Chapter 2: Moves like an Ape, Looks like a Man

The gummi-ship soared above the jungle canopy. It stretched to the horizon in ever direction, like an endless sea of emeralds. Even through the cockpit dome, Kim could hear the screeching, cawing, chattering cacophony of the animals below.

Beside her Mickey, his hands firm on the ship's wheel, was trying to navigate by a grubby sheet of notepaper rested on the control panel in front of him.

"Have you been here before?" Kim asked.

"No, but my friends have," said Mickey, "They said the best place to start lookin' for Tarzan would be at this tree house but I can't seem to find it. I guess I shouldn't have asked Goofy to write the directions…"

Kim shrugged and turned back to admiring the jungle below. She was glad to have a blue sky overhead again. Travelling aboard an interstellar rocket ship was very different from the space flights she had previously taken. Taking off into interspace had not been too bad but her first warp jump had left her looking greener than the cabin carpet. She had taken comfort from the similar expressions on the other passengers' faces.

"Ah-ha!" Mickey cried, pointing east through the cockpit window. Kim followed his finger and saw a huge tree towering above the canopy, a wooden house cradled in its mighty upper branches.

"Stand by to disembark," said Mickey, speaking into a tube that broadcast his voice into the cabin below.

"Your Majesty, look" said Hercules, shading his eyes with his hand, "That can't be right."

Kim frowned. Now that it was closer she could see that the tree house had been reduced to a charred frame. The roof and much of the walls had been burned away, taking with it the top of the tree and coating the boughs with ash.

"We'd better take a closer look," said Mickey.

Having successfully landed the rocket ship on one of the lower branches of the great tree, the group disembarked and began to climb up a convenient staircase of planks that had been built curving up around the trunk.

"Oops!" said Mickey, pausing, "Nearly forgot!"

He turned back to the empty rocket ship and stretched out his arm. There was a flash of light and his Keyblade appeared in his hand. Mickey made a pass with the Keyblade, sending a little ball of glowing light floating towards the ship. It touched the cockpit dome, infusing it with a light that spread across the whole ship. For a second the whole ship bulged and contorted. A moment later and a mass of green leaves stood before him.

"Chameleon Circuit," Mickey said to Kim, as if that explained everything. He had changed into khaki shorts and shirt, with a white pith helmet covering his round ears.

The plank staircase snaked up the trunk until it came to a wide platform, black with soot, surrounding the house itself. There was no sign of any life; not even a bird.

"We should spread out and look for clues," said Mickey.

"Stand back," Darkwing cried, throwing out his arms, "Let me handle this, Your Majesty."

"Oh please," said Basil irritably, hopping down from Hercules's shoulder, "the only way you couldfind a clue is if you tripped over that ridiculous cape of yours and sat on it! Now be a good chap and watch a real detective at work."

Darkwing blustered pompously but Mickey held up his hand.

"Sorry Darkwing but I think he's right," he said, "Go ahead, Basil."

Kim, who was no poor detective herself, watched with interest as the tiny mouse scuttled to and fro across the floor. He bent down to sample the layer of ash that coated the planks, rubbed it between his fingers and finally tasting a pinch of it. He then disappeared into the tree house. Kim caught glimpses of him through the empty windows as he seemed to dart randomly back and forth. A moment later he rushed out, passed the group and began to examine the stairway they had just climbed.

"What happened here, Basil?" Mickey asked as he returned to the group.

"I'm afraid there's precious little to tell, Your Majesty," Basil replied with a sad shake of his head, "I would say this building was fired between twenty four and forty eight hours ago, judging by the texture and consistency of the ash left behind. It was performed by a gang of human men, of that I'm quite certain, but the fire and our coming has so thoroughly obscured their tracks that I cannot estimate their number. They searched the building with little thoroughness before setting it alight and then taking their leave in a roughly easterly direction. It was a botched job, done quickly. They took no time to gather kindling but instead emptied a few dozen cartridges onto the floor: shotgun, probably twelve-bore I'd say. But more than that, I cannot tell."

Kim was impressed: she had no idea how he had deduced all that information. She wondered for a moment if Basil could be bluffing but he seemed so confident that she could not find it in herself to argue.

"Then east we go," said Mickey, "Somethin' doesn't feel right about this. I want to get to the bottom of it."

"And I would suggest that we go armed," said Basil, "The jungle is a dangerous place at the best of times and this gang appear to possess firearms."

It did not take long to assemble the group's armoury. Mickey had only the mysterious Keyblade that he seemed able to summon and dismiss at will. Hercules wore a long sword at his hip, while Darkwing carried an over-sized firearm that he called a 'gas gun'. Kim relied on her fists in battle and Basil did not seem to own a weapon. Kim could only hope that the others were tougher than they seemed, if it actually came to a fight.

They left the tree house just as the sun was climbing to its highest point and descended into the cool green darkness beneath the trees. It was not difficult to follow the men who had burned the tree house; they had hacked a wide path through the undergrowth with machetes, trampling on everything that remained underfoot.

It was so easy to follow the trail that Kim's attention quickly drifted from the pursuit to the savage beauty of her surroundings. Flowers of every size and shade bloomed between the trees. Brightly coloured birds and insects fluttered overhead, slaloming through dangling creepers and tree branches. Every now and then she caught a glimpse of a dim shape slouching between distant trunks, or of bright eyes shining in the dark.

The sound of a rifle being cocked snapped Kim back to her sense.

"Turn around. Slowly," a voice growled behind them.

The group turned to face a man standing on the edge of the trail a short distance behind them, a rifle in his hands. Three more men, all carrying rifles, emerged from the undergrowth beside the trail. Two of them stepped forward and searched Kim and her friends, seizing any weapons and equipment they found.

"Run ahead and tell the others to get back here," ordered the first man, his eyes not leaving Kim and her companions. One of the men grunted and sprinted off down the trail.

Mickey tried to speak but the man waved his rifle threateningly.

"Quiet. Save it for the boss," he said.

While they were waiting, Kim tried to size up the men as best as she could. They were dressed in lightweight khakis, with bandanas on their heads to keep the sun off. They carried revolvers, machetes and extra bullets at their belts. Their faces were rough and unfriendly.

After about ten minutes a party of men appeared, marching along the jungle trail. They were led by the man who had been sent to fetch help.

"Here they are, sir," he said.

The newcomers were cast from the same mould as their fellows; rough men, heavily armed and equipped for jungle trekking. They spread out to surround Kim and her companions. A tall man with a jutting chin and thin moustache stepped forward.

"Who are you, and what do you mean by following us?" he demanded.

"Please, fellas, put the guns down. We're not lookin' for trouble," said Mickey.

"Answer the question," growled another tall man, stepping up beside the man with the thin moustache. The face under his wide-brimmed hat was hard and cruel. A blue goanna followed at his heels like a well-trained dog.

"We're lookin' for a friend o' ours," said Mickey, as pleasantly if he were chatting with a passerby on the street.

"What friend? There's nothin' in this jungle except beasts and trees," said the man with the pet goanna.

"His name's Tarzan," said Mickey, "he's a…"

He was interrupted by a loud cry from one of the men.

"Tarzan, is it? Well, this is fortunate!" boomed the young man. He was quite handsome, in a chiselled, well-groomed sort of way, and thickly muscled.

"Gaston, ya boofhead: shut up!" snarled the man with the pet goanna. Gaston bridled.

"I don't take orders from you, Monsieur McLeach," he sneered.

"Quiet, the pair of you!" ordered the man with the thin moustache.

"My apologies," he said, turning back to Mickey, "It appears that we are here on common purpose. We too are seeking Tarzan; he is an old acquaintance of mine."

"Really?" said Mickey brightly.

"Yes. We wish to employ Lord Greystoke as a guide, to further advance our zoological studies," said the man with the thin moustache.

"You're zoologists?" said Kim sceptically, "Then what's with all the guns?"

"The jungle is a dangerous place, miss," the man replied smoothly.

"Far too dangerous for such a small and poorly armed party to be wandering alone," he continued, indicating the pile of equipment his men had seized from Kim and her companions.

"I would suggest that you accompany us from hereon in, for your own protection."

"Thank you for the offer," said Mickey, "but I think we'll manage fine on our own mister…?"

"Clayton, and I'm afraid I really must insist."

The men around them raised their rifles.

"If you insist," said Mickey, beginning to look warily at Clayton and his companions.

Clayton's camp was several miles along the trail. They had formed a ring of canvas tents in a large clearing. There was equipment for trapping and killing animals of every size: nets, bolas, chains, ropes, vicious steel traps and many other devices that Kim did not recognise. In one corner of the camp, constantly guarded by half a dozen men, was a group of cages. Inside were a variety of different animals: panthers, bears, monkeys, hippopotami, crocodiles. There was a leopard that continually growled and slashed at the bars of its cage. A red elephant had been chained to a tree stump. It was the most miserable looking animal that Kim had ever seen. Many of the cages were still empty.

Kim and the others were told to sit near the centre of the camp, by the fire pit, where they were watched constantly by four armed men. They never spoke, except to tell Kim and her companions to sit down and be quiet.

"Hey," said Hercules softly, when it appeared that they were not being watched too closely, "I don't think these guys are zoologists."

"Brilliant deduction, genius" said Darkwing scathingly.

"No, I think they're hunters," said Mickey, ignoring him.

"Do you think they're really looking for Tarzan?" asked Kim.

"That Gaston fellow certainly seemed excited when Your Majesty mentioned his name," said Basil thoughtfully.

"What do they want with him?" said Darkwing.

"Nothing good, I'll bet," said Kim.

"Hey! Shut your yaps!" one of the guards shouted, bringing an end to their brief conversation.

Unable to talk with one another, the group took to watching the activities of the camp. There were nearly a hundred men in total, including the cooks, bearers, drivers and labourers. Clayton, Gaston and McLeach were clearly the leaders, marching around the camp bellowing orders and bullying the other men with relish. Kim noticed that they carried a different type of weapon to their men; sleek white ray-guns, with a stylised letter 'S' carved into the stock.

Evening descended and teams of men began to drift into the camp, some of them dragging captured animals behind them. These were presented for the leaders' inspection and either caged or killed there and then, their bodies dumped beside the cook tent.

The camp fire was well underway by now and several warthogs had been spitted over it. While the men sat down to enjoy the meat, Kim and her friends were served a thin stew, probably made from yesterday's leftovers. As they ate, they gradually became aware of raised voices coming from one of the tents.

"You're a pair of bleedin' drongos!" shouted McLeach, "I say we cut their throats and dump 'em. Keepin' them alive's just invitin' trouble."

"And you're a fool if you can't see how to turn this to our advantage," replied Gaston.

"They are his friends. If he learns that they are in trouble, he will come to rescue them," said Clayton slowly, as if explaining a simple concept to a particularly slow child.

"They say they're his friends," said McLeach, "We ain't got no proof of it, 'ave we?"

"Do they seriously think that we can't hear them?" hissed Kim but she was instantly shushed into silence by her companions.

"Why would they lie?" said Gaston.

"To save their necks; not everyone's as big a nong as you, ya know!"

There was the sound of a scuffle and then Clayton's voice raised above the other two:

"Sit down, the pair of you! It's two against one, McLeah, so hold your tongue. We'll keep them alive to use as bait. I won't have you jeopardising my chance to kill him."

"Your chance?" sneered McLeach.

"That wasn't the agreement, Clayton," said Gaston, "The White Ape is free game, remember?"

"He belongs to the one who kills him," said Clayton.

The voices from the tent had just begun to settle down again when a terrible cry came from the jungle; a long, savage note filled with rage.

"It's him! The White Ape!" roared Gaston, plunging out of the tent, ray-gun in hand.

"Where'd it come from?" demanded McLeah, just behind him.

There was a confused moment as multiple different voices called out and arms were pointed in every direction.

"Silence!" bellowed Clayton, at last emerging from the tent, "It came from the north-west. He can't have got far. We take twenty men each and head out in three parties. The rest of you, guard the beasts! He's tried to free them before now."

The camp was plunged into chaos as men scrambled for their weapons and equipment. Some rushed to form a ring around the cages, while others were forming up around the three lead hunters. The men guarding Kim and her companions exchanged confused looks, clearly unsure what they should do.

"Run!" Mickey cried. Leaping to his feet, he thrust his arms out wide. There was a flash of light. The guards staggered back, blinded. Mickey bounded past them and into the jungle, Kim and the others close behind.

"Stop them!" they heard Clayton cry. There were a few shots but the hunters were firing blind. Kim and the others crashed through the undergrowth, arms thrusting branches and creepers aside as they ran.

They could hear the faint sound of gunfire from the camp, intermixed with the fizz and crackle of the three ray-guns. Kim wondered if the hunters had caught their 'White Ape'.

Suddenly Darkwing screamed beside her and vanished upwards. A heartbeat later and something came whistling out of the darkness. It struck Mickey's pith helmet, sending him tumbling head over heels. There was a white blur and something big and heavy barrelled into Kim on her blindside. She hit the floor hard. She looked up, feeling too woozy stand. Hercules was the only person still on his feet, grappling with a white figure. The two stood framed in the moonlight, glistening with sweat, thick muscles knotting beneath their skin.

"Wait, please!" Mickey cried, regaining his feet.

The white figure released its hold on Hercules and bounded away, towards the nearest tree.

"Tarzan! Wait! We're friends!" Mickey cried.

The white figure paused, illuminated in a patch of moonlight. His face, framed by ragged dreadlocks, was hidden in shadow. He was crouched on all fours, resting on his knuckles like an ape.

"Tarzan, please listen: we're friends of Sora," said Mickey.

"Sora?" said Tarzan, followed by a stream of ape-like grunts.

"Not friends," he said, shaking his head, "You bad. You hurt Tarzan's people."

Mickey summoned his golden Keyblade and held it out for Tarzan to see.

"Tarzan, look," he said softly, "Sora had a weapon like this, didn't he? He was with Donald and Goofy, remember? They were your friends. We are your friends."

Tarzan took a step forward, the shaft of moonlight falling across his face. Kim was amazed how straight and handsome his features were. He moved so much like an ape that she had almost expected him to have an ape's face too. Tarzan stared intently at the keyblade, then at Mickey, then at the others.

"You… are Sora's friends?" he said slowly.

"Yes," said Mickey, nodding vigorously.

"You are…. Tarzan's friends?"

"Yes, that's right."

"Not… bad men's friends?"

"No, not their friends."

"Friends," said Tarzan, extending his hand. Mickey grasped it and shook it warmly.

"Friends," he repeated.

"Excuse me!" came an indignant cry from high above them. Everyone looked up. Darkwing was dangling from a tree branch, his foot caught in a snare.

"I'm sure this is all very touching," he continued, trying and failing to keep his cape out his eyes, "but could someone please cut me down?!"


Author's Note: Yes, I know Clayton was squashed by the Stealth Sneak in Kingdom Hearts but I needed some Disney hunters for this chapter and he fitted in. Besides if Hades, Ursula, Maleficent and Oogie Boogie can all come back in Kingdom Hearts II, I don't see why Clayton can't in my fic!

The characters in this chapter are:

- Clayton (Tarzan)

- Gaston (Beauty and the Beast)

- McLeah (The Rescuers Down Under)