Chapter 3

A long detour

Once the Sea Duck was off and flying again, the hope of the dismal mood improving among those onboard seemed far from promising. Few syllables were spoken since takeoff. Tyler reclined in the navigator's seat with his hat over his eyes, while Kit was in back wringing out his sweater.

Baloo glanced at the fuel gauge, noticing it more than half empty. "Gonna need some gas. You in any hurry to get ta Cape Suzette?"

"Not anymore," said Tyler. "Not at all, really."

"Me neither," Baloo replied. "There's an island not too far from here where we can gas up... maybe take our mind off'a things too. Louie's Place."

"Fine with me, I suppose."

Baloo sighed. "I sure ain't lookin' forward ta tellin' Becky 'bout this."

"I'm not looking forward to telling anyone about this."

"An' look, I really am sorry about your... well, I don't know what you'd call it, but it sure looked expensive."

"No, it's not your fault. Believe me, I've tangled with enough thieves in my years to know you can't always fend them off. If anything, I'm not so much worried about what Karnage took than the probability of him knowing how to use it... but then, he really doesn't need to decipher anything, since I packed that blasted map with it. He really did have the perfect plunder today."

After a few more moments of silence, Tyler began to chuckle softly.

"What's funny?" asked Baloo.

"I don't know... everything. The sheer irony of it all. It's funny the way karma can come up and bite you on the tail, isn't it?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, I was just thinking of how my old partner and I snuck into the Iron Vulture and actually stole something from Karnage for a change... another tome, no less. That pirate was so furious. And how today he was at the right place at the right time. The way everything just fell into his favor... it's just too coincidental."

"Ain't so funny ta me."

"If anything, I'm more upset about it than anyone; but I guess if I didn't laugh, I'd cry."

"I know, yer right... Look at me, tryin' this mornin' to pull Kit out of his mopin', and here I am worse than he was now."

Tyler straightened himself in his seat. "It was rotten luck. Really rotten. It's not the end of the world, though... How far is this Louie's Place did you say?"

"We'll be there in 'bout half an hour."


"Here ya go, fuzzy!" Louie placed an extra-large Krakatoa Special with three spoons in front of them. "On the house."

"Heh-hey, thanks Louie!" Baloo said brightly.

"I just hate to see you folks so down in the mouth," Louie said, smiling. "You're makin' the joint look bad. Ya act like ya never got your cargo shanghaied before."

"Don't rub it in, huh?" Baloo said, taking a spoonful of ice cream.

"Sorry, cuz, just tryin' to lighten things up." Louie leaned his elbows on the counter and looked at Kit, whose mind seemed to be far away in thought. "So how're you holdin' up, Shortstop?"

"Uh, fine. Thanks."

Somewhat disappointed by the gloom in Kit's tone, Louie finally turned to Tyler; at least he looked like he still had a pulse, though he was caught in a distance stare that left question if he even knew where he was. "How 'bout you, Tyler my man? You likin' your first visit here?"

"Oh, yes, thank you," Tyler replied, taking a small helping of the Krakatoa Special. He noticed some pilots on the bar had drinks. "But I don't suppose you have anything available that's, well, stronger than ice cream."

"You mean forget-yer-troubles kind of strong?" asked Louie. "I got just what you need!"

"No you don't," said Baloo. "Not if yer talkin' World Famous Five Alarm Red Pepper an' Pineapple Chili.'

"Hey," said Louie, "one bowl of that, and it's guaranteed to make whatever's on your mind the least of your problems!"

"I'll stick with the ice cream, then, thanks," said Tyler. "It's not bad at all. My compliments"

"Thanks, cuz," said Louie. "Glad to see ya ain't draggin' your tail behind ya like two other cats I know."

Both bears rolled their eyes.

"Well, that's not to say I'm not unhappy. But it doesn't hurt to keep optimistic."

Kit morosely scooped his spoon around the bowl, not interested in eating. "I bet Karnage sure is right now."

"Oh, he thinks he's a sly one, all right," said Tyler. "But he can be outdone, you know."

"Right on," Louie said. "And if anyone knows about pullin' one over ol' Don Karnage and his goons, it's my main man Baloo over here! Why don'tcha tell us about the time you were flyin' to Cimmeria with a plane full of light bulbs?"

"Aw, Louie, you've heard that one before."

'Only thirty-three times and countin',' thought Louie . "C'mon, fuzzy, refresh our memories."

"Naw, no one wants ta hear that stale ol' story again."

"Well, cuz, I guess if ya ain't in the mood..."

"Okay, ya talked me into it," Baloo said quickly, setting down his spoon. "Now, picture this. Kit an' I are flyin' one day to Cimmeria with a big load of light bulbs. Thousands of 'em! When all the sudden, Karny and his gang come outta nowhere shootin' at me, and oh baby, you talk about bein' outnumbered! So anyway I..."

"... And when I finally landed, only half the light bulbs were broke. Just half! How's that for fancy flyin'?" Baloo finished with a gleam in his eyes.

By that time, everyone around him looked dazed, and the Krakatoa Special had nearly melted. Baloo looked at each of them expectantly, waiting for someone to comment.

Tyler cleared his throat. "That was um... interesting, Baloo... and amazingly detailed."

"Yes, Baloo," said Kit, bored. "I was there. I remember."

"Thirty-four," Louie sighed. One of Louie's employees, who was working at the dock, burst into the club, and jumped over the counter, nearly knocking his boss head-over-feet. "What in tarnation's wrong with you?" asked Louie. The employee frantically whispered something into his ear, and the ape's eyes widened. "They're what?"

"S'matter, Louie?" asked Baloo , through a big mouthful of ice cream. "Run outta bananas out back?"

"He says someone's breakin' into your plane, fuzzy!"

That big mouthful of ice cream quickly made its way onto the top of Louie's counter. "My plane?!"

Baloo slid out of his barstool about as fast as he had ever moved in his life, and hit the ground with his feet running. No sooner did he face the door than the culprit, being pointed at by Louie's employee, came inside.

Tyler had to do a double-take. "Richter?"

"Richter?" Kit snapped his head around to look, where one of the most unpleasantly familiar persons he had never hoped to see again had appeared. "Oh, no. What's he doin' here?"

Towering over the two panthers with 'SK' emblems on their jackets that accompanied him, Richter stood just inside the doorway, scanning the crowd. He instantly became the center of attention, causing the usually jovial atmosphere to turn into mostly whispers and stares of suspicion.

"That's him?" Baloo eyed him from head to toe, realizing Kit didn't exaggerate that 'big bully' description.

"I thought you were a big boy, Baloo," Louie commented. "But that guy's gotta be at least a Baloo-and-a-half."

"Well I don't care how big he is," scowled Baloo. "If he touched my plane, it's gonna be a mistake he won't wanna make again!"

"Easy, now," Tyler said, stepping in front of him. "Just stay here with the lad for a moment, let me see what's up."

Kit buried his head in his arms over the counter. "Why'd I even get up this morning?"

"Hello, Jesse," Tyler said as he walked up to the large grizzly bear. "What an unexpected surprise."

"I'm sure it is. It's been awhile." Richter offered his hand, which Tyler shook. "Heard you found something interesting today."

"My, doesn't word get around fast when Khan deploys his spies," said Tyler. "But might I ask how you knew I was here?"

"A little elementary, but let's cut to the chase. Where is it?"

Tyler sighed. "For shame, Jesse. You're here to try to steal it."

"You can name your price, Borden. It doesn't have to be like that."

"I'm afraid it does. You and I don't play on the same team."

Richter chuckled. "I'm sure there's someone that'd be willing to talk for the right price... I'll find out."

"Well, you do what you have to."

"But really, where is it? You didn't bring it in here, did you?"

"If you must know, we lost it."

At that, a grave scowl fell across Richter's face. "What do you mean, lost it?"

"We ran into an air pirate or two on our way over. You figure it out."

At first, Richter didn't believe him. "Borden, you never lost a piece of lint out of your belly button. Trying to throw me off, huh?"

Tyler tilted his chin straight at Richter's nose. "Frankly, as I feel right now after a day like today, you coming over here, breaking into planes and trying to bamboozle the tome for yourself, I'd love to throw you off, but off of what is the question."

"Check yourself," Richter growled. "If you picked yourself up a spine, how did the pirates just get away with it?"

"You'll pardon me, but a cutlass up against my throat does wonders for my generosity."

Richter groaned, rubbing his brow, as if the very thought of the pirate's involvement drove a pin through his head. "I've hunted for that thing for as long as you have. Breaking my back, turning over every piece of rock in the Atronador. And for it to end up with that no-good piece of trash..." He slammed his fist into his palm; everyone looking on flinched. "I swear I'm gonna bust that rodent's stinkin' skull open one of these days..." His eyes absently skimmed over Tyler's head at the faces in the room. By chance, he locked eyes with Kit, and saw the boy quickly turn away. Richter tilted his head, puzzled.

"What is it?" Tyler asked.

"It couldn't be," Richter mumbled to himself, then headed over towards the bar. The boy's face, fur complexion, even his green sweater were all too recognizable. "It is..."

Tyler became uneasy and zipped in front of him. "Jesse, where are you going?"

"It's that one kid," he said, "the one with the pirates. They're here."

"Hold on, now, I think I better explain something to you. It's not what you think."

"It better not be what I think." Richter brushed Tyler aside and approached the bar. "Hey, kid."

When Kit ignored him, Richter was about to grab Kit by his shoulder and turn him around to face him, but Baloo jumped in, and forced himself between Kit and the grizzly.

"Baloo, no!" Kit cried.

"Hey pal," Baloo said, "you got a problem?"

With not an ounce of hesitation, Richter shoved him clear out of his way and glared down on Kit, who in turn glared back up at him.

Tyler made a futile attempt to pull the massive bear away from Kit. "Will you calm down? You're making an awful mistake here."

"There's no mistake," Richter said. "I don't forget pirates."

Kit winced. Everyone heard that.

"Jesse, do not start." Tyler said, in a sterner tone. "I can vouch that's not true anymore."

"You can vouch? You were there when he wouldn't leave 'em."

"He had his reasons, Jesse, I'm sure."

"Yeah, I know his reasons. Once a pirate, always a pirate."

Baloo once again stepped in front of Richter. "Listen here, bonehead, the kid's with me and I ain't gonna let ya stand there and talk like that, understand?"

"Who are you?" sneered Richter, as if just noticing the gray bear for the first time.

"I'm trouble for you if ya don't back off!" Baloo retorted.

Kit jumped down from his stool and pulled Baloo's arm. "Baloo, don't. It's just talk."

Tyler was doing the same to Richter, who was thoroughly unimpressed by the pilot. "Huh. Big talk for a fat little runt."

"Fat little runt?" Baloo freed his arm from Kit's grasp and poked Richter in the chest. "How'd you like a mouthful'a teeth?"

"I'd like to see you try it!" Richter responded with a finger to Baloo's own chest, knocking him back a few steps.

"Hey now, you guys," Louie started from behind the bar. "There ain't no need for trouble."

Kit and Tyler placed themselves between the two bears, trying to separate them, but only getting squeezed between them.

"No, Baloo," Kit pleaded, "please don't do this!"

"Sorry, Kit, but this guy's askin' for it!"

At the other end: "Jesse, will you calm down?"

"I'd like to know what that fatso's doing with a pirate," Richter said.

"Kit is not a pirate," Tyler replied. "I'm trying to get that through your head. They're with me, and in fact, in the plane, they stood up to Karnage like you wouldn't ― "

Richter quickly clenched Tyler's muzzle shut. "He was on the plane with you? Well isn't that interesting... and a coincidence that Don Karnage got involved, I suppose."

"Just what're you sayin'?" Baloo demanded.

"Let me draw you a postcard, fly-boy. Your kid's just like the rest of 'em, dyed-in-the-womb back-stabbin' little bastard!"

"That's it!" Baloo roared, advancing towards Richter.

Kit tried desperately to stop him. "Let it go, Baloo, it's all right! Don't try to fi ― Baloo, no!"

It was too little, too late. Putting all the weight he had into it, Baloo threw a punch across Richter's jaw. The room became deathly still.

The bigger bear rocked backward on his feet, stumbling against the bar. Inside his mouth, the sharp sting on his cheek tasted bitterly of blood. Calmly, though, he took a moment to run his finger across his teeth, to make sure none were loose.

"Oh dear," Tyler muttered. The odds of him keeping Richter at bay were now slim to none. Baloo brandishing his fists, boxer-style, as if daring Richter to fight back, did not help peace-keeping matters.

"Try that one more time," Richter dared, cracking his knuckles. "Please."

"Hoh-oh, buddy, I thought you'd never ask!" Baloo wound his arm back again, his sights set on Richters nose, and threw another punch... but this time, Richter caught his blow in mid-swing. In the size difference between their meaty paws, Baloo's fist was but a baseball in the grizzly's palm.

"Jesse," hissed Tyler, anxiously, "Jesse, I implore you ― Je- Jesse, no!"

Richter twisted Baloo's arm down and landed a monstrous right hook into the side of his head. Kit's face became terror-stricken as Baloo fell against the counter. Richter was not finished just yet, though. He pulled the pilot up and launched a left uppercut into his midsection, sending him airborne and crashing through a table with a sickening thud.

"Baloo!" screamed Kit, rushing to his aid. He kneeled on the scraps of wood and cradled his head. His voice cracked, "Papa Bear?"

Baloo was barely stirring. Soon Richter's shadow fell across the cub as he reached down and grabbed Baloo's shirt collar, and wound his fist back high in the air with the intent to finish the fight for good.

"No!" Kit shielded Baloo's head with his body; with his eyes shut tight, he waited to take Richter's blow if he had to, but he would not budge.

Richter held his position for a few seconds, inwardly debating whether or not to follow through. He could have simply tore the boy away and tossed him aside like a piece of crumpled paper. At length, he let go of Baloo's shirt.

"Hey, you big palooka!" Louie came from around the bar, weilding a broom as if it were the Great Ax of Doom. "I'll teach ya to pick on someone your own size! C'mon!" From there, he set loose with a series of odd punching and kicking karate-like gestures, with varying 'hi-ya' sound effects. Richter watched him as if it was the most confusing sight he had ever seen, right up until Louie managed to whack himself in the mouth trying to twirl the broom. "Ow! Uh, I meant to do that!"

Finally annoyed, Richter snatched the broom away from Louie and snapped the handle in two with his thumb. "Don't get yourself hurt, too, banana beak."

Realizing the broomstick could have very well been his neck, Louie gulped and stepped back. At that moment, though, the rest of the pilot crowd was getting over its initial shock and began gathering their mettle.

"Hey, he can't do that to Baloo!" someone shouted.

"Let's get the big bum," said another. Soon, almost the entire restaurant was clamoring with similar threats. The two panthers that accompanied Richter huddled together by the entrance, being sure to keep out of the scene, as if they risk being tarred and feathered by an angry mob.

Several men started to surround the grizzly, but when Richter laid his hand on the hilt of his sheathed machete, they had second thoughts. "Don't bother," he said, half-smirking. "I was just leaving."

The crowd parted to let him pass through. "Let's go," he told the two panthers, "we've got work to do."

As they left, Louie and Tyler joined Kit by Baloo's side, followed by a gathering of the rest of the concerned crowd.

Kit shook him gently. "Come on, Papa Bear, wake up."

After a moment, Baloo groggily stirred. "That all y' got," he muttered. "My granny c'n hit harder than that..."

Kit slumped over him, relieved that he was coming around. "Oh, Baloo, I told you not to..."

"Kit...?" Through glazed, blinking eyes, Baloo looked up at him, and then at the rest, puzzled. "Wha... what's goin' on?" He tried to sit up, but the pain in his ribs forced him to drop back down, groaning. "Ooh ― jeez Louise, that smarts."

They soon helped him up to a chair, and Louie fetched a first aid kid an applied a bandage around Baloo's brow while Kit and the others explained to him what had just happened. He was still wobbly and disoriented, though, and at times they wondered if he had even heard half of what they were saying.

"You gotta be kiddin' me," Baloo said in a low voice. "I don't 'member gettin' knocked out."

"Aw, he's in no shape to fly," said Kit aside to Louie. "You gotta let him stay here for the night."

"Now don't you worry 'bout that, Shortstop," he replied. "It's done and done!"


Later that afternoon, Tyler caught a ride back to Cape Suzette with one of the regulars of Louie's club. He had business to attend to of his own, but promised to drop by Higher for Hire first thing to inform Rebecca about what had happened.

Kit had been thinking of the last time Baloo took such a nasty bump, when the Sea Duck had crashed in Miracle Pass, causing a pressurized gauge to explode from the cockpit's ceiling and hit him in the head. Baloo had come out of it all right, but had lost his memory for awhile. Kit didn't get much sleep throughout the ordeal, especially when Baloo ended up missing for a couple days.

For all the worrying he did, it was a great relief when Baloo suddenly came back, healthy as if nothing had even happened. As he waited there at Louie's, he was confident Baloo would feel a lot better come morning, but every time he recalled the sickening, savage blow Richter threw, it twisted his stomach. The impact looked to have been brutal enough to crack a boulder, much less what it could do to a person.

Baloo had an ugly mark near his right temple, and could hardly move without gesturing that his chest hurt. He insisted he would be all right, but throughout the day his head never did seem to stop spinning. He was given some aspirin, and, despite his protests, was helped to one of Louie's bungalows, where he fell fast asleep in bed.

Louie came in to check on them once in a while, and had brought Kit a meal at dinnertime, but other than that, the rest of the day passed without much variation, until Kit himself finally fell asleep on another bed much later that night.


'Once a pirate, always a pirate!' The cruel voice echoed through Kit's dreams, cold and taunting. Scores of stares pierced him with probing, curious gazes. It was all happening again...

'Baloo, no! He'll hurt you! Papa Bear, please!'

It was like watching a horrifying story unfold that you knew the ending to, but could do nothing to change it. Kit was like a fly caught in a smothering, invisible web, helpless to intervene. He heard no sound except for the pulsing drum of his own heart as Baloo fell to the ground.

Kit turned to face Richter. Except for them, the room was now empty, and somehow his fear had disappeared, leaving only anger, the kind that made you want to break something. He wanted to hurt him ― not knowing how, exactly, but he didn't care. Fists clenched, he charged at the grizzly, but something was wrong... he couldn't run. Despite struggling, his limbs moved as if he was submerged in water, and any confidence he had mustered quickly fell as he how hopelessly out-muscled he was. Suddenly, he felt Richter's hand squeezing around his neck, lifting him up. It was all real again, the pain, suffocation, fear, and being powerless to do anything about it...

In a sharp breath, Kit opened his eyes. His heart was beating fast, and his clothes and pillow were damp with sweat. Coughing, he sat up and looked at Baloo, who was sound asleep and snoring as pleasantly as he usually did, which was comforting.

"Geez, what a night," Kit yawned quietly. The sun had already risen, and the windows were aglow with pale gray light. Kit pulled off his sweater and left it on the bed, and stumbled into the small, adjoining bathroom to rinse off his face. Before splashing himself with some lukewarm water, he leaned against the sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. The hair over his brow was poofed upward like a peacock's pinfeathers, and his fur was ruffled and scruffy. If there was a such thing as beauty sleep, he had the farthest variation from it.

It seemed every time he finally dozed off, he had another nightmare about the day before, though after waking the only thing he remembered about them was wanting to knock the stuffing out of Richter.

A lone taxi plane had approached the docks in front of Louie's restaurant, which were empty save for the Sea Duck and a couple other seaplanes that were being refueled. Kit heard the taxi's engines and looked out the window just in time to see it fly off. The air outside was cold and thick with gray mist over the ocean. Two figures were approaching the bungalow through the fog. "Wildcat...? Miz Cunningham!"

Wiping away what sleep was left in his eyes, Kit slipped back in his sweater and met them on the stoop. "Boy, am I glad to see you guys."

"Oh, Kit, where is he?" asked Rebecca. "I heard the entire story! Is he all right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Kit replied. "He slept like a baby all night."

As she went inside, Wildcat followed shortly behind her, holding Molly; nestled in a warm, fuzzy coat, she slumped sound asleep over his shoulder. "Hey, Kit! Can Baloo tell the time better now?"

"Huh?"

He gestured behind him, toward the docks. "The guys over there said he got his clock cleaned."

Kit cupped his forehead, wearily. "Wildcat... just come inside before you get lost."

Wildcat nodded. "Yeah, like, you can never be too careful on a strange porch. I could tell you a story about my poor Uncle Wally..."

"Baloo?" Rebecca shook his bed gently to wake him. "Baloo, are you okay?"

Baloo squinted up at her, then flipped the covers over his head. "Aw, Becky, gimme five more minutes, will ya?" Then, after a long, heavy yawn, he added, "Make it an hour."

"Well," Rebecca huffed, giving him a scolding look.

"It's okay, Miz Cunningham," Kit told her. "He's delirious."

"Don't I know it," she groaned, and pulled the covers off his head. "Baloo, wake up."

"H'oh, baby, I got one mean headache," he muttered. He started to sit up, but a pain in his chest startled him and caused him to flop back down. "Holy mackerel, I feel like I've been hit by a truck." Then he felt his head, where the bruise near his temple was bandaged up. "Becky, what'n the world happened?"

"We're still at Louie's, Papa Bear," Kit answered. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Louie's? Why, I ― last thing I remember was... that guy! He was pickin' on Kit, and I slugged 'im, and... and..."

"And he slugged ya back," said Kit. "A little bit harder."

"Poor Baloo, does it hurt much?" cooed Rebecca, like a mother to an infant. "I want you to see a doctor as soon as we get home."

"You mean ta tell me that big yahoo did this?" Baloo stared at the ceiling for a moment, remembering what he saw last, which was the blur of Richter's fist in his face. "Huh. Maybe I should'a known better than ta pick a fight with a guy with a guy twice my size."

He looked up at Rebecca, regretfully. The only thing worst than the embarrassment of getting knocked cold was waiting to get an earful from your boss about irresponsible, savage behavior. "You ain't mad, are ya?"

"Forget it," she said. "The creep had it coming."

"Can you get up okay, Papa Bear?"

"'Course I can, Lil' Britches. Why, I just had the wind knocked outta me, is all." With much effort to appear unharmed, Baloo slowly sat up at the side of the bed, suppressing a number of grunts and groans. By his dizzied blinking, though, it was apparent he wasn't quite as all right as he would have liked to admit.

"Well, maybe just a... few minor aches," he said, rubbing his chest. Then he attempted to unwrap the bandage on his head, but thought twice when he touched the sore spot. "Ouch! Er, well, maybe that can stay on fer awhile."

Kit reached up and hugged him, gently as if he might break by his touch. "You sure had me scared."

"Aw, no sweat, kid. You don't think ol' Baloo would fold over that easy, do ya?"

"Nah, I guess not."


By the early afternoon, they were back in Cape Suzette. Wildcat did the flying, despite Baloo's protesting. Rebecca and Kit convinced him it was better for him to take it easy, and their judgement was well-placed; shortly after takeoff Baloo's grogginess once again took the better of him, and he spent most of the trip sleeping it off.

As the day grew hot and bright, Kit and Wildcat were busy on Higher for Hire's dock, loading countless crates of cargo into the Sea Duck.

"I'd like to tie that big jerk that hit him to a propeller," said Kit, as he had just finished explaining the whole scenario to Wildcat. He rested the dolly he was pushing, and took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Baloo was just trying to stick up for me, is all."

Shortly thereafter, the telephone rang from the office. Kit set down a box he was carrying and rushed in to answer it, plopping in Rebecca's desk chair and fanning himself with his ball cap. "Hello? Hey, Miz Cunningham. Where are you?"

Rebecca explained that she and Baloo had just returned to her apartment from the clinic, and that Baloo was going to rest there for awhile; as she spoke, Baloo's voice griped loudly in the distance, "Just remember, doctors don't know everything, ya know."

"Quit pouting about it, buster," Rebecca chided him. "You heard what he said, and that's final!"

"It ain't final!"

Kit momentarily pulled the receiver away from his ear and rolled his eyes. He heard enough of their verbal tennis matches in person, let alone having to hear them over the phone. "Well, what did the doctor say?" he asked.

"Four bruised ribs and a concussion," Rebecca replied. "He's to spend the rest of the week resting. No work."

"Oh gee, I'll bet he'll mind that," Kit grinned.

Rebecca began to explain further, "Well, it's not the working part he's upset about..."

"No flying, either," Baloo said, huffily.

"The doctor said it'd be for your own good!" Rebecca reminded him (for already the fifth time). Then to Kit, she continued, "It's a good thing we went. The doctor said he was lucky the bump on his head wasn't as serious as it could have been."

"'The doctor said, the doctor said,'" Baloo mimicked under his breath. "I suppose yer just dyin' to tell 'im, aren't ya?"

"Oh, hush now," she said. "I keep telling you, he didn't mean it as an insult. He said it was the very thing that helped you!"

Kit heard Baloo grumble to himself and stomp away. He glanced at the telephone receiver, by now very confused. "Well?"

"The doctor said Baloo was lucky because he had a..." Rebecca paused to clear her throat. Though Kit couldn't see it, she seemed to be suppressing a laugh. "Well, a thick skull."

Kit blinked. "Huh."

Then Baloo's voice bellowed again, "Go 'head and tell 'em what you said, Miz Thoughtful!"

"I said I was sorry!" Rebecca shouted back. "It was just a joke!"

"What's all that about?" Kit asked.

"Oh, honestly," she replied. "Just a little remark I happened to make when the doctor told us about Baloo's thick head."

"And he didn't say 'thick head'!" cried Baloo.

"Er, what little remark?"

"I told him he didn't know the half of what he was talking about."


As Wildcat loaded the last of the cargo, Kit browsed the inventory, reading an itinerary list as he shuffled between the boxes and crates in the cargo hold. "Six dozen cases of aluminum to the Canary Row Cat Food Cannery, three dozen boxes of plastic rose petals for Fauna's Faux Flora in New Fedora, and six barrels of premium salted peanuts going to the Pachymermian Embassy in Pazooza."

He sighed, stumbling inside the cockpit to find a map. "The only hard part's gonna be finding a way to all these places without circling back to Cape Suzette four times," he grumbled. He opened the glove compartment and felt around for the map, through the thick clutter of crumpled food wrappers and other junk; he reached in deep only to pull out a particularly curious object... a coconut bra, Baloo's size. Like a scalding hot potato, he threw that back in the compartment.

"Dangit, where'd that map go...?" Just as he stepped out onto the dock to go back into office, Tyler came walking around the corner, a sack of donuts in his hand.

"I brought these for your friend," he said. "I thought they might brighten his day a little... I do hope he's all right."

"He's doin' a lot better, thanks," replied Kit, taking the donuts. "He's not here right now, but I'll make sure he gets… most of 'em."

The two walked into Higher for Hire, chatting about all that had happened in the last day. Kit poked around behind Rebecca's desk until he finally found the map he was looking for. "Wildcat and I are just about to head out on some deliveries," he said.

"Well, I won't keep you," said Tyler. "Just tell Baloo, when you see him, that I wish him the best. I feel terrible about it, really."

"It's not like you coulda stopped it. Baloo's kinda stubborn when it comes to bullies. I don't think there was much either one of us could do."

Tyler nodded, and checked his wristwatch. "Well, I'd best be on my way, and let you get back to your work. I've got quite a bit to do today, myself. So, if I don't see you anytime soon, Kit, you take care."

"Yeah, see ya," Kit replied, shaking his hand. "And sorry 'bout your gold gettin' stolen and all. It doesn't happen all the time, trust me."

"Oh, I'm sure," Tyler chuckled. "But not another word about that. Besides, there's still a few adventures left in me. One of these days, I just might manage to sneak up on old Don Karnage and take it back." The gray fox waved curtly and went out the door.

"Give 'im my regards if you do." Kit started outside too, unfolding the map; but he suddenly stopped, blinking as if he just came out of a trance. He tossed the map aside and ran out the door. "Tyler! Wait!"

Tyler turned around, thinking something was wrong. "Kit? What's the matter?"

"Were you serious just now?"

"About what?"

"That gold box has gotta be worth a lot of money, right?"

"Indeed, and so is what's in it. But why ― "

"And if were at all possible, would you be willing to go back after it?"

"Kit, Don Karnage has it now."

"I know, I'm just sayin', if it were at all possible."

"I don't know... maybe. It's been done before, but it wasn't easy."

"Yeah, and no one's ever snuck in and out of the Iron Vulture like that."

"Thanks... but what are you getting at?"

"We could get it back. Right now!"

There was a bright, excited gleam in Kit's eyes that made Tyler start. He looked at Kit as if he were insane. "Come again?"

"Just hear me out," Kit said. "There're only a few places Don Karnage stashes his most valuable loot ― old art stuff like that gold case he got away with! I know every single one of them!"

Tyler blinked, then when it finally sank in what Kit was proposing, he half laughed, shaking his head. "Lad, before you get too excited about it ― "

Kit interrupted him, "There's a room on Pirate Island where I'd bet bottom dollar he's put it. I could get us there, Tyler, I could find it!"

"Now wait just a moment here!" cried Tyler, grabbing Kit by the shoulders. "Catch your breath, will you? First of all, I'd never stand for it, so no. Secondly, what on earth do you want with the tome?"

"I don't want it," Kit said. "But you said it's worth a fortune. So, if I help you get it back, we split its price right down the middle! Deal?"

"Deal? Kit, that's literally the most ludicrous idea I've ever heard, and believe me, I've heard quite a few! Now forget it!"

"Why not?" pressed Kit. "You're not scared, are ya?"

Tyler put his hands on his waist, now just getting angry. "Do I even need to explain why not? Look here, lad, you might be an outgoing sort, but I'm afraid you're too young to realize how reckless your ambition is."

Kit seemed to slouch where he stood, a frown falling upon his brow. "It's... it's not reckless," he said with some unease. It was the only defense he could speak, even if a still, small voice of conscience told him he knew better. "We could do it. Wildcat would do the flying, and ― "

"And what exactly do you think Rebecca and Baloo have to say?"

"Well, they..." Kit paused, suddenly glancing over his shoulder, where the tall apartment complex Rebecca lived faced him in the distance ― he felt like he was being watched. "You know what they'd think," he admitted.

"Then I don't suppose I need to mention how thoughtless you're being of them."

"But I'd be doin' it for them. They'd just think it's too dangerous, that's all, but I ― "

"And they'd be absolutely right! Why, the mere thought of gallivanting up to the air pirates and... and thinking you can just get away with, with...!" Tyler stopped himself, no longer finding the patience to argue. Instead, he cut to the inevitable bottom line: "You're just a boy."

Kit looked at him as if he was surprised he even said that, then angrily turn his back on him, folding his arms.

As much as he knew he was only speaking reasonably, Tyler still felt sorry for hurting his feelings. "Look, lad, it's brave of you, but I hope you can understand..."

"No, you're right," Kit said, glumly. Then, with a sigh, he added, "Poor Miz Cunningham..."

"Miss Cunningham?" asked Tyler. "Why? There's something wrong with her?"

"Oh, no, not really," Kit replied, rather shyly. "Well, I guess not, anyway. The truth is, Tyler, I guess I need your help more than you need mine."

"Oh?"

Kit continued, "If you can get as much as you say you can for that artifact, well, we could really use the money. It could really help pay for..." He hesitated, then followed through with: "... the operation." He let out long, drawn-out sigh, hanging his head low. "I just wanna help, that's all."

There was a moment of silence as Tyler walked up to Kit and laid his hand on his shoulder. "Oh, my. I never knew about any operation. Poor Rebecca... is it bad?"

"Yuh-huh," nodded Kit. "I shouldn't talk about it, though. She's entitled to her privacy."

"I must say, my heart is touched," said Tyler. "And when you put it so, I suppose I'm only left with one conclusion."

Kit looked up at him, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Yeah?"

"That you, my dear boy, are absolutely full of it."

"Aw," Kit scoffed. "I thought I mighta laid it on a little thick. I was making myself queasy."

"A little, yes. You could have put it to music, for heaven's sake."

"Okay, then forget ― "

"And no details because she's 'entitled to her privacy,' that was smooth!"

"All right, all right!" Kit said, throwing his hands in the air. "You win, I'll do it myself!"

Tyler blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Be sure to buy a paper tomorrow, I'll be on the front page."

"You're not seriously suggesting ― lad, that's suicide!"

"Don't worry, it's no skin off your nose, is it?"

"You can't fly yourself to the pirates!"

"I've got Wildcat!"

"I'll ― I'll ― ! Why, I'll tell Rebecca, right now!"

"She's not here!"

"Then I'll telephone her house!"

"You don't know the number!"

"I'll look it up!"

"She's not listed!"

Tyler pulled his fedora down over his brow, as if a sudden gush of steam was going to blow it sky-high. "Will you stop trying to drive me bonkers! It's not going to work!"

"Just tell me one thing," said Kit. "Wouldn't you like to get your hands on that gold again? Honestly?'

"Well of course I would," Tyler replied, huffily. "But you're not hearing me at all!"

"And tell me you wouldn't like to show Karnage up again to get it back."

"La-ad..."

"You can't say you wouldn't."

"It doesn't mean I have a fancy for knocking on his door and asking for it back."

"Look, maybe you think I'm just a kid with some big imagination, but I'm tellin' you. I can help you get it back."

"I'm sorry, but I don't have anymore time for ― "

"I know more about the pirates than anyone," Kit said. "I know it's not impossible. I'd be stupid to think it's not risky at all, but... sometimes an opportunity come that's never gonna come again, and if you miss it, it's gone for good."

Tyler was speechless for beat, finally, at last point, unable to disagree. Kit kept on, "You're never gonna see it again, Tyler, never. Not without my help. Not unless we do something about it right now."

Tyler absently hesitated, which for his side of the argument was the worst possible thing he could have done. With the slightest chance of victory in his grasp, Kit pounced on the opportunity like a hungry tiger on a crippled elk.

"I know you want to, Tyler!"

"Wh-what? No! Absolutely not!" With that, Tyler finally turned corner around Higher for Hire, out of the boy's sight before the most ludicrous idea he had ever heard began to sound good. "Now good day!"

But he didn't get very far, as Kit quickly cut in front of him, grinning broadly. "Yeah, you do!"

"No, I don't."

"Yeah!"

"No!"

"Yeah!"

"No!" Tyler pulled his fedora snugly over his brow and brushed Kit out of his way. "Forget it, Kit, it's not going to happen!"


"I can't believe this is happening," Tyler moaned, as he looked out from the Sea Duck's passenger window at the cliffs of Cape Suzette shrinking in the distance.

Behind him and Wildcat, Kit knelt on the cockpit floor, reading over a spread-out map with his compasses. He 'graciously' offered Tyler the navigator's seat for coming along. "Just relax, we're gonna do fine. Wildcat, go ahead and turn directly South-Southeast. We'll fly that heading for about an hour."

"All right, Kit," Wildcat replied. "But if we're late on our deliveries, Miz Cunningham's gonna get mad and shake her finger, and say, 'Baloo, you lazy bum you, how could you be late again'... 'cept she wouldn't say 'Baloo,' 'cause he's not here."

Tyler gave him a strange look, then glanced back at Kit, gesturing for him to come close. "Ehm, he's all right, isn't he?" he whispered.

"Of course," Kit replied. "Great guy and a good pilot."

"And you did tell him where we're going, right?"

"Sure ― kind of. I told him its an area that will probably have pirates hanging around, and that we need to be super-careful." Though he downplayed the dangerous aspect of their plan, Kit had explained to Wildcat the basics, that Tyler was a friend of theirs, and in need of a favor. For a good soul like Wildcat, that much alone was enough to convince him to comply.

"Don't worry about Miz Cunningham," Kit said to Wildcat. "I think she's gonna be real pleased when we get back."

"Pleased... or mad as a hornet," said Tyler. "I expect the latter. And she'll have every right to be, in my opinion. How did I ever let you talk me into this?"

"Re-lax. We'll be back home so fast, she won't have time to get mad."

Tyler sighed, and decided that if he was going to go through with this, he might as well try to take the lad's advice and relax a little. "Well, I suppose I've made my bed and will have to lie in it now. How big is this place, anyway?"

"Well, it's got a parking garage big enough for the Iron Vulture," Kit said. "But bigger means it's easier to sneak around in. All we gotta do is keep low, and they'll never know we're there." He stood between the pilot seats and watched through the windshield, as the plane veered ever upward above the ocean. A devious smirk crossed his face as he thought. "I told Karnage he wouldn't get away with it."

Cockily, he buffed the tips of his fingertips across his chest, and glanced at Tyler. "See? You're pretty lucky to know a guy with inside tips on the pirates."

"Yes," drawled Tyler, "if I could just count all these blessings."

"So how long do ya think it'll be before you can cash in on the gold?" Kit asked, somewhat suddenly.

Tyler frowned, scolding him with his eyes. "Kit, instead of just the monetary value of it, can you in any way appreciate the great historic significance of such an artifact?"

"Uh, sure," Kit said, though the uncertainty in his tone was hardly concealed.

"Well, to answer your question, it won't be right away. The tome is a guide ― not so much of a map ― and my colleagues and I have agreed not to disclose its information until after we've sought out its destination ourselves."

"Oh," replied Kit, though by the absent grin on his face and distant stare in his eyes, his thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Tyler.

"That I bet 'great historic significance' means lotsa round numbers."

Tyler shook his head, but at length, Kit's glowing confidence proved contagious. "I wouldn't be going this far for pocket change."

"Wow... who ya gonna sell it too?"

"Well, there are many collectors out there... but Shere Khan will undoubtedly be the highest bidder. He even purchased the one we lifted from the Iron Vulture last year."

Kit nodded, but he looked puzzled. "That's strange, though. I never really pictured him to be into that kinda thing."

"Oh? What kind of thing?" Tyler asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you know... really old stuff like that. Maybe I can understand wanting it because its gold... but the things you find in a museum, what can you do with them besides look at them, right?"

"Well, you can smell 'em, too," Wildcat commented. "But I wouldn't take 'em in the bathtub!"

Tyler ignored him and handed Kit a look that had 'heretic' written all over it. "Kit, we don't dig up ordinary slabs of rock out there. You really do have a lot to learn."

Kit just shrugged.

"I've had the mundane pleasure of being inside Shere's office once, in the middle of a small jungle of lovely carnivorous plants that he keeps as pets," said Tyler. "They're imported from the Atronador Basin, where they're not uncommon. I couldn't help but wonder why he chose that kind of decor."

"Don't they suit his charming personality?"

"Well, yes, but besides that," said Tyler. "He's Felocian, at least I think he is. If so, his ancestors were the very same people who founded Rhamastan. My friend Bagheera's the same, actually. Like me, born and raised in Oxfurry, but he's Felocian by blood."

"Then it's kind of like a family history for him?"

"In a way, though we'd be fools to think his interest is based solely on some sort of ancestral nostalgia... perhaps a little, but to know Shere Khan is to be certain he has a motive driven by profit. He has an industrial angle I'm sure he's been sharpening his claws for many years now."

"Like what, selling replicas of artifacts?" asked Kit.

"No, the firestone," said Tyler. "I told you he bought the sample that was found, and I'm dead certain that's what he's after. Now, I never had much to do with Shere myself, but I have a few acquaintances who have, acquaintances who would know some of his more secretive operations. Come to find out, his corporation spent over a million dollars over the years trying to clone the firestone's energy. There was even a rumor they succeeded once, but in an electrical fashion... highly unstable, an extraordinary power source... I'm not sure whatever became of it all, though."

As he listened to Tyler explain, Kit had a sudden sinking feeling in his belly. He thought of the ruby-like sub-electron amplifier ('the stone', as it was called) that Don Karnage had managed to steal and used to power his vicious lightning gun, the weapon that once nearly brought Cape Suzette to ruin. "I don't believe it," he whispered to himself.

Tyler happened to hear him. "Well, trust me, no hard feelings on my part if you don't."

"No, I mean I do believe it," said Kit. "Were you there the night the pirates got passed the cliff guns?"

"I wasn't there, but I remember it being in the news. Why?"

As the Sea Duck flew further into the open horizon, Kit told the tale of Don Karnage's scheme, the construction of the lightning weapon, the fate of the stone, and his part in it all. Tyler was astonished. "You practically saved the entire city single-handedly!"

Kit began to laugh. "Lots of times! I might have had a little help from Baloo, too."

"We gonna be there soon, Kit?" asked Wildcat.

"Pretty soon, I'll let ya know." Kit dug in his sweater for his pocket watch and checked the time. Then, for a while, he knelt back down with the map with a pencil and studiously thought over the remaining leg of their trip. Tyler would glanced back to watch him work, noting how peculiar it was that he was so unworried. There was a confident glow about him, as if for him the sun was shining a little bit brighter, the ocean sparkling a little more clearly, and the whole world was going his way.


Kit warned Wildcat to lose altitude and fly the rest of the way as low as he could. Beneath them, the deep-blue ocean surrendered its luster and was steadily fading into a grayish shadow, and before them the formerly-crisp horizon was blurred in a dark haze. Tiny, jet-black rock islands began to bare themselves from the water's surface, sparsely at first, but they became more frequent as they flew along.

"We're close," Kit said, as he carefully watched out the window, studying the rocks as if he were trying to somehow read them. "Okay, now slow 'er down a bit, Wildcat."

Meanwhile, Tyler was looking over the map and the route Kit had penciled in. "Whereabouts are we now, lad?"

"I marked it with a circle," Kit replied, not turning his attention away from the rocks.

Tyler held the map closer to his face, even squinting. "But there's nothing in your circle here... not even a speck of land."

"It's not on the map. No one with any sense has any business being out here, anyway. Trust me, you can only find this place if you know how... that's what makes it the perfect hideout."

"Um... oh." Tyler leaned toward the side window, finding nothing but confusion in the endless sea and strange black islands. "Pardon my ignorance, but how do you find it?"

"It's a lot easier when you're not tryin' to hide," said Kit. "Basically, if any pirate got lost out here, he can tell where he's at by finding certain rocks..."

To their ten o'clock position, three jagged formations stretched upward from the water, like spires from the depths of the sea. "There," Kit pointed, "I remember those! Fly right over them, Wildcat. As soon as we're past, turn exactly due west. Then it's just fifteen more miles."

As the Sea Duck ventured further, the foggy mist creeping above the ocean crests grew thicker. They could not see more than a few miles ahead. "Not a very pleasant atmosphere, is it," remarked Tyler. "Spooky, even. Somehow it seems so appropriate."

"It'll get more appropriate in a minute," Kit said.

Shortly, as they passed through an opaque bank of fog, secluded clusters of larger rocks began to fade into their sights, and then from the mist there sprang an enormous maze of rocky islands ― sharp, jagged hills that spread over the sea like shards of broken glass. The winding labyrinth of valleys in between them were dangerously narrow, and covered under the weight of heavy shadows. Amidst it all, a lone mountain stood high before them.

"There it is, Wildcat," said Kit. "Just aim for the big one."

The mountain, a volcano, was by far the largest and most ominous part of the area; its slopes were sheer and reached far above the ocean into a crooked peak.

Tyler leaned forward in his seat, taking a more careful observation. Pine trees and other shrubbery grew sparsely near its base, but it had very little shore to speak of ― the volcano itself was the entire island. "Kit, there's no inhabitable land down there. Where on earth are we going?"

"Right down there," Kit told Wildcat, pointing ahead to a particular gap between the twisting rocks. "There's a way inside there... it's hidden, but don't worry, it's safe."

"In-inside?" Tyler suddenly stammered, not quite believing what he had just heard. "We're landing inside a volcano?"

"Wo-how-ow!" Wildcat marveled. "I've never been inside a volcano before. You guys bring any marshmallows?"

"For crying out loud, Kit, a volcano. You never said anything about that."

"What'd you expect?"

"Well, an island. Sandy beaches, trees... maybe a lagoon."

"And little straw huts? They're pirates, not headhunters."

Tyler let out a long breath. "Perhaps, but for the record, the fewer surprises I have, the happier I'll be."

Kit nudged him on the arm, donning that same, ever-confident, 'I-know-what-I'm-doing' grin. "Have a little faith, will ya?"


Just as Kit said would happen, they flew in low and came to a stretch of quiet, open water at the foot of the volcano, where there was a cave just wide enough for the Sea Duck to float into. Two opposite rows of skinny, curved, spire-like rocks rose from the water and bent inward on either side of it, a morbid archway that marked the entrance. As the Sea Duck touched down, Tyler sat still and trance-like, counting the odd-shaped formations. "They look like claws, don't they," he said quietly, somewhat spooked. "Or like old bones, there to remind the beholder of death, doom, and decay."

Kit scowled at him, not wanting him to scare Wildcat. "There're no ghosts here, Tyler. It's just a bunch of rock."

Slowly, the Sea Duck floated into the cave's black mouth. As it did, Tyler pressed his nose against the side window, taking a final look at the volcano's exterior, from where its slopes seemed to rise forever into the sky.

Inside, the cavern was vast and unlit, and they were at the mercy of the afternoon sunlight to find a spot to moor the plane. Dull, reflected shades of green light bounced from the water onto the stony walls and ceiling around them. Upon Kit's prompting, Wildcat stopped the plane and cut the engines along a makeshift dock made of flat stones. Just ahead of them, the water they floated on suddenly dropped out of sight, leaving a long, deep, and empty stretch of space between them and the farthest wall.

Tyler was the first to step out of the plane. "I must admit, seeing this place, I wouldn't know of a more fitting piece of real estate for pirates." The first thing he did was walk toward the mysterious waterfall, and peer over the edge into a bottomless abyss. No splashes were heard from below.

"We'll be on our way out of here before you know it," Kit said. He grabbed a flashlight from under the navigator's chair and jumped out onto the rocks. Before Wildcat could get out, he stopped him. "Wait a minute, Wildcat. Remember, bad guys might be hanging around, okay? You better stay here and keep a lookout."

Wildcat nodded knowingly, a sly look in his eyes as if he had just been handed a top secret mission from headquarters. "Oh, right, lookout!" He jumped back in his seat and scanned the area dramatically.

Kit went over to Tyler, who still stared over the cliff. "What are you looking at? We gotta get moving!"

Tyler stepped back, slowly. "Forgive me... it's just I've never seen anything quite like it."

"You've never seen a waterfall before?"

"Not in the middle of the ocean," he replied. "I wonder, when I've been in a lot of unpleasant and dangerous places, with skulls and spears and spider webs aplenty, why does this place give me the creeps?"

"Well, if you're interested in the grand tour, I can show you a few sunny spots where you can get a nice tan in the afternoon. Or we can just hurry up and get what we came after."

"Right. Lead the way."

At a jogging pace, Kit led Tyler to the nearest tunnel path. "We hafta go through here. Watch your step, there's a lot of booby-traps set in some of these places. That's why I didn't want Wildcat coming ― "

Tyler held out his arm and stopped the boy in his tracks. "Booby-traps? Once again, Kit, you said nothing about traps."

"Don't sweat it, they're all triggered on the floor. Just step where I step and we'll be fine."

"Oh? Just tell me, how long has it been since you've last been here?"

"I dunno, almost a year, I guess. Why?"

"And did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe they might have added or rearranged said traps?"

Kit shrugged away from him and walked on. "You worry too much."

"Oh, well, why worry. I'm only blindly venturing inside a dark, trap-laden volcano with possibly dozens of bloodthirsty pirates around any corner, and my only hope is trusting the memory of a twelve-year-old who hasn't stepped foot on the premises for a year. Silly me."

Shortly, as they went further into the dim corridors, the air grew warm and stuffier, and the smell of smoke and sulfur became nauseatingly apparent. Up ahead, where the passage ended, the walls were illuminated with a fiery orange light. They came to the edge of another wide cavern, where down from the cliff they stood on, glowing molten lava flowed slowly through the gaping cracks in the ground.

The only means across the cavern was a series of large, flat rocks that would have to be giant stepping stones, though they were wide apart and would require great leaps to each one; there were six of them, the first three suspended mid-air by ropes staked in the walls, and the last three were balanced upon great stalactite stone pillars. Flames jumped high from the lava, sometimes enough to lick the bottom of the rocks, and occasionally high enough to threaten the integrity of the ropes.

"What is all this?"

"The reason nobody ever bothers using the back way," Kit said. He saw that the second rock had half of its supporting ropes severed, and remembered that happening when he and Baloo had come that very route to once save the kidnapped Rebecca and Molly. "Watch the second jump... we're gonna have to be light on our feet." The blur of the smoke and bright fire made it difficult to see for certainty if any others were broken as well.

"You're telling me there's no other way?"

"There's a couple of ways, but it'll take too long to go around, and we'll probably get spotted. Right now jumping over the lava is the safest way."

"I might have known," Tyler mumbled. "What purpose does such a dangerous passage serve them, anyhow?"

"I heard it's supposed to be for emergencies, like if they were ever forced to enter or leave the hideout in secret. It was all set up long before I was ever here."

"They put an awful lot of work into it, I see, but those ropes don't look very strong."

"Strong enough," said Kit, "but we'll have to hurry. And be careful with the last step, too... it's a wobbly one."

The two made sure their hats were on snugly, and together made a running leap onto the first rock. There was hardly an instant to breathe before they had to jump again, then again. They cleared the rocks hung on the ropes, yet on their fifth leap Kit came up too short and nearly fell backwards into the burning lake below; he caught onto Tyler's pant leg just in the knick of time. Though he didn't fall, it proved to be a detrimental mistake, for it caused Tyler to stumble as well, and he fell to one knee, while pulling Kit toward the center to make sure he was safe from the edge.

"Lad, you all right?"

Kit nodded, but knew they were both in trouble, as the rock swayed and rolled, and below them hisses of steam beckoned for it to fall. They were in the middle of the gorge, with but two jumps to go, yet the end still seemed like a mile away.

"It'll hold! It'll hold!" cried Kit. "But we better move!"

"All right, you first," said Tyler. "Easy now!"

With Tyler balancing himself in the center, Kit leapt onto the last rock, and Tyler followed close behind, but despite Kit's 'last step' warning, it took Tyler by complete surprise. It wobbled so dangerously under their feet that he fell to his face and sprawled out, almost knocking Kit over.

"Tyler! Are you okay?"

"Jolly good!" he croaked. When the saucer-shaped stone finally leveled out again, he yelled out, "You first again, lad! Hurry!"

Once Kit was safely on the other side, Tyler darted from his knees and leapt, and tripped over an untied shoelace at the last second. He came just short and hit the ledge chest-first, knocking the wind out of himself. Behind him, there was a crumbling sound, and warm air wooshed down his back, then a loud crashing noise from far below. The last rock had fallen into the pit.

Kit grabbed his arms and helped him up. "Are you okay now?"

"I think so," Tyler coughed. "Let that be a lesson... always check your shoelaces before you jump over fiery chasms."

"If I ever wear shoes, sure." As the fox brushed himself off, Kit noticed a strange trail of smoke rising from his backside. "Uh, your tail okay?"

"Huh? Yeow!" Tyler quickly batted away at a spot of smoldering fur, where the white tip of his tail was now charred black. "Lovely," he sneered.

The two stood for a moment at the edge of the gorge, looking into the flames, and where the last rock used to be. Then Kit spoke what was plainly on their minds: "We might not be comin' back this way."

"Yes, but in terms of danger, how much does that set us back?"

"Well, it's hard to say," said Kit. "I'm just lookin' on the bright side right now."

"Which is?"

"That Karnage is gonna be sore as all get-out when he finds out he'll need a new rock. Come on."

The next passage was dark, with unlit torches stuck in fixtures on its wall. Kit turned on the flashlight and hurried around a corner, with Tyler trying to follow right behind him while keeping a close eye on their surroundings.

Kit halted just as the floor suddenly became tiled ahead of them, scores of stepping stones cut and placed into the ground in a pattern like that of a turtle's shell. "See how some of them are a lighter color than the others? Don't step on those. The floor's rigged with some pretty painful stuff."

Tyler nodded and they began hopping their way across, but Kit's feet were lighter and quicker over the stones. "Lad, slow down a bit," said the fox, who was trying to keep a careful watch over both their footsteps.

"No sweat, I know this place like the back of my hand!"

"Perhaps, but you also have the flashlight."

"Oh, yeah." Kit stopped and cast the light Tyler's way, so he could see. "Sorry."

"Much obliged," he replied, but as he caught up, Kit was already impatiently stepping backwards. "Kit, watch your step!"

"Look, don't worry about me. I told ya, I know every ― "

"Kit! Look out!" Tyler's heart skipped a beat as Kit's left heel accidentally kicked over a short, hidden lever that barely stuck out of the ground. There was a loud click from above them, and Tyler jumped and tackled Kit to the ground just as three long spikes suddenly thrust forth from their side.

When the dust settled, and the spikes began to retracted into the wall, Tyler felt for his missing hat about his head and they rolled out of harm's way. "For heaven's sakes, Kit," he scowled. When he found his fedora at his feet, he saw it had a new hole in the top. "Eight years and bloody lot of travels with this hat, and never a scratch on it."

Kit had a hard time looking him in the eye. "I... I, uh... that one was new," he said, with embarrassment glowing on his face. "Thanks."

"Yes, well, as the acting responsible adult in our group, I think it'd be appropriate to set a few ground rules before we continue."

"Ground rules? Like what?"

"For instance, you stick close to me at all times. None of this getting-too-far-ahead business."

"Yeah, no problem." Kit was about to continue walking on before more rules were announced, but Tyler stopped him on his first step.

"Ah, just one more thing."

"What?"

"I'll take the flashlight, too."

"Fine," Kit sighed, impatiently, and handed over the flashlight.

Further down the way, they came to a stop where the passage branched out into three different directions. They took the route on the left, and Kit gestured that they needed to keep quiet from then on.

There were no traps down that particular hall, but it was dark, and Tyler had switched the flashlight off so they wouldn't be noticed. They hugged the wall until they came close to the end, where there was another passage perpendicular to them. This one was lit with rows of electric lamps, and distantly they could hear noises and indistinct voices. The pirates were home.

Not knowing how close there were, or how many ― if it even mattered ― Tyler fastly grew more uneasy about the risk they were taking. They stopped near the end of the hall, far enough from the light so that they were still in cover. Kit glanced back at his companion, and noticed how worried he looked. "It's gonna be okay. You've done this before. The Iron Vulture, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," he said. "But at the time, my companion was hundreds of pounds heavier and had assault training. No offense, that is."

"None taken, but even old ogre-face wouldn't do you any help in here."

Some of the voices drew closer, accompanied by the squeaking of a rolling wheelbarrel.

"Cripes, someone's coming."

"Back here," Tyler said, and they withdrew behind a shadowy crevice in the wall.

Two pirates, engaged in a heated argument, pushed the empty wheelbarrow down the hall without the slightest heed of any intruders. They did, of course, have much more pressing issues on their minds:

"The only reason I lost the race was 'cause you stepped on my roach!" one growled angrily.

"Aw, give it a rest," the other retorted. "I caught ya this mornin' trying to set fire to mine!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't durin' the race! Have some flippin' decency, will ya?"

When things had quieted, Kit poked his head out to make sure the coast was clear. "Come on," he whispered. "It's not far from here."

Shortly thereafter, they came to an open space with a fine oriental rug thrown over the floor. The walls were lined up with countless stacks of gold coins, some vases and bottles, and closed treasure chests.

"Unbelievable," Tyler breathed. "There must be thousands of dollars in gold alone in this room."

He was just about to open one of the treasure chests, but Kit suddenly grabbed him. "No!" he hissed loudly. "Don't open or close anything. Don't pick up anything. And don't step on the rug, either." He pointed to the ceiling, which was dressed end-to-end with nets and weights. "It's all rigged to an alarm."

Just around the corner, a heavy red curtain blocked the rest of the way. "This is it," said Kit. "There's more stuff behind here."

"A mere curtain?" Tyler wondered aloud. "Not even as much as a locked safe?"

"There's no need. The pirates may be a bunch of crooks, but they never steal from themselves. And anyone else trying to sneak in here would've set off a trap long before making it this far. Now, just give me a second... you better keep a lookout."

Kit knelt down and felt behind the left side of the curtain, where there was a trip-cord wrapped around a discreetly-placed switch on the wall, and was the last bastion of security Don Karnage had put in place before someone could pry into his own personal bank account. Once the cord was carefully loosed, Kit held open the curtain. "After you!"

Tyler ducked inside, and was awestruck by the fortune the pirates had collected in their years of plunder. In the middle of the floor was a six-foot stack of gold bars, and set among several crates and cabinets were thousands of sparkling doubloons and barrels full of currencies from various nations. Tyler was most surprised to see several artworks from the centuries; there were at least a dozen priceless vases, swords with jewel-encrusted hilts, a stack of paintings leaning against the wall in the far corner, and an ancient marble statue of a female figure; some of her face was chipped and worn away, and she was missing one arm, but the other was intact and outstretched. She was draped with with a red velvet coat and some other fine clothes from colonial times, including a wide-brimmed hat (with a Jolly Roger patch and a black feather on its crown) that slanted down over her brow.

"That's ― that's the Vixen De Milo," Tyler gasped. "It was stolen by sea marauders over a hundred years ago, and hasn't been seen since ― and they're using it for a hat rack!"

Kit began poking around the room right away for the golden artifact they had come after; he didn't seem very impressed by all the treasure in the room, but then again, he had seen most of it before.

"It's just some fancy old pirate gear," he said. "I think it's the only thing Karnage collects besides his 'Wanted' posters."

"I don't see any of those around."

"I've found 'em under his bed before. And don't ask, 'cause I don't know."

As Kit hurried around the room, opening cabinet after cabinet, and peeking inside all the barrels and chests, Tyler pulled open a large chest which was full of more gold coins, pearls, and jewels. "Oh my," he exhaled, and pulled out several long strings of glistening pearls. "You would know, lad... what do the pirates do with all this?"

"Well, the crew spends their cut on a good time whenever they can. Then some of it pays the bills."

"Bills? You're kidding."

"Nope. Karnage would love to hoard it all, but he can't. The second mate once told me that it's like running a big business around here. Anything they haven't stolen enough of, they have to barter for somewhere. Like gas, or bullets. Sometimes food."

Under a white sheet, there was a box-shaped object placed on top of a crate, and it was just the right size. "Ah-ha!" exclaimed K it. He yanked off the sheet, but to his chagrin, it was just a lousy shoebox. "What in ― bottlecaps?" Kit threw the sheet down and sighed. "Crud."

"It couldn't be more than a few hundred pounds," Tyler absently muttered of the Vixen De Milo, as he stuffed his pockets with pearls. "It couldn't be impossible to sneak it out of here..."

Kit ignored him and gave the room another good scan, but one particular golden case was not to be found. "It's... not here."

"Are there no other rooms like this one nearby?" asked Tyler. He kneeled down to check between all the larger objects, but to no avail.

"No," Kit replied, glumly. "Gosh, I'm sorry, Tyler. I thought for sure it'd be in here, with all this other stuff."

"Think hard for a second, lad. We've come an awful long way to go home with our hands empty." His trouser pockets jingled with coins when he moved. "Well, save for a few stocking stuffers. You're certain there's not a secret passage or hidden vault around here?"

Kit shook his head. He took a handful of gold coins and observed them, then a look of spite crossed his face, and he stuffed the coins inside his sweater. "Who's going home empty handed? I said there were a few places Karnage might keep it. Look, he's got his own wing on the other side of the island... that's where we'll go."

"The other side? Oh no, absolutely not. We'd never make it past all those thugs."

"Sure we can, I promise," said Kit. "We're gonna find it."

"Kit, trust me, there's nothing I'd like more than to shop around this lovely place all day, but I'm afraid that's out of the que ― Kit? Kit, wait a minute!"

"Just follow me, and keep your head down!"

Kit was already on the other side of the curtain before Tyler could stop him, and by the time he ran out after him, Kit was around the corner. Begrudgingly, he raced after him, since it was the only thing he could do ― he could not yell further commands because the pirates might have heard. "Of all the nerve," he fumed.

Deeper down the corridor, where an intersection was cluttered with a maze of big crates, Kit heard the voices of a couple of the pirates from the adjacent hall, muttering and laughing. He snuck behind a niche between crates and kept still; he couldn't see them behind all the boxes, but they weren't more than a few feet away.

"Okay, okay, I got one," a pirate said. "A penguin walks into a bar with a leprechaun on his head and a three-foot salami in his arms ..."

"Yeah? Go on."

"Yeah, so anyway... uh... lessee... penguin says, uh... ah, I forget. The penguin ends up getting shot at the end. It's a riot!"

The other chuckled. "Heh heh... dead penguin."

"Come on, gimme a hand with this dumb crate. The ship's takin' off pretty soon."

"Yeah, yeah. Crimeny, I'm sick of movin' these things all the way down there. What's goin' on that's so hot, anyway?"

"The boss got his hands on somethin' important. You know about that fancy box he's holdin'?"

"I heard, but he ain't let no one near it. What gives?"

"Sadie told me it's solid gold, but there's more. There's supposed to be a lot more where it came from, like the mother-load of all stinkin' treasures! We're gonna be rollin' in it pretty soon!"

"Ha ha, yeah!"

Kit waited as the two pirates finally made their way down the hall. On their way, one asked, "Uh... rollin' in what, dis time?"

"Ugh, jeez. Yer a moron, ya know it?"

Once they were far enough, Kit tiptoed out from the crates. He was just about to dash ahead when he was suddenly grabbed by his ear.

"Whoa, boy!"

"Ow! What's the big idea, Tyler?"

"No running off, remember? We're not about to trek up and down Pirate Island. It's too dangerous."

"What are you, my dad now?"

Tyler's eyes narrowed angrily. "Acting responsible adult," he said through gritted teeth. "Out of the two of us, I'm not the twelve-year-old."

"You're also the guy who doesn't know anything about this place," Kit snapped back, but an unexpected furious scowl from his companion forced a quick apology. "I didn't mean it like that. I think it's time for plan 'B'."

"Plan 'B'? When was there a plan 'B'? I don't even know what all plan 'A' was! That's not good!"

"I just heard what those guys were sayin'," said Kit. "Karnage figures the gold box isn't the only piece of treasure he might get his hands on."

"That I thought we already knew, lad."

"Right! And right now, I bet it's all he's thinking about. He hasn't let it out of sight because he's been busy scheming up a plan to get to the big stuff. We find Karnage, we find our gold."

"Find Karnage? I suppose you think you're going to take it right out of his hands?"

"You kidding? I could pedal circles around him on a unicycle while juggling tuna fish and he wouldn't notice."

"Good heavens, are you out of your ― !" Tyler suddenly lost his voice, and his eyes shone of dire alarm as he glanced over the crates, catching a glimpse of a huge, menacing figure lumbering towards them. Before Kit could even think of asking what was wrong, Tyler had clamped his hand over his mouth and pulled him low to the ground. "Somebody's here," he said shakily, in barely a whisper.

Though Kit couldn't see the approaching pirate, he soon knew who it was. The smell of gunpowder, the heavy breathing, the sound of claws scratching on tree bark (though it was only his hide), and a lot of sniffing were telltale signs that Hacksaw had caught the scent of something of interest.

Hacksaw stopped just short of the crates and took another big whiff. "Mmm... goodies!"

Kit and Tyler looked at each other and shrugged, then a thought suddenly popped into Kit's head. He reached inside his sweater and dug out half of a chocolate chip cookie (he considered it an emergency stash). Quickly and discreetly, he set the cookie on top of one of the crates, then ducked back down.

After one final sniff, and Hacksaw spotted the chocolaty sustenance. "Ahh! There you are!" He gobbled it down and walked away, blissfully clueless as ever, humming what was possibly a rendition of Pennies from Heaven, though it was as melodic as the bark of a sick sea lion.

Tyler let out a big sigh, as if it were the first breath he'd drawn in hours. "I don't even want to know how you figured out that one."

"It's okay. We gotta move fast before they take off with the goods."

Kit was ready to plunge further inside the island, but Tyler was not about to budge. On one knee, he slouched against a crate for a moment, staring at the ground as if the cracks in it were clearing his mind. By the time he stood up, he had come to a decision. "Wait, lad... if you've heard the expression 'cold feet', mine are blocks of ice right now, and all too late, I admit. This was a mistake all along. We've risked enough already, and I know when I'm licked. If we leave now, and I ride with you on your deliveries, I'm sure we'll have enough time to figure out a terrific alabi to tell your employer."

"You can't mean that," said Kit. "You just don't know them like I do, that's all. You don't want to turn back now." He tugged on his arm to get him to follow again. "We're too close!"

"Look at it this way ― our very lives just may have been spared by a cookie. It's not possible to temp fate any further than that."

"We'll see about that..." Kit started off again, but was once again caught by the ear. "Ow! Will you quit that?"

"No," Tyler replied harshly. "I'm not going one step further. We'll be captured for sure."

"Well, what if you went back to the plane, and I go ― "

Tyler cut him off. "And you go end up missing? For something you know practically nothing about, no less, while also risking the safety of your perfectly trusting friend, who's still down there waiting for us like a sitting duck. If anything happened to either of you, let alone me, just because we were foolish enough to come here... well, need I say more?"

"But if I can just get one shot at it, that's all I... I..." There was that 'acting responsible adult' look again, and Kit was having the hardest time bargaining around it. "It's just that we're already here. We're so close."

Resigned, Tyler sat against a crate. "I know... trust me, I know. I wish there was a way. When the pirates ran off with the tome, I felt a good portion of my life's work went along for the ride."

"And Karange is just going to get away with it... just like he always does." The idea of ditching Tyler and search anyway did not go unthought of, but he felt in his conscience that the fox was right. Kit had played many a dangerous task by ear before, but stealing something from Karnage's very presence without being detected would be quite a magic trick. If they were discovered, even if they made it back to the Sea Duck, Wildcat was hardly the seasoned pilot Baloo was to escape a swarm of attack planes.

"There's nothing we can do," said Tyler.

Before he thought of a way back to the plane, Kit waited a few beats, hoping there would suddenly be a new, bright idea that would dawn on either of them and solve everything. "But what if we can do it?"

Tyler shook his head and shrugged.

"Well, all right, then," Kit said, reluctantly. "I guess we'll go around and through the hangar. There aren't going to be a lot of places to hide until we get there, so if someone comes, we might have to run back this way."

"Right. You lead the way." Just before Kit started off, Tyler halted him once more. "I'm trusting you to get all three of us out of here without a scratch. Right now that's not an easy thing for me to do. No stunts, got it?"

Kit shrugged away from him, a bit offended. "I got it, already. You're kind of a mother hen, aren't you?"

"Better to be a mother hen than a cooked goose."

The corridors sounded quiet and empty, although not entirely silent. They climbed over the crates and stole further into the heart of the island, toward the busy noises from the great interior bay where the Iron Vulture was moored.

Kit suddenly stopped for a moment and looked up at Tyler. "Okay, 'cooked goose'? That was awful."

"Oh, bloody," Tyler grumbled. "Just move on, shall we?"

They hurried through the next passage, until moments later they came to turn in their path, where Kit halted and crouched down to take a peek around the corner. They could hear a lot of commotion... more pirates were close by... too many, and too close.

"Is it bad?" asked the fox. "Do you see any of them?"

"It's perfect, let's go!"

Just around the corner was a circular archway where several more crates were stacked nearby on the other side. Outside of the corridor, the area had suddenly dropped back into a shroud of dimness, and there was plenty of shadow to hide in behind the crates.

The cavern they were in was dark, immense, and smelled of sea water and gunpowder. Tyler glanced up and noticed he could no longer see a ceiling. Shouts from the pirates and mechanical activity echoed loudly throughout.

"This is gonna be the tricky part," Kit said, close to Tyler's ear. "We need to get to the other side... there's a tunnel there that'll take us back to the Sea Duck."

"The other side...?" Tyler poked his head out and took a good look at their predicament. The first thing to catch his attention was the Iron Vulture, floating in the still water. It's beak-shaped prow was open and drawn against the shore, where the pirates were going in and out of it, restocking the airship with loads of ammunition, plane parts, and many other goods, which were piled up in crates all over the cove. Massive flood lights, perched from an observation cliff, spotted the airship and the ground before it.

"Almost everyone's down here," said Kit. "They're busting their humps to get their ship ready, too... I hate to tell you, but I think we know where they're going."

"My thoughts exactly," frowned Tyler.

Kit scooted on the ground between two boxes and surveyed the path to their exit tunnel. Bandit Patch and Sadie were not far in front of him, jawing and relaxing against the barrels they were likely supposed to be moving to the ship. It was dimly lit there, and they were far enough from the rest of the crew so that no one had noticed they were not pulling their weight. Until the Iron Vulture was ready to move, neither were they.

"We're blocked off for now, so I think we better cool our heels here for a while. Wildcat's gonna to be fine as long as we're not caught, and if we wait until they're done, we'll have a lot less goons to sneak around."

"I agree, actually," said Tyler. "At this rate we mightn't have much of a delay... but what of the rest of the way, lad? Anything cautionary you can remember?"

"A couple more traps here and there, but nothing worse than before."

Tyler huddled between the boxes next to Kit and watched the pirates go to and fro all over the area. It was not all that unentertaining either, like the moment where Mad Dog dropped a spare airplane propeller on Dumptruck's foot. Tyler kept a careful, vigilant eye on all he could see, quite unlike the boy who guided him there.

He found it odd how Kit could sit so nonchalantly given where they were and who they were around. He appeared concerned, thinking about something, but hardly paying attention to anything going on around him.

"Are you all right? You look lost."

"No, I'm fine. I'm just not looking forward to getting my ears pinned back when I get home... I just don't know how I'm going to explain any of this."

"Is that right? I for one think you ought to be more concerned about more present urgencies, like being torn inside-out by these brutes if we're caught."

"You've never been yelled at by Miz Cunningham."

"Whatever the case may be, you knew the risks before we left."

"I know, but still, I'd explain a lot easier if I went back rich."

"Well, if I could thank you for one good thing that's come of this little detour, it's knowing their intentions. They're going to have at least a day's head-start in Alpacatan."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"Well, I... I don't know, actually. But I can't just hope they'll give up and go away."

Three pirates, grumbling at each other with all the fondness and mutual respect for each other of flies and pesticide, were hurrying closer. Kit and Tyler, caught too suddenly off guard, ducked down low, but it was not going to be enough, as the pirates were headed straight for the crates they were hiding behind. Tyler motioned to Kit to retreat and hide, and on his fingers, toes, and a prayer, he slithered back around into the corridor from which they came... but when he looked around for Kit, the boy was not there. He rubbernecked around the corner, and Kit was not at the crates and barrels, either. The pirates, however, were. Bandit Patch, departed from his break by the swinging foot and head-cuffing fists of second mate Will, stood swearing over a barrel.

"You gotta be kiddin'. The whole thing?"

Next to him, Will loaded Hacksaws burly arm's with two big crates. "That's what the boss wants. Now get to it!"

Patch took the barrel by both arms and hoisted it, and a surprise weight made him stagger and balance awkwardly. "The heck...? What's in this thing?"

Will sneered at him. "You too prissy to handle it, mutt?"

Before he tripped, Patch dropped the barrel on its side. It rattled with the sound of thousands of little pieces being shook. "The weight's weird, all heavy on top. You sure this is the one? I ain't comin' back if it's not!"

"Can't we open it and see all the pretties," Hacksaw pleaded. "Purdy, purdy, purdy pleeeese?"

"You get the rest of those shells on board," barked Will. "And you get that barrel by the boss's room."

Indignantly, with Will moving quickly to supervise other matters, Patch kicked the barrel and let it roll down the bumpy ground toward the Iron Vulture.

Once the pirates had cleared the area, Tyler crawled forward, quietly calling Kit's name. There was no answer, no sign of him. "Kit, for pity's sake, come out," he hissed. He figured the boy could not have gone far... until he spied Hacksaw and Patch taking those supplies inside the airship. His fingers dug deep into the ground, a terrible thought gripping him, that Kit had perhaps hid a little too innovatively.


With one final kick, Patch's burden ended its journey through the Iron Vulture, rolling at speed toward Karnage's cabin, slamming into the wall by the door, forcing its top to come loose and risking a spill of its cargo, which as a private good to be brought straight to the captain's quarters must have been considered rather precious. Every dirty word Patch knew was panted through short breath; he punched the top back into place and set the barrel upright, cursed it, and stormed away. After a moment, left alone in the hall with no pirates nearby, the barrel began to shake, wobble, and eventually fell back on its side.

Kit pushed the barrel open, sliding into the hallway in a colorful landslide of jelly beans. His head felt like it was still spinning in circles, but the cold steel floor and bright, unshaded lightbulbs above were a stark warning of where he was. And then there was Dumptruck's familiar voice approaching, singing 'Bingo was his Name-o.'

"Uh-oh," was the uttered understatement of Kit's year. Up to the moment that barrel went into high-speed spin cycle, he thought his hiding spot was quite clever. Flinging jelly beans everywhere, he darted away from the barrel and slid through the nearby door, pushing it shut behind him.

With an ear to the door, he heard Dumptruck discover, with pleasant surprise, the scattered candy all over the floor, and, dropping on all fours, commence removing the mess in his own special, gluttonous way. Then Kit realized what room he was in, and of all the familiar sights of Don Karange's furniture and belongings, a peculiar golden sparkle shined in his eye from the top of the captain's desk.

There the stolen Felocian burial tome lay, free for the taking. Karnage had opened it, and had several of its leather pages sorted across the desk, depictions of now-obsolete landmarks and ancient symbols that had not been used to record directions for thousands of years. With haste, Kit began to stack the pages back together, his fingers tingling to wrap themselves around the ornate gold case and somehow make it back to the Sea Duck. Then he heard the sink running in the adjacent bathroom... Karange had not gone very far away. When the bathroom door rattled, Kit dropped the tome and vanished under the desk.

"I'm just too marvelous," sang Don Karnage as he strolled back to his desk. "Too marvelous for words!"

Underneath, Kit made silent gagging gestures.

Karnage plopped into his chair and began to put his feet up, but suddenly noticed something wrong. Kit could hear him fidgeting with the tome, and sorting again through the maps. "Who moved these," the captain wondered aloud. At length, he shrugged it off and reached for his desktop microphone that was connected to the airship's staticy public address system and spoke: "Allo, my bungling buccaneers! It is I, your oh-so-handsome and fearless leader, Don Karrrnage..."

Kit plugged his ears, not just for the irritating pitch of feedback from the speakers out in the hall. With or without the amplified volume, Karnage's arrogant voice seemed worse than any claw on any chalkboard.

After a lengthy introduction to his own crew ― some of which Kit mouthed with him, 'In my voice, blah blah blah' ― Karnage eventually got to the matter at hand. "Today, men... today we set off for a new treasure! A city of gold, waiting quietly for thousands of years for just the right know-his-stuff treasure-hunting pirate ― that would be me ― to unravel its secret hiding place and plunder its daylights out!"

Kit wanted to punch him in the shin so much...

The captain continued, "And, if those estupid gato-type peasants dare challenge us again with their puny weapons, we blow them to their kingdoms coming, yes-no? We will fight to..."

"Capt'n?" Mad Dog interrupted him, knocking on the door.

"Cannot you hear I am busy, you blockhead?" screamed Karange, loud and clear into the microphone and into every pirate's eardrum.

"Sorry," Mad Dog whined. "But they need you on the bridge!"

After grumbling something in Spanish, Karnage kicked his chair away from his desk and got up to leave. "I must do everything around here for you imbeciles... uno momento, my jelly beans!"

A temper flurry against Dumptruck (who belched many apologies) fading distantly was a good enough sign that Karnage had left the area. Kit crawled out from under the desk, ready to grab the tome, but Karnage had taken it with him. "So close," he sighed. He started for the cabin's broadside window, where he could climb out and jump into the bay for a quick escape. But he stopped, considered the ventilation shaft on the far wall where he could sneak to the bridge. A moment of decision was concluded with two words: "Too close."

Kit removed the grate and crawled inside the vent. Not only did the dark shafts seem narrower than he seemed to recall, but lengthier and tougher to move through. After several minutes, he neared an opening that looked down on a room with a table, for which he stopped to observe if anyone was in there. It was empty. But when he tried to move on, he couldn't. Something was holding him back. "What the... oh no. No no no!" His sweater had snagged a piece of jagged metal that protruded along the side of the shaft. Try as he could, but because his space was so limited, he could neither reach back and fix it, or take his sweater off.

'I don't believe this... I'm stuck,' he thought. 'I'm stuck!What next?!'

The Iron Vulture's engines growled to life, making the airship rumble.

'I had to ask...'

Running with great bounds leaps, Tyler had thrown all caution to the wind as he sprinted back through the caverns of Pirate Island. He arrived at the Sea Duck still unseen, but not unchallenged by the obstacles, charred and scruffed from head to toe.

"Wildcat!" he panted as he opened the plane's door, crawling into the navigator's chair. "We have a big problem!"

"We do?" Wildcat gasped. "We're not out of mustard, are we?"

"No, it's Kit!"

"Kit's in trouble?"

"Big trouble! He's on that blasted pirate ship, and it's about to take off!"

As the Iron Vulture's dorsal propellers spun to full power, the gigantic front gates of Pirate Island slowly parted, flooding the murky inner bay with sunlight. A small tugboat struggled to pull the airship out into the open water.

By the time the Sea Duck had turned around and taxied out of the cove, the pirate flagship was already airborne and ascending sharply into the sky.

Tyler was at a loss at what to do. "Uh... oh, dear. I guess... follow them?"

Wildcat nodded and pushed the throttle all the way forward, pointed in chase after the pirates.

Ratchet looked out one of the bridge windows. "Hey, boss? I think we're... under attack?"

Karnage jumped out of his seat and rushed to the window. "Attack? What are you bubbling about? Who is it?"

"It looks like... the Sea Duck?"

"The Sea Duck?" Karnage shoved Ratchet out of the way and spotted the yellow plane for himself. Sure enough, the Sea Duck was making a brave beeline from below. "What is that fool Baloo up to?"

At Tyler's suggestion, Wildcat pulled the plane by the Iron Vulture's side, and once so close to the airship, thought of a particularly good question to ask: "So, what now?"

Tyler stared anxiously at the immense purple hull. "I don't have a clue. Something! Anything! Kit's in there!"

"I am not having time for this," said Karnage said. "Somebody open up with the cannons and swat that fly!"

"I've never been good at this rescue business," Tyler said. "If you can get close enough up top, I may be able to jump out and find a way inside. I wonder if they know we're here yet..."

"I think they do, man, look," Wildcat pointed. "They're opening their doors for us!"

"Their what? Uh-oh..." Hatches opened from the Vulture's purple flanks, where heavy, broadside cannons protruded. "Guns! Look out!"

Before Wildcat could even blink, puffs of black smoke burst around the plane, and Tyler sank in his seat. "Get us out of here!" He nearly jumped out of his fur when the Duck's right engine exploded. "Gads!"

Wildcat put the Duck into a steep dive to avoid further damage. He was having a hard time keeping the plane steady. "I think we better la-and!"

"Can you keep up with them somehow?"

"I don't think so, man. The Sea Duck's saying 'Owwie owwie, I'm hurt! I'm hurt! And I need to lay down for a minute!'"

"But Kit's still...! Oh dear. Ohhh dear!" While the Sea Duck skid crudely into the choppy crests of the sea, the Iron Vulture disappeared over the clouds.


Much later that afternoon, Tyler just slightly opened the door to Higher for Hire and timidly peeked inside. Rebecca had heard the Sea Duck pull up to the dock, and was on her way out to meet with Wildcat and Kit. She swung the door open, and they mutually startled each other. "Mr. Borden! What are you doing?"

"Hello," Tyler squeaked. He cleared his throat and started over. "Hello, Rebecca! Why, I was just admiring the lovely coat of paint on your establishment."

Rebecca blinked, looked at paint on the front door, peels, cracks and all. "I, uh... thank you."

"How's Baloo?"

"He's doing better, thanks. He's asleep right now."

"Thank goodness," Tyler muttered.

"Huh?"

Tyler coughed, and chuckled uneasily. "I said, that's very good, that he's doing better!"

Rebecca looked him over, noticing, in addition to his odd behavior, he appeared an awful something more ragged than the last time she had seen him. "Are you okay, Mr. Borden?"

"Who, me? What a silly question! Never better, here! Good old... uh, me. Doing great, just great!" He flashed all his teeth in a broad grin to bring the point home.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca shrugged. "Please, take a seat! I'll be right with you in just a moment."

Tyler stepped aside to let her pass, but then took a deep breath, imagining himself in a blindfold with a cigarette in his mouth. 'Here goes nothing,' he thought. "Rebecca, I don't think this can wait. I have some very bad news to tell you."

"You do?"

Tyler took off his fedora and held it in front of him, as if using it as a shield. "Y-you're not going to like this..."

Rebecca frowned. "What is it?"

"But I want you to know that I assume responsibility for all of this, and... and... oh for pity's sake, don't have me arrested!"

"Tyler?"

"Well... I'm afraid Kit and I did something rather rash..."


To simply say Kit was feeling miserable would perhaps not capture, in itself, the degree of miserableness he felt. Miserable was being stuck and cramped up for hours on end, but then compounded by having plenty of time to think about and regret all the stupid things he had done to earn him his present situation: that was torture.

Soon after the ship launched, pirates had filled the room below him, and had been there for quite some time. They would easily hear him, so he did not try to struggle free. Four of them passed the time around a table playing poker, which Kit resignedly watched from above. 'What a bore... Wonder how long it's gonna take them to figure out they all have two aces in their hands?'

After a series of bids and raises, one of the pirates called out, "Okay, boys, read 'em and weep. A pair of aces!"

When he reached for the chips, another pirate stopped him. "Not so fast, I got a pair of aces, too!"

The third: "Same here."

The fourth: "Ha! Three aces! How'd ya like them apples?"

Kit grinned as they gave each other hostile looks. 'Maybe this won't be so bad after all.'

"One of ya's is a lousy cheat!" the first yelled.

'Look who's talking,' Kit thought. 'That guy has two more hidden in his sleeve.'

"Yeah, and what're you gonna do about it?"

Before fisticuffs broke out, Karnage's voice came through the loudspeakers again. "Ahem. Attention, attention, this is the commanding voice of your Captain, Don Karrrnage... take your places, men! Our destination arrives!"

In a beat, the room was empty.

"Finally," Kit grumbled. "I thought they'd never leave." He took a few breaths, then with his left hand used the vent opening as a grip, and pulled his body with all his might. It was working; he could hear his sweater ripping, until finally it snapped free.

"Whew," he panted. "Okay, Karnage, what's up on the bridge?"

Don Karnage smiled from ear to ear as he approached the table on the bridge where a map featuring Aplacatan was laid out. He set the Felocian tome down with some gentleness as to not scratch its golden casting. "Be alert, my mangy minions! Those pesky gatos might start shooting any momento."

From directly above, Kit zeroed in through the vent covering. 'There's the gold... Okay, think... how do I get it?'

But suddenly, under his weight, the covering started to give, creaking loudly. "Uh-oh..."

Karnage protectively snatched the tome in his arms, glaring up. "What was that?"

Other pirates gathered around the table to see. "Maybe it's mice," Ratchet commented.

Hacksaw giddily licked his chops. "Ooh... ya really think?"

Karnage shuddered at him. "Well do not all of you be standing here like a bunch of humps on bumping dogs, someone get up there and look!"

'Too late... pull chocks!' Kit kicked the covering from under his feet and burst down from the ceiling.

Karnage lost control of his jaw, as did many of the others looking on, chins pointing at the ground.

"Hiya guys!" Kit grinned nervously at them as he got to his feet, and snatched the golden artifact out of the speechless captain's hands. "Déjà vu, huh?"

Like greased lightning, Kit bolted off the table and out the bridge. Karnage began to stammer, pulling on his ears and stamping his feet in place. "He... I... what... after him!"

No track meet at school had ever enticed Kit's legs to run as fast as they were through the dank halls and catwalks of the airship. In thunderous clamor, he heard Karnage and the others galloping right behind him. Speeding down a flight of stairs, Kit missed a step and tumbled the rest of the way to the hangar. When he reached bottom, his cap fell off and he dropped the artifact.

Karnage ran down the stairs, yelling, "Not this time! Not this time!"

Kit had not a moment to waste. He grabbed the tome, lost the hat, and raced toward the Iron Vulture's open prow.

Karnage, speeding ahead of the others, ran intensely behind the boy, fire in his eyes and adrenaline in his veins, and was catching up with him. Though he had caught up to Kit's heels, Kit was just steps from the edge of the ship and reaching for his airfoil. "Stop!" cried Karnage. "You will not do this to me...!" He took a heavy breath, then made a last-ditch flying leap to tackle Kit. "...again!"

Just as Kit leapt from the airship, Karnage slammed into him from behind. With a thud and an "oof!", the wind flew out of Kit's lungs and the golden tome out of his hands.

Karnage felt victorious if for but a brief second, until he realized that instead of bringing Kit down to the floor, he was still flying... and falling.

The other pirates skid to a halt at the edge of the Iron Vulture's nose, watching Kit and their Captain plummet headfirst to the green jungle below, both screaming.

Karnage held tight to Kit's waist, taking several elbows to the face, but that was none of his concern at the moment. His eyes were like saucers as the ground approached frighteningly closer.

With what room he could muster himself to reach, Kit wrestled his hand inside his sweater and brought out his airfoil, fanning it open with a flick of his wrist. Karnage squeezed him so tightly he could hardly breathe. Kit set his board under his knees, trying to gain control. It was not easy, and every skill he had ever taught himself about cloudsurfing had suddenly come into play.

Gliding with all the grace of a thrown hammer, the two skimmed along the tall treetops of the Atronador Basin, sending leaves flying in their wake as they plunged into the sea of branches. They clenched their eyes shut as the leaves and twigs scratched against their faces, and, very abruptly, they slammed into the trunk of a large tree, and fell the rest of the way to the ground.

Almost hyperventilating, Karnage was seeing double... no, triple. "I... I shall be getting off at the next stop, please..."

Kit lay on his back in a fern, staring in a shocked gaze at the bits of sky showing through the trees. His airfoil was still clenched to his chest for dear life, and presently he had no intention of ever letting go of it.

In a moment Karnage sat up, cupping his head. When the stars before his eyes finally faded, he was not so much alarmed about where he was, but more so where his ship was. The Iron Vulture was high overhead, and going away without him. "What the ― you morons," he shouted, dry and raspily. "Come back here!"

Neither Kit nor Karnage was quite able to stiffen their legs just yet. Kit collected himself and began to crawl away from the pirate.

"You!" Karnage yelled. "This is your fault! I am fed up with your annoying existence!"

Kit rolled over to sneer at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, did I make you miss your ride home? Gee."

"The gold box, boy, where is it?"

"The heck should I know? You made me drop it!"

Seething, Karnage tried to hoist himself to his feet, but for the moment settled for his knees. "You... you..."

"You know, I'm really not in the mood, so shut up!"

"I am going to tear you up into little pieces and sell you as furniture stuffing, you filthy no-good lousy son of a hamster!"

Kit scooted back when he saw Karnage's hand on his sword's hilt. "Yeah, I wish I could be like you... a cheap, low-life, stupid son of a ― !"

Karnage yanked his cutlass from his side. "I dare you to finish that sentence, boy."

Kit's lips twitched as he inhaled deeply. He finished the sentence, so loudly that birds took to the sky.

"Why you...!" Pulling his strength together, but more so energized by the pure wrath, Karnage shot up and lunged his sword wildly. Kit jumped up, sidestepped Karnage's cutlass, and swung his airfoil into the pirate's snout.

"Ow!" Karange fell to his knees again, dropping his cutlass to hold his nose.

Kit ran behind a tree. "W-wait! I just saved your life, didn't I?"

Cutlass readied once more, Karange scanned around for where the direction of the boy's voice. "You will never make a fool out of me again, Kit Cloudkicker! Never!"

Karange heard a twig snap and a short scuffling sound from behind a nearby tree. He tiptoed toward it, until a wound-back branch suddenly flew from around the trunk and whopped him in the nose, this time knocking him flat on his back. Kit leapt over him and ran.

"What the hell is all that noise?" someone bellowed in front of Kit It was a familiar voice that sent a shudder down his back, and suddenly his path was blocked by Jesse Richter plowing through the foliage, almost tripping over the boy. "What the ― pirates!"

Richter had a backpack full of gear slung over his right shoulder, which he promptly dropped to wield the rifle slung over his left shoulder. Seeing that as no welcoming invitation, Kit backpedaled and ran the other way, with Richter close behind.

"Stop, kid!"

Kit leapt over a dazed Karnage again, but was caught by the foot and tripped by him. Karnage wrestled him to the ground and pinned him down by the collar of his sweater. "Do the words mangle and mulch ring a bell inside your brain, boy?"

A shadow stepped over Karnage; he barely had time to look over his shoulder before being met with Richter's knuckles. The blow allowed Kit to wriggle out from under Karnage, who rolled limply in the soil.

"This isn't what it looks like," Kit tried to explain quickly. "I swear!"

"I bet you do," growled Richter, taking a swipe to grab Kit, but was dodged. "Come 'ere!"

Kit gulped. He figured he didn't stand a chance at defending himself, so he did the only thing he could think of... run. He hurdled over a fallen log and cut through the ferns, while Richter raised his rifle sights at him. "I said stop, kid! I ain't gonna let you get your buddies!"

Cursing under his breath, Richter fired a warning shot that grazed over the boy's head and splintered a tree, but it only prompted Kit to run with yet more fervor. "I'm not chasin' you! This ain't a game!"

Richter put his rifle up to his eye, aiming carefully as Kit jumped over rocks and ran through bushes. "Sorry, brat, warned ya."

Kit never saw the muzzle flash, the blast of smoke from the gun barrel, or how Richer masterfully lead his target on before firing. He didn't even hear the shot. He just dove for the ground, somehow sensing he was already too late. He was hit in mid-leap.

The world went spinning in such a slow motion that he could practically pick out each tiny pebble in the soil as he fell. Something had grasped him, an unspeakable fright, such that his body went numb before it touched the ground. Then he heard the shot.

Through blurred vision, even Karnage saw the bullet tear through Kit's sweater, squarely into his back.

Richter lowered the rifle and swore. "That shouldn't have happened!"

"You... you shot him...?" Karnage said. It was as much of a question as it was a shocked statement.

"I ought to put a slug in you, too, right now," Richter said. "You brainwashed that kid, you oughta be the one dead. But you, you got a price tag. You're comin' with me."

Taking some twine from his backpack, Richter went to grab Karange's wrist, but Karnage had regained his wits enough not to go down so easily. Catching the grizzly by surprise, the pirate wrestled to escape his grasp, and when strength alone wasn't going to set him free, he sank his teeth into Richter's forearm.

Richter yelped, but like clotheslining a football player, he swung Karnage around and brutally slammed him into a tree, leaving an imprint in the bark where his head had hit. Karnage was out.

Not far, Kit sprawled on the ground, his face smeared in tears and mud, holding his breath lest he surrender his last...