The Golden Paw

by Jason Lethcoe

  The base of the tree was huge, consisting of centuries-old twisted roots that tangled around each other. A staircase carved into the trunk of the tree led upward, its banister made of thick rope. Looking up, Andy saw that the stairs twisted high into the massive branches, disappearing at the top into an alcove on a particularly sturdy branch that looked to be about ten feet wide.

  “Stay quiet,” Andy said. “There might be someone up there. We don’t want to alert the wrong people to our presence.”

  They did their best to walk as quietly as possible. It made climbing the big trunk take much longer than it ordinarily would have, but Andy wasn’t about to take the risk of alerting anyone to their presence. At the top, he was amazed to discover a sprawling series of rooms installed beneath the leafy canopy of the tree.

  I wonder what secrets are hiding up here?

  Abigail must have been thinking the same thing, because she pointed at the nearest room with a surprised expression. Andy followed her gaze. The cleverly designed room had a maple writing desk and a reading lamp. Leaning against the far wall in the corner was something familiar.

  “Those are our things!” Abigail whispered.

  It was true. The rucksacks they’d been carrying before they were captured were neatly stacked against the wall.

  The two made their way as quickly and quietly as they could to their gear. As they gathered everything up, Abigail leaned in close to Andy’s ear and whispered, “Let’s get out of here while we can.”

  “You go,” Andy said. “I want to look around.”

  Abigail looked like she was about to protest, but thought better of it.

  “Fine,” she whispered. “I’ll take these down to the others. Be careful!”

  Andy nodded. After shouldering his own pack, he moved farther up the main branch to the next alcove. He glanced inside the closest room and noticed nothing interesting, just a kitchen with a huge clamshell for a sink. The next room down the branch had some beds and a hammock.

  Since there was still no sign of anyone about, he went up to the last room at the top of the branch. This one was the largest, and when he looked inside, his breath caught in his throat.

  It was a sumptuously arrayed office with several large maps on the walls. A pipe organ was installed in one corner of the room, and a huge walnut desk with elaborately carved legs stood in the other. A beautiful old record player—a gramophone with a large bluebell-colored horn—sat next to the desk.

  As Andy scanned the room, his eyes fell on a glass dome on the desk. There was something beneath it—something instantly recognizable and almost painfully familiar.

  My Zoomwriter!

  Andy rushed over as quietly as he could. Removing the dome, he retrieved his pen and inspected the jade barrel and nib for any signs of damage.

  There were none.

  Andy could have shouted with glee! In a million years, he never would have thought he’d find it so easily. Of course, he never would have pictured its being held inside a treehouse, either. Having it back in his possession once more made him feel a strong sense of security.

  Andy was about to leave the room when he noticed something else on the desk. Curious, he decided to hazard a closer look.

  It was a drawing of an ancient-seeming clock. Instead of numbers, strange figures decorated its face. Looking closer, Andy saw that with each change of the hour, the figures grew progressively more tortured.

  On hour one, the figure looked frightened. By hour three, he was covered in what looked like pestilent boils. At hour six, swarms of terrible insects streamed from the sky. By hour nine, the figure had grown thin, his eyes bulging in a manner that clearly indicated starvation.

  The symbol depicted where the twelve should have been was the worst one of all: a grinning skull staring back at Andy with lifeless eyes. It didn’t take much interpretation to figure out what that meant.

  Death comes at midnight.

  Andy shuddered and looked over the rest of the desk. Beside the image of the clock, on a separate piece of paper, was a series of notes. They had been handwritten in an elegant script that Andy realized with a pang of resentment had been written with his own pen. His Zoomwriter. He’d know the ink pigment and nib size anywhere!

  As Andy read the notes, all the color drained from his face.

  Instructions for finding and activating the Doomsday Device contained in Library of Alexandria. Key of Fate opens vault where last page is contained. Currently held by the J.E.S. Obtain key. Kill Lostmore.

  “Doomsday Device?” Andy whispered. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  Then he realized the extent of the Potentate’s plan. She had known that Ned had the key and had wanted to get Rusty and the rest of the group out of the way so that she could steal it. Whatever this “Doomsday Device” was, if the sketch was any indication, it was something terribly powerful. Possibly more powerful than any other artifact ever discovered.

  Andy thought back to what his grandfather had told him when he’d brought him the key. How mysterious and important he’d said it was, and that what was written in the vault it protected could affect the safety of the entire world.

  I’ve got to warn Grandfather that she’s coming!

  Andy folded up the drawing and the notes. After placing them in his rucksack, he rushed out of the room. As he was leaving, he suddenly paused. Looking out over the nearest banister, he caught sight of something in the far distance. From so great a height, he could see the entire jungle. Better yet, he could see the Amazon River. He saw a dock and several boats waiting in the harbor. Swarms of people were loading wooden crates onto one of the biggest boats. The men were clad in black, just like the thugs the Potentate commanded.

  So that’s why there’s nobody around, Andy thought. They’re leaving this place to go search for the Doomsday Device!

  Andy rushed down the stairs two at time, knowing that he had to move fast if he was going to have any chance of rescuing his grandfather and stopping the Collective from destroying the world.

  Rusty and the others wasted no time in following Andy’s directions to the river dock. As they drew closer, the group prepared for the fight that was sure to come. Stealing a boat from under the noses of the Collective wasn’t going to be a cakewalk. The highly trained criminals were sure to put up a ferocious fight.

  Rusty retrieved his favorite weapon from his rucksack. But as he held up the slingshot he used to shoot his artificial ball-bearing eye, his expression changed. Without the use of his other hand, a slingshot would be useless.

  “Maybe you should stick to the pistol,” Andy suggested.

  Andy felt sorry for Rusty, but if the sturdy bush pilot was feeling sorry for himself, he didn’t show it. He tossed the slingshot back in his pack and grabbed the pistol instead. “An amateur’s weapon” was all he said. And Andy could tell by the note of disgust in his voice that he thought very little of using guns.

  Betty and Dotty had retrieved their katanas and throwing stars. The twins began a series of stretching exercises to limber up for the fight.

  Andy’s stomach was in knots. It wasn’t just that they were horribly outnumbered. It was that with every second that went by, he worried that he would be too late to save his grandfather.

  Abigail noticed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get there as quickly as we can,” she said.

  Andy nodded but said nothing.

  As Abigail picked up a long tree branch, which she twirled expertly like a bo staff, Andy glanced down at his Zoomwriter. He twisted the cap, preparing to fire it. The atomic pulse emitter was incredibly powerful, but it could only be used a couple of times before it needed a recharge. He’d have to pick his moment carefully.

  Suddenly, Andy remembered a feature on the pen that he’d completely forgotten about. He slapped his head with his palm.

  “What is it?” Abigail asked.

  “Quick, do you have a piece of paper?”

  Abigail nodded and, after a quick search of her rucksac
k, presented Andy with some. Andy reset his pen to telegraph mode and began to write.

  “I forgot that it could do this,” Andy murmured as he scribbled a quick note to Ned Lostmore, who would receive the message via Boltonhouse’s wireless telegraph.

  You’re in danger. Don’t trust anyone, especially Cedric. On our way to help!

  Just knowing that he’d sent his grandfather a warning gave Andy great comfort. He only hoped that it wouldn’t arrive too late for Ned to act on it.

  “We should aim for that seaplane over there,” Rusty said. “Most of the Collective is focused on the main ship where they’re loading their gear. If we get a distraction going in the forest behind them, the rest of us can make a beeline for the plane.”

  Betty and Dotty nodded. “We’ll do it. If all goes well, we can meet you upriver.”

  It sounded to Andy like a good plan. But just in case things got messy, he twisted the cap on his Zoomwriter, setting it back to weapon mode.

  While the twins snuck away to a spot where they could surprise the Potentate’s crew, Rusty squinted through the bushes at the thugs nearest to them.

  Suddenly, a loud crash sounded from the spot Betty and Dotty had chosen to distract the crew. The entire company of thugs shouted and began to point to where Betty and Dotty were hiding.

  “Ready?” Rusty said. “One, two, three…GO!”

  Andy, Abigail, and Rusty sprinted for the seaplane.

  At first, it seemed like they were home free. As far as Andy could see, there were no guards in sight. They were all preoccupied with the diversion the twins had caused. But as they closed in on the plane, two guards, clad all in black, leapt out from behind a couple of trees, weapons drawn.

  “Get down!” Rusty barked as several razor-sharp throwing knives were hurled in their direction.

  Andy and Abigail automatically ducked. Rusty fired at the guards with his pistol, howling like an enraged animal.

  One of the guards went down, but the other evaded Rusty’s shots and returned fire.

  Suddenly, Rusty grabbed his leg and crashed to the ground. “I’m hit!” he yelled.

  “Rusty!” Abigail shouted.

  Andy responded quickly, pointing his Zoomwriter at the thug and pushing down as hard as he could on the cap.

  BOOOOM!

  The pulse that flew from the pen shot toward the attacker, knocking him backward about fifty feet through the air. The thug had a wide-eyed expression as he flew, evidently surprised by Andy’s attack.

  At the sound of his atomic pulse emitter, every eye turned in Andy’s direction. Betty and Dotty emerged from the nearby trees and launched themselves at the crowd, spinning like a tornado and singing their fight song.

  Now that the Collective had seen what was going on, they mobilized quickly. “Get them!” someone shouted.

  The next thing Andy knew, a crowd of about a hundred thugs was bearing down on them. Fear filled his bones. It would be so easy to run away, to leave his companions behind like he had Jack McGraw. But a lot had changed in him since then.

  This time, he knew exactly what to do.

  “Get to the plane!” Rusty roared.

  “I’m not leaving without you!” Andy returned. “Abigail, grab his other arm!”

  “Cogs and cornflakes!” Rusty swore. “Let me go! I’ll just slow you down!”

  Andy leveled a stare at Rusty. “First rule of the Jungle Explorers’ Society: nobody gets left behind.”

  Rusty stared back at Andy, his mustache twitching with annoyance. Then, unexpectedly, his ruddy face split into a wide grin.

  “Let’s get moving, then!”

  The three hurried toward the boat as fast as they could. Once they got a stride going, it wasn’t unlike the three-legged races Andy ran at school. Andy kept his Zoomwriter at the ready. He was certain that they would be overtaken soon. The plane lay at a tantalizing distance, but the thugs showed no sign of slowing down.

  When Andy could see their snarling faces and the whites of their eyes as he glanced back, he wheeled around and fired his pen.

  WHOOOOMP!

  The front lines of the attackers went crashing back into the others, sending them tumbling like dominoes. It not only bought Andy and the others the time they needed to get aboard, but also time for someone else.

  The eerie battle song of Betty and Dotty rose over the commotion of the disoriented enemy. As Andy helped Rusty aboard the plane, the twins came into view, flipping expertly over a row of thugs and landing gracefully in the middle of the crowd. They kicked, punched, and let loose their throwing stars as they plowed a trough through the enemy lines. They landed on board the plane with Andy and the others just as the first of the Collective troops were remounting their attack.

  “Get us out of here!” Abigail yelled.

  Rusty, having a piloted a plane much like this before, started the engine and threw it into gear. The plane leapt from its mooring with a roar and began hurtling upstream. It lifted majestically into the air, leaving in its wake a furious mob of Collective soldiers.

  As Rusty piloted the seaplane above the Amazon, Andy informed the others about what he’d found on the Potentate’s desk in the treehouse. Looking at the drawing, the Potentate’s notes, and the scary symbols on the Doomsday Device, the peril that they were in became apparent to everyone.

  Tens of hours and several fuel stops later, Andy’s heart thudded in his chest as he finally saw the Jungle Navigation Company boathouse appear through the tops of the trees. Rusty landed in the water and then taxied the seaplane upriver on its pontoons, navigating slowly toward the mooring where the boats were kept.

  Rusty swung the plane in a tight circle, edging it close to the docks. As soon as it stopped, Abigail leapt out and tied it off on a large cleat. The boathouse was a ramshackle building of weathered lumber and rickety stairs. A radio blared top-forty big band music, and birds had taken roost in the rafters.

  Andy and the others rushed from the plane.

  “It’s this way!” Andy exclaimed as he ran from the building, hurtling down a nearby path that he’d taken when he and Jack McGraw’s group had headed toward the spot where the Key of Fate had been hidden. Part of the mission to find the key had also involved Jack and his friends creating detailed maps of the area. Andy hoped that even though it had been days earlier, his grandfather and the expedition group might still be there making maps.

  It was strange to be running in the opposite direction from the one Andy had run to escape the horde of angry beasts he’d been so afraid of earlier. When he thought about what he’d done before, he felt ashamed.

  How could I have been such a coward?

  But he didn’t have time to dwell on his past. Right now, all that mattered was the present. His legs pumped, taking huge strides as he dashed down the path, all the while ducking low-hanging branches and hurdling any other obstacles in his way.

  Andy held his Zoomwriter clutched in his hand as he ran. He was itching to use it on Cedric, to blast him as far away from his grandfather as possible.

  When the group finally made it to the clearing where Jack’s group had set up camp, all of them were sweating and out of breath. Andy didn’t want to rest. He scanned the area, taking in the tree where Jack and his team had been trapped by the rhino and the hut where the gorillas had recently been.

  But then he spotted the thing he feared the most. At the edge of the clearing, standing over a broken heap of metal lying on a table, was Cedric. Andy took in the curved knife he held above his head and the numerous bodies crumpled on the ground next to him.

  There were other people there, too. Jack McGraw was bound and gagged, and looked battered and bruised. Standing guard over him were six members of the Collective, all heavily armed. The guards were watching Cedric, who seemed to be in the middle of some kind of strange ceremony.

  Andy wasted no time. He pointed his Zoomwriter at the group and shouted, “Cedric! Put down the knife!”

  He pushed down hard on the cap, but no
thing happened.

  Cedric, who was wearing his usual tribal mask, wheeled around at the sound of Andy’s voice. The thugs did the same.

  “Get the boy!” Cedric shouted.

  All six of the thugs rushed at Andy.

  Andy stood his ground. He was aware of his friends on either side of him, all standing in solidarity and ready to defend against the attack.

  When the clash came, it sounded like a train slamming into the side of a mountain. There were shouts and the ring of metal as Betty’s and Dotty’s swords clanged against four of the attackers’ long knives. One of the other thugs, a big ugly man with a tattered bandana, slammed into Rusty. He might as well have been slamming into concrete. The big bush pilot was as strong as ever, and it quickly became apparent that, even with his injury, he’d lost none of his fighting prowess. He smashed his single mighty fist repeatedly into his heavyset foe in a blur of attacks too quick for the eye to follow.

  Another attacker, a woman with a long silver streak in her hair and a purple scar across her chin, came for Abigail. Andy hesitated, torn between wanting to help Abigail and wanting to rush to the table where Cedric was standing with his knife. Andy had the sickening feeling that the witch doctor was standing over someone he knew and that he was up to something horrible.

  He and Abigail exchanged a look, one that told Andy right away that she had the situation under control. And as the two women began an exchange of martial arts moves, Andy rushed toward his traitorous foe.

  At the table, Andy’s worst fears were realized. There, amid the broken glass and pieces of metal that had once been Boltonhouse, lay the small shrunken head of Ned Lostmore. His face was gray, and Andy feared the worst.

  I’m too late. He’s killed him!

  Cedric turned toward Andy, and the boy noted the leering grin of his tribal mask. He’d never liked the mask, but now its expression seemed to be mocking him, telling him that Cedric had won and that Andy, in spite of his best efforts, had lost.