by Chris Blake
Time Hunters: Outback Outlaw
Chris Blake
Travel through time with Tom on more
adventures!
Gladiator Clash
Knight Quest
Viking Raiders
Greek Warriors
Pirate Mutiny
Egyptian Curse
Cowboy Showdown
Samurai Assassin
Outback Outlaw
Stone Age Rampage
Mohican Brave
Aztec Attack
For games, competitions and more visit:
www.time-hunters.com
With special thanks to Martin Howard
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1: Showstopper
Chapter 2: Danger Down Under
Chapter 3: Party Time
Chapter 4: Quick Getaway
Chapter 5: On the Run
Chapter 6: Snake in the Grass
Chapter 7: Walkabout
Chapter 8: Jailbreak!
Chapter 9: Hideout High Jinks
Chapter 10: Encore
Weapons
Australian Outback Timeline
Time Hunters Timeline
Fantastic Facts
The Hunt Continues …
Discover A New Time Hunters Quest!
Copyright
About the Publisher
1500 AD, Mexico
As far as Zuma was concerned, there were only two good things about being a human sacrifice. One was the lovely black pendant the tribal elders had given her to wear. The other was the little Chihuahua dog the high priest had just placed next to her.
I’ve always wanted a pet, thought Zuma, as the trembling pup snuggled up close. Though this does seem like an extreme way to get one.
Zuma lay on an altar at the top of the Great Pyramid. In honour of the mighty Aztec rain god, Tlaloc, she’d been painted bright blue and wore a feathered headdress. The entire village had turned out to watch the slave girl being sacrificed in exchange for plentiful rainfall and a good harvest. She could see her master strutting in the crowd below, proud to have supplied the slave for today’s sacrifice. He looked a little relieved too. And Zuma couldn’t blame him. As slaves went, she was a troublesome one, always trying to run away. But she couldn’t help it – her greatest dream was to be free!
Zuma had spent the entire ten years of her life in slavery, and she was sick of it. She knew she should be honoured to be a sacrifice, but she had a much better plan – to escape!
“Besides,” she said, frowning at her painted skin, “blue is not my colour!”
“Hush, slave!” said the high priest, Acalan, his face hidden by a jade mask. “The ceremony is about to begin.” He raised his knife in the air.
“Shame I’ll be missing it,” said Zuma. “Tell Tlaloc I’d like to take a rain check.” As the priest lowered the knife, she pulled up her knees and kicked him hard in the stomach with both feet.
“Oof!” The priest doubled over, clutching his belly. The blade clattered to the floor.
Zuma rolled off the altar, dodging the other priests, who fell over each other in their attempts to catch her. One priest jumped into her path, but the little Chihuahua dog sank his teeth into the man’s ankle. As the priest howled in pain, Zuma whistled to the dog.
“Nice work, doggie!” she said. “I’m getting out of here and you’re coming with me!” She scooped him up and dashed down the steps of the pyramid.
“Grab her!” groaned the high priest from above.
Many hands reached out to catch the slave girl, but Zuma was fast and determined. She bolted towards the jungle bordering the pyramid. Charging into the cool green leaves, she ran until she could no longer hear the shouts of the crowd.
“We did it,” she said to the dog. “We’re free!”
As she spoke, the sky erupted in a loud rumble of thunder, making the dog yelp. “Thunder’s nothing to be scared of,” said Zuma.
“Don’t be so sure about that!” came a deep voice above her.
Zuma looked up to see a creature with blue skin and long, sharp fangs, like a jaguar. He carried a wooden drum and wore a feathered headdress, just like Zuma’s.
She knew at once who it was. “Tlaloc!” she gasped.
The rain god’s bulging eyes glared down at her. “You have dishonoured me!” he bellowed. “No sacrifice has ever escaped before!”
“Really? I’m the first?” Zuma beamed with pride, but the feeling didn’t last long. Tlaloc’s scowl was too scary. “I’m sorry!” she said quietly. “I just wanted to be free.”
“You will never be free!” Tlaloc hissed. “Unless you can escape again …”
Tlaloc banged his drum, and thunder rolled through the jungle.
He pounded the drum a second time, and thick black clouds gathered high above the treetops.
“This isn’t looking good,” Zuma whispered. Holding the dog tightly, she closed her eyes.
On the third deafening drum roll, the jungle floor began to shake and a powerful force tugged at Zuma. She felt her whole body being swallowed up inside … the drum!
Tom Sullivan peeked round the curtain at the side of the stage. His school talent show had just started and he was helping out behind the scenes. On stage a girl from Tom’s class was singing a pop song – badly. Beside Tom, Zuma put her hands over her ears.
“Ouch!” the Aztec slave girl complained. “She sounds like a howler monkey with a sore tooth!”
Tom grinned. In her feathered headdress and blue skin paint, Zuma looked ready to take to the stage herself. Chilli, the tiny Chihuahua dog in Zuma’s arms, yapped in agreement. Tom had to be careful not to say anything in reply. The backstage area was crammed with performers getting ready for their turn in the spotlight, but Tom was the only person who could see Zuma and Chilli.
“Watch out!” Tom told a group of dancers called Break Quake. “Someone spilled a drink on the floor. It’s slippery.” He pointed to a small puddle on the floor and pushed back the stage scenery, giving Break Quake some space.
Zuma watched the dancers warm up. Only a week had passed since Tom had beaten an Aztec drum in his dad’s museum, accidentally freeing Zuma and Chilli from it. Since then, the three of them had travelled through time looking for six golden coins hidden by the fearsome rain god, Tlaloc. So far, they had visited the Wild West and Medieval Japan, and found two of the coins. If they recovered all six, Zuma would win back her freedom.
On stage, the singer took a bow and the audience clapped. Tom pulled a rope and the curtain came down. “OK. You’re next,” he told Break Quake. “Take your places. Ten seconds.”
The dancers rushed past, jostling Mr Jenkins the caretaker, who had arrived with a mop and bucket to clean up the puddle.
Mr Braintree the drama teacher, walked out in front of the curtain. “Next, we have the amazing Break Quake dance group. Let’s give them a very warm welcome …”
The clapping grew louder. Some of the audience began whistling and stamping their feet. Backstage, Tom switched on the music and tugged the rope to lift the curtain. The dancers ran on stage and started their routine.
“I wish people could see me,” Zuma said, tickling Chilli’s ears. “I’ve got heaps of talent. I could have won this competition standing on my head.”
“Oh yeah?” whispered Tom, out of the side of his mouth. “How?” Zuma had been brave and clever during their adventures, but she hadn’t shown Tom a special talent.
“For your information, I’m a fantastic gymnast,” said Zuma “Watch this!” She put Chilli on the floor, took a step forward and launched herself into a handstand.
Right where the caretaker had just mopped the floor.
Zuma
squealed as her hand slipped on the wet surface. She toppled into Tom, who stepped back into Mr Jenkins’s bucket, knocking it over and sending soapy water flooding out across the stage. Immediately, one of Break Quake skidded and crashed into another dancer. Both of them landed on top of a girl, who was spinning on her back at the front of the stage. As the dancers slid about, Mr Braintree rushed on stage to help, only to lose his footing and go tumbling to the floor. The performance was ruined.
“Oh noooo!” Tom moaned. As Mr Braintree looked over towards him, the teacher saw the overturned bucket at Tom’s feet. His eyes narrowed.
Behind Tom, Zuma had picked herself up, a guilty expression on her face. She grabbed a rope and pulled on it. Everyone was staring at Tom in stunned silence, so no one noticed when the curtain seemed to come down on its own.
Mr Braintree stood up and wiped bubbles from his eyes. Break Quake were slowly getting back to their feet. All of them were glaring at Tom. They walked offstage without a word.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Mr Braintree growled at Tom. “Right now, we’ve got a show to save.” He disappeared in the same direction as the dancers.
Zuma looked at Tom and smiled nervously. “I’m … er … I’m sorry,” she said.
Tom picked up the bucket. “So, you’re a brilliant gymnast, are you?” he said glumly.
“I forgot about the wet floor,” Zuma mumbled. “I’m really sorry.”
Tom sighed. “At least things can’t get any worse,” he said.
At that moment, thunder rumbled across the stage. A cloud appeared over Tom’s head. A narrow rainstorm began to fall on him like a spotlight. He groaned.
“I think you spoke too soon,” said Zuma.
Together, they looked up. Rolling clouds had blotted out the stage lights. Tlaloc’s face appeared in the clouds, his eyes bulging angrily.
The rain god opened his mouth to speak, revealing a line of sharp fangs. “I see you are shaking with fear, mortal,” he bellowed.
Trying not to show his fear, Tom stood up straight. “Actually, I’m laughing at how silly you look,” he replied.
Tlaloc snarled. “Soon you will be quivering with terror,” he hissed between clenched fangs. “You have been lucky so far, but luck cannot last forever. You will never find the next gold coin. Zuma is doomed!”
A sparkling mist rose up and a swirling wind blew across the stage. Glancing at Zuma, Tom saw she was holding Chilli tightly. Tlaloc’s strange mist swirled round him, and then the stage began to disappear as they travelled through the tunnels of time.
Suddenly, the mist vanished. Tom blinked. Shading his eyes from the fierce sun, he saw he was standing in a field of dry-looking grass with a few trees dotted about. Low, craggy hills stretched into the distance. The ground was red and dusty beneath his feet. Everywhere Tom looked there were sheep – hundreds and hundreds of sheep. He had never seen so many sheep in his life.
“Phew, it’s hot!” said Zuma. “Where are we?”
Tom turned round. The Aztec girl was still holding on to Chilli, but the blue paint was gone. She was wearing cord trousers, dusty boots and a long-sleeved shirt with a waistcoat over the top. Her feathered headdress had also vanished. In its place was a large straw hat. Zuma’s long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the black pendant that hung round her neck.
Looking down, Tom saw he was wearing a similar outfit. He thought hard. History was his favourite subject, but their clothes didn’t tell him much about where Tlaloc had sent them this time. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Or when. People have been wearing trousers, shirts and waistcoats for hundreds of years.”
“So much for your amazing brain power. Maybe we could—” Zuma stopped talking and squealed. “Hey, what’s that thing?”
Tom spun round. A grin spread across his face as he saw an animal bouncing across the field. “That,” he laughed, “is a kangaroo. Which means we’re in Australia, and explains why it’s so hot.”
“Aus-where?” Zuma looked puzzled.
“Australia. It’s a big continent on the other side of the world from Mexico,” said Tom. His face lit up with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Everyone says it’s amazing. It’s got loads of plants and animals you can’t find anywhere else in the world and—”
Zuma held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t get carried away, Brains,” she said. “We’re here to find my coin, not for a holiday.”
“OK, OK,” said Tom. “Shall we start by asking your necklace for help?”
Zuma nodded. The black pendant round her neck was magical. The stone gave them clues about where to find Tlaloc’s golden coins. She held up the pendant and said the rhyme that made the stone work:
“Mirror, mirror, on a chain,
Can you help us? Please explain!
We are lost and must be told
How to find the coins of gold.”
Tom and Zuma huddled over the necklace, waiting for a reply. Sure enough, spidery silver writing began to appear on the surface of the black disc:
In a time when outlaws raised a cheer,
Look for the man who knows no fear.
Listen out for a merry song
Follow the trail to the billabong.
Now that you are getting warm,
Seek out the loud bang in a storm.
Four more coins and then you’re free
The swag’s beneath a cabbage tree.
Zuma groaned. “Just once it’d be nice if it told us where to find the coin, rather than talking in riddles.”
Tom grinned. “That would be too simple,” he said. “Plus it’s fun trying to work out what they mean. Who do you think ‘the man who knows no fear’ is?”
“Maybe it’s him,” Zuma replied. She pointed to a man in the next field.
“I’m sure Tlaloc won’t have made it that easy,” said Tom.
“It’s worth a try,” Zuma told him. “Even horrible angry rain gods like Tlaloc make mistakes sometimes.”
Tom and Zuma walked across the stubbly field towards the man Zuma had spotted. Chilli ran at a sheep, barking. Then he quickly jumped into Zuma’s arms when it charged.
“Don’t worry, Chilli,” Tom laughed. “That sheep’s never seen a Chihuahua before – he doesn’t know how tough and brave you can be.”
The sun beat down and Tom was glad of the straw hat shading his face. As they got closer to the man, Tom saw he was holding a sheep between his legs. With expert hands he was snipping off the animal’s wool with large, odd-looking scissors. Next to him was a pile of fleeces.
“Hey there!” Zuma called, as they got closer. “We’re looking for the man who knows no fear.”
The sheep shearer looked confused. “You what?”
“The man who—” Zuma began.
“Maybe you could just point us in the direction of the nearest town,” Tom interrupted.
“It’s that way,” said the man. He scratched his chin and pointed. “You can’t miss it – it’s the only place for miles with more than two buildings.”
The walk took almost an hour under the hot Australian sun. Tom and Zuma often had to push through flocks of sheep that refused to move out of their way. By the time they arrived at the town they were thirsty and tired.
“I hope they have somewhere to cool off,” said Zuma, as they walked down the street.
“I’d love a glass of cold water,” said Tom.
“Forget a glass of cold water,” muttered Zuma. “I want to stand under a great big waterfall.”
Tom looked round, scratching his head. The Australian town was small and looked a lot like the places he and Zuma had seen in the Wild West. The shops and buildings were made of wood, and all had covered walkways in front to shade the townsfolk from the sun. The street was nothing but dusty, baked earth. It was completely empty.
“Where is everyone?” Tom asked.
Zuma shrugged. “Maybe there’s a waterfall round here after all.”
&nbs
p; It wasn’t long before Tom’s question was answered. At the other end of the street a group of people appeared. They were walking slowly with their hands in the air. Behind them were three men wearing shabby, dirty clothes. All three looked like they needed a shave. And each was holding a gun.
“Listen up!” one shouted. “Do what you’re told and no one gets hurt.”
Before they could be spotted, Zuma grabbed Tom’s sleeve and pulled him into a grocery store.
“I think it’s a hold-up,” Tom whispered. “Those men look like they’re taking the whole town hostage! They must be outlaws. Let’s get out of here before they find us too.”
“But what about my coin?” Zuma hissed back.
“We’ll worry about the coin later,” said Tom.
Zuma nodded. With Chilli at their heels, they began to creep away. “Follow me,” said Tom, leading Zuma into a narrow alley. “We can hide here.”
“Sorry, mate. I don’t think you can,” said a gruff voice.
Tom gulped as a sandy-haired man with grizzly stubble stepped out in front of them. In the man’s hands was a pistol. It was pointing straight at them.
Tom and Zuma walked backwards out of the alley, raising their hands. “Don’t shoot, we’re just travellers,” said Tom quickly.
“You picked the wrong day to visit this town, traveller,” said the man, with a sneer.
“What’s going on?” asked Zuma. “Who are you?”
The outlaw spat on the ground. Turning his gun on Zuma he said, “Well, missy, I’m Dusty Moore. I belong to Brave Ben Hall’s outback gang. You and your friend here are my hostages. Now move it!”
Tom and Zuma marched down the main street with their hands in the air. Dusty Moore followed closely behind, keeping his gun trained on them. Halfway down the road was a large building. Painted on the wooden front was the word ‘Hotel’. A crowd of townsfolk stood outside, surrounded by the outlaw gang. On the steps of the hotel, Tom saw a tall man with a bristling black beard. He had a sack slung over his shoulder, and a knife with a gleaming silver blade tucked into his belt.