For
Better or For Worse
Part
1
TaleSpin
and its characters are property of
Disney. All other characters are
mine and cannot be used without
permission.
Somewhere
Over the Pacific Ocean
May
1938
Night
It was a dark and stormy night. The headlights belonging to one of Shere Khan's plum and taupe cargo planes lit up a small patch of the pitch-black sky as it cruised towards Cape Suzette. The turbulent ocean waves below and angry, rolling thunderclouds above were visible only when a fierce bolt of lightning crackled across the sky. Tempestuous gusts tossed the seaplane around as easily as children tossing a ball.
Manning this craft was one of Khan's most seasoned pilots - a middle-aged grey panther known as Captain James Spaulding. He wore the uniform typical of all Khan pilots - a grey flight jacket with a gold, encircled 'SK' insignia on the shoulder over a white shirt, grey necktie, and matching grey hat.The bad weather didn't faze Captain Spaulding; he'd been through worse. Even so, he wanted to get out of it as soon as possible.
Repeatedly wiping condensation from the windshield, he strained his eyes in an attempt to peer through the blinding rain. According to his instruments, the rugged cliffs surrounding Cape Suzette should have been visible, but all his tired eyes could see was darkness.
Then, if things weren't bad enough, he heard a snap, crackle, and a loud POP! To his astonishment, the port engine burst into flames, causing the plane to jerk violently to the right.
Spaulding simultaneously leveled the plane out while quickly cutting the fuel to the port engine to put out the fire. The flames hissed when the raindrops hit them, but were not quenched.
The pilot fumbled for the radio. Watching the blaze spurting from the engine as he struggled to keep his plane aloft, he pushed the 'transmit' button, saying urgently, "Mayday! Mayday! This is flight 243 calling. I'm experiencing major engine malfunction! Mayday!"
For a long minute, the radio was silent. He wondered if anyone had heard him. It was two o'clock in the morning, after all.
"Mayday! Please! Mayday!"
Through the static caused by the storm, a heavily accented voice answered. "Hallo, O Troubled One. What are your coordinations?"
"Don Karnage?" Spaulding murmured incredulously.
The pirate captain said grandly, "Yes, it is the one and only superiferous me. Give me your locations, and we will save you."
"Save me?" Spaulding remembered his last run-in with Karnage's gang. His plane had been blasted to smithereens and he had spent a day trekking through the Sierra Padre Mountains. "Ha! Not on your life, you sleazy thief!"
"Oh, you flatterer, you." Unconcernedly, Karnage said, "Okay. Fine. Crash and smash into a ka-jillion, million pieces. I was just offering my handsome assistance."
"I don't need your kind of assistance, Don Karnage!"
As if his plane wanted to make a liar out of him, the cockpit lights and headlights completely went out, leaving him in total darkness. Without lights and with only one engine, there was no way that he could make it through the storm. His heart began to thump loudly and his palms became damp. Clutching the steering yoke in a stranglehold, Spaulding peered outside at the storm just as a bolt of lightning crackled precariously close. He knew that the ocean would be less than merciful tonight. Unless he was lucky enough to land on - or close to - an island, certain death awaited him out there.
He didn't feel that lucky.
Seeing no other viable option, Spaulding pressed the 'transmit' button again with trembling fingers. He gave out his coordinates reluctantly.
"Excellamundo. I knew you were smarter than you sounded. We will be upon you in precisely...five minutos. Jolly Roger willikers, under and over."
The pilot donned his parachute and slipped his handgun in his jacket pocket. One couldn't trust air pirates. The friendliness was likely just a ruse to capture him and his cargo. But what other choice did he have?
A moment later, a few faint pinpoints of light were visible through the storm. Fighting to keep his plane under control, Spaulding once again wiped condensation from the windshield and watched as the lights grew closer. When a lightning sheet illuminated the dark sky, he could see that the lights belonged to five CT-37s.
The single-man, tri-wing airplanes circled and got into formation around Khan's plane - two on either side, two above, and one behind. All lassoed the troubled plane's wings and tail section with grappling hooks to steady it between them. A lanky ferret with his droopy mustache blowing wildly in the wind crawled hand over hand down the rope to the cockpit door.
"Open the door!" Mad Dog yelled over the roar of the wind, engine, and fire.
Too surprised to do anything else, the panther pilot unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the cockpit door. At the same time that a sheet of warm rain unexpectedly smacked him in the face, the airplane jerked to the left. Spaulding was promptly thrown out the plane, doing a belly-flop ten thousand feet towards the ocean.
"Amateur," Mad Dog scoffed, climbing the rain-drenched rope back to his plane.
Before he could pull the parachute's ripcord, Spaulding landed with a jarring bump on the wing of a CT-37. With the rain lashing at his face and the wind trying to blow him away, his fingers struggled to grasp the slippery surface of the wing as the plane zipped along.
His fingertips were barely clinging to the end of the aileron when Hal, a rotund orange feline, pulled him into the cockpit, shouting over the storm, "Welcome aboard!"
"Yeah, uh, thanks," mumbled the dazed Spaulding. He blinked furiously as wind and rain whipped into his face. Feeling extremely uncomfortable and more than a little confused about the whole unreal situation, he tried to make himself as small as possible as he sat, crowded, beside the pirate on the seat. Just to make sure that he was really being rescued by Don Karnage's gang of air pirates, he pinched himself.
He knew he wasn't dreaming when Khan's cargo plane zoomed past them, the port engine engulfed in flames, and disappeared into the storm.
Spaulding gasped as the CT-37 he was traveling in was swallowed by the gigantic 'mouth' of the Iron Vulture. He'd heard stories of this magnificent ship of the air from the few pilots that had been lucky enough to escape Karnage's wrath, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
When the five CT-37s' engines stopped, the leader of the air pirates, Don Karnage, swaggered over to the planes. The rugged brown wolf's attire consisted of a blue coat trimmed with brass buttons, grey trousers, and black boots. A scabbard hung at his side. He called out, "Hallo, disdressed pilot! Why do you not come down and thank your exceedingly heroic rescuers?"
"Yeah, last stop, everyone out. This means you!" Hal dumped his passenger roughly out of the plane. Spaulding landed in a soggy heap on the floor.
"Pick him up and apologize at once, you simpering simpleton!" Karnage ordered. He backhanded Hal repeatedly across the cheek. WHACK! "Remember that it is nice," WHACK! "to be nice," WHACK! "to the nice!" WHACK!
"Uh, sorry," Hal said quickly, yanking Spaulding to his feet by the back of his jacket.
Sopping wet, Spaulding, whose head was reeling with confusion and pain, put his hands in the air. His frightened eyes flitted around at the dozen smiling, and a few yawning, pirates.
"Welcome to the hospitalness of the Iron Vulture," Karnage said with a sweeping bow. He then pumped Spaulding's hand enthusiastically.
"Simply hi," Mad Dog said, wringing water out of his blue vest.
"Vould you care to join us in a late-night snack?" Dumptruck asked politely in a Norwegian accent. The hulking grey canine held out a plate of unappetizing brown lumps covered with grey sauce.
Dumbfounded, Spaulding nodded. He slipped his right hand into his pocket. His fingers clenched the revolver's handle. Friendly behavior or no, he still didn't trust Don Karnage and his notorious gang of air pirates. Dripping with water, he squish-squashed through the hangar, following the pirates towards their dining hall.
Downtown
Cape Suzette
One
Month Later
Friday
It was a typical summer day in the coastal city of Cape Suzette. The sun shone brightly in the wind-winnowed aquamarine sky. A group of laughing children enjoying summer vacation rode their bicycles past innumerable skyscrapers down the busy sidewalks, much to the dismay of one pedestrian.
"Whoa!" Mayor Tuskany, a portly brown walrus wearing a grey suit and a grey derby, cried as he dodged right and left to avoid being hit by the bicycles. "Look out, you little hooligans!"
After having his foot run over by the last bicycle in the caravan, he, hopping up and down in pain, said indignantly, "There ought to be a law against that! Sidewalks are for walking, not bicycling. Hence, the term sidewalks. I'll have to bring it up in the next city council meeting." Limping slightly, he hurried along to his destination - Khan Towers - while mumbling under his breath about the health hazards of bicycles.
"Extra! Extra!" shouted a chubby, freckled porcine paperboy in a red and black striped shirt as he waved the latest edition of the Cape Suzette Tribune. "Don Karnage saves another cargo transport! Air pirates huge heroes!"
"Boy, I'll take one of those." Tuskany purchased a newspaper. Reading the article underneath the headline, he asked rhetorically, "What's this city coming to? Children trying to kill me! Pirates saving people!"
"Beats me, mister," the paperboy replied, reaching into his bag for another newspaper. "I don't write this stuff. Extra! Extra! Read all about it!"
Muttering to himself, this time about crazy air pirates, Mayor Tuskany charged through the revolving doors of Khan Towers.
Shere Khan's Office
Located on the top floor of ninety-story Khan Towers was the incredible office of the CEO of Khan Industries - Shere Khan. The entire office was impressive from the large window that offered a magnificent view of Cape Suzette to the lush jungle foliage that lined both sides of the room to the expensive, tasteful furnishings. However, the most impressive object in the room was Shere Khan himself. The mere presence of this austere tiger, who commanded a large chunk of the world's finances from this very office, demanded everyone's respect, if not admiration.
He certainly had Mayor Tuskany's respect. The walrus had come to ask advice of this shrewd, levelheaded multi-billionaire. As he nervously paced in front of Khan's scratch-marked mahogany desk, he waved his hat in the air. "What are we going to do? I can't give Don Karnage the Cape Suzette Hero of the Year award. What the...?" A hungry Venus flytrap had chomped onto his hat.
"Mmm...yes, it does seem rather unseemly that Don Karnage is saving people instead of killing them." Shere Khan, who was dressed impeccably in a tailored navy suit, laid down the paper featuring the picture of the latest rescued pilot - a bewildered-looking warthog. An amused gleam came to his eyes as he watched his 'pet' playing tug-of-war with Tuskany over the hat.
"Exactly," said a small tan canine sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the desk as Khan. Detective Thursday wore a beige suit and cadet blue bow tie. A greyish-brown fedora reposed on his knee. "I don't trust that pirate as far as I can throw him, no matter how many pilots he saves."
"Me neither. Whoa!" The mayor, giving one last fierce yank on his hat, toppled head over heels after the Venus flytrap gave up its prey. With difficulty, he got to his feet and ruefully inspected the teeth marks in the hat's brim. "I wouldn't be surprised if those pilots had been brainwashed by that murderous marauder to fool them, and us, into thinking that the pirates had done some good deed."
"Do you really think that Don Karnage would go through all that trouble just to get the Hero of the Year award?" Khan asked coolly.
"Well...maybe," the mayor said uncertainly, feeling all of a sudden that his suggestion had been extremely stupid. "It's a very prestigious award."
Thursday stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Can you bring in one of these pilots? I'd like to get a first-hand statement."
"Certainly," Khan agreed amiably. He pushed a button on the interoffice intercom system. "Mrs. Snarly, get me Captain James Spaulding."
"Yes, Mr. Khan," said the secretary's no-nonsense voice.
A few minutes later, a panther pilot stepped from the elevator into Shere Khan's office.
"So glad that you could join us, Captain," Shere Khan purred as the pilot made his way across the large room. "I assume you know Mayor Tuskany, and this is Detective Thursday."
Spaulding bobbed his head politely.
Pressing the tips of his fingers together, Khan said, "Could you please tell these gentlemen what happened on May 5th?"
"The air pirate rescue, sir?"
"Mmm...yes."
"Just the facts, please," Detective Thursday added, pencil poised over his notepad.
Three sets of eyes intently watched the pilot as he began his tale. "That night, I was flying a shipment of nutmeg from the Spicy Islands to Cape Suzette when my port engine caught on fire."
"Why didn't you just land?" asked the mayor.
"I couldn't, not in the thunderstorm."
"Continue, Spaulding," Khan drawled languidly, shooting an annoyed, pointed look at the walrus.
"Yes, sir. I attempted to extinguish the fire by cutting the fuel flow to the engine, but it didn't work. And then my lights went out. I radioed for help."
"And Don Karnage responded?" interjected Mayor Tuskany.
"He was the only one who did. The time was 0200 hours."
"What were air pirates doing flying around in a thunderstorm at two o'clock in the morning?" Detective Thursday wondered.
"Saving my pilot, obviously," Khan said wryly. "Proceed, Captain Spaulding."
"A few minutes later, the air pirates came in five CT-37s. My plane was beyond repair so I jumped into one of their aircraft, and I was carried to their gigantic airship." He shot a nervous, apologetic glance at Khan. "I'm afraid my plane and cargo were lost."
Khan waved a dismissive paw as if losing a shipment worth five thousand dollars and a top-of-the-line, one hundred thousand dollar airplane meant nothing to him. "Yes, yes. We've already been over that. It couldn't have been helped, Spaulding. You did all you could."
"Did the pirates hold you at gunpoint or lock you up?" Tuskany asked, eyeing the pilot over his water glass.
"That's the odd thing, sir. They were kind of...uh, friendly."
"Friendly?" Mayor Tuskany spluttered, spilling water down the front of his suit. "That's not possible! They're pirates! It's not their job to be friendly!"
Spaulding reiterated firmly, "They were friendly."
"Hmpf! When pigs fly," muttered the mayor. He dabbed at his damp suit coat with a large, blue handkerchief. "I suppose, technically, Don Karnage has earned the Hero of the Year award after saving one hundred twenty-seven..."
"One hundred twenty-eight," Detective Thursday corrected, gesturing to that day's paper.
"Yes, one hundred twenty-eight cargo pilots from crashing and burning in the ocean." Tuskany mopped his brow with the handkerchief before returning it to his jacket pocket. "But it's wrong that Don Karnage is saving people instead of hijacking them. I mean, it's unnatural, against the pirate law."
Nodding in agreement, Thursday said cynically, "Karnage and his crew turning legit is as likely as Thembria thawing."
"What do you think, Mr. Khan?" Tuskany asked.
Khan rose from his chair and walked to the window overlooking the sun-baked, coastal city of Cape Suzette to hide the hint of an enigmatical smile on his lips. "It does seem rather odd, but we should at least give him the benefit of the doubt."
The mayor frowned. "I've given him plenty of doubt. One hundred twenty-eight airplane malfunctions over the span of a month is too many. Do you think it's a conspiracy?"
Thursday said, "Negative. My men and I checked up on all of the pilots that Karnage rescued. All were employed by different companies. A few were even from outside Cape Suzette. There's no apparent connection between any of them."
The mayor sighed in defeat. "It looks like we can't deny Don Karnage his award. What do you say, Detective?"
"I agree, but something still smells fishy about the whole situation."
The mayor brushed a few crumbs from his suit coat. "Oh, I had a tuna fish sandwich for lunch."
"Then the award ceremony will proceed tomorrow at 11:00 AM as scheduled?" Khan asked, returning to his chair.
The mayor said helplessly, "I don't see what else we can do, but I want extra police protection."
"Affirmative," said Detective Thursday with a decided nod. "I'll see to it."
"Excellent. Good-day, gentlemen." Khan swivelled in his chair, signifying that the meeting was concluded.
Higher for Hire
Across the sparkling blue harbor, away from the noise and the heat of the crowded downtown area, a small wooden building stood by the docks. It was home to an air cargo company aptly named Higher for Hire.
Mounds of cardboard boxes and crates of various sizes were stacked up beside the door leading into the office. However, these boxes weren't destined to be delivered to some faraway place by the yellow Conwing L-16 seaplane that was moored to the end of the dock. They contained the belongings of the cargo service's owner Rebecca Cunningham and her seven-year-old daughter Molly.
The small building was undergoing big changes. The next day's wedding and forthcoming adoptions were going to turn Rebecca, her pilot Baloo von Bruinwald, her young navigator Kit Cloudkicker, and her daughter Molly into a family. But, first, Rebecca and Molly's things had to be moved.
The vehicle used for moving, an orange and white U-Tow truck, pulled up beside Higher for Hire. The passenger side door opened and a petite brown bearess wearing a magenta cardigan over a white turtleneck and purple pants hopped down from the cab.
"Oh, Baloo," Rebecca said in the overly patient tone of a woman that had hashed this argument out many times. "You're just sore, because I didn't hire professional movers. You know we couldn't afford it after paying for all of the wedding and adoption expenses."
"Sore is right," replied the big grey bear in a yellow flight shirt and red pilot's cap as he painstakingly, painfully climbed down from the driver's side of the cab. Baloo slammed the door in frustration. "My back's achin' from movin' your junk, an' no matter how many trips we make we don't seem ta be makin' a dent." He pushed up the sliding door on the back of the truck, which was crammed full with furniture and boxes. Just in time, he caught a box that was teetering precariously. He set it carefully on the cobblestone path and swiped the back of his hand across his forehead.
"We've made a big dent, and I'm not referring to the dent that you made when you smashed the dresser into the doorway."
"Hey, can I help it if takin' out the drawers didn't make it any lighter?"
"I meant for you to carry the drawers separately, not put them on top of the dresser when you were trying to move it."
"Now she tells me," Baloo muttered sullenly. The dresser wasn't the only thing that had smashed into the doorway. His left hand was still throbbing from the collision.
"Anyway, all that's left at the apartment is the piano and a few more boxes." With the agileness of a cat, Rebecca scrambled up into the truck bed, snaked her way through piles of boxes, and shoved against one end of a full-sized sofa.
"The piano?" Baloo puffed under the weight of the sofa as it was pushed out of the truck. Setting it on the ground and flopping wearily onto it, he exclaimed vehemently, "No way, no how are we movin' that, Becky!"
Rebecca lightly hopped down from the truck and went over to one end of the sofa. "Up, Baloo."
With a tired sigh, the big bear got to his feet and picked up the other end of the sofa.
Carrying the sage green sofa backwards towards the office door, Rebecca said, "What about Molly's piano lessons? What is she going to practice on?"
"Why does she hafta play the right notes when there's so many wrong ones ta play?"
As they navigated the sofa through the narrow doorway, she instructed, "Turn it to the right. Your other right, silly!"
"Make up yer mind, Becky, and make sure ya keep yer end up."
"Excuse me for not being as strong as you." She sagged under the weight. "This thing is heavy!"
"Tell me about it!" Baloo said, his aching muscles strained to the limit as he tried to push the sofa through the door without dropping it on his foot. "I'm holdin' most of it over here."
"Here, Miz Cunningham. I'll help you." Kit, a thirteen-year-old brown bear cub in an olive green sweater and blue baseball cap, hurried to grab onto the sofa's end that Rebecca was holding. They tugged while Baloo pushed.
"C'mon, you stupid thing!" Baloo growled under his breath, throwing all of his weight against the sofa. It squeezed through the door with a 'pop', and he fell, sprawling face first across it, while Rebecca and Kit landed on their backsides with a 'thump'. "I'm gonna take about forty winks right here. Call me when you're done."
"Move now. Sleep later." Rebecca tugged on his arm. "Now, move it, flyboy!"
"Aw..." Baloo groaned, reluctantly rolling off of the soft sofa. "Answer me this, Beckers. Where are we gonna fit a grand piano? Higher for Hire's already burstin' at the seams." He gazed around the small office, which was going to double as a living room. At the moment it was crowded with furniture and boxes. There were even boxes piled up to his eye level. Any way he turned, something was in his way. He could barely take a step without stubbing his toe. He knew what a rat trapped in a maze felt like. "Hm, maybe if we move yer desk outside..."
Rebecca whirled around, a stack of blankets and towels in hand. "Your ratty old armchair will go before my desk, buster!"
"Nuh-huh." Baloo fondly patted the patched maroon chair, causing a puff of dust to rise. "This chair's a family heirloom."
"More like a hairball," she retorted.
"Yeah, yeah, Becky." Baloo trudged towards the door to get another load, rubbing his sore back. "I think ya packed everythin' except the kitchen sink."
"Well...actually..." Suppressing a giggle, Rebecca cast a surreptitious glance at a large box sitting in the corner by the grandfather clock.
"You didn't!" Baloo pushed a path through the sea of boxes, lifted the corner box's lid, and pulled out a stuffed tan bear wearing a blue gingham dress and matching blue bonnet. "Funniest sink I ever saw."
Between throaty chuckles, she choked out, "You really thought I'd packed the kitchen sink? I got you good, Baloo!"
Baloo's look of hurt confusion evolved into a broad smile. He loved to hear her laugh, something that she had done more of since their engagement. Stepping over a couple of boxes, he gathered his fiancée in his arms. "Nuh-huh, I got you, Becky" he said softly. He planted a tender kiss on her lips and rubbed noses with her.
Molly, who had been diligently searching through all of the boxes, said in relief, "There you are, Millie." The little yellow bearess clad in a pink shirt and blue overalls snatched up her doll from the floor where Baloo had dropped it. "Me and Wildcat and Lucy have been looking all over for you. The tea party's about to start." She ran upstairs to her new room, shouting, "Wildcat, we found Millie! Do you have the table set yet?"
Higher for Hire's ace mechanic's voice floated downstairs. "All ready and set to go, Mollycat, and I found some cookies in my overalls. They're okay if you pick out the metal filings."
"Metal filings!" Baloo exclaimed, scratching his head. "I remember when cookies came with chocolate chips."
"They'll chip a tooth on those," Kit said concernedly.
Rebecca said sharply, "Absolutely no cookies, Molly!"
"Aw, Mom!" the little girl whined. "We can't play tea party without cookies."
Hands on hips, Rebecca said, "You'll just have to pretend this time."
Molly stomped up the stairs, pouting.
"How many more loads, Miz..." Kit caught Rebecca's reproving look and quickly corrected, "Rebecca?" He was having a difficult time calling his future mother anything but 'Miz Cunningham'. He mentally kicked himself in the pants every time that familiar, formal title escaped from his lips. Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca, he thought silently.
Rebecca wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders, giving him an affectionate squeeze and a loving smile. "This is almost the last load, sweetie. We only have a few more boxes and the," she cast a roguish glance at her fiancé, "piano to go."
Following Rebecca and Kit outside, Baloo groaned, "Piano!"
Baffle Island
Floating in the placid Pacific Ocean many, many miles west of Cape Suzette was a speck. On closer inspection, one could see that this speck happened to be a small, almost perfectly round island. It was covered with sand and palm trees.
And it was crawling with air pirates.
The thick grove of palm trees hid a narrow channel that led into a small cove carved into the middle of the island - almost like a donut with a bite taken out of it. This cove was perfect for concealing a ship from prying eyes while it was being loaded with confiscated cargo.
Karnage ordered, "Load those crates up faster, men!"
Owen, Shere Khan's right-hand man, made a notation of each box and its contents on his clipboard as it was pushed or carried up the gangplank onto the ship. The skinny tiger wearing a navy vest over a light blue shirt and fuchsia bow tie timidly asked, "Is that it?"
"Do your eyes see any more boxes?"
"No, b...but that's ten crates less than last week."
"The accident business has been slow," Karnage said airily. "Do you want us to cause more accidents on purpose?"
"No, that won't be necessary," Owen said as he totted up the number of crates and their respective values. "Mr. Khan only wants whatever cargo you collect from your accidents. That was the deal."
Karnage held out his palm. "I kept my part of the deal. Now it is the part where you keep your part."
Owen placed a stack of bills in the pirate captain's hands. "Five thousand dollars, as promised."
"Last time I got seven thousand!" Karnage growled menacingly, reaching to pull his sword from its scabbard.
"Ten less boxes," Owen explained simply, quailing under the pirate's murderous glare.
Remembering that he was supposed to be nice, Karnage swallowed his pride, forced a fake, toothy smile to his face, and said semi-calmly, "Where are my mannerisms? The customer is always right, even when they're wrong."
Owen boarded the ship swiftly. Despite the numerous encounters that he had had with the air pirates, he still wasn't comfortable around them. Their deadly weapons, not to mention the dangerous glints in their eyes, made him extremely nervous.
"Estupido fool!" Karnage muttered through clenched teeth; his lips were still curved in the phony smile. He gave a brief, impatient wave at Owen standing on deck. "Of course there are less boxes, because we're keeping them."
First mate Gibber, a squat sepia canine, whispered into Karnage's ear, causing the pirate captain to laugh. "You're right. Finders, keepers, and since we found it, we get to keep it if we want to keep it. What Shere Khan doesn't get, he doesn't need to know."
After the ship was out of sight, Karnage and Gibber pushed through the thick shrubbery towards the western edge of the island. They parted a prickly bush to reveal large, double doors in the side of a sandy hillock.
Gibber tapped 'Shave and a Haircut' on the door. They waited for it to open.
Thirty seconds went by.
A minute.
Incensed, Karnage roared, "Open this door now, you eediot! It is your coming commander!"
Hacksaw, a brawny orange canine with a pea-sized brain, opened the door with a sheepish smile. In a surprisingly high-pitched voice, he apologized, "Sorry, Captain. I didn't know it was you."
"It is always me, except when it isn't! Get out of my way!" Karnage roughly shoved Hacksaw back against the jagged wall while he clomped past him, causing Hacksaw to yelp in pain.
A few feet into the cave, there was a sharp drop off. Karnage and Gibber climbed onto a ladder that led down into a deeper cavern, their path lit by lanterns placed in crags in the wall.
As they descended, the temperature dropped while the noise level increased. At the bottom of the ladder, they hopped off. Before them was a large, subterranean cavern with a sandy floor that slanted upwards towards the opposite end and reddish-hued walls. Drops of moisture dripped from the ceiling. The cavern was bustling with activity.
Basically, it was an airplane body shop. One hundred twenty-eight planes of all makes and models were in different states of disrepair. Flashes of soldering torches, sounds of electric ratchets, loud hammering, and the pirates' shouts filled the air. At the far end of the cave was a large, closed door.
Karnage and Gibber strolled down the center aisle between all of the activity. Highly pleased with the proceedings and himself, the pirate captain beamed. "Silence, men!" he roared over the din. "I have something to say to you in my voice!"
When the pirates failed to listen to him, he pulled a pistol from his coat and shot at the ceiling, causing chunks of earth to rain down over them. The noise immediately ceased and all eyes turned towards Karnage.
Karnage was right where he wanted to be - the center of attention. "That's better. I am so proud of me! Thanks to my brillancy, I am a hero. They do not know Don Karnage very well, do they?"
A hearty laugh arose from the pirates. The echo of their laughter rang for a few moments after they had stopped laughing.
"No longer will I have to sneakity-sneak into Cape Suzette behind the cliff gunners. I am welcomed with the cliffs wide open. See this, my men?" Karnage waved an envelope in the air. "This is my invitation to accept the award for Hero of the Year." He laughed, almost maniacally. "And our invitation to go on the plundering spree of a lifetime!"
The pirates cheered.
Irately, Karnage snapped, "Now, what are you standing around there for like the dead herrings? Get back to work!"
Higher for Hire
Moving was still in progress. Everything had been transferred from the Cunninghams' apartment, minus the grand piano. Rebecca had decided that it was just too much of a hassle to move it, to Baloo's great relief. Even so, each box and each piece of furniture had to find a new home at Higher for Hire. That meant a lot of rearranging.
Rebecca told Kit, who was balancing a large, heavy box in his hands, "Take that one up to Molly's room" She peeked in the one that Wildcat had. "And that one has cups and plates. Take it to the kitchen." She looked at the two that Baloo had picked up. "The top one goes in the bathroom and the other one is Molly's."
From the kitchen came a loud CRASH. Wildcat's contrite voice said, "Sorry!"
Rebecca sighed and shook her head. "I should have known better than to give Wildcat anything breakable." She headed for the kitchen to see if anything was salvageable.
Standing in a maze of boxes, Baloo gazed around at the mess that crowded the office. The mess didn't bother him. In fact, he'd lived in a bigger mess than this before. However, something indescribable was making him feel uneasy for some unknown reason. All he knew was that he had to get out of there for a while. Absently setting down the boxes on Rebecca's desk, he mumbled, "I'm headin' ta Louie's for a while."
"Sounds fun," Kit said as he clattered down the stairs. He was more than ready for a break from moving the Cunninghams' belongings, and he was always ready to eat one of Louie's famous Krakatoa Special sundaes. "Let's pull chocks, Papa Bear."
"No, Li'l Britches," Baloo said sadly, hand on the doorknob. "I need ta be alone fer a while."
"But you won't be alone at Louie's, not on a Friday night," the boy reminded softly as his Papa Bear left.
Hearing the Sea Duck's engines start, Rebecca sprinted from the kitchen, ran through the office, out the door, and down the dock, shouting, "Baloo! Where are you going? We aren't done yet! Ba-LOOOO!"
The Sea Duck flew taxied across the harbor, took off, and flew through the cliffs. With a pensive frown on her face, Rebecca stood watching it, hands on hips. "Oh, that bear!"
Louie's
As Kit had mentioned, Friday night at the popular hangout for pilots was anything but quiet. Almost every pilot within a hundred-mile radius of Louie's had been more than willing to spend some of his or her hard-earned paycheck at the island nightclub. And that was a lot of pilots.
The party was in full swing when Baloo stepped through the door. Zombie-like, he made a beeline for the tiki bar, absentmindedly skirting the makeshift tables and partygoers. For the first time in his life, he was oblivious to the laughter, the happy shouts, the throngs of dancers, even the jazzy tune that the simian orchestra was playing.
"Hey, Baloo," Louie greeted as the big bear plumped down on a barstool - the only free seat in the place. The large reddish-brown orangutan wearing a green-spotted blue Hawaeen shirt, was putting a sundae together with both hands while simultaneously juicing an orange in a juicer operated by his left foot. "Did ya hear 'bout Karnage winnin' the Hero of the Year award? In my humble opinion, I think they're askin' for trouble with a capital 'K' for invitin' Karnage to Cape Suzette. He's the biggest zero of a hero I've ever seen." Noticing Baloo's glum demeanor, he asked, "Why the loooong face?"
Chin propped in his right hand, Baloo mumbled, "Gimmee a Kamikaze Killer with extra lime."
"You sure, cuz?" Louie placed the sundae and the drink on a serving tray. It was whisked away by a monkey waiter. "The last time you had one of those, you were sicker'n a dog for a week. Who do you wanna hug on your honeymoon - your wife or the toilet?"
"Just gimmee one," Baloo growled darkly.
Louie was taken aback by the normally jovial bear's black mood. "Don't blow yer top, pal. Just a friendly reminder from one friend to another." The ape slowly mixed a little of every kind of fruit juice that he had in a glass. He stole furtive glances at his friend. By the way Baloo's brow was knitted and he was fidgeting, it was obvious that he was worried about something. Louie, his nose wrinkled up in distaste, slid a glassful of the vile, brownish-green concoction in front of the big bear.
Baloo choked down a sip and screwed up his face before giving a short cough. "Needs more lime."
"Oh, sure, cuz." With a flourish of his wrist, he squeezed more in. "Whatcha doin' here? Did you an' the boss lady have another knock-down drag-out?"
"Nuh-huh. Everything's aces with me an' Becky," Baloo sighed. He put the glass to his mouth, but forgot to drink any of the Kamikaze Killer, because he was deep in thought.
"You're bummed out, 'cause we had yer bachelor party last weekend instead of tonight?"
"Nah, that don't matter." Baloo set the glass down and stared into it as if he were trying to read his fortune by the flecks of lemon and lime that were floating in it.
"Then whatcha doin' mopin' around here?"
Baloo glanced around the room, leaned in closer, and murmured, "Louie, tell me straight. Do ya think I can handle the whole ball-an'-chain an' daddyhood thing?"
Louie's loud guffaws carried over the customers' cacophony. He clapped the big bear on the shoulder. "No prob, man! Any pilot at the top of the Wall of Fame can handle one wife an' two kids. How hard can it be after dogfightin' pirates?"
Baloo morosely grunted, "Hmph."
Louie, taking another order from one of his waiters, said, "You an' me have been buds for a long time. Do ya think I'd steer ya wrong?"
"Sure ya have." A wicked grin crossed Baloo's face. "There was that one time when..."
"Besides that." The orangutan tossed fresh mango and coconut into a blender and added pineapple juice.
"Okay, what about that...?"
Louie peeled a banana before putting half of it into the blender. The other half he unceremoniously shoved into Baloo's mouth. "So I ain't a walkin' compass like Kit. Look here, Baloo. You're already a daddy to those kids. I've seen the way ya treat 'em, an' how much they look up to ya. An' as for Rebecca, one peek at her pretty peepers an' ya can see she thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. You got no worries."
Baloo swallowed the banana, cupped his chin in one hand, and swirled the green Kamikaze Killer in the glass. "Easy for you to say. You ain't gettin' married tomorrow. Think what I'm givin' up, Louie. Treasure hunts."
"Take the family along. The more eyes, the merrier." Over the noise of the blender, Louie chuckled, "Heck, you might even find somethin'."
"No more all night parties."
"I betcha you can sweet-talk sweet Rebecca inta lettin' you come to a couple shindigs."
"Nah, it'd never fly. I'll be under her thumb night an' day." Baloo's demeanor became glummer, if possible. "It'll be worse'n it is now."
Louie handed a tray with the frothy fruit drink over the bar to a waiter. With a half-hearted laugh, he said, "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I envy you, man."
Startled, Baloo's head came up swiftly to look at his friend. "How come?"
"Just think 'bout what you're gainin', Raymond." Louie whipped out a white towel and began wiping down the bar. "You're gonna have someone who cares 'bout you all the time, even when you're scrappin'. Someone there for ya when ya get old an' grey. Well...you're already grey an' you ain't no spring chicken no more. You've been outta the egg a long time."
"I'm younger than you." Baloo picked up his glass so that Louie could clean underneath it.
"Too bad it don't show," Louie joked, prompting a scowl from the big bear. "Pretty little wife to come home to every night, ta feed that bottomless pit you call a stomach." He reached over the bar to poke a long finger at Baloo's ample abdomen.
"Becky can make a mean meal," Baloo conceded grudgingly.
"Coupla great kids." Louie winked slyly. "Maybe more."
Baloo blushed furiously.
With practiced ease, Louie tossed the towel over his shoulder into a hamper. "Maybe you should forget gettin' married. Forget the family thing. Forget it all. Stay a swingin' single. It'll be too tough livin' with a spitfire like Rebecca anywhoo."
"Be tougher livin' without her," Baloo murmured gruffly.
Once again, Louie clapped a hand to Baloo's shoulder with an understanding smile. "That's what I'm talkin' about. You're in too deep. There's no way you're backin' out of it now, Baloo."
Dourly, Baloo agreed, "Yeah, Becky'll hunt me down an' drag me by the ear to the altar."
Louie laughed. "She would, too!"
Baloo sighed in resignation. "Maybe you're right, Louie."
"'Course I am. I'm always right, right?"
"Wrong," Baloo retorted with a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He pushed the Kamikaze Killer away. "Uh, thanks, man, for the pepper-upper."
Louie reached across the bar to give Baloo's hand a hearty shake. "What are best buds for?"
"Ya got any pizzas cooked up to wash down the taste of that Kamikaze Killer? It was worse'n those scraps ya scrape up for your All-You-Can-Stand-For-A-Dollar Special."
"I can slap one together faster than you can say 'pepperoni'." Louie hurried back to the kitchen area.
"Wait a sec, man. Make that two." A slow smile spread across Baloo's face and his fingers began tapping on the bar to the beat of the song that the band was playing. "One for me ta work on here an' one ta take home to Becky an' the kids."
Louie's happy expression mirrored his best friend's. "Two pizza pies comin' right up, cuz."
Higher
for Hire
An
Hour Later
Night had fallen. Baloo sat in the Sea Duck, just staring at Higher for Hire. He'd never seen it like this, with all of the windows lighted up. Knowing that there were three very dear people inside waiting for him made him feel comforted and a little frightened at the same time.
His mind drifted back two years, back before he knew Rebecca, Kit, or Molly. He had been absolutely free to do whatever he pleased. No bosses. No troubles. No obligations. He only worked when he had to. Partied at Louie's every chance he could. The only things he needed were the Sea Duck, the open sky, and three square meals a day plus snacks. He returned to this building - then known as Baloo's Air Service - only when he felt like it. He often stayed away for days at a time.
It had been a carefree existence - and a lonely one.
True, when he said 'I do' on the morrow, he would be saying 'I do' to all of the responsibilities that went along with being the head of a family. If there was one thing that Baloo hated, it was responsibility. But, recalling what Louie had said about being lucky, Baloo realized that he never wanted to go back to the old days of freedom. If the ball-and-chain meant gaining a lifetime of happiness, he was more than willing to strap it on.
With a queer lopsided smile on his face, Baloo swiped the back of his hand across his eyes and disembarked, pizza box in hand.
Upon opening the office door, he saw that the room had been put to rights - sort of. There were fewer boxes and the boxes that remained were stacked against the walls. A large pile of flattened boxes were by the door leading to the warehouse. Rebecca's sofa, armchair, rocking chair, and end tables had been arranged to make a cozy sitting area on the left side of the room. Even his old red chair, now part of the semi-circle of furniture, had an afghan draped neatly over the back. The room was aglow with the lights from Rebecca's lamps. It looked less like an office and more like a home - the home that he was going to share with his wife and children.
"Baloo's home!" Molly cried joyfully, racing towards him.
"Louie's pizza. All right, Papa Bear!" Kit said, setting down the box that he had been carrying upstairs.
"I brought home the bacon. Well, sorta," Baloo chuckled, handing the box to the cubs, who eagerly opened the box's lid.
"Did I hear someone say pizza?" Rebecca asked, leaning over the third story banister. She had been putting her clothes away while simultaneously packing for the honeymoon. "With anchovies?"
The cubs made a face.
"Louie don't got any anchovies, Beckers. He's allergic to 'em."
"Good thing," Molly said in an aside to Kit.
"That ape doesn't know a good thing when he tastes it." Rebecca quickly walked down the stairs, grinning at her fiancé. "Thank you, Baloo, for bringing home the bacon so to speak."
"Hey, I just said that," Baloo laughed, wrapping an arm around his fiancée. "Great minds think alike, huh?"
"I hope not!" Rebecca said in mock-horror.
"Aw, it's got pepperoni," Molly complained, examining the contents of the pizza box.
"If you pick all the pepperoni off, it'll be a cheese pizza," Kit suggested.
"Take it to the kitchen. We don't want to get pizza sauce on the furniture," Rebecca said.
The four bears filed into the kitchen, which, like the living room was lined with boxes. Rebecca rummaged around for napkins while the others cleared boxes and other miscellaneous objects from the circular table. Then they all sat down.
"Who wants this?" Molly asked, picking pepperoni off of her pizza and piling it on the edge of her napkin.
"I'll take it," Kit said. He reached across the table, scooped up the meat, and put it on his own slice. He took a big bite. "Mm...Louie makes the best pizza ever." He furtively watched Baloo and Rebecca as they watched each other across the table. Neither was eating much.
"I'm thirsty, Mommy. Can we have sodas?"
Rebecca reluctantly tore her eyes away from her fiancé. "Say the magic word, Pumpkin."
"Please."
Smiling, Rebecca got up. As she walked around the table to the refrigerator, she brushed her hand gently across Baloo's arm as she passed, prompting a big grin from the big bear. She got three bottles of Orange Fizzie out and popped off the caps. She placed one each down in front of Baloo and Kit.
"Thanks," Kit mumbled through a full mouth.
Rebecca poured some of the third bottle into a glass for Molly. They sat there, eating in companionable silence. But though they weren't saying much, they were all thinking about the same thing - the next day's big event.
Kit caught Molly's eye. He gestured with his head at the adults, who were staring at each other, their pieces of pizza forgotten in their hands. Molly nodded and giggled. The cubs flashed bright smiles across the table, almost as if they were sharing a secret.
After a long time, Rebecca snapped out of her daze with a sigh. She reached over to wipe pizza sauce off of Molly's chin with a napkin, saying brightly, "Time to get back to work."
Baloo crammed the rest of his pizza into his mouth and followed her through the door, his jaw laboriously working up and down.
Kit hopped up, tossing his napkin into the trash can. "What now, Rebecca?"
"I think you've done enough for today, Kit. Go have fun with Molly."
"Yay!" Molly tapped Kit on the arm and took off across the room. "Tag! You're it!"
"Not for long!" Kit shouted, chasing after her.
"I think I've done enough today, too, Becky." Baloo headed for his easy chair.
"Nice try, flyboy." Rebecca caught him by the back of the shirt and spun him around. She piled one unwieldy box, then another in Baloo's arms. "These go up to our room."
"Our room," Baloo echoed with an embarrassed chuckle. He glanced over at Rebecca. A pale pink fleck adorned each of her cheeks. Staggering under the weight of the boxes, he trudged up the stairs. "What's in 'em, honey?"
"Oh, a few odds and ends. Toiletries mostly," Rebecca answered, following him and carrying a box herself.
"Toiletries? Doohickies that go with the toilet? Don't that stuff go in the bathroom, not our room?"
"No, silly," Rebecca giggled. "It's makeup and stuff like that."
Baloo got to the middle of the second floor landing and put the boxes down to rest. "Feels like you got enough face paint in there ta paint this place a coupla times over." He leaned on the banister, watching the cubs playing below. "Place looks swell, sweetheart."
"It would have gone faster if you and your strong muscles had been here, but Kit and Wildcat helped me." Rebecca put her box down, placed a gentle hand on his arm, and looked with concern up at him. "Are you feeling better now, darling?"
"Was I sick?"
"The way you bolted to Louie's I thought you must have been worried about something." She tried to read his expression. "Was it the wedding? The kids? Me?" Her eyes narrowing in suspicion, she asked, "Or did you just want to get out of rearranging furniture?"
Baloo was astonished that she had basically read his mind. She knew him way too well. Quietly, he said, "Just pre-weddin' jitters, Beckers. My cold feet are all toasty warm now." It was true. As his eyes swept around the office/living room, he felt warm down to the tips of his toes. This was home - something that he hadn't had for a long time.
"I'm glad." Rebecca wrapped her arms around his, smiling dreamily at the cubs madly tearing around the office in their frantic game of tag. They looked so happy that she didn't have the heart to scold them for running across the furniture. "Look at those two little monkeys, Baloo. So excited about tomorrow that they can't keep still. There's no doubt in their minds that you're going to be a great father." She nuzzled her cheek against his arm. "And there's not a doubt in my mind that you're going to be a great husband."
"Yeah?" He straightened up. "You really think so?"
"I really think so." She added matter-of-factly, "And I should know, because I think more than you."
It took a few moments for him to notice that that wasn't exactly a compliment. "Hey!"
Rebecca giggled as he pulled her into his arms.
The cubs ran up the stairs, panting from their exercise. Molly latched herself onto Rebecca's legs, yelling, "Mommy's base!"
"There's no base in tag!" Kit tapped the little girl's arm. "You're it!"
"Am not! You're still it!" Molly swiftly touched Kit's hand.
Kit tapped her on the shoulder. "You're it!"
While the children circled around them, Rebecca gazed up at Baloo. She was relieved to see him looking more relaxed. Gazing straight into his eyes, she said very sincerely, "Tomorrow's going to be wonderful. Just wait."
Baffle Island
Moonlight from the crescent moon filtered down through the palm trees. The sound of the wind whispering through the palm fronds mingled with the gentle sloshing of the waves against the island's shore.
Inside the underground cave, things weren't quite so peaceful.
"Tomorrow is going to be a wonderful day," Don Karnage proclaimed as he lazily lounged on a lounge chair in one corner of the cave, watching his pirate crew scurry around in preparation for the next day.
"Because you're getting an award, Captain?" Mad Dog asked in his nasal voice. He was kneeling on the sandy floor, offering a plate piled with grapes, bananas, apples, and oranges to Karnage. His knees and arms burned with pain.
"Yes, nincompup!" He backhanded Mad Dog across the snout, causing him to drop the plate. Mad Dog scrambled to pick up the oranges that were rolling away. "Those Cape Suzette-ians won't know what hit them when their hero wonder plunders them from top to bottommouses."
His triumphant laughter rang through the cavern, now lined with a fleet of airplanes of all makes and models. The lantern light glinted off of their shiny, new paint.
End of part 1
