The Tomb of Doom

by Gareth P. Jones

  “After you entered the Den we remained to watch the door as you instructed,” said Lob. “Cleo went to check on the date-seller, and they must have got her then. Not long after, we saw a black-and-red hot-air balloon launch from the top of the tower.”

  “That was the Ringmaster,” said Chuck.

  “Why didn’t you follow him?” asked Jet.

  “Our desert buggy has broken down,” said Lob, gesturing toward what appeared to be a child’s replica dune buggy. A toolbox was on the ground nearby. “Rameses has been repairing it.”

  “I’m sure he has … not,” said Donnie.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Rameses.

  “Oh, come on!” exclaimed Donnie. “It’s obvious that you’re the mole.”

  “I thought he was a rat,” said Bruce.

  “Well, he certainly ratted us out,” said Donnie. “He delivered Hootenkamun to the Thieves, he helped catnap Cleo, and he told the Ringmaster we had infiltrated the Den.”

  “You have no evidence of that!” Rameses cried.

  “Indeed,” Lob agreed. “Rameses is one of my most trusted Returners. Remember, it was he who designed the tunnels.”

  “Meaning he could supply the Ringmaster with a map of all the exits,” said Donnie.

  “The Thieves have a map of our tunnels?” said Lob, sounding panicked.

  “Yes, and they are planning to block up the exits and smoke everyone out,” said Chuck. “You and Rameses must alert the other Returners and evacuate the tunnels immediately. We will follow the Ringmaster to the Tomb of Doom.”

  “Very well,” said Lob. “But be warned—the tomb contains much danger.”

  “Don’t you worry about us, we can look after ourselves. You just make sure you keep an eye on that rat,” said Donnie.

  Rameses snarled, then turned and followed Lob back toward the city.

  “Can you fix the buggy, Donnie?” asked Chuck.

  “Was my mother a meerkat?” Donnie replied.

  “You don’t know if your mother was a meerkat?” said Bruce.

  “I was being … oh, never mind.” Donnie jumped onto the buggy and whizzed around tightening screws, twisting knobs, and hammering. After a couple of minutes, he turned the key and the engine started.

  The meerkats hopped in and sped into the desert as the sun set.

  By the time they arrived at the pyramids the only light was from the moon and stars, and the colored floodlighting that highlighted the magnificent structures.

  Donnie drove past the Sphinx and around three large pyramids. At the foot of one of the smaller pyramids, the meerkats spotted a distinctive black-and-red hot-air balloon. Getting nearer, they spied two wicker baskets at its base.

  “It would appear that the Ringmaster left something behind,” said Chuck.

  “His laundry by the looks of it,” said Donnie.

  He turned off the engine and the meerkats approached on foot. Suddenly the lid of one of the baskets flew off and the skinny man from the courtyard hopped out.

  “I’ll deal with this wimp,” said Jet.

  “With your kung-fu skills, I am sure you could knock me out in a second, Jet Flashfeet,” said the man, “but let’s see how you deal with this blow.” He pulled out a flute and played a short tune.

  Three snakes slithered out from under the lid of the other basket—a huge boa constrictor, a cobra, and a sidewinder.

  “I am Juan Spitten—the world’s greatest snake charmer,” said the man. “And these are my charming companions: Fangs, Squeeze, and Mirage.”

  “My family name is Cobracrusher for good reason,” said Chuck, drawing his sword as one of the snakes moved toward him, raising its head threateningly.

  “Fangs here is loaded with enough poison to end your little life,” Juan said.

  Fangs lunged at Chuck, but he rolled out of the way just in time. The other two snakes were hot on his tail, though. One tripped Chuck up, while the other wrapped itself around him, squeezing so hard that his sword fell from his hand.

  “You’ll have to forgive Squeeze—he’s a bit over-friendly,” laughed the snake charmer.

  Just as Bruce and Donnie sprang to Chuck’s aid, the sidewinder whipped up a cloud of sand with its body, making it impossible to see more than a few centimeters in front of them. Snake-like shapes appeared within the cloud.

  “Where is he?” cried Bruce.

  “This must be Mirage’s work. He’s trying to confuse us,” said Donnie. “My Instant Wind Maker will put an end to that.” He pulled what looked like a leaf blower from his backpack and began to disperse the sand, but neither he nor Bruce realized that they had backed toward Squeeze.

  “Behind you!” Chuck cried weakly.

  But it was too late. Still keeping hold of Chuck, Squeeze lifted his enormous tail and wrapped it around Donnie and Bruce.

  Fangs and Mirage advanced on Jet. Fangs’s fangs glistened in the moonlight, and Mirage’s body shifted menacingly through the sand.

  “Now I will succeed where all others have failed and destroy the Clan of the Scorpion,” proclaimed Juan. “You are defeated, admit it!”

  “We’re Ninja Meerkats,” said Jet. “The only defeat we know are de ones on de end of de legs.”

  Juan smirked. “Fangs, Mirage—finish him!”

  Bruce, Donnie, and Chuck watched helplessly as Mirage whipped up a thick sand cloud. Jet and the two deadly snakes vanished from sight.

  When the sand settled, it took them a moment to figure out what they were looking at. Mirage lay on the sand, his body tied in a neat bow, and Jet appeared to be holding a long stick … which was, in fact, Fangs. The snake was as rigid as a tree branch, frozen with its jaws wide open.

  Chuck smiled. “The Squeeze of Rigidity.”

  “Oh yes!” Jet nodded. “Now, let’s see how deadly this poison really is.”

  He swung Fangs at Squeeze, sinking the frozen cobra’s teeth into the boa constrictor’s body.

  Squeeze hissed and recoiled instantly, releasing Chuck, Bruce, and Donnie.

  Chuck picked up his sword and held it to Juan Spitten’s throat.

  “Now, Juan, where is the Ringmaster?” he demanded.

  “In th-th-there,” he stammered, pointing to the nearest small pyramid.

  “How do we get in?”

  But before Juan could answer, Mirage freed himself and whisked up another cloud of sand. By the time Donnie had cleared the air with his Instant Wind Maker, the snake charmer had disappeared, along with Squeeze and Mirage.

  “Shall we go after them?” asked Bruce.

  “No,” said Chuck. “There is no time. We must follow the Ringmaster and save Hoots.”

  “What about him?” asked Jet, holding up Fangs.

  “Perhaps he has learned that crime doesn’t pay,” said Chuck.

  “Yeah,” said Donnie. “I think he’ll go straight from now on.”

  “Come, we must hurry,” said Chuck. “The Tomb of Doom awaits.”

  “Hmm,” said Chuck, pondering the strange symbols and hieroglyphs that covered the blocks of stone at the base of the pyramid. The largest image was a picture of a mummy with holes in different parts of its body. “My brother spoke of a well-armed visitor needing to touch a mummy’s tummy in order to enter. Donnie, what do you make of these holes in the rock?”

  “Well, they’re more like slits than holes. And look, there are scratch marks around the edges of each slit,” Donnie stated.

  “That’s it!” Chuck drew his sword. “I must thrust my sword into the hole where I would expect to find the mummy’s tummy.”

  “So, the hole in its middle,” said Jet.

  “I think not,” said Chuck. “In ancient Egypt the internal organs were removed during mummification. Look closer. What do you see drawn by the mummy’s feet?”

  “It’s a jar,” said Bruce.

  “A canopic jar, to be precise … containing the mummy’s stomach.”

  Chuck thrust his sword into the slit at the center of the j
ar.

  Suddenly there was a rumble, and the stone block slid back, revealing the entrance to a tunnel.

  “So the door was a jar all along,” said Donnie, chuckling.

  “I don’t get it,” said Bruce.

  As they entered the pyramid, Donnie pulled a flashlight out of his backpack to light their way. The path sloped downward, and the tunnel’s walls were covered with engravings depicting great wars, majestic hunts, and strange mythical creatures. The Clan stopped when they reached a junction made up of five paths.

  “Which way do we go?” asked Jet.

  Donnie shone his torch on the arches above each pathway, revealing drawings of a cat, an owl, a bull, a horse, and a jackal.

  “This must be the Junction of the Protectors,” said Chuck.

  “And look—footprints,” said Bruce, pointing at the ground.

  Set into the stone floor were five sets of footprints, one leading into each of the tunnels.

  “Lob said that all five sets led to death,” recalled Jet.

  “So none of these paths is the right one?” said Bruce, scratching his head.

  “To follow in the footsteps of any of these animals would mean death,” said Chuck. “But one of these animals can choose not to leave footsteps.”

  “The bird,” said Donnie.

  “Exactly.”

  “Great,” said Jet, starting off in that direction. “Then we’re going this way.”

  “Wait—listen.” He picked up a small rock and threw it into the corridor. They waited to hear it land, but no sound came. “There is no path,” said Chuck. “The bird’s footsteps will also lead to a sticky end.”

  “So, what? We’re supposed to fly, are we?” asked Bruce.

  “Exactly,” said Chuck.

  “No problem,” said Donnie. “Jet, hold my flashlight.” He pulled the harpoon-gun from his backpack, and fired it at the roof of the corridor featuring the bird’s footprints. He checked that it was secure, then said, “Now hang on.”

  The others clung on to the cable and jumped. They swung into the darkness, over a huge hole, and landed safely on the other side. Donnie cut the cable and stuffed the harpoon-gun back in his backpack.

  They were now in a second, much wider corridor, its walls lined with doors.

  “The Triangular Doors,” said Chuck.

  “But they aren’t triangular,” said Bruce.

  “No, but there are triangles on the doors,” said Jet, pointing out how each door had a different number of triangles carved on it.

  “Only one of these doors is the right way,” said Chuck. “The others will—”

  “Let me guess,” interrupted Donnie. “Lead to certain death?”

  “Exactly.”

  “What’s this?” asked Donnie, pointing at some carvings in the ground nearby. “A door, an eye, and a large triangle with some smaller ones inside it.”

  “I think it means the door we need to take has the same number of triangles carved into it as seen here,” said Chuck.

  “Well, that’s easy,” said Bruce, counting the triangles. “There are nine of them.”

  “No, there are ten,” said Donnie. “The nine smaller triangles make up a big one.”

  “The answer is thirteen,” said Chuck. “Look again. Within the big triangle are three medium triangles, each made up of four small triangles. We must take the door with thirteen triangles on it.”

  When they found the correct door, Bruce pushed it open, and the meerkats cautiously stepped inside. Suddenly, the ground fell away and they slid down a chute, landing with a THUMP inside a wire cage.

  “Looks like thirteen wasn’t the right answer after all,” Jet observed.

  “Yes, it was,” Chuck replied, “but it would seem our old enemy has beaten us to it.”

  They were suspended above a deep well at the center of a room filled with treasure. Five magnificently decorated sarcophagi stood at regular intervals around the walls, and at the edge of the well were the clowns, Doris the Dancing Dog, and Bernie Lungs. Hootenkamun was behind them, a chain around his neck tying him to a table leg.

  “How nice of you to drop in,” boomed the Ringmaster’s voice from a shadowy doorway at one end of the chamber. “What a shame you can’t hang around,” he chuckled, “but it seems you’re due to meet your doom … in the Bottomless Pit.”

  “I think not, Ringmaster. This tomb will be your own doom,” said Chuck.

  The Ringmaster stepped out of the shadows to reveal that he was wearing a gold mask.

  Chuck gasped.

  “Yes, Chuck, this is indeed Nuff’s Head. And no, you won’t be getting the better of me this time. As we speak, Jet is considering using a Butterfly Punch on the bars to release you.” The Ringmaster cracked his whip on the cage, knocking the meerkats off their feet. “Donnie is reaching for his grappling hook, unaware that if he pulls it out, Bernie will turn you furballs into four little fireballs. And you, Chuck, you are thinking about all the ways you will attack me once you are free.”

  “Hey, he’s reading our thoughts!” exclaimed Bruce.

  “Precisely,” said the Ringmaster. “How do you think I was able to ensnare you? I’ve been monitoring your progress by reading your thoughts since you entered this pyramid. In the past you’ve only managed to get the better of me because you had the element of surprise on your side, but there will be no surprises today. Now, before we bid you farewell, perhaps you’d like to say hello to my new friend.”

  Cleo Catra stepped out from behind a pile of treasure and weaved between the Ringmaster’s legs. Doris eyed her warily.

  “So it was you who betrayed the Alliance,” said Jet.

  “Of course,” she purred. “My family was once worshipped as royalty in Egypt, and with the Ringmaster’s help, that can be true again. I am Cleo Catra, here to make a scene; soon you’ll all bow down to me as queen!”

  “Indeed,” said the Ringmaster. “Rest assured, I’ll know of any attempt you make to escape before you even move. Yes, Donnie, that includes your smoke-grenade idea; and no, Jet, I don’t think even you could pull off a move like the one you’re contemplating. But please, do give it a try.”

  “You will live to regret this, Ringmaster,” warned Hootenkamun. “Nuff’s Head should not be used for evil.”

  The Ringmaster’s laughter echoed around the tomb. “Somehow, I knew you’d say that,” he smirked. “Now, Bernie, send them down.”

  Bernie Lungs took a deep breath and lifted his torch to his mouth. He exhaled, sending a huge flame at the rope the cage was suspended from, setting it alight. Doris barked happily, and the clowns applauded.

  Suddenly, Bruce burst through the cage door. He flung himself at the Ringmaster, landing a powerful punch on his chest. “Bruce Force!” he yelled.

  The Ringmaster staggered backward.

  Chuck, Donnie, and Jet jumped to safety the moment before the cage dropped into the hole.

  “But … I should have known he was going to do that!” the Ringmaster cried furiously.

  “The wearer of Nuff’s Head can read anyone’s thoughts,” said Hootenkamun. “But it is of no use against those ruled by instinct.”

  “I’m more of a doer than a thinker,” said Bruce, as he cracked his knuckles.

  Chuck drew his sword and turned to the Ringmaster. “So can you tell what I am thinking now?” he asked.

  “Oh, how very predictable,” sighed the Ringmaster. “You are thinking that before you, each enemy cowers, for now you’ll fight till victory is yours. But I’m afraid you have not taken into account some of my latest recruits.”

  “Ha! We saw off your snake charmer,” said Jet, “and we’ll put out your fire-eater too.”

  “Oh, I’m not talking about Bernie,” said the Ringmaster.

  Slowly the doors to the five sarcophagi opened and from each one stepped a groaning, moaning mummy.

  The Clan of the Scorpion watched in horror as the five mummified figures slowly approached.

  “Mummies of Nuff,
” said the Ringmaster, “these meerkats have broken into the temple to steal its treasures. Get them!”

  The mummies turned their featureless faces toward the meerkats.

  “Hey, Grimsby,” said Sheffield. “You forgot to get a card.”

  “What for?” asked Grimsby.

  “Mummy’s day,” Sheffield chuckled.

  Chuck addressed the mummies. “It is not us who seek to steal the treasure,” he said.

  “It’s no use,” cried Hootenkamun. “They only hear the thoughts of he who wears the mask.”

  “Yeah? Well, these guys will need a whole lot more bandaging when I’m through with them,” said Jet. “It’s time for some Ninja-Tomb-of-Doom-boom!”

  He grabbed hold of a loose bandage on one of the mummies’ outstretched arms and swung from it, landing a powerful kick on its stomach. But instead of knocking it over, Jet flew straight through its belly and came out the other side, covered in bandages.

  The mummy looked down at the hole Jet had made, and grabbed him.

  “Hey, he went through the mummy’s tummy,” chortled Grimsby.

  “What a dummy,” added Sheffield.

  “It’s time to wrap up this situation,” said Donnie. He ducked an attack from one mummy, then grabbed a loose end of bandage and pulled as hard as he could.

  The mummy spun around, but when it recovered its footing, it groaned angrily and swiped at Donnie. The meerkat rolled out of the way, then leaped to his feet.

  “So,” said the Ringmaster. “It appears the Clan of the Scorpion will meet their doom at the hands of a few old mummies. How sad.”

  Chuck turned to face him.

  “Yes, Chuck,” said the Ringmaster patiently. “I know you want to retrieve the mask so the mummies will be on your side, but there’s nothing you can do to surprise me. Luckily, we can still surprise you.”

  A sudden burst of fire shot down at Chuck from the mouth of Bernie Lungs. He jumped out of the way, but not before the fire singed the end of his tail. Doris barked happily.

  “Hey, Grimsby,” said Sheffield. “I think Chuck’s burned out.”