for a large glass tank full of sharks against one wall. Metal rungs lead through a hatch in the ceiling.

Wilbur took a deep breath and climbed the rungs. They lead to a drop off into the shark-infested waters. And those sharks looked pretty hungry. "Oh, Kilbur, why do you make everything so difficult?" he moaned to himself. Sure, his sister had become different, but her hostility sure didn't change. "Well, all's well that ends well. I hope." Wilbur closed his eyes and jumped into the deadly tank.

He swam quickly, keeping close to the bottom of the pool. Oh God oh God I'm too young to die…Wilbur thought in a panic as he desperately attempted to avoid the sharks. He felt his way to the wall at one end. He felt a handle and yanked with all his might. A hatch sprung open and Wilbur crawled into it. He slammed the hatch down and the water drained from around him.

Wilbur sighed with relief. "I can't believe those sharks didn't notice me," he said, when a slam against the hatch echoed through the tunnel. "AH!"

He crawled quickly through the vent-sized tunnel, keeping an eye out for an opening that would lead him to the laser tunnel. His knees were beginning to hurt when the tunnel began to span out. It began to curve until the tunnel became like an archway and tall enough so that Wilbur could stand up without hitting his head.

"This doesn't seem too laser-y. There aren't any lasers at all. Oh well. I guess Kilbur must have deactivated them," Wilbur talked to himself as he examined his surroundings. He took a step forward and immediately leapt back, clutching his wrist. There was a minor burn there.

There was a flicker of light, then five dozen moving, red lasers sprang up all around. "Just like Kilbur to use invisible lasers," Wilbur sighed. "I am going to die here."

Wilbur took a deep breath and lunged forward. Five lasers barely missed him by an inch. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," he chanted in a panic as he ran and frantically dodged, jumped over, and rolled under lasers. "I wish I had the time to download those ninja lessons Sierra took! They sure as heck would come in handy right now!"

Right when he thought he reached a safe spot between lasers, a large red beam flew through the center of the hallway. Wilbur yelped and hit the floor, the laser barely singing the tip of his cowlick. "Oh…my…God," he felt helpless. He leapt up and ran past two more lasers, tumbling under four lasers and squeezing between two. Suddenly, six lasers zapped down from the ceiling, trapping Wilbur in a sort of cage.

"Aw, crap, come on!" he yelled. He would have to get hurt to get out, he decided. Bracing himself, he stepped through the lasers and screamed in pain. His hand flew to his shoulder, which was burnt and stinging. He winced in pain as he ran past the last of the lasers, heaving open the metal door, stepping through, and slamming it behind him.

With a gasp, he slumped against the wall and rolled up his sleeve. The burn on his shoulder was already blistering. "God, I hate my sister," he mumbled. Suddenly, a movement caught his eye. He looked up and saw a camera slowly swiveling around, looking at the room from different angles. Wilbur automatically froze, partially because it was a motion detector, but mostly because he was afraid of what would happen if the motion detector detected his motion.

Finally, after moments of searing pain and agony, the camera twisted to a different angle. Wilbur ran for it. Taking note of the locations of the multiple cameras, he twisted and turned to avoid being seen. Often, his path through the maze of cameras was unclear. One misstep and…and…Wilbur didn't even want to know what would happen. Knowing his sister, it would be something cruel, humiliating, unusual, deadly, crazy, torturous, abusive, painful, or otherwise. Or possibly all of the above. Wilbur gave an involuntary shiver and immediately regretted it. A loud wailing began sounding. He had tripped the motion detector.

Arrows began shooting out of holes in the wall. "Oh, sweet mercy!" Wilbur yelped and made a run for it. Arrows barely grazed him from all around, but many also missed him. He jumped back when a wall of fire sprang up in front of him and fireballs sprang up from all around. "AHHH!" he screamed. Right now, he really hated his sister. As soon as the fire cleared up, he ran for it, screaming maniacally. Fire and arrows hissed and blazed all around him. He ran as fast as possible, found the door, burst through it, and slammed it shut, breathing heavily.

"Great, now lastly are the death traps. Death traps…aw man…" Wilbur was afraid to turn around. But he did anyway and almost passed out at what he saw. Large axes and blades swung from the ceiling. Knifes sprang up from the ground. Spears stabbed every which way, and a giant spiky metal ball slammed into the ground every second, crunching the ground beneath it. "Classy," Wilbur said sarcastically.

Considering his burns, cuts, and bruises he had already, not to mention the stinging in his shoulder, he really didn't feel like facing death. But finally, he sighed and forced himself forward. He flattened himself against the wall and began edging past a swinging axe. He barely avoided a particularly nasty moment when the axe plunged into the wall right beside him, a millimeter from his arm. He sighed when he got past the axe and began running. Miraculously, he made it to the other side, but just as he thought he was safe, a wall slammed down behind him and paint pellets began pelting him from every which way.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! I hate—ow—Kilbur's sense—ow—of humor!" Wilbur talked to himself as paint pellets splattered him. Suddenly, a pellet hit him right in between the legs. "Ow…" he mumbled weakly as he grabbed his pants and sank to the floor. "Okay, Kilbur is not related to me anymore," Wilbur said in pain as the paint pellets continued pelting him.

He managed to drag himself to the biometrics pad and pull out the rubber hand. He held it to the scanner and a voice said, "Welcome back, Huck."

Huck? Wilbur thought, wait, what? The door slid open and Wilbur stumbled into a large room. The door hissed shut behind him and he fell to the ground. After a few minutes of lying with his face buried in carpet, he used the wall as support to help himself to his feet. He looked around. Brown-cushioned, stadium seated theater chairs sat in the room in six rows of ten. A popcorn machine and candy counter sat in a little corner of the room, and a gigantic forty-by-forty plasma movie screen was built into a very large brown wall at the front. Sitting in the fourth row, her feet propped on the seat in front of her, was Kilbur.

She held a remote in her hand and had paused the movie. On screen, a good-looking twelve-year-old boy with shaggy brown hair and deep brown eyes was yelling at a not-as-good-looking boy with blue eyes. The brown-eyed boy was dressed in what looked like oversized clothes and they were in what looked like a rocky cavern.

"Hello, Kilbur," Wilbur tried to snap, but the pain took the momentum out of his voice.

"Hello yourself and see how you like it. By the way, my name's Huck now," Kilbur said.

"What? No, it's not!" Wilbur cried.

"Sure is. Take a look," Kilbur held up a legal document that stated that her name had indeed been changed to Huckleberry.

Then, Wilbur noticed that Kilbur—er—Huck was dressed in the same style as the brown-eyed boy on screen. He also noticed that she no longer had the cowlick—her dirty blonde hair was messy and a little frizzy, but she made it work. And Robin was right—she was barefoot.

"What are you watching?" Wilbur asked.

"Tom and Huck. The movie I found. Huck is beyond hot, and now I'm just like him. I even throw knives. Ain't it great?" Huck stated.

"Okay. Next question—why the heck did you do this to me?"

"It ain't no skin off my back," Huck said.

"Seriously! What's with the weird security system?" Wilbur yelled.

"Why're you here, anyway?" Huck asked, completely ignoring Wilbur.

"I wanted to find out what was wrong with you," Wilbur explained.

"There ain't nothin' wrong. And you should know that you ain't s'posed to dig into my business," Huck reminded him.

"So I came through Death Way for nothing?!" Wilbur asked in disbelief.

"Well, if you was that stupid, maybe you'd deserve what was comin' to you," Huck said, rolling her eyes.

"KILBUR!" Wilbur yelled.

"Who, now? What's my name?"

"HUCK!!!" Wilbur yelled in exasperation.

"Okay, okay, take it easy. You need some minor medical attention," Huck said, getting out of her chair. She reached under the chair at the end of the row and pulled out a first aid kit. "Ok now get over here," Huck called him over.

Wilbur winced as he took a step. "Ah, no, you come over here," he said.

"Quit being a wimp," Huck counteracted. "Get your butt over here."

Wilbur winced as he took another step, cringed from pain, and slowly made his way to Huck. "Ow. Ow. Ow."

"You don't react to pain very well, do ya?" Huck said.

"Your freaky security system did this to me!" Wilbur protested.

"And if you was smart, you woulda seen a hatch in the concrete room with a button that deactivated the security system," Huck smirked.

"You mean I did all this for NOTHING?!?!" Wilbur yelled.

"Uh huh," Huck replied bluntly.

Wilbur groaned inwardly. He couldn't believe it. At all. Stupid Kilbu—Huck. She changes her name, changes her personality, and tries to kill him. "Listen, we gotta tell mom about you."

"We ain't tellin' nobody, and unless you're dumber than I think you are, you're gonna keep your mouth shut, too," Huck snapped.

"Why are you talking so weird?" Wilbur asked.

"It ain't weird; it's how I talk. For all you know, you might be talkin' awful weird yourself," Huck shot back. She examined him and said, "My diagnosis—you have a few minor cuts and burns, a couple dozen minor bruises, a semi-minor burn on your shoulder, and you're covered with a variety of paint." A smile played at the edge of her lips.

"Minor? This is what you call minor?!" Wilbur yelled. "What would be something major?"

"If your arm was hanging off by a tendon, spewing blood, and a shark had attached itself to your skull," Huck said and opened the first aid kit. She brought out some bandages, water patches, a sling, and a rag. "Okay, now take off your shirt."

"What?!"

"Quit bein' stupid and just take off the shirt," Huck said, glaring at Wilbur.

"Oh, fine." Wilbur took off his shirt and Huck began wrapping bandages around his torso.

"You're lucky you ain't dead. If you was inexperienced like Vick or someone, you'd be writhing on the floor, bleeding to death," Huck said, wrapping more bandages around Wilbur's shoulder and arms. "You're also pretty lucky that your legs ain't hurt."

Wilbur shuddered at what he would have had to do if his bottom half of his body had been hurt.

Huck began placing water patches on his burns. Water patches were invented in 2030. They were patches that you put on a burn and it would hydrate the skin until it got better. It also sped up the healing process. Finally, she began wiping off the paint with the rag.

Suddenly, Wilbur began to feel a shooting pain on his arm. "Oww! Huck, what are you doing?"

"There's this stupid splat of purple paint that's not coming off your arm," Huck replied through clenched teeth, grinding the rag on his arm.

"Ow…that's a bruise," he said weakly.

"Oh," Huck said. She let go of Wilbur and he fell over. "Sorry. Well, you better get upstairs. I gotta finish my movie." She smacked him on the back.

Wilbur swallowed a scream of pain. "You just slapped a bruise," he managed to say.

"Yeah, I know." Huck slapped his back again.

After a few minutes of lying on the floor, Wilbur said, "You know, keeping this secret is gonna cost you."

"Not tonight, okay? I'm going to the graveyard," Huck replied.

"The graveyard?" This was a perfect opportunity for Wilbur to see what was up with his sister. "Can I come with you?"

Huck looked as if she was considering it for a moment, then she shook her head. "Ya might get scared."

"Wilbur Robinson's not scared of anything!" Wilbur replied eagerly.

Huck raised an eyebrow and stared at him with a look that said "Oh, really? Yeah right."

With that, Huck pushed Wilbur into a travel tube, sat back down in her seat, and pressed play. She sighed dreamily.

"Look, we ain't tellin' nobody, and unless you're dumber than I think you are, you're gonna keep your mouth shut too!"

"But we've seen a murder!"

"Yeah, and there's gonna be two more murders if we squeak on Injun Joe. Killin' us would mean less to him than drownin' a few cats…"

Wilbur stumbled into the lobby of the Robinson household. Well, Huck wasn't all that different. Physically abusive: check. Hostile: check. Insulting: check. His work here was done. But he was still excited. He was going to the graveyard with Huck tonight, and that would solve the mystery forever.

-

Yep. Huck—that's me! I'm awesome and I told you so. HAha no I'm kidding. I'm probably gonna get Wilbur into a mess of trouble, so keep your eyes on this screen. No seriously.