Johnny Graphic and the Etheric Bomb

by D. R. Martin

  “Let me see,” Nina said, dashing over. She pulled out the first few pages of the manuscript, scanning through them rapidly, eyes wide as saucers. “This is the new Holyfield novel that Dame Honoria’s working on.”

  Johnny knew that Sparks was a huge Holyfield fan and would give anything to be among the first to read his new book. He was about to suggest that they bring it along when a papery, ghostly voice intruded.

  “Excuse me.”

  Mel and Johnny turned around.

  A weasel-faced wraith stood in the doorframe, peering at them with an air of superciliousness, arms crossed. He wore a khaki safari jacket, a pith helmet, jodhpurs, and riding boots. He held a riding crop in his right hand.

  “Who are you?” asked Johnny.

  “I believe I have the advantage of you, young sir,” the ghost hissed, “as manager of this estate. Who are you?”

  “You’re Mr. Eccleston, aren’t you?” said Mel.

  Nina and Uncle Louie were old hands at observing one-sided conversations, and listened intently. Danny merely looked confused.

  “What if I am?” the ghost snapped. “The question at hand is why are you trespassing here? This is a private island.”

  “We’re friends of Dame Honoria,” said Johnny, “and we’ve come to try to find out what happened to her.”

  “And to rescue her,” added Mel.

  The ghost sighed disgustedly. “I repeat myself: who are you people?”

  Johnny strode over to him and tried to strike a friendly chord. “My name is Johnny Graphic,” he said. “This is my sister Mel. And the big fellow is my uncle, Louie Hofstedter. And that’s his ward, Nina Bain. This is our pilot, Danny Kailolu. I’ve known Dame Honoria since I was little. I was born at her estate in Gilbeyshire. Believe it or not, she’s my godmother.”

  Ozzie Eccleston’s face underwent a remarkable transformation, going from utter vexation to pure obsequiousness in the matter of two or three seconds.

  “Oh, do forgive me,” he pleaded. “Master Graphic, Miss Graphic. Of course, I know who you are. Dame Honoria has mentioned you often. But so many officials, investigators, and curiosity seekers have visited since the abduction that I’ve become quite impatient with interlopers.” He sighed dramatically.

  “So Dame Honoria was okay last time you saw her?” Johnny asked.

  The ghost looked at Johnny and grinned frighteningly. “She was indeed okay, as you folks like to put it.” His chuckle was patronizing.

  Uncle Louie couldn’t contain himself. “Ask the palooka to just tell us what happened to Dame Honoria.”

  In response, Ozzie recounted a dramatic tale of how a platoon of Steppe Warriors appeared on the island on Dame Honoria’s first morning back.

  “She came downstairs, confronted them. Quite bravely, I thought. But they took her prisoner nonetheless. Alas, I had no weapon but this.” He held up his riding crop and waggled it around. “And I would have gone after the blighters. Indeed I would have! But Dame Honoria shouted, ‘It’s hopeless, Ozzie. Save yourself.’”

  “But what happened to Dame Honoria?” Johnny demanded, after reprising the story for Nina and Uncle Louie. “Where did they take her?”

  “Until just yesterday,” said the ghost, “I had no idea. But I had my suspicions. So I went looking. And I found her.”

  “Where?” Mel asked with a note of excitement.

  “They have our lady in a cave on Old Number One.”

  “Her father’s tapioca plantation?” asked Mel.

  “Cassava plantation, actually,” Ozzie corrected her. “The cassava is made into a meal and tapioca beads manufactured therefrom.”

  Mel and Johnny turned around and told the others what Ozzie had said.

  “Then we have to get her out of there,” Uncle Louie proclaimed

  “My feelings exactly,” said the ghost. “And I should be delighted to guide you.”

  Since it was already late in the day, everyone agreed that they should stay that night on Gorton Island and get an early start first thing in the morning. There was plenty of canned food in Dame Honoria’s larder. And her beds looked far more comfortable than anything they’d slept in since the Orchid Isles. Certainly more comfortable than sleeping on the Eagle.

  At about nine o’clock that evening Johnny was sliding off into dreamland in the grass-roofed guesthouse when he heard a terrible yelp of distress outside. He grabbed the flashlight on his bedstand and rushed out through the screen door.

  There, sitting on the ground next to the rainwater shower, rubbing his left ankle, was Uncle Louie. He was in his bathrobe. The big man grimaced and blinked up into the bright light of the flashlight.

  “Thought a shower sounded awful nice, John,” Uncle Louie groaned. “Stepped in a hole just on the edge of the path there. Hurts like the deuce. You think Dame Honoria’s got any ice around this place?”

  “No electricity on the island, Uncle Louie,” said Johnny, shaking his head. “So no freezer. We’ll ask Ozzie if there’s an icehouse. Here, let me see if I can help you.”

  Johnny managed to get his uncle upright, and they went very slowly back to the guesthouse—the big man barely able to put any weight on the ankle.

  “You know what’s funny, John?” said Uncle Louie. “I fly an aeroboat almost halfway across the world, save it from certain doom in an out-of-control dive, and then I go wreck my ankle because of a six-inch hole in the ground.”

  * * *

  Mel and Nina tramped out the back door of the house shortly after dawn, following Ozzie Eccleston. Uncle Louie limped out next, his arm over Danny’s shoulder. His ankle was badly swollen and the big man winced at every hobbling step.

  Johnny and Lieutenant Finn came out last and started to follow the others down to the dock. But Johnny noticed a strange-looking object obscured by the undergrowth next to the kitchen shack.

  “I think I see something weird over there, Lieutenant Finn,” Johnny said.

  He tiptoed up the shell path toward the rickety structure. Finn came after him.

  Johnny gasped in horror when he saw what had caught his attention.

  A pretty native face peered up from the ground, amid some flowered stems, wearing a look of utter desperation. The girl ghost had no body. Her lips were moving. But Johnny could only hear a whisper of a voice. He squatted down to get closer.

  “My name is Tala,” the ghost said urgently. “Mr. Eccleston betrayed Dame Honoria. He and those terrible ghost soldiers took her away. He’s a villain! Don’t trust him! Don’t trust him!”

  His stomach almost churning, Johnny nodded, stood, and turned to Lieutenant Finn with a scowl. “Sounds like our chum Ozzie may be leading us into a trap.”

  Chapter 38

  Friday, November 1, 1935

  Old Number One

  Uncle Louie had rarely looked so frustrated. Never one to back away from a good fight for a good cause, the big man was now confined to his co-pilot’s seat—sidelined by his badly sprained ankle. He reluctantly agreed that he couldn’t go on the hunt for Dame Honoria on Old Number One. He’d be practically useless. He had to stay on the Como Eagle.

  Danny couldn’t leave the aeroboat, either. An important gauge on the control panel had stopped working and he—with some help from Louie—had to fix the thing. A quick escape from the island might depend on it.

  The kids and the ghosts would have to search Old Number One on their own.

  “All I ask of you characters,” Louie admonished the youngsters, “is that you use your noggins. Think before you jump, okay? Don’t try to be big heroes. Just figure out Dame Honoria’s location and get her out. The Lieutenant’ll help you come up with the best strategy.”

  On the one-hour flight from Gorton Island to Old Number One, Ozzie had spent time up on the flight deck, fascinated by the workings of the flying machine. Johnny kept “translating” the ghost’s questions, and Danny explained everything he was doing and why.

  Leaving Ozzie in the cockpit, Johnny returned to the passenger cab
in, and had an urgent, whispered conference with his sister and Lieutenant Finn. They hatched a plan to deal with the traitorous Ozzie Eccleston.

  Within moments of beaching their dinghy on the southwestern shore of Old Number One, Johnny, Mel, and Nina headed inland through dense jungle—led by Ozzie. Lieutenant Finn and the greatly depleted First Zenith Cavalry Brigade rode alongside them and out ahead. It wouldn’t do for them to be flying up above the jungle, potentially visible to Dame Honoria’s captors.

  Leaves and branches and thorns grabbed at the three kids at every step. Johnny took the lead and had to slash at the undergrowth with a machete. Clouds of insects swarmed around, pestering and biting.

  The worst stretch of their march inland was mushing through the swampy spots. Johnny’s boots and socks quickly soaked through. When he felt a peculiar itch on his right shin, he lifted up his trouser leg and discovered a huge leech, half the size of his hand, enjoying lunch.

  “Oh man!” he yelped.

  Nina hurried forward and gave him a disgusted look. “Stop fussing, okay?” She bent over and gently pried the leech away from his shin. Then, probably for the only time in its life, the squishy black parasite went flying.

  Mel was wearing her saber. Johnny wondered if maybe she was overdoing it. It sure did look silly, dangling on her hip. But who knew? It might come in handy. At least she knew how to use it.

  After an hour of strenuous trudging, the group reached a jungle clearing near a large, wide bog. There they paused for water and food. Johnny, Mel, and Nina were panting and already exhausted. Johnny had taken off his hat and was wiping his face with a handkerchief soaked with sweat. He had thought, at one time, that he might enjoy living on a tropical isle. That didn’t seem like such a swell idea anymore. How could anyone get used to this heat and humidity?

  “Hello,” said a tiny voice.

  Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin.

  Just at the edge of the clearing, not thirty feet away, stood a diminutive girl ghost in a dusty dark shift and headdress.

  Johnny tipped back his straw fedora and walked over to her. “Hi, there. What’s your name?”

  “Bao,” she said. “Why are you here?”

  “We’re looking for a friend of ours.”

  Bao regarded the people and ghosts with a certain wariness. Her little black eyes paused ever so briefly on Ozzie. “Who?” she asked.

  “A lady named Honoria Rathbone. We think she’s being held prisoner here on the island.”

  “Are you her friends?”

  “You betcha we are,” said Johnny. “I was born in her house.”

  The little girl wraith crooked an index finger and motioned for Johnny to come closer. A good head taller than her, he listened carefully to what she had to say.

  When she’d finished, Johnny joined the others. “She doesn’t know anything about Dame Honoria. She saw us arrive, and she was curious about the flying machine.”

  Johnny tried to look as casual as possible as he strolled up to Finn and spoke a few quiet words in the ghost’s ear. The lieutenant listened attentively, his face expressionless. In turn, he gave a surreptitious nod to Corporal Marchiano, a small but muscular specter with piercing black eyes and a black beard.

  Ozzie didn’t seem to notice Marchiano coming up behind him. Without warning, the ghost trooper locked him into a python-tight full nelson hold. Marchiano’s hands gripped the back of Ozzie’s neck.

  “Nooo!” Ozzie howled, his pith helmet flying off. “What are you doing?” He struggled to get free, but Marchiano had him under control. Ozzie was going nowhere.

  Johnny understood all too well that the only way to hold a ghost captive was to have another ghost restrain him. To prevent Ozzie from springing any ambush, someone would have to stay here and keep him from doing any mischief. And that someone was the corporal.

  “The little girl ghost here says that you helped the Steppe Warriors abduct Dame Honoria,” Johnny accused him. “She says that you’re sure to betray us, too.”

  “Pish-posh,” Ozzie said, his head bent at a very odd angle. “Whom do you trust? Someone who has given decades of service to the lady?” He forced a smile that no one could possibly believe. “Or a vile little guttersnipe?”

  Johnny looked at Mel, who nodded.

  “I think we trust the guttersnipe.” Johnny said. “And Tala—or at least Tala’s head—told me the exact same thing this morning.”

  “There’s been a dreadful misunderstanding!” wailed the captive ghost. “This miserable child is leading you into a terrible trap. I am first and foremost my mistress’s loyal servant.”

  Johnny looked him in his weasel face. “We’ll see what Dame Honoria has to say about that.”

  Chapter 39

  Leaving the vile Ozzie in Corporal Marchiano’s firm grip, the three living people and the ghost troopers followed Bao. She promised to take them to Dame Honoria’s cave, where she had left the old lady. A bit more than an hour later they arrived in the shadow of the coral hills that divided Old Number One. The razor-sharp, jagged stone formations were a good three hundred feet tall.

  “Is Dame Honoria alright?” Mel had asked Bao along the way. “Have they hurt her?”

  “I don’t think so,” answered Bao. “But a few days ago the man in the helmet—”

  “Ozzie Eccleston?” Johnny prompted.

  “Yes, him. He and some Steppe Warriors took her to see the khan.”

  “The khan!” blurted Johnny. “Their chief is here?”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “Who is he? What’s he like?”

  Bao seemed puzzled, but tried to answer. “He is a man, not a ghost. But a strange-looking man, with a long face and dark, scary eyes. He looks very strong.”

  “What did Dame Honoria say about him, Bao?” Mel asked.

  “Nothing. She would say nothing. She was quiet and sad. ‘Grandmother,’ I asked, ‘what is the matter? Are you sick? Have they hurt you?’ She said no. ‘Then why do you seem so sad?’ She would not say. And it is not like Grandmother to speak so little.”

  “That’s for sure,” said Johnny. “She’s never at a loss for words.”

  Mel glared at her brother. “At least she’s alive and unharmed.”

  As much as Johnny respected Dame Honoria, he thought that she talked way too much and tended to stick her nose in other people’s business. So if she had clammed up, something bad must have happened.

  “Do you know why the khan’s here?” asked Johnny.

  “To make the second bomb,” answered Bao, as if this ought to be quite obvious.

  Johnny and Mel stopped in their tracks and stared in horror at the little girl ghost. There’s another bomb?

  “Have they finished it?” Mel asked, looking appalled.

  “I do not know, Sister.”

  “Have you seen the bomb?” asked Johnny, thinking darkly about how the first one had blinded him.

  “I am sorry, but I don’t know what it looks like.”

  Johnny whistled and shook his head. The khan and his super bomb were only a mile or two away. Not exactly a reassuring thought.

  As they rested at the base of the coral hills, Johnny pulled a yellowed map of Old Number One out of his camera pack and spread it on a rock shelf.

  Mel took Bao gently by the elbow and led her to the map. “Now point out to us where everything is. Dame Honoria’s cave, where they made the bomb, where the Steppe Warriors may be. Whatever you can think of.”

  Bao understood the map perfectly, having flown over the island many times. She showed Mel and Finn where everything was.

  “Okay, now we need a plan,” said Mel. “Lieutenant, what do you think?”

  Finn leaned in over the map, jabbing at it with a bent index finger. “I think we ghosts ought to go on a double action, right through here.”

  Johnny and Mel agreed that Finn’s tactic of a pincer movement—attacking from two sides at once—was the proper strategy. One group of troopers would strike from the back of D
ame Honoria’s cave, the other would advance from the front. The two units would hopefully overpower the Steppe Warrior guards and safely spirit the old lady away.

  * * *

  In the hours since they’d set foot on Old Number One, Johnny had been painfully aware that the seventeen men and officers of the First Zenith Cavalry Brigade were scattered all to hell and gone. The colonel and two others had vanished in the roiling inferno of the etheric bomb. Four troopers remained on Landfall Island, waiting for the lost threesome. Two more remained with Uncle Louie and Danny, guarding the flying boat. Corporal Marchiano held the treacherous Ozzie Eccleston. That left just seven troopers and seven horses fit for action. Not a very big force, not even a platoon.

  A bit after ten o’clock, beneath a clear sky and blistering sun, Lieutenant Finn led three mounted troopers straight into the solid pink stone that formed the coral hills. Bao guided them, sitting in front of Finn on his saddle. Simultaneously, Sergeant Clegg and his two men headed up the narrow path that divided the island’s rocky spine—a stone-strewn track just barely passable for the living. Finn promised that he would send back a trooper in an hour or less to report on the mission’s outcome.

  But the hour passed, then another half hour, and no one showed up. No Zenith Trooper of any sort.

  “I’m really afraid that something’s gone wrong,” said Johnny, his patience wearing thin. There’d been nothing to do but sit and wait and sweat. He wanted to get into action. “We have to go check things out.”

  In spite of being an accomplished hiker and outdoorswoman, Nina didn’t look happy about trekking through the coral hills. She had looked at the path and said it was terrible ground. But Mel agreed with her brother. It wasn’t like Finn to not report back.

  Nina, as usual, was right.

  Johnny had never taken a harder, more arduous hike. The path wended through the coral hills for over a curving, twisting mile. Much of the way there was no flat surface to walk on. They all balanced precariously on angled rock after angled rock. It was a miracle that no one ended up with a sprained ankle like Uncle Louie’s.