The Tomb of Doom

by Gareth P. Jones

  “Oh yeah?” said Jet.

  “Yeah,” Cleo retorted.

  “We don’t have time for petty squabbling,” said Lob. “Come on, we must get to Hoots.”

  Everyone followed him back down into the tunnel. After a few more twists and turns, the pathway led them inside a building. A few moments later, they paused in front of a grate, through which they could see a room full of ancient Egyptian artifacts, sarcophagi, and statues of strange creatures and past pharaohs.

  “We are inside the walls of the Egyptian Museum,” said Lob.

  He led them up a miniature flight of stairs, at the top of which were some loose bricks in the wall. Lob removed them, and climbed through into a room full of dusty books, ancient-looking scrolls, crates, and boxes.

  “The humans use this room for storage,” explained Lob, weaving his way between piles of crates. “They rarely come up here, which is why I thought it would be a good place for Hoots to stay for a while.”

  The group rounded a corner and found themselves staring at a large stack of books. From the feathers scattered around, it was clear that this was Hoots’s roost. But there was no owl to be seen.

  “So where is he?” asked Donnie.

  “Hootenkamun?” Cleo called, sounding slightly panicky. “Rameses?”

  “Cleo?” replied a voice. “Is that you?” From behind a stack of boxes crawled a disheveled-looking rat. He scratched his head with his back foot, revealing a large pink bump.

  “Rameses!” exclaimed Lob. “Are you all right?”

  The rat nodded, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry—I didn’t see a thing!” he said. “Someone knocked me out and took Hoots.”

  “It must have been the Thieves,” said Chuck. “We’ll go after them at once.”

  “A rescue mission,” said Jet. “Now that’s more like it!”

  “Pah,” said Cleo. “You can no more enter their headquarters without being noticed than a bear can sneak inside a beehive disguised in a yellow and black sweater.”

  “It’s true,” added Rameses. “It’s impossible to infiltrate the Den of Thieves. We’ve tried.”

  “The Clan of the Scorpion doesn’t believe in impossibilities,” said Donnie.

  “Very well,” replied Lob. “But we must act quickly.”

  He led everyone back down into the tunnels. When they finally climbed out onto a narrow cobbled street in a deserted part of town, the sun was low in the sky. Lob, Cleo, Rameses, and the Clan hid in a shadowy doorway near the tunnel’s exit.

  “We are on the outskirts of town,” said Lob. He pointed out a heavy wooden door set into a wall opposite. “And through there lies the Den of Thieves.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” asked Bruce. “Smashing in doors is what I do best.”

  “I admire your enthusiasm,” said Lob. “But even if you were able to break that door down, you would be discovered immediately. The place is swarming with Thieves.”

  “There must be another way in,” said Chuck.

  Rameses shook his head. “There are no other entrances or windows, and no trapdoors. The stone floors make burrowing impossible. High, sloping walls and lookout turrets make going over out of the question. The only way in or out is through that door.”

  “Then we’ll go in disguise,” said Donnie.

  “You think we haven’t tried that?” snapped Rameses. “They only let their own kind in. Watch. One is approaching now.”

  Just then, a Thief turned the corner. As soon as he reached the door, it opened. He slipped inside before the door slammed shut behind him.

  “Intriguing,” said Chuck.

  “This is a waste of time,” complained Cleo. “And the sound of the fat one chewing is getting on my nerves. Doesn’t he ever stop eating?”

  “Oh, sorry. D’you wanna date?” asked Bruce, speaking with his mouth full.

  “A date? With you?” snorted Cleo. “Dream on.”

  “I meant do you want a date to eat?” he said, holding up a squishy black fruit.

  “Where did you get that?” asked Donnie.

  “There’s a man around the corner selling them. I grabbed some when he wasn’t looking.”

  “Hm.” Chuck stroked his chin. “Bruce, show us this man.”

  Bruce led them back into the tunnel, and around the corner to another exit positioned opposite a stall. A bearded man sat on a stool behind the table laden with dates.

  “I wonder how he makes any money in such a remote spot,” said Donnie.

  A Thief approached. He handed the man a coin and went on his way.

  “Hey, he forgot his dates,” said Bruce.

  “Jet, get to that stall and see if anything strange happens when the next Thief comes along,” ordered Chuck.

  Jet nodded, then dashed across the road and ducked under the date-seller’s table.

  A few moments later, another hooded Thief arrived and handed the date-seller a coin. Shortly afterward, Jet reappeared.

  “There’s a button under the stall,” he explained. “He presses it when the Thief goes around the corner.”

  “And that is what alerts those inside to open the door,” said Chuck.

  “So simple,” said Lob.

  “Yes, simplicity is the key,” Chuck said thoughtfully. “Gather round, everyone— I have a plan.”

  By the time the next Thief rounded the corner, the meerkats were ready for him. When Chuck gave the signal, Bruce leaped from the shadowy doorway and struck the Thief in the back of the knees. As he crumpled to the ground with a whimper, Jet delivered a double-fisted punch to the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Bruce then dragged him over to the doorway, where Chuck and Donnie relieved him of his cloak.

  Meanwhile, the date-seller was busy trying to shoo Cleo away. “Scat!” he said. He hadn’t needed to stock up on dates for several years and he wasn’t going to be forced to do so now just because of some flea-ridden cat.

  Cleo, however, was as fast as lightning and extremely determined. She jumped up onto the table, hissing and yowling, and scattering dates everywhere. At that precise moment, Lob slipped under the table unnoticed, and waited for Rameses to give him the signal to press the button.

  The door to the Den of Thieves opened and a short hooded figure stepped inside. Hidden under the cloak were the meerkats: Bruce was at the bottom of the stack, with Jet standing on his shoulders; Donnie was above him and Chuck was at the top, his face hidden inside the cloak’s hood.

  The Clan of the Scorpion was standing in a large stone courtyard, a single wooden door in each of the four surrounding walls. The place was packed with Thieves huddled in small groups.

  “How can we find out where the owl is being kept without making ourselves too obvious?” Chuck wondered.

  “I’ve got something that might help,” Donnie whispered. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small gun-like device. “This is a short-range sound amplifier.” He flicked a switch and passed it up to Chuck, who pointed it through a sleeve of the cloak at a pair of Thieves. Suddenly they could hear the men as though they were standing next to them.

  “Say what you like, I don’t trust him. He’s an outsider,” said one.

  “He did know about the owl, though,” said the other.

  “Hm. Well, as long as he comes good on his side of the bargain…” grunted the first man.

  Just then two of the courtyard’s doors creaked open. “Ah, here he is now,” the second man said.

  The Clan turned to see the Ringmaster’s clowns, Grimsby and Sheffield, step from the right-hand door. Grimsby tripped over Sheffield’s huge shoes and both clowns rolled over, then sprang back to their feet. Next, two men appeared from the left-hand door: one bare-chested and muscular, holding a burning torch, and the other short and skinny, and carrying a wicker basket.

  A third door directly opposite the meerkats opened and a tall, shadowy figure wearing a top hat and carrying a whip stepped out. He was accompanied by a Thief carrying a cage with a black cloth draped over it.<
br />
  “The Ringmaster,” Chuck said through gritted teeth. “Of course.”

  “Gentlemen, I have bad news,” he cried. “There is a thief amongst us.”

  The Thieves cheered and applauded, and the Ringmaster smirked.

  “I can’t see Doris,” whispered Chuck, looking for the Ringmaster’s faithful dog.

  “Good Thieves of Cairo,” continued the Ringmaster. “Allow me to introduce you to the last living Protector of the Tomb of Doom … Hootenkamun.”

  The Ringmaster pulled the cloth from the cage to reveal an extremely old and bewildered-looking owl.

  “Thanks to your kidnapping skills,” he continued, “we will soon control not just this city, but THE WORLD!”

  The Thieves cheered.

  “I’ll never help you,” the owl said in a croaky voice. “My beak is sealed.”

  “Oh, really? Cat got your tongue, has it?” said the Ringmaster. “Doris!”

  Doris the Dancing Dog appeared behind him, doing a backward tango and dragging a sack. The Ringmaster reached inside it … and pulled a black cat out by her tail. She yowled and struggled, trying to scratch her captor.

  “They’ve got Cleo Catra!” Chuck gasped.

  “Rameses must be the mole,” Donnie whispered. “He’s helped them catch Hootenkamun and now he’s betrayed Cleo Catra too!”

  “Your accusation is like a poorly built house, Donnie,” Chuck warned. “It has no foundation.”

  “I know that cat,” yelled a Thief in the crowd. “She’s a Returner!”

  “Indeed she is,” the Ringmaster replied.

  “Give her to us—we’ll prove there’s more than one way to skin a cat!” cried another.

  The Ringmaster turned to the owl. “Perhaps I should throw her to the mob. What do you say, Hootenkamun? Are you willing to sacrifice the life of a Returner for some rusty old treasure?”

  “Don’t say a thing, Hoots!” cried Cleo.

  “How very noble,” said the Ringmaster, squeezing Cleo’s tail. She hissed in distress.

  “Don’t hurt her!” begged the owl. “I will take you to the temple, but be warned—there are things there that are best left undisturbed…”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” the Ringmaster replied, shoving Cleo back into the sack.

  “Don’t forget your side of the bargain, Ringmaster,” shouted one Thief.

  “Yeah,” yelled another, “you said you’d help us destroy the Returners if we brought you the bird.”

  “And so I will,” said the Ringmaster. He held up a piece of paper. “This is a map of their underground tunnels, showing the location of every exit. You can get on with blocking them up while we visit the tomb. Then, with the help of my latest recruit, we will smoke the Returners out one by one. Gentlemen, allow me to introduce you to expert fire-eater … Bernie Lungs.”

  The bare-chested man with the burning torch thrust the flame into his mouth, then sent a burst of fire into the air.

  The Thieves cheered and clapped.

  “We must get word to the Returners to evacuate the tunnels,” whispered Donnie.

  “Quiet!” The Ringmaster cracked his whip, silencing the unruly crowd. “Only one thing stands in our way … Well, to be precise, four things standing on each other’s shoulders. Thieves of Cairo, the Clan of the Scorpion has infiltrated your Den.”

  A concerned murmur swept across the courtyard as the Thieves glanced at each other suspiciously.

  “The mole has struck again,” muttered Chuck, keeping his head down.

  “There is one way to find them,” the Ringmaster continued. “Lower your hoods.”

  At first, the Thieves seemed reluctant to reveal their faces but, one by one, they did as they were told.

  Eventually, there was just one hooded figure left.

  A smile spread slowly across the Ringmaster’s face. “And so the meerkats are revealed. Welcome.”

  Chuck lowered the cloak’s hood. “Wherever you go,” he said, his gaze fixed on the Ringmaster, “we will be one step ahead, ready to trip you up.”

  “Not this time,” replied the Ringmaster. “Thieves of Cairo, take them!”

  The Thieves put their hoods back up and drew their weapons.

  “Time to fight?” said Jet.

  “Time to fight,” Chuck confirmed.

  Chuck cast off the cloak, unsheathing his sword as he leaped off Donnie’s shoulders. He made for the Ringmaster, but a hundred grasping hands stopped him from getting very far.

  Donnie, Bruce, and Jet tried to leap to his aid, but the Thieves were everywhere. Within seconds, they had been separated.

  Jet moved in a slow circle, spinning his nunchucks above his head, assessing his opponents. One Thief swung his long sword at Jet, who jumped to avoid the attack, then used the blade of the sword as a springboard. He leaped at the Thief’s face, landing a Full Palm Strike on his nose, and sending him reeling.

  A second Thief came at him, wielding a mace. Jet dived out of the way, narrowly avoiding being flattened by the spiky weapon as it crashed to the ground. A third Thief stabbed at him with a knife from behind, but Jet swiftly ducked, then used a backward somersault to return to Bruce’s side.

  Bruce was keeping a circle of Thieves at bay, blocking their attacks, pelting them with his fists, and knocking others back with his tail, but there seemed to be an endless supply of the hooded villains.

  Jet and Bruce bashed, kicked, and pummeled their way through the wall of Thieves until they found Donnie, fending off his aggressors with a staff.

  “Donnie!” Jet cried.

  Donnie swung around and accidentally caught Jet with the end of the weapon. It flashed with a blue electric spark and Jet shot into the air like a firework.

  He quickly turned this to his advantage, performing a Hurricane Spin as he fell that caught a Thief on the chin, sending him sprawling.

  “Sorry,” said Donnie, zapping Thieves left and right. “I didn’t see you there! You’ve heard of a pole vault? Well, this is a volt pole. It gives off a thousand-volt shock.” He turned to look at Jet. “Woah! You should see your fur.”

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?” The shock had caused Jet’s fur to stand on end, making him look like a giant hedgehog. At that moment, a Thief came at them with a mallet and Bruce landed a heavy punch on his shins to save Jet from being flattened.

  “Thanks,” said Jet.

  “We need to find Chuck,” said Donnie.

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Jet. “When I jump up, use the stick on the soles of my feet, Donnie.”

  Donnie raised one eyebrow questioningly. “OK, if you say so!”

  Jet sprang up over Donnie’s head and Donnie jabbed him with the volt pole, sending him rocketing up above the throng. From his position, he could see Chuck battling ten Thieves on the opposite side of the courtyard.

  “This way!” Jet cried as he landed, his fur smoking slightly.

  The meerkats fought their way across the courtyard, and were reunited with Chuck just as he defeated the last of the ten Thieves.

  “Glad to see you!” said Chuck. “The Ringmaster and his goons took Cleo and Hoots and went through that door.” He pointed to the wooden door in front of them. “We must follow.”

  “Bruce and I will handle this,” said Donnie.

  Donnie dived into the crowd, clearing a path to the door with the volt pole, zapping Thieves out of the way. The meerkats followed, and Bruce charged at the door with a cry of “Bruce Foooorce!” It smashed into pieces with an almighty crash.

  The meerkats sprinted through the door and up a spiral staircase, the remaining Thieves close behind. At the top, Jet slammed the door, and Bruce barricaded it with some heavy crates he found nearby.

  “What now?” asked Jet, smoothing down his fur.

  They were standing on a turret at the top of a tower, and had a spectacular view of the pyramids at Giza, tinged red by the light of the setting sun. Sailing through the sky toward the magnificent structures was a black-and-red strip
ed hot-air balloon.

  “Donnie,” said Chuck, “can we use the Meer-kite to follow the Ringmaster’s balloon?”

  Donnie shook his head. “I haven’t had a chance to repair it since Herr Flick shot us down in India.” He pulled a harpoon-gun out of his bag. “We can use this to get to street level, then find a way to cross the desert quickly once we’re on the ground.”

  “Lend me your binoculars, Donnie,” said Chuck.

  Donnie fished them out of his backpack and handed them to Chuck.

  “OK,” said Chuck, scanning the horizon. “Aim for that tree on the outskirts of the city. The one next to that drawing in the sand of a snake in the grip of a meerkat’s paw. It’s our family coat of arms—a message from Lob. He must be down there.”

  “Hey, I’ve got a coat of arms,” said Bruce.

  “No, Bruce, you’ve got a coat with arms,” said Donnie. “That’s not the same thing.”

  The Thieves were now pounding on the door, trying to break it down.

  “Donnie, like actors in a film on fast-forward, we must act quickly,” said Chuck.

  Donnie took aim and fired the harpoon-gun. A metal hook flew high over the rooftops and latched on to the tree. He then cut the wire and tied it to the turret.

  The meerkats grabbed the zip line and leaped from the roof just as the Thieves burst through the door.

  “Wheeee!” Bruce cried, as the meerkats zoomed over the rooftops.

  By the time the Thieves worked out where the meerkats had gone, the Clan had reached the ground. Donnie cut the zip line, preventing the Thieves from following, and retrieved the hook from the tree.

  “A dramatic escape,” said a voice nearby.

  They turned to see Lob and Rameses step out from behind the tree.

  “Lob, I am so glad you are all right,” said Chuck. “When I saw they had Cleo Catra I feared the worst.”