1.1 Author's pre-note: well, I've got the next chapter right here. I was
lucky, since I managed to buy myself a little more time than I usually
have. Anyways, I've gotta be honest, and I have to say that I was kind of
disappointed with the number of reviews I received on this chapter. I
mean, I know that I'm no Steven King or anything, but . . . I would really
like to start seeing more reviews. However, I'd like to thank everyone who
/did/ review . . . Evil Irish Eyes, Audrey, Veronica, and Steph to name a
few . . . thank you so much! I really appreciate them! I hope that you
(and many others) will continue to read and review.
Okay, anyways . . . I'll shut up now. Enjoy the ninth chapter!
1.2
1.3 Chapter Nine—A Close Call
"Oh my God. . . ." cried Marguerite as Malone and Roxton quickly and carefully carried the stilled body of Challenger out of the elevator and into the treehouse. "Oh my God!" Tears stung her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She began to cry hysterically as she saw the warm blood running through Challenger's lower chest, staining his shirt dark red.
"Quick!" screamed Veronica, leading the men towards her room. "Take him to my room! Hurry!"
They moved as fast as they could and reached Veronica's room, where they gently sat Challenger down on the small bed.
Marguerite tried to stop her crying. "Is he . . . is Challenger. . . ."
"He's not dead," replied an out-of-breath Malone, "at least not yet." He gulped, and then ran out of the room to retrieve some towels and the medical emergency kit.
"The bullet. . . ." Roxton began, "it didn't finish going through him." He held his hand up to Challenger's bloody wound to try to stop the flowing of blood. His hand was soon stained red.
"Challenger. . . ." Marguerite caressed the elderly man's forehead. "Oh Challenger, you're burning up!" She turned around. "He has a fever!" she cried. "Malone, hurry up with that medical kit, dammit!"
"I got it!" yelled Malone, running back into the room, juggling a handful of towels, the medical kit, and a small basin of water.
"The basin!" exclaimed Marguerite. She grabbed a towel, dipped it in the cool water, and dabbed up the sweat from Challenger's burning forehead.
"Stand back," ordered Veronica, as she pushed herself in between Malone and Marguerite. She unbuttoned Challenger's shirt to get to the wound. She shuddered. "It looks ugly," she gasped, trying not to become sick.
"The bullet's still in there," stated Roxton, "and it has to be removed!"
"I'll do it," offered Malone, grabbing the pair of long, steel tweezers. His hand shook with nervousness.
"Are you sure?" asked Roxton. "Malone, you don't look too steady—"
"Will somebody please just do it!" screamed Marguerite with fear and impatience. "Anybody . . . just please, hurry!" she began to whimper as she dabbed more sweat off of Challenger's face.
Malone nodded. "I'll do it," he said again.
Veronica had another wet towel in her hands. She began to clean Challenger's wound as best as she could. He was still bleeding badly. "God, he's losing a lot of blood," she said, almost choking with fear.
Suddenly, Challenger stirred. His eyes fluttered open as he groaned painfully. "What . . . what's going on, here—aah!" he cried in pain as he tried to sit up.
"No, Challenger!" shouted all three of them as they gently pushed him back down.
Marguerite began to cry again. "Challenger," she whispered softly, "you've been shot."
Challenger flinched, as the memory came back to him. "I—I know," he gasped, "I know. I—"
"Shh, not now." Marguerite tried to smile. "Malone's going to remove the bullet from your lower chest first, okay?" She gripped his hand tightly. "Just try to relax."
"Relax. . . ." Challenger murmured, just before he fell unconscious once again.
"Come on, Malone! While he's still unconscious!" exclaimed Marguerite.
Malone gulped once again. He moved closer to Challenger, held the tweezers over the wound, and took a deep breath.
"That's it, Malone," encouragingly said Roxton, "you can do it. Don't be afraid."
"That's right, Malone. You know you can do it! Challenger's counting on you!" chimed Veronica, who was becoming misty-eyed once again.
Malone nodded. "I won't let you down now, Challenger, not after all we've gone through." Without even a single thought, he pushed the tweezers into the wound . . . where almost immediately, he felt the bullet settled in. Quickly, and almost professionally, he gripped the bullet with the tweezers and extracted it from Challenger's body. He smiled victoriously. "Got it!" he cried, holding it up for all to see.
Veronica and Roxton smiled, while Marguerite emitted a long sigh of relief.
"See! I knew you could do it!" Veronica exclaimed, giving Malone a pat on the shoulder.
And from there, things began to grow better. Challenger's wound finally managed to coagulate and stopped bleeding. His fever started to go down, almost to a healthy level.
By the time these events occurred, though, it was early morning. No one had gotten a wink of sleep, in fear of Challenger's still unsteady condition.
But then at last, Challenger awoke. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes.
Immediately, everyone jumped up. "Challenger?" Marguerite prodded, kneeling down by Challenger's bedside.
"Marguerite," Challenger said in reply, and smiled up at the heiress.
Marguerite also smiled as soon as she saw him, and once again became emotional. "You old fool!" she cried, burying her face into his shoulder. "You scared us sick!"
Challenger patted Marguerite's head. "I gave myself quite a scare," he said and managed a short laugh, "but don't you worry—I may be old, but I'm still holding on strong."
Everyone began to laugh merrily. "Welcome back, George," said a thrilled Roxton, kneeling down beside Marguerite and shook Challenger's hand.
Veronica smiled and threw her arms around him. Seeing him wince at the slight pressure on his chest, she extricated herself and instead gripped his hand tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said. She turned to look up at Malone. "And it's all thanks to you, Malone."
Malone blushed slightly. He smiled and patted Challenger on the shoulder. "It was nothing," he said modestly, "really. I'm just glad I managed it."
"No-no, Malone," said Challenger, looking up in respect at Malone, "I'm not letting you off that easy." He paused. "You saved my life, Ned. I can't thank you enough."
"Challenger, you don't have to thank me at all."
"But I insist. Thank you, Ned."
Malone beamed. "You're welcome, Challenger."
And it was so. Challenger was saved, thanks in most part to the journalist, Ned Malone. While everyone was thrilled that Challenger had managed to escape death once again, one dark question still remained in their minds:
What had happened the previous night?
No one could stand it any longer. They had to find out. Finally, Veronica spoke all of their minds:
"Challenger . . . what happened?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "What were you doing outside in the dead of the night? Why were you out there? And who shot you?" She gripped the handle of her knife. Whoever it was, she would make them pay.
Challenger sighed and sat up, wincing once again. "I knew that question was going to be asked sooner or later."
"And you will tell us, won't you?" Roxton asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Challenger nodded. "Of course. It all started like this. . . ." Taking a short breath, he began.
"It was late last night, obviously. Veronica had just gone to bed. I remained in the lab for a short while, though, listening to music from the phonograph and working on a. . . ." he cleared his throat. "Another experiment. I just wanted to finish up and retire myself, when suddenly . . . a large spark from outside of the treehouse jumped. The music turned off as a result.
"I went to look out the window to see what had happened, and it was there I noticed billows of smoke rising from the electric fence. After thinking for a while, I decided to go out and fix it—"
"You WHAT?!" everyone shouted at once, interrupting Challenger's story. "How could you do such a thing like that?" asked an angry Veronica. "You know the rules of the treehouse—NO ONE is to go out during the night!"
"Veronica. . . ." Challenger drawled.
"No Challenger, Veronica's absolutely right!" chimed Marguerite. "You of all people should know how dangerous the jungle can be at nighttime!"
"But that's precisely why I went out in the first place!" Challenger exclaimed. "With the electricity down and the fence not working, anybody could have roamed in on us and could have done—God knows what!" He sighed in exasperation as everyone continued to glare at him.
"That is still no excuse for what you did, Challenger," said a stern Roxton, "you were all alone out there! You-- you could have been killed!"
"They're all right, Challenger," spoke Malone, "you shouldn't have gone, alone or otherwise! You WERE almost killed!"
Challenger, having no other choice, held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right," he said calmly, "fine. I admit that I shouldn't have gone out during the night. It's just that it wouldn't have taken me long to fix the electricity, and. . . ."
"CHALLENGER!" everyone else cried in unison.
Challenger smiled. "All right. I get your point—I'm sorry. And I promise you all, I'll never do it again." He paused. "Can I continue on now? Are you all satisfied?"
Veronica's gaze was still stern. "It was a stupid thing to do, Challenger . . . but yes. Please, go on."
Challenger nodded his head. "Thank you. Now where was I?" He paused to think. "Ah, yes. As I was saying, I grabbed a lantern and a rifle and took the elevator down to the ground.
"Immediately, I went over to the other side of the fence, where I had seen the spark emerge. I inspected the wires— where I observed that the wires had been cut. I truly do not know how one could do this without getting electrocuted them self.
"As I was pondering this strange mystery, I heard a rustling noise behind me, coming from some large bushes. I held out my gun, but turned around shortly after as I figured it could have been just the wind in leaves. But then, I heard the rustling noises again, and a twig snapped. I readied my rifle once again. I was positive this time that someone was watching me.
"And that was when it happened. I heard someone cock a gun . . . and a shot rang loudly through the air. I dropped my gun, clutched at my chest, and fell to the ground in pain. In the distance, I could hear someone run off. Shortly after that, I saw Veronica run towards me, and then . . . I blacked out." He paused to sigh. "The rest, you all know."
After a moment of silence, Marguerite spoke up. "Someone shot Challenger?" she asked. "Someone, as in an actual person?"
Malone cracked up. "Well, Marguerite, I don't think raptors know how to use guns," he said and grinned. His grin disappeared, though, after Marguerite shot him a glance of warning.
"But who?" asked Roxton. "I don't think the Zangas—or any other tribe out here, for that matter—have or know how to use guns."
"We aren't the only explorers who came from outside the plateau, I'm sure," said Malone. "Maybe someone from another group stumbled upon the treehouse here and shot Challenger."
"But why?" asked Veronica. "Why would anybody shoot Challenger just like that?"
Malone shrugged. "Maybe they had a reason."
Challenger's eyebrows raised in surprise. "And just what are you trying to suggest, Malone?" he asked. "That someone from my past that I know has come to the plateau to hunt me down?"
"Hey, you never know," Malone replied, suddenly turning to Marguerite, "Xhan sent one of his henchmen out to get Marguerite, remember?" He winced as he received another glare from the dark-eyed heiress. "The circumstances were completely different," she said darkly, suddenly feeling upset as Malone reminded her of the horrible events. She now regretted telling him that story. However, she smiled again as Roxton stroked her arm comfortingly. "Don't think about that now," he said softly, "forget those times, for now. In spite of our current situation, at least."
Marguerite nodded silently. But just like John would never forget the way his brother died . . . she would never forget her past, which was filled with all kinds of dark times and secrets. The only thing she could do now was hope for a better future . . . and that didn't even look too bright, especially if some dangerous lunatic was out there stalking them.
As if he could hear her thoughts, Roxton sighed and pulled Marguerite closer to him. He was no longer interested in hearing Malone's 'bright ideas' and crazy suggestions, and instead held Marguerite and stared out the window at the distance.
He probably would have gone insane if he knew that Malone's suggestions weren't so crazy after all.
Malone had been right—partially right. There was a person hunting them down, seeking their vengeance. But that person wasn't from Challenger's past. They weren't even from Marguerite's past.
They were from Roxton's past.
And suddenly, at that moment, Roxton began to feel strange and uncomfortable . . . he felt as if he were being watched. In fact, as he stared out the window, he could have sworn that he saw a dark figure creep past a nearby tree and run off somewhere. But when he looked again, he saw nothing, and dismissed the thought immediately.
Roxton hadn't been crazy either. Someone was definitely out there, watching closely. That person had been looking into Veronica's window, staring up from the ground at a distance. He had been spying on the explorers, but as soon as they noticed Roxton had become aware of his presence, he decided to quietly slink off, and return later.
"Damn," he said to himself, frowning deeply. His attempt to shoot and kill the older man hadn't been successful.
But that wouldn't stop him from trying again. And he would try again, sometime soon.
The stranger laughed menacingly. "I'll be seeing you later, Lord John Roxton," he said as he crept away, "you can count on it."
To continue, as usual. . . .
LOL, did you really think I was gonna let Challenger die? Of course not! I would never . . . after all, Challenger is (other than Marguerite, of course) my favorite character (so watch what you say about him, Audrey . . . LOL, just kidding, of course! I didn't mean that at all!). So people, hit that button and write me a nice, long review!
Okay, anyways . . . I'll shut up now. Enjoy the ninth chapter!
1.2
1.3 Chapter Nine—A Close Call
"Oh my God. . . ." cried Marguerite as Malone and Roxton quickly and carefully carried the stilled body of Challenger out of the elevator and into the treehouse. "Oh my God!" Tears stung her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She began to cry hysterically as she saw the warm blood running through Challenger's lower chest, staining his shirt dark red.
"Quick!" screamed Veronica, leading the men towards her room. "Take him to my room! Hurry!"
They moved as fast as they could and reached Veronica's room, where they gently sat Challenger down on the small bed.
Marguerite tried to stop her crying. "Is he . . . is Challenger. . . ."
"He's not dead," replied an out-of-breath Malone, "at least not yet." He gulped, and then ran out of the room to retrieve some towels and the medical emergency kit.
"The bullet. . . ." Roxton began, "it didn't finish going through him." He held his hand up to Challenger's bloody wound to try to stop the flowing of blood. His hand was soon stained red.
"Challenger. . . ." Marguerite caressed the elderly man's forehead. "Oh Challenger, you're burning up!" She turned around. "He has a fever!" she cried. "Malone, hurry up with that medical kit, dammit!"
"I got it!" yelled Malone, running back into the room, juggling a handful of towels, the medical kit, and a small basin of water.
"The basin!" exclaimed Marguerite. She grabbed a towel, dipped it in the cool water, and dabbed up the sweat from Challenger's burning forehead.
"Stand back," ordered Veronica, as she pushed herself in between Malone and Marguerite. She unbuttoned Challenger's shirt to get to the wound. She shuddered. "It looks ugly," she gasped, trying not to become sick.
"The bullet's still in there," stated Roxton, "and it has to be removed!"
"I'll do it," offered Malone, grabbing the pair of long, steel tweezers. His hand shook with nervousness.
"Are you sure?" asked Roxton. "Malone, you don't look too steady—"
"Will somebody please just do it!" screamed Marguerite with fear and impatience. "Anybody . . . just please, hurry!" she began to whimper as she dabbed more sweat off of Challenger's face.
Malone nodded. "I'll do it," he said again.
Veronica had another wet towel in her hands. She began to clean Challenger's wound as best as she could. He was still bleeding badly. "God, he's losing a lot of blood," she said, almost choking with fear.
Suddenly, Challenger stirred. His eyes fluttered open as he groaned painfully. "What . . . what's going on, here—aah!" he cried in pain as he tried to sit up.
"No, Challenger!" shouted all three of them as they gently pushed him back down.
Marguerite began to cry again. "Challenger," she whispered softly, "you've been shot."
Challenger flinched, as the memory came back to him. "I—I know," he gasped, "I know. I—"
"Shh, not now." Marguerite tried to smile. "Malone's going to remove the bullet from your lower chest first, okay?" She gripped his hand tightly. "Just try to relax."
"Relax. . . ." Challenger murmured, just before he fell unconscious once again.
"Come on, Malone! While he's still unconscious!" exclaimed Marguerite.
Malone gulped once again. He moved closer to Challenger, held the tweezers over the wound, and took a deep breath.
"That's it, Malone," encouragingly said Roxton, "you can do it. Don't be afraid."
"That's right, Malone. You know you can do it! Challenger's counting on you!" chimed Veronica, who was becoming misty-eyed once again.
Malone nodded. "I won't let you down now, Challenger, not after all we've gone through." Without even a single thought, he pushed the tweezers into the wound . . . where almost immediately, he felt the bullet settled in. Quickly, and almost professionally, he gripped the bullet with the tweezers and extracted it from Challenger's body. He smiled victoriously. "Got it!" he cried, holding it up for all to see.
Veronica and Roxton smiled, while Marguerite emitted a long sigh of relief.
"See! I knew you could do it!" Veronica exclaimed, giving Malone a pat on the shoulder.
And from there, things began to grow better. Challenger's wound finally managed to coagulate and stopped bleeding. His fever started to go down, almost to a healthy level.
By the time these events occurred, though, it was early morning. No one had gotten a wink of sleep, in fear of Challenger's still unsteady condition.
But then at last, Challenger awoke. He took in a deep breath and opened his eyes.
Immediately, everyone jumped up. "Challenger?" Marguerite prodded, kneeling down by Challenger's bedside.
"Marguerite," Challenger said in reply, and smiled up at the heiress.
Marguerite also smiled as soon as she saw him, and once again became emotional. "You old fool!" she cried, burying her face into his shoulder. "You scared us sick!"
Challenger patted Marguerite's head. "I gave myself quite a scare," he said and managed a short laugh, "but don't you worry—I may be old, but I'm still holding on strong."
Everyone began to laugh merrily. "Welcome back, George," said a thrilled Roxton, kneeling down beside Marguerite and shook Challenger's hand.
Veronica smiled and threw her arms around him. Seeing him wince at the slight pressure on his chest, she extricated herself and instead gripped his hand tightly. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said. She turned to look up at Malone. "And it's all thanks to you, Malone."
Malone blushed slightly. He smiled and patted Challenger on the shoulder. "It was nothing," he said modestly, "really. I'm just glad I managed it."
"No-no, Malone," said Challenger, looking up in respect at Malone, "I'm not letting you off that easy." He paused. "You saved my life, Ned. I can't thank you enough."
"Challenger, you don't have to thank me at all."
"But I insist. Thank you, Ned."
Malone beamed. "You're welcome, Challenger."
And it was so. Challenger was saved, thanks in most part to the journalist, Ned Malone. While everyone was thrilled that Challenger had managed to escape death once again, one dark question still remained in their minds:
What had happened the previous night?
No one could stand it any longer. They had to find out. Finally, Veronica spoke all of their minds:
"Challenger . . . what happened?" she asked, her voice full of concern. "What were you doing outside in the dead of the night? Why were you out there? And who shot you?" She gripped the handle of her knife. Whoever it was, she would make them pay.
Challenger sighed and sat up, wincing once again. "I knew that question was going to be asked sooner or later."
"And you will tell us, won't you?" Roxton asked, cocking an eyebrow.
Challenger nodded. "Of course. It all started like this. . . ." Taking a short breath, he began.
"It was late last night, obviously. Veronica had just gone to bed. I remained in the lab for a short while, though, listening to music from the phonograph and working on a. . . ." he cleared his throat. "Another experiment. I just wanted to finish up and retire myself, when suddenly . . . a large spark from outside of the treehouse jumped. The music turned off as a result.
"I went to look out the window to see what had happened, and it was there I noticed billows of smoke rising from the electric fence. After thinking for a while, I decided to go out and fix it—"
"You WHAT?!" everyone shouted at once, interrupting Challenger's story. "How could you do such a thing like that?" asked an angry Veronica. "You know the rules of the treehouse—NO ONE is to go out during the night!"
"Veronica. . . ." Challenger drawled.
"No Challenger, Veronica's absolutely right!" chimed Marguerite. "You of all people should know how dangerous the jungle can be at nighttime!"
"But that's precisely why I went out in the first place!" Challenger exclaimed. "With the electricity down and the fence not working, anybody could have roamed in on us and could have done—God knows what!" He sighed in exasperation as everyone continued to glare at him.
"That is still no excuse for what you did, Challenger," said a stern Roxton, "you were all alone out there! You-- you could have been killed!"
"They're all right, Challenger," spoke Malone, "you shouldn't have gone, alone or otherwise! You WERE almost killed!"
Challenger, having no other choice, held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right," he said calmly, "fine. I admit that I shouldn't have gone out during the night. It's just that it wouldn't have taken me long to fix the electricity, and. . . ."
"CHALLENGER!" everyone else cried in unison.
Challenger smiled. "All right. I get your point—I'm sorry. And I promise you all, I'll never do it again." He paused. "Can I continue on now? Are you all satisfied?"
Veronica's gaze was still stern. "It was a stupid thing to do, Challenger . . . but yes. Please, go on."
Challenger nodded his head. "Thank you. Now where was I?" He paused to think. "Ah, yes. As I was saying, I grabbed a lantern and a rifle and took the elevator down to the ground.
"Immediately, I went over to the other side of the fence, where I had seen the spark emerge. I inspected the wires— where I observed that the wires had been cut. I truly do not know how one could do this without getting electrocuted them self.
"As I was pondering this strange mystery, I heard a rustling noise behind me, coming from some large bushes. I held out my gun, but turned around shortly after as I figured it could have been just the wind in leaves. But then, I heard the rustling noises again, and a twig snapped. I readied my rifle once again. I was positive this time that someone was watching me.
"And that was when it happened. I heard someone cock a gun . . . and a shot rang loudly through the air. I dropped my gun, clutched at my chest, and fell to the ground in pain. In the distance, I could hear someone run off. Shortly after that, I saw Veronica run towards me, and then . . . I blacked out." He paused to sigh. "The rest, you all know."
After a moment of silence, Marguerite spoke up. "Someone shot Challenger?" she asked. "Someone, as in an actual person?"
Malone cracked up. "Well, Marguerite, I don't think raptors know how to use guns," he said and grinned. His grin disappeared, though, after Marguerite shot him a glance of warning.
"But who?" asked Roxton. "I don't think the Zangas—or any other tribe out here, for that matter—have or know how to use guns."
"We aren't the only explorers who came from outside the plateau, I'm sure," said Malone. "Maybe someone from another group stumbled upon the treehouse here and shot Challenger."
"But why?" asked Veronica. "Why would anybody shoot Challenger just like that?"
Malone shrugged. "Maybe they had a reason."
Challenger's eyebrows raised in surprise. "And just what are you trying to suggest, Malone?" he asked. "That someone from my past that I know has come to the plateau to hunt me down?"
"Hey, you never know," Malone replied, suddenly turning to Marguerite, "Xhan sent one of his henchmen out to get Marguerite, remember?" He winced as he received another glare from the dark-eyed heiress. "The circumstances were completely different," she said darkly, suddenly feeling upset as Malone reminded her of the horrible events. She now regretted telling him that story. However, she smiled again as Roxton stroked her arm comfortingly. "Don't think about that now," he said softly, "forget those times, for now. In spite of our current situation, at least."
Marguerite nodded silently. But just like John would never forget the way his brother died . . . she would never forget her past, which was filled with all kinds of dark times and secrets. The only thing she could do now was hope for a better future . . . and that didn't even look too bright, especially if some dangerous lunatic was out there stalking them.
As if he could hear her thoughts, Roxton sighed and pulled Marguerite closer to him. He was no longer interested in hearing Malone's 'bright ideas' and crazy suggestions, and instead held Marguerite and stared out the window at the distance.
He probably would have gone insane if he knew that Malone's suggestions weren't so crazy after all.
Malone had been right—partially right. There was a person hunting them down, seeking their vengeance. But that person wasn't from Challenger's past. They weren't even from Marguerite's past.
They were from Roxton's past.
And suddenly, at that moment, Roxton began to feel strange and uncomfortable . . . he felt as if he were being watched. In fact, as he stared out the window, he could have sworn that he saw a dark figure creep past a nearby tree and run off somewhere. But when he looked again, he saw nothing, and dismissed the thought immediately.
Roxton hadn't been crazy either. Someone was definitely out there, watching closely. That person had been looking into Veronica's window, staring up from the ground at a distance. He had been spying on the explorers, but as soon as they noticed Roxton had become aware of his presence, he decided to quietly slink off, and return later.
"Damn," he said to himself, frowning deeply. His attempt to shoot and kill the older man hadn't been successful.
But that wouldn't stop him from trying again. And he would try again, sometime soon.
The stranger laughed menacingly. "I'll be seeing you later, Lord John Roxton," he said as he crept away, "you can count on it."
To continue, as usual. . . .
LOL, did you really think I was gonna let Challenger die? Of course not! I would never . . . after all, Challenger is (other than Marguerite, of course) my favorite character (so watch what you say about him, Audrey . . . LOL, just kidding, of course! I didn't mean that at all!). So people, hit that button and write me a nice, long review!