Chapter 1

Duncan

"RJ, I'm not sure about this any more," Verne whispered through his teeth. "Let's go back."

"Are you kidding?" RJ replied as he hopped to his feet and stared at him in disbelief, his jaw partly agape. "You can't give up now! We're almost there."

For the past half hour they had been sitting in a local's backyard, behind a large pot that contained a plastic tree. Despite being lifeless, it managed to provide the all-important service of shade, which was much welcomed on that hot summer afternoon. Had it not been for Verne's uncertainty, they would have only been there for a moment, but he continued to mix up parts of the plan, and also had the need to get it perfectly straight in his head before he would allow himself to move to the next step. This anal retentive nature continued to get on RJ's nerves, but he was determined to get him to come out of his shell, figuratively speaking.

"I just don't know about this." Verne's eyes slowly moved to RJ's side so that they were not meeting. "You seem to get in trouble every time you do this, and I'm quite fond of my life, thank you."

RJ moaned and threw his arms into the air. "No look. We have to go in there."

"Why?"

"Because," he said, leaning over a bit. "This house has twinkies with extra cream filling. I saw the box! It was in their trash!" His breathing increased simply from the thought of it, and he began to shake a little from fear that he would be denied. "Now will you hurry up and do it? I don't think I'm going to bring you again. Hammy cooperates much better."

"I'm beginning to think it's not a good idea."

RJ nearly screamed from frustration. "But that's the plan! We went over this, and over this. You frolic, the humans see you, you pretend to fall and break your leg, they come out to help, and I go in and get the twinkies. The twinkies Verne! The twinkies!" His right eye had been taken by an uncomfortable twitch.

"I don't frolic," Verne said flatly.

"Oh come on, you can do this." RJ forced a smile, which he continued to hold while speaking.

"You don't want to disappoint your good buddy do you? Do you Verne?"

"Fine. There's nothing worse than a desperate raccoon. I swear." Verne blew out a heavy breath and then came to his feet. Cautiously he crept around the pot in the direction of the house. It was a two-story home, with a two car garage, and with what appeared to be two children's toys left under each two paned window. The plastic siding that was meant to mimic wooden planks had a coat of white paint, which even to Verne seemed unnaturally clean. How could there be not one speck of dirt on it?

He looked around the side house for a moment, noticing that the two garage doors were open, with the vehicles mysteriously missing. There were none parked along the street either, as far as he could see. Verne looked over his shoulder to catch RJ watching him intently.

"Hey, it looks like no one's home. Maybe I don't have to do this after all. Let's just go in RJ."

"No no no, that's what they want you to think. Just frolic."

"But-"

"Frolic."

"This is so embarrassing," Verne muttered. After a moment's hesitation, he held out his arms, and began to rock back and forth on his feet, a false smile gleaming from his face with the radiance of an overblown Christmas light display.

"I'm not buying it," came RJ's voice. "You have to do better than that. Think more frivolous and less angry turtle."

"If you want nimble you're not asking the right person." This Verne said to himself, and then turned back around to face the house. It was difficult for him to be any livelier, especially when he was feeling anything but "frivolous" at the moment. The heavy shell was not helping matters. He began to dance around again, swallowing his pride enough to do something that vaguely resembled a poor man's version of the Charleston.

Strolling by on his right a few minutes later was RJ, complete with a satisfied smirk. "I guess that'll do," he teased, not looking over as he passed.

"It will?" Verne quickly stopped his arm pumping and righted himself.

"Yeah. You're right, no one's home. I just wanted to see you do that."

Verne stared in disbelief, and then finally caught up with him after an extended moan. "See? This is why we keep having problems."

Once he was under the nearest window, RJ glanced back at him. "Why? Because you're a bad dancer?"

"No!" Verne said angrily. "Because you don't take anything seriously."

"Oh my sad little scaly friend," RJ said as he shook his head, and lightly placed his hands on Verne's shoulders. "One of these days you're going to have to relax, and trust me when I say you will be more pleasant to be around. Besides, I'm always in control." As he said this, he pulled himself onto the ledge below the window, and leaned against the glass, as there was not enough room to balance. While using one arm for support, he reached back with the other and pulled a set of metal cake knives out of his bag. They had been glued together to add strength. These he pushed under the bottom of the window and pressed down on the handle with his foot. After a few heavy grunts, the window slid open a few inches, which was just enough to easily get his hands under the bottom.

RJ heaved the window open, leapt into the house, and a few seconds later the sound of latches being undone was heard, followed by the sound of a turning knob. The back door opened without so much as a creek. RJ was still hanging on the knob when he came into view, and he quickly dropped onto the pavement. "You didn't know they had installed a raccoon door did you?" he said proudly.

"Why did they lock the door but not the window?" Verne asked as he made his way into the house.

"Why does one human drive a minivan that holds five?" was RJ's reply.

"It makes no sense," Verne said as he tapped his fingers on his shell, producing a dull thumping.

"No, but it's our gain. Hurry." RJ waved his hand in a rapid "come here" motion. Without waiting, he dashed back into the house.

Upon initially entering, the first thing that he had noticed was how cold the house was. The automated air conditioner ran for all it was worth, causing his fur to stand up all the way to the tip of his tail. Once he had finally grown used to it, the air felt much nicer than what was on the other side of the door. The second thing he noticed was the unmistakable scent of artificial strawberries, made possible by air freshener; the spray stung his nostrils, causing them to burn until they were used to it. What he noticed last was the furnishings. The room itself was covered in a thin beige, plush carpet, and littered with a couch, a table that held scattered magazines (usually about a celebrity's personal life,) and a large plastic stand, that like the siding of the house, was made to resemble wood. The stand held an equally large television, bordered on each side by some framed pictures that were barely noticeable with the monstrosity between them.

In an adjacent room was the kitchen, and thus the source of RJ's attention: the food cabinets. Using a chair, he climbed up onto the counter by the sink, and then looked down to see Verne slowly creeping into the house, tiptoeing as his eyes darted to and fro. The bright light from outside illuminated his shell and head until he was on the tile, which was out of the way of the back door.

Verne leaned his head back to see RJ, an awkward grimace growing onto his face. "Um, why exactly did you need me? You seem to be doing pretty well for yourself."

"To help carry things," RJ said as though it could not have been any more obvious. He then added very casually, "and also to frolic, had the humans actually been here."

"I know, but-"

"-Catch!"

Verne looked up just in time to see a large bag of barbeque flavored chips flying at his head. He instinctively ducked into his shell, and in the next instant felt the plastic bag thud off of the top before hitting the floor. Slowly he came out, still worried that he was about to be in the path of another culinary projectile. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he noticed RJ tearing through the cabinets, throwing back anything that did not interest him, which happened to be most things. He watched a bag of grapes, a banana, a box of fat free brownies, numerous cans of spices, and finally an apple leave the raccoon's hands and tumble to the floor.

"I don't see them!" RJ grumbled as he tossed more items out of the way. "Where are they?" Not once did he look back, and Verne was quite certain that RJ was only talking to himself. As focused as he could be when hunting for a snack that he had his mind on, there was no point in even addressing him at the moment.

Suddenly, Verne saw yet another bag flying at him. This one he caught, and glanced over it to see that it was a bag of mini chocolate chip muffins. "Good choice?" he said half heartedly, but as he expected was being paid no attention.

Two cabinets later, RJ turned to face him, a hand tightly gripping the cabinet's shelf. Intense frustration was scratched into his features. "Where are they?" he asked again in a near snarl. "They must be hidden somewhere."

"Maybe they didn't buy more. Not everyone values twinkies as much as you do. Now can we go?"

"No! They're here, and we will find them," he said in defiance.

"You were just telling me that I need to relax. Maybe you should listen to yourself for a change," Verne said as calmly as he could. He still remembered being kicked rather harshly the last time he tried to prevent RJ from getting what he wanted. Then it had been a can of Spuddies. Granted, that had actually been a life threatening matter, but he knew the power that the cream filled golden snacks held over his friend.

"Let's find them, and I will, okay?" RJ replied as he approached him. He tried to calm himself, but he was still clearly shaking.

Verne sighed and averted his eyes. "You're addicted to these things. It's not good for you RJ."

RJ suddenly stopped, standing up defensively. However before he had a chance to answer, they heard a third voice. It carried the same manic energy and pitch as Hammy's, although it had a slightly soured timbre.

"Hey who's here I didn't see anyone come in hello? What are you doing?"

"Who's that?" Verne asked, looking around the kitchen, and then into the living room.

"I don't know!" came the voice again. It seemed unnecessarily panicked. "Who are you?"

"I'm Verne," he said, still trying to find the source of the sound. His tiny ear holes were not the most effective. "Where are you?"

Meanwhile, RJ had flattened himself against the lower cabinets from fear that the voice had been the homeowners. He sniffed the air a few times while his ears twitched. Slowly he relaxed, and stepped closer to Verne again. "I don't sense any humans," he said in a near whisper. "Whoever that is, we're safe for now."

"They're gone!" the stranger said. "They won't be back for a long time. Oh no! Unless I fell asleep. I don't know if I did really it just happens sometimes. Oh dear I hope I didn't." The pitch of his voice traveled up and down, as though he had no real control over it.

Momentarily taking interest, RJ let his attention slip from the treasure hunt. He began to stroll toward the source of the sound, which he soon saw to be a cage that was placed atop a TV tray, only a few feet away from the actual television. "So you say the humans aren't coming back for a while?"

"Yes. Well no, I don't think so. I mean they could but they left and they oh I don't know!"

In recent history RJ had earned plenty of experience dealing with such frantic speech thanks to Hammy, although the squirrel seemed to have far less self doubt. "Slow down! Are they coming or not? Take a deep breath and tell me."

"I. . .I…um." There was the sound of a few deep breaths, and then the owner of the voice crawled to the edge of the cage and peeked through the bars.

A brown furred rabbit looked down at RJ, shaking for unknown reasons. His ears were of medium length, and stood rigidly above his head, seemingly infused with the same energy that was causing his body to tremble. Even from the distance, his healthy girth was visible, nearly giving him the appearance of a long eared guinea pig. Dark brown eyes shown from beneath a mop of fur on his brow; as he looked downward a paw pushed it aside so that he would have a better view.

"I don't know," the rabbit squeaked helplessly.

"Where did they go?" RJ then asked. "Can you tell me that?"

"Soccer game," he said quickly, leaning further into the bars so that his furry tummy pressed through them a bit. "The girl plays and they went for that. I saw her all dressed up when they left."

"Oh really?" RJ said mischievously. He stroked at his chin and pondered the situation. The humans would clearly be gone a long time. There was no way they would go out for just that, at least from his experience, and the games seemed to take forever on their own. He was always amazed at how humans could run around for over an hour with nothing happening in most cases. Perhaps it was the hotdogs given away at each youth game that brought them there. "I may be around a while then."

"Oh good you can let me out of here! You have time!" the rabbit said.

"Whoa whoa whoa, no." RJ held out his hands, palms facing forward as he waved them. "I'm only here for the food. You're on your own."

Verne had finally made his way into the room. He stopped a few feet back from the cage, glancing upward. "I think you should let him out."

There was an excited yelp from above. "Do what the turtle says! You don't know what it's like in here! They never let me out except to clean the cage and when they do that they hold me so I can't even go anywhere and them I'm back in here and it's so small. Oh, and rabbits are supposed to be social animals. I saw it on Animal Planet. This is bad. Bad!" He fell over dramatically and then pulled himself back to his feet, looking down through the bars with his hands tightly clenching them. A quick puff of air blew the fur out of his eyes again. "You can't leave me here."

"We can't run away with everyone's pet," RJ protested. "Besides can you imagine him and Hammy in the same place?"

"That's not a good excuse," Verne said. "He shouldn't have to live like this."

"But he clearly gets all the food he wants. And look, he has TV!" He quickly pointed at the giant set, his arm held rigidly. "It sounds like he's living it up."

"I mean the cage."

"Ah right," RJ said. "But if we take him isn't that stealing?"

Stunned, Verne paused as his eyes roamed back into the kitchen to see the two bags on the floor, along with the various rejected items. It took him a moment to find the words to speak again. "Since when have you felt bad about stealing?" he asked flatly, and then gave his attention to the rabbit. "We'll let you free, don't worry. You can come with us. What's your name?"

"Thank you! Just pull up on this latch here," came a jubilant, frantic reply as he shook a finger at the latch in question. "It's Duncan! They got my name off a cake box!"

"Do we have to let him come?" RJ asked. "I can set him free and he can run off on his own. We need to be thinking about those lost twinkies."

"He'll come with us. He has nowhere else to go," Verne said, shaking his head sadly. "I really thought that you had learned something about family. I really did."

"I did and I feel sorry for him but that's not why we're here." He grumbled as he gnawed on his lip, pondering the situation. The only thing on his mind was finding the twinkies and leaving before he was caught. While it had been better, there was still a selfish streak living within him, and it could resurface at inappropriate moments. It was the same streak that had nearly cost him so much recently, that had nearly left him as a "family of one," as he had put it. Yet, this situation did not seem to hold the same weight, not until he remembered what it was like to be alone.

It did not take long. "You had to use the F word, didn't you?"

Verne nodded. "Guilt is good for motivation."

RJ rubbed at his brow wearily, and then reluctantly turned his eyes up to the cage. "Okay Mr. Hines, I'll let you-"

"-It's Duncan!" he interrupted.

"Yes, Duncan. I'll let you out, but you have to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"You're going to show me where these humans keep the twinkies. I know they have them."

"I promise! Hurry hurry hurry!" Duncan hopped in place with an excited smile that showed off his large incisors; they were longer than they should have been, the result of an improper diet.

"Good," RJ said with a devilish grin.

Realizing that there was no safe way to get the cage off of the stand, he improvised a landing pad. He climbed onto the couch, and threw all of the pillows onto the floor under the cage, effectively softening the floor. Then, he used the shelves as a ladder, accidentally knocking off a few picture frames in the process, and finally jumping on top of the cage once he had reached the top of the shelf. He nearly missed, and had the cage been about two inches further away, he would have busted his jaw on the bars, and then ended up on his back on the floor.

The locking mechanism was on top, far out of reach from within. He looked down through the crisscrossing bars to see Duncan watching him with fascination, still shaking as though he would explode at any moment. Fortunately the lock was a simple hook that only had to be lifted. Before he did this, he addressed the rabbit. "You need to jump onto the pillows when I open this. If you don't and hurt yourself, I'm not responsible. Got it?"

"Mmhm mmhm!" came an enthusiastic response. "On the pillows. Don't miss. Right got it!"

Following the sound of metal rubbing against metal, the door swung open, and then RJ heard what resembled half a bark, half a squeal. He looked down just in time to see Duncan leap from the cage, doing a belly flop onto the pillows. "No not like-" It was too late. He watched as he hit the cushions with a thud, rolled off of them, and only stopped when he slammed into the leg of the couch.

Duncan hopped onto his feet just as quickly, shook his head, and looked around the room. He held his arms to the side, in disbelief that they were not bumping into bars. "Hey I'm free. I'm free I'm free I'm free I'm free," he said, his words accelerating and his pitch rising to the end. Near hyperventilation, he fell onto his rump while every part of his body quivered.

RJ came to the floor with much more grace. There was hardly a sound as his feet hit the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked, scratching his head. "I didn't make you jump like that."

"Of course!" Duncan laughed in such a way that it seemed to be forced. "I have lots of padding. No problems! And hey, wow, you're skinny!"

"Um, yes. And you're. . ." He took a moment to size him up now that he had a clear view. There was definitely some padding on Duncan's frame. ". . .you look like Verne."

"RJ!" Verne scowled, digging his fists into his side. "What does that mean?"

"Hey, I just tell it like I see it, Tubby."

"Wow! You could call him Tubby the Turtle!" Duncan said, his face bright with an even bigger smile.

"Aww," RJ teased.

"No," Verne said with an annoyed cough, his eyes narrowing. "No Duncan. It's Verne, and nothing else. Do you understand? My name is Verne."

"Okay, Verne. Yes! Oh I haven't thanked you yet RJ." Very quickly he looked from side to side as he took a breath, as though the release of his words forced the rest of his body to move again. "Thank you!"

RJ felt the breath almost knocked out of him as Duncan pounced and gripped him in a tight bear hug. He was suddenly afraid that his ribs would be crushed. "Urk, er, okay. You're welcome. Let go. Please," he said in a strained voice, his teeth tightly clenched together. Unsure of what else to do, he lightly pat him on the back and looked at Verne for help.

"Let go Duncan," Verne said flatly. "You've thanked him enough."

Finally he released, causing RJ to gasp for air. "Why does everyone try to kill me with hugs now?" he asked rhetorically.

Verne answered anyway. "Because we all love you," he said with a smirk.

"And I love the twinkies. Where are they?"

An awkward silence filled the room. Duncan's eyes fell to the carpet, and his left foot tapped nervously. He hummed to himself, as though trying to block all other sounds and thoughts. "Umm, well I-I umm. Yeah."

"What?"

After a very quick glance at RJ, his gaze returned to the floor. "I don't really know," he said with a sheepish squeak, his arms locking behind his back.

"What!" RJ spat. "But you promised! Verne, help me throw this liar back in the cage."

Before anyone could respond, the room was silenced again as three doors slammed outside. The three listened intently to the sound of approaching voices, including what sounded like the sobs of a young girl; RJ thought he could hear her saying, "They cheated."

Upon hearing a jingling set of keys, Duncan sucked in a ragged breath, his eyes fixated on the front door. "They're back!" he yelped, and within the same breath, turned and sprinted into the back yard.

"Wait! We have to get what I came for!" RJ said to the empty space that had just contained Duncan.

Verne was all ready on his way out the back. He looked over his shoulder as he ran. "Then stay and get caught. Maybe you'll learn a lesson." The next moment, he too was gone.

"Cowards!" All alone, RJ breathed heavily as he fought with himself about what to do. The sound of a turning doorknob made the decision for him. Bounding up the couch in a blur, he jumped off the back, landed on the carpet with the ease of a cat, and then hurried into the kitchen to grab the bag of chips and muffins. Once on the tile, he slid from how fast he moved, nearly falling on his side as he grabbed for them. The crinkling of thin plastic was accompanied by the opening of the front door, along with the distraught girl who seemed inconsolable.

An angry man's voice came from the front hall. "Hey! Who left the back door open?"

Clutching the bags to his chest, RJ ran at full speed to the door. He had no time to hide. The air rushing past his ears bit at them, and in his panic it seemed as though the door grew further with each step.

The scratchy voice of the girl grew closer, and it suddenly became a shriek. "Duncan's gone! He ran away! Daddy you better get me a new bunny. Now!"

It was the last thing RJ heard as he slipped into the back yard. He did not stop running until he reached the edge of the hedge, and was safely on the other side. With his back against the leaves, he collapsed, feeling the bag of chips. Most had been crushed into a thin powder from how tightly he had held them. With a great feeling of loss and helplessness, he tossed the bag aside, and helped himself to a muffin from the other.

As the chocolate massaged his tongue, he sighed and wondered what happened to Verne, and then very reluctantly, Duncan.