Addison Cooke and the Tomb of the Khan

by Jonathan W. Stokes

“Why, yes,” said Madame Feng, confused.

  “I hope your stock craters,” said Addison. And he meant it to scorch.

  Madame Feng shuffled closer along the cliff face, and Addison held up a warning hand to stop her.

  “Remember what I offered you in your dungeon?” Addison held up the golden whip so that it cast dazzling sparkles in the afternoon sun. “If I get the whip, I get my aunt and uncle. You don’t need them. This is what you came for.”

  Madame Feng gazed upon the Khan’s whip, her eyes reflecting awe, wonder, and greed. She advanced along the rocky ledge.

  Addison stretched his arm as if to toss the whip into the void. “I don’t need the whip—I’ll throw it away!”

  Madame Feng froze. She was reading Addison and calculating.

  He sensed her fear of losing the whip, and it gave him confidence. “Send my aunt and uncle over and I’ll throw you the whip.”

  “You think I’m naïve? I can’t trust the boy who burned down my palace!”

  “I don’t want to point fingers, but technically it was Raj who burned down your palace.” Addison gestured to the top of the cliff, where the stony precipice met the plateau. “Let my aunt and uncle climb up to the summit. Then I will toss you the whip.”

  Madame Feng turned to her triads. “Let them climb!” she shouted.

  Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel found handholds and footholds and worked their way up to the crest of the cliff to where the sheer rocks rounded off to a plateau. The summit was crowned in a wide field of wildflowers. Hu trained his gun on the pair in case they tried to bolt before the exchange was made.

  It was now time for Addison to toss the whip to Madame Feng.

  She gestured impatiently. “What are you waiting for?”

  Addison could stall no longer. He whispered to I Don’t Know, crouched beside him on the ledge. “Where is your uncle? Where are the Darkhad?”

  “He’ll come,” whispered I Don’t Know.

  Nobody scanned the opposite cliff and saw no sign of the warriors. “He won’t break his vows by crossing the gorge. He’s too stubborn.”

  Addison continued to hold the golden whip over the edge of the chasm. He ran his free hand through his hair, and his fingers came away wet with sweat. “I’ve stalled as long as I can. The Darkhad are too late.”

  Madame Feng yelled impatiently, her voice echoing back and forth across the abyss. “Toss the whip now or we shoot them!”

  Out of options, Addison was winding up to toss the whip to Madame Feng when he heard the drone of an engine. He looked up to see a helicopter hurtling through the air. Addison, an eternal optimist, immediately assumed this was good news: perhaps Dax had acquired a helicopter pilot’s license. When he saw the Russian flag on the large military chopper, he realized his situation was about to get much, much worse.

  The golden eagles, agitated by the roaring blades, took flight from their nests, flapping in circles around the gorge.

  Molly shouted to Nobody over the din of the chopper. “Where is your uncle? Blow the horn!”

  Nobody desperately blew his ibex horn. He blew until his cheeks were red. He blew until the sound was swallowed up by the rumble of the helicopter. The chopper landed in the field, the wildflowers billowing under the gale of the blades. Still no Darkhad came.

  Madame Feng and her triads trained their guns on the helicopter, watching nervously.

  Addison gripped the whip in his hands. He watched Boris leap from the suicide doors of the chopper, followed by a platoon of vori. They seized Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel, pinning their arms behind their backs.

  Boris ignored the triads and their guns. He ignored Madame Feng. He confidently closed in on Addison, who backed to the edge of the cliff.

  There was nothing behind Addison except a very long view of the valley and a very short trip down. “Hello, Boris. New pants, I see.”

  Boris looked down at his new leather duds and grunted.

  “I know how the triads found us. But how did you?”

  Boris stopped ten feet from Addison. Addison’s whole group was cornered on the cliff’s rocky brink. “We were eating lunch in the valley when the river suddenly dried up and reappeared a mile away. We got interested.”

  “Ah, yes. We started an avalanche. It’s a long story.” Addison looked over Boris’s shoulder. The Russians outnumbered the triads and held the high ground, weapons raised. The triads clung to the rocks on the side of the cliff, aiming their weapons right back. Madame Feng’s eyes darted back and forth from Boris to the golden whip.

  Addison took a glance to his right at the one-thousand-foot chasm with the river churning far below. He saw no escape.

  Boris stepped closer.

  Addison held the whip over the precipice. The trick had worked once, so Addison had developed an affection for it.

  Boris paused, calculating.

  “Send over my aunt and uncle!”

  The big Russian seemed to consider it.

  Addison scanned the scene. His eyes roved to the chopper. A man in an elegant black suit stood by the suicide door, his face hidden in shadow. Addison felt fear, primal fear, in the pit of his stomach. The very sight of the man filled him with dread. Addison whispered a single word. “Malazar.”

  Boris read the fear in Addison’s eyes. He took another step closer.

  Addison stretched out his arm, threatening to hurl the whip into the void.

  The vor only smiled. “You cannot destroy the whip.”

  Addison’s arm quivered. He clenched his teeth.

  The Russian took another step. “You are a Cooke. You spend your life saving these relics. It is in your blood, it is who you are. You’d sooner throw yourself off that cliff than destroy the whip.”

  Addison lowered his arm, defeated. He tossed the whip in the grass at Boris’s feet. “Give me my aunt and uncle.”

  Boris turned to the vori who held Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel pinned by their elbows. He gave a single nod of his chin.

  The vori dragged Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel to the side of the cliff.

  Then they shoved them both over the edge.

  Addison shouted.

  Molly screamed.

  Uncle Nigel clung to a rocky ledge, his other hand gripping Aunt Delia’s wrist. Their feet dangled over infinity. Uncle Nigel’s glasses slid from his face and tumbled hundreds of feet through the air. It was impossible to see where they fell; the canyon was clouded with mist kicked up by the river.

  “Hang on!” Addison yelled.

  Raj cupped his hands and shouted, “If you fall, aim for white water!”

  Uncle Nigel’s arm shook with the strain. His hand slid along the crumbling rock, losing its grip.

  “Hang on!” Addison screamed again.

  Uncle Nigel looked at Addison, his expression sad and vacant.

  Addison realized that without his glasses, Uncle Nigel could not even see him.

  Aunt Delia never screamed.

  Uncle Nigel’s hand slipped from the rock. He and Aunt Delia silently fell, vanishing into the mist.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Malazar

  ADDISON STOOD FROZEN ON the spot, unable to blink, unable to speak. Somewhere, he could hear Molly screaming. Eddie and Raj grabbed him by the shoulders, urging him to move. He stumbled over tufts of wild grass as though in a dream, barely aware of voices or the movement of his own feet.

  Boris snatched the golden whip off the ground.

  Madame Feng shouted. The triads opened fire.

  The vori fired right back, pinning them down.

  Boris trotted the whip back to the helicopter and handed it to Malazar. He pivoted and plodded back toward Addison, hollering over the roar of the chopper. “Now it is your turn. All Cookes must die.”

  Addison watched numbly as the big Russian swatted Eddie and Raj aside.
Boris grabbed a handful of Addison’s shirt to stand him up straight. Addison stared expressionlessly at the enormous fist swinging toward his gut.

  The punch belted Addison back to his senses. His stomach seized up and he doubled over, unable to draw breath. He dropped to his knees, pain focusing his mind. He became aware of the battlefield. Vori were closing in on Molly, Nobody, and I Don’t Know. Other vori were taking on the triads. There were still no Darkhad to be seen.

  Boris wound up for a knockout punch to Addison’s temple. Addison, unable to move or breathe, realized the blow might kill him. It was strange how the thought wafted into his mind, a simple objective fact: he was about to die. Addison was trying to think of something clever to say or do when he was greeted by the unusual sight of Tony Chin flying horizontally through the air.

  Tony’s foot connected with Boris in a devastating kick.

  Addison’s mind reeled, stunned to find himself still alive and breathing. It was a pleasant surprise. He stared, dazed, as Tony wrestled the bigger man to the ground. Tony did not stand much of a chance against the giant Russian. It seemed a pity; Addison rather liked Tony.

  Tony rolled onto his back, frantically blocking Boris’s punches with his elbows.

  “Addison, your butterfly knife!”

  Addison’s stomach was slowly recovering from Boris’s punch. He found himself able to take small sips of breath. Small sips were better than nothing. He drew his butterfly knife from his pocket and slashed at Boris.

  The big vor rolled off of Tony and backed off a pace.

  Tony grinned at Addison. “Remember, knife point down.”

  Addison nodded, flipping the knife in his hand with practiced ease.

  Boris wheeled, seeking an easier target, and turned on Molly. His job was to eliminate Cookes, and it didn’t matter which. “Come here, little girl.” He swung an arm for her neck, hoping to clothesline her off her feet.

  Molly’s face was streaked with tears. She managed to duck the blow.

  Boris overreached, his body overbalanced.

  Molly saw her opening. She centered her weight and scooped her foot into the air, scoring a punishing roundhouse kick. She planted her foot right in Boris’s kidney. Her balance, her breathing, her timing—she knew it was perfect.

  The big vor stumbled backward a step, clutching his side, blinking his eyes in surprise.

  Molly blew the strand of hair from her face. “I’m not a little girl.”

  Before Boris could respond, Tony Chin attacked him again.

  Addison grabbed Molly by the arm. They slipped past Boris and Tony and sprinted across the field. Addison’s mind was still in dull, ringing shock from the sight of his aunt and uncle falling into oblivion. He forced his feet to keep moving—he had a vague plan of reaching the river for safety. Eddie and Raj galloped alongside him.

  Halfway to the river, Addison glanced over his shoulder to see Tony flat on the ground and Boris pounding toward them. Addison’s team put on steam, but Boris’s legs were longer, catching up quickly. The group’s hundred-yard lead became ninety, and then eighty. Addison racked his brain for options. “Molly, your sling!”

  Molly plucked the weapon from her survival pack and scooped up a stone on the run. She spun the sling over her head, wheeled on Boris, and loosed the shot.

  The rock sailed three feet over his head. He was now only fifty yards away.

  She snatched up a second rock on the fly and sent it sailing at Boris. It grazed his kneecap, but he kept right on coming. It was like flinging a pebble at a freight train.

  Addison could see they weren’t going to make it to the river—Boris was too fast. Addison had one last card to play. He drew his flare gun from his blazer, spun, and fired at Boris. He missed, sending a bolt of red fireworks sizzling across the plateau to explode over the valley. The daylight turned from yellow to red.

  Addison had no more rounds for the flare gun. He could see no more stones for Molly among the wildflowers.

  Raj stepped forward. “I’ve got this.” He pulled a metal can from his pack and held it in front of his body like a talisman. He stood his ground, staring down Boris.

  Boris saw they were no longer fleeing. He slowed to a stop and stared at Raj’s can, amused. “What is that, a soda?”

  Raj solemnly shook his head, no. “Bear spray.”

  Boris only had time to raise one eyebrow. Raj pulled the tab. A jet of pepper spray blasted Boris in the snout. He wailed like he’d bear-hugged a beehive.

  Addison’s team turned and bolted.

  Boris, enraged, pulled out his gun for the first time. He jacked the slide and aimed through red and swollen eyes. His first two bullets fired wide.

  Addison ran so fast, he thought his chest would burst. He wondered if anyone had ever died of a heart attack while trying to run from being shot by a gun.

  “He’s going to kill us!” Eddie shouted.

  “Babatunde Okonjo!” Raj called.

  “What about Babatunde Okonjo?” Molly hollered.

  Raj sprinted faster and pointed ahead. “Run for the river! It only takes three feet of water to stop a bullet!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “All bullets up to fifty-caliber disintegrate in just under three feet of water!”

  A third bullet whistled overhead.

  Addison did not have the mental energy to question Raj. Besides, he didn’t have a better plan to offer. He was glad they had diverted the river; it was closer now. The shock wave of a fourth bullet sizzled past his ear.

  Molly’s foot caught on a rock and sent her sprawling. Raj picked her up by the elbow. The group reached the riverbank.

  “Dive!” shouted Raj.

  They leapt headfirst into the river and swam, pulling hard, willing themselves deeper and deeper under the current.

  Addison watched a bullet strike the surface of the water, flattening on impact. The slug slowed, tracing an arc through the water until it floated, harmlessly, past Addison’s head. He reached out and cupped the bullet in his hand. It was warm to the touch.

  More slugs carved paths through the water, streaking to a stop before they reached Addison’s team in the depths. Together, they swam to the far side of the river, finally breaching the surface when their lungs were burning.

  Molly clapped Raj hard on the back. “Raj, you saved me—you saved all of us!”

  Raj blushed red and was unable to speak.

  “Boris still has more bullets!” shouted Eddie, pointing across the river.

  Boris’s eyes were still streaming tears from the bear spray. He blinked hard and took careful aim at Addison.

  Addison saw the moment Boris’s gun barrel drew level with his right eye. That was when an arrow struck Boris in the thigh. He collapsed to one knee, firing his gun uselessly into the dirt.

  The Darkhad climbed over the crest of the eagle cliff, loosing arrows and shouting their battle cries. Both triads and vori were driven before them.

  Addison watched the triads form a protective circle around Madame Feng. Darkhad warriors charged the gang members, attacking with arrows, spears, and hand-to-hand fighting. Hu was tackled to the ground and lost in the melee.

  Madame Feng called out to Tony Chin, begging for help, but could not remember his name. “You there! Do something! Help me!”

  Addison saw Tony, battered and bruised, turn his back on Madame Feng. Tony waved goodbye to Addison and strolled away across the meadow, heading for a stand of trees. The Darkhad swept past him. He disappeared into the forest.

  The Darkhad surrounded the Russians, who put up a stiff fight.

  Nobody turned to Addison. “We have to join the Darkhad. They need us.”

  Addison nodded. “I’m sorry about the golden whip.”

  I Don’t Know gripped Addison’s hands in hers. “I’m sorry the Darkhad were late.”

&nb
sp; Addison shook his head. He was not ready to think about it. “Whatever happens, the Darkhad must divert this river back. There’s still a chance the Russians will never find the entrance to the hidden valley.”

  Nobody urged his sister toward the battlefield. “C’mon, they need us.”

  I Don’t Know turned back one more time and hugged Addison fiercely. She whispered in his ear. “I’m so sorry about your aunt and uncle.” She turned and ran after her brother.

  Addison watched the Russians retreat to their military helicopter, the Darkhad charging after them. To his surprise, the helicopter shut its doors to the vori and lifted off. He caught a glimpse of Malazar in the passenger seat, clutching the golden whip and abandoning his men.

  Boris stood under the hurricane winds of the rotor blades and bellowed in rage.

  The Darkhad fired arrows up at the fleeing chopper, the points bouncing harmlessly off the metal frame. The helicopter sped north, shrinking into the distance.

  Addison wondered if his team could escape. He knew that soon the Darkhad would turn their fury on him.

  Molly cried out, stabbing her finger at the sky. A plane appeared along the ridge of the cliffs. It flew dangerously low over the rim of the gorge and stuck a short landing on the field of wildflowers.

  “Dax!” Raj shouted.

  Addison’s group splashed into the river and swam across. Sopping wet, they hurtled over the hillocks of grass until they drew even with the plane.

  Dax kicked open the door with his foot. He was already steering the plane due south for an exit.

  Mr. Jacobsen barked when he saw the group. He tried to bound off the plane to greet everyone, but Dax held him by the collar.

  Raj leapt aboard, calling over the roar of the engines, “I knew you’d come back for us!”

  “Got a call at the Muddy Duck. Wouldn’t have found you if you hadn’t shot that flare.”

  “What airplane is this?”

  “The Cessna Skyhawk,” Dax said proudly.

  Raj gave a thumbs-up. “She’s beautiful.”

  Addison’s team piled on board. Dax was already gunning the engine by the time Raj yanked the door shut and sealed it.