Chapter 4

With friends like these...

Kit held his breath until his face turned purple, then let all out with a gusty rush of wind. As he resumed breathing, he relaxed just a bit, and realized that he did not feel any pain. 'Is this what it's supposed to feel like? ― oh no, what if I'm paralyzed!'

With cluttered and overbearing panic racing through is mind, he braved to rub his foot against the ground to see if he could feel his toes... and he could.

Now he was just confused. He opened one eye at a time and glanced around. He knew he had been shot, but something very peculiar about it.

His hand still trembled as he reached to touch his back, checking for a wound. "Wait a minute..."

Instead of finding blood, he brought out his airfoil, and saw it had a sharp dent in it where the bullet had hit. He went limp with a tremendous sigh of relief, then gave his board a grateful kiss as he sat up, and promised to fix it later as he stuffed it back in his sweater.

Overhead, birds and other animals cried in the treetops. As he looked up at the overwhelming wilderness, it was a sudden and barraging reminder of his worst problem... he was alone, lost without a clue where he was, other than he stood in the middle of a very big jungle. The golden-red hue slowly bleeding into the sky meant daylight would soon fade away.

He began to wander aimlessly, growing more worried by the second. Finding his way in a city, big or small, was one thing, and that much he could deal with. Such a jungle, however, was another thing, and with nightfall creeping ever nearer, he could confess that he was frightened.

'I need to find help, anyone,' he thought. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, and to decide which direction might be most promising. But with the trees growing darker and shadow falling ever thicker on the ground, all directions looked equally dangerous, even haunted as it were.

The only thing he did know was that the coast ― and the towns and cities along it ― were to the west of the jungle. He dug his compass from his sweater to check the heading, but it rendered him no comfort... he could have been ten days from the nearest town, for all he knew.

There was only one chance back to civilization that he knew of, though the prospect left him as scared and uncertain as any other choice: finding Richter. He did not know how he would go about it; one didn't, after all, simply go up to a person who had just shot him and ask for a ride home.

He trekked back to the spot where he and Karnage had landed, listening carefully, until he heard faint voices in the distance…


Kit caught up with Richter and company, but kept out of sight. He climbed a tree and watched them without sound. They had tents and a fire set up, camped by the shore of a great lake, where on the opposite side of the water a smoldering volcano loomed over the trees at the foot of the mountains.

When Kit arrived, Richter had just dropped Karnage and noticed what an unpleasant surprise waiting for him at their campsite. A dead, heavy tree had fallen on their seaplane, which had been moored near the shore, smashed its fuselage open, half of it now sunk, and severed the left wing completely.

"Look at it, that tree must weigh a ton," one of the pilots remarked. "Most of our stuff's still in there, too!"

While his two assistants fretted amongst themselves how they were going to get home, Richter angrily waded into the waist-deep water, lifted the tree trunk from the plane, and hurled it aside. His disposition was made even less sunny when he inspected the flooded cargo hold, quite evident as he punched a new dent into the side of the plane.

Khan's pilots stood careful watch, with holstered pistols ready to draw, over Karnage, who was tied to a stake in the ground with his hands behind his back. He was bleeding from the mouth, and with heavy eyes, he fought himself out of a stupor, wincing at the pain of his tight binds.

Richter limped back to shore, unleashing a colorful vocabulary over his injured leg and the mess made of their plane. "Food's gone! You two make yourselves useful for once and go round some up instead of standing there jackin' your jaws!"

"Uh, round up, Mr. Richter?"

"Hunt, genius," Richter said. "You have pistols, don't you?"

"Well, yes we do, but…"

"Then? Hurry up, before it gets dark."

The panthers looked at each other. "Um, right." They left, muttering to each other.

"And don't get lost," Richter yelled. "I'm not looking for you if you do!" He passed in front of his captive, noticing Karnage squinting up at him. "Well, well, look who's comin' around. How's your head?"

Karnage sneered. "Chingáte."

Kit flinched as Richter gave the pirate a backhand swat that looked like it must have hurt awfully. "You're not talking to one of your idiots, rodent."

Karnage held on to his wits, definitely glaring at his captor. "What are you wanting with me?"

"Just a little reward for bringing you in," Richter replied. "It's not enough to go chasing around the world for you, but hell, since you're here... you oughtta be worth a few grand to someone."

"Ha! Is that all? Insulting. It should be a million grand."

"Nobody cares that much."

"Humph. I would die before going to prison."

"I can arrange that, too." Richter kneeled down in front of Karnage, looking him hard in the eye. "Let me tell you something. I used to bounty hunt for a living, and I bagged a lot of smart crooks, and some that weren't so smart but could fight tooth and nail and kill you in a heartbeat. You're neither. You're just a bag of pig snot who cowers behind his goons. So what. You don't have the cajones to pick a fight where the other guy isn't defenseless, but just try screwin' with me once, I dare you."

Karnage gritted his teeth and spat in the grizzly's face.

Richter froze for an instant, then stood up and, seemingly composed, wiped the spittle off his cheek. "I'll be right back." He took his rifle and a two bullets from his backpack, then brutally kicked the pirate to the ground, planting the sole of his boot into his throat and pinning him. The stake that Karnage's wrists were tied to drove up the small of his back. His windpipe suddenly blocked, Karnage's breath came out in agonized rasps. Smiling, never taking his eyes off him, Richter slowly loaded his rifle, enjoying himself, and the terror in Karnage's eyes.

Kit stirred in panic, nearly losing his balance out of the tree. "Karnage, you idiot," he whispered loudly. "Oh my gosh!"

With a flourish, Richter finished loading his rifle. "Well, I can't say I didn't dare you." He planted the gun's muzzle right between Karange's eyes, then thought about it a brief moment before pressing the muzzle against his throat. "Gotta make sure they recognize your ugly face."

For all the harm Karnage had ever done or tried to do to him, for all how deeply he despised him, Kit's heart fell too sick not to do anything. Karnage was helpless. From his sweater, Kit fished the coins he took from Pirate Island, and threw one at Richter. It hit the grizzly on the shoulder.

Richter turned around. "What…?"

Kit threw another coin, this time on a stone right below him to make a noise.

Richter pulled his gun away from Karnage and moved towards the sudden clinking sound. Once his foot was off Karnage's throat, the pirate gasped for air; after a moment, his breathing was ragged but functional.

"I think you're goons finally came for you." Through narrowed eyes, Richter scanned the jungle cautiously. "Come on out! I got plenty of bullets."

Kit waited until he was right beneath him, then dropped more coins at his feet. Richter looked down at them, bewildered. "Huh?"

'Here goes nothing,' thought Kit. With his folded airfoil braced under his chest, he fell straight down from the branch, smashing his board into the top of Richter's head. It crushed his airfoil to uselessness and jarred his ribs, but it had worked; Richter collapsed in a massive thud.

"That's for Baloo, too," Kit wheezed.

"You… you are alive?" asked Karnage. Kit ran to him and began untying the rope from his wrists. He didn't reply. "What are you… you are helping me?"

"Don't ask. I just better hurry before I realize what I'm doin'. Ugh, he's got you tied too tight. I'll have to cut these off. Where's your sword?"

"I… I don't... know," replied Karnage, his voice falterting with the reluctance to confess as much.

"Terrific. Hold on, then." Kit left and opened Richter's backpack, searching for a knife, while Karnage regarded him with much puzzlement.

"Why are you helping me?"

Kit found a folded buck knife, came back and went to hastey work on sawing through the rope.

"Why did you not let him shoot me?" asked Karnage.

"I'll prob'ly regret this like everything else I've done today, but I thought even you didn't deserve that." Kit finished slicing the ropes, freeing Karnage. "There."

"Argh," shuddered Karnage, rubbing his aching hands together. "What about him?" he asked, pointing at Richter.

"What about him? I'm not stickin' around to find out. You?"

"Perhaps not today, no."

"There's a map in his backpack, hold on. I'll find how to get out of here." Kit routed around for the map, but from the corner of his eye, caught a sudden blur of movement: Karnage had spied Richter's rifle. Kit abandoned the backpack and abruptly raced him for it, but the race was over when Karange elbowed him to the ground, and took up the rifle.

"I think not, boy," he said, pointing the gun at Kit. "What do you think you are doing?"

"W-what are you doing?! I just saved your life, remember?"

Karnage frowned, then feigned a bored expression. "Silly boy, do not flatter yourself. I would not waste the bullet."

"Oh yeah? Then what are you gonna do?"

"Perhaps what should have been done a long time ago..." He stomped to Richter's side and aimed the rifle for his head.

"Wait! You're not going to just shoot him!"

"And why not?"

"He's defenseless. If you pull that trigger, it'll be in cold blood. Get it?"

"Ha! He was about to do the same to me!"

"Maybe…" Kit turned his back on him. "I guess I can't expect you to be any better than that."

"Better that what?"

Kit didn't answer. He stood still as if waiting for Karnage to get it over with.

Deciding to ignore the boy, Karnage slowly pulled the trigger back, but released it, looking at back Kit. "Well, he was going to do it to me!"

Kit made no response. Angered, Karnage pulled on the trigger again, but once again released it. "I am not needing a morality lesson from you, brat."

"I'm not givin' you one, stupid."

"Stupid? Give me one reason why I should not!"

"Do what you want," said Kit, shaking his head.

"Then I will!" Karnage pressed the rifle against Richter's head, but paused, sighing in frustration. "Forget it. I do not want to waste a bullet on him, either."

"Fine, then. Let's just get out of here, huh?"

"To where?"

"The nearest town, anything!"

"You can find the way?"

Kit pulled the map from Richter's supplies and spread it out over the ground. "I am a navigator."

"Smarty-pants," Karnage mumbled. "I can read a map too, you know."

Next, Kit reached in his sweater and took out his compass.

"Familiar toy," Karnage said, quite snidely.

Kit tried to ignore that one; with diligence he ran his finger over the lines of the map. "We're twenty miles from the coast. You head south of here and that'll turn into a trail that heads due west. Follow the beach back north and you'll find Alpacito City, and a bunch of smaller towns on the way. It's easy enough, I don't think even you could get lost." Then he threw his compass at Karnage's chest. "And for all I care, you can have it back!"

Karnage caught it and threw it back at his feet. "I do not want it, with your mangy mitts on it all this time. No thank you!"

"Aw, shush up. I've done plenty for you already, just get away from ― !" Kit froze with a sudden idea; his eyes lit up as if there were gears in his mind that had just begun to spin with great speed. He looked over the map again, remembering what he had heard and seen from Tyler and Bagheera the day before. The Rainbow Canyon was labeled, about fifteen miles to the northeast.

"What is wrong with you," asked Karnage , not recalling a time when Kit so abruptly stopped insulting him. With a deep moan, Richter started to stir, so Karnage promptly cracked the butt of his rifle over his head, and there was movement no more. "Better," he said. "Now, what is going on inside that fuzzy-type head of yours?"

"Nothing," said Kit, and he picked up the compass with renewed interest in its ownership. "Look, I gave you directions. Just go call your goons to pick you up and leave me alone, okay?"

"Such haste…" Karnage aimed the rifle at the boy. "You know something."

"I thought you said you wouldn't waste the bullet?"

"Do not tempt me, boy. What are you hiding?"

Kit scoffed. "Get lost."

"Perhaps that is what you are trying to do, navigator."

"Whoa, you pronounced it right! You've been practicing, haven't you?"

Karnage turned red, ready to throttle the boy, but instead snatched the map out of his hands and checked for himself. Kit had not given him phony directions. "I do not understand…"

"I told you."

"Then why are you being so sneaky? I do not trust you."

"Aw, and I was really hopin' you would."

"Answer me!"

"Oooh, an order." Kit placed his hand up to his brow in a mock salute. "Aye aye, sir."

"Forget you, then," Karnage huffed. He pushed Kit out of his way and stomped toward the lake, and began considering how exactly he was going to hike through all this jungle. And though he kept his back to Kit, he was curious to see what exactly the boy was going to do.

Kit was busy raiding through one of Khan's pilot's packs, which was significantly smaller than Richter's and easier for him to carry. He packed the buck knife with it, and took quick inventory. "Rope, blanket... no food, though."

"Packing, eh," Karnage muttered. Then he realized, directions or no, it was going to be no short walk out of the jungle. "Ooh, he makes me so angry! Why did he have to think of that before me?"

Kit zipped up his newly claimed backpack and swung it around his shoulders, then started away from the camp.

"That's the wrong way, Mister I-am-a-navigator," said Karnage.

"Have a nice life," Kit replied. "Or better yet, have a rotten life!"

Karange knew that boy was up to something, and hated not knowing what. "Let him die out there then," he grumbled, then yelled, "I just better not catch you following me, boy! You are on your own!"

Kit shot back an almost inaudible retort, though Karnage knew he wouldn't like it if he heard it. The captain found the other pilots backpack and took it as his own, muttering, "Foul-mouthed furball..."


"This stinks," Kit panted. Dusk drew in, and the jungle grew thick with shadows. Hiking and climbing uphill, with every bush, bolder, and tree each its own obstacle course, his brisk speed had quickly turned into a slow trudge, and eventually downgraded to a near crawl before he collapsed against a mossy tree to rest. Around him and unseen, the creatures of the wild were preparing for the night, howling, croaking, and chirping from every direction.

Kit opened and dug into his backpack for the lantern and matches, and, with the compass getting harder to read in the dimness, considered taking out the blanket and staying put for the night. He was about to light the lantern when the jungle became quiet. The owls, frogs, and crickets, one by one yet all at once, left a sudden silence that made Kit's fur stand on the back of his neck.

Tree boughs rustled in a chilled breeze. Branches and twigs snapped not far beside him, some large and loud, several at a time... that was not the wind. There was something big prowling nearby.

Kit stuffed the lantern back inside the backpack, hoisted it over his shoulder, and with a renewed spring of energy welling from the thought of being something's dinner, he jotted away from the area, double-paced.

The noises cutting through the foliage followed. His jog turned into a full sprint.

He ran to a clearing and paused; to his left and right were dense walls of fern, and what might have laid hiding in wait amongst them he did not want to find out. In front of him was a cliff of jagged granite, at least ten feet high, adorned with small patches of grass and old, thick tree roots muscling through the cracks. Behind him, something hissed.

Kit dropped the backpack and made a leap to grab onto the tree roots, but he was just too short. His pursuer hissed again, louder, nearer.

Something jumped at him, and he yelped... it was a small monkey, which had just leapt from an overhead tree, and it looked wonderingly at him.

"Oh, jeez!" Kit slid on his back against the cliff and had a seat, wiping sweat from his eyes. "Dangit, you scared me good."

Suddenly, the real assailant leapt out from the ferns, snatched the monkey in its jaws and swallowed it whole.

Kit screamed and backpedaled his heels deep into the ground as if to push himself through the rocky cliff. It was the largest, ugliest, and meanest looking lizard he had ever seen... an Atronador varan. It was nearly the size of an automobile, broad-shouldered and with a short, blunt and lipless jaw that bared dozen of stained, dagger-like teeth, and it had rows of horns from its brow, down its scaled back and to its long, slendering tail.

Kit watched in speechless horror as it took its time to swallow the small monkey down. Amidst black eyes, its narrow, diamond-shaped pupils reflected the setting sunlight like flame, and they were trained solely on Kit.

It stuck its forked tongue out, tasting its prey's scent, then opened its mouth wide with a raspy roar. Dark green drool dripped from its chin. Bearing long, curved claws, paws moved toward the boy slowly, as if it was taking the time to enjoy the fear it sensed. Kit reached for the knife in his backpack; his hands were shaking so much he could hardly open it, and had not a clue how it was going to help him.

The creature crouched, ready to pounce. Kit braced himself...

Just then, a gunshot blasted from out of nowhere, and the varan recoiled with a chunk of flesh exploding from its side. It did not stay down, however; it retreated back into the ferns, leaving a trail of blood behind.

"I do not know what that thing was thinking. You would only give it the same stomach ache you have always given me."

Kit blinked. "Karnage?"

The captain stepped out from the foliage, rifle and backpack with him. He laughed when he saw the knife in Kit's hand. "Planning on making dance shoes out of it, boy?"

"What are you… you followed me!"

"True, but we are even now, yes?"

"Even? Don't tell me you followed me for a chance to save my life."

"Of course not! You do not concern me in the least. But I am not estupid, as you would think."

"What are you talking about?"

"That gray fox you were with, the one that talks funny... he told you, no? What the map was for."

"Well… what if he did?"

"Cities of gold are a pirates duty to plunder! And you know something about where it is at."

Kit waved him off. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Do not try to cover my face with the sheep, boy," Karnage said, shaking his finger at him.

"That's 'don't pull the wool over my eyes,' Shakesbear."

"I know it is here somewhere, and I will not let this chance pass me by."

"Forget it! I don't need you tagging along."

"You miss the point, boy! I will not be tagging along, because you will not be going. We are simply going to have an exchange of information, and maybe your loser of a best friend will hear from you again."

"Oh yeah? Who's gonna ― ?"

Both shushed when a roar burst from the bushes. Karnage raised the rifle and pointed it around left and right. "What was that?"

"I-I think that thing's coming back…" Kit whispered.

The bushes rattled, and Karnage aimed. "Then I will blow it to smithereens!"

"Wait 'til you see it!" yelled Kit, pushing the rifle down, but it was too late. Karnage fired, and the bullet burrowed into the ground.

"What! What did you do that for?!"

"I didn't mean to ― well why did you shoot, anyway! How many bullets does it have?"

Karnage shoved Kit away from him and aimed the rifle toward the roaring noises again.. but then he frowned, lowered the gun, and thought of the answer to Kit's question: "Two."

"Oh, jeez," cringed Kit. "You made a big fuss about having the gun, then you're too much of a dumbbell to bring bullets for it?"

"What? How dare you call me a ― " Another roar, and Karnage's heart skipped a beat. "Then again, perhaps I may have overlooked that tiny, insignificant detail."

"Come on, it won't be able to climb rock," said Kit, pulling on Karnage's arm. "We gotta get on top of that cliff!"

Karnage noticed the height, and shook Kit off. "Uno momento, just how do we get up there?"

"Give me a boost and I'll help you up from on top!"

"Hmm, how about you give me a boost and I…"

"Get real."

"Fine," Karnage groaned. After dropping the rifle, he knelt down and allowed the boy to climb up to his shoulders.

Kit could just barely put his hands on the top. "Raise up a little, will ya?"

"I am already standing on my toes, you raunchy runt! Now hurry!"

With savage glee, Kit planted a foot on Karnage's nose. Once he pulled himself up to the top, he turned to see the captain's fuming expression. It made him feel a lot better.

"All right," said Kit, "now toss up our stuff!"

"Am I looking like the dock-worker to you? I am Don Karnage, I am not supposed to be…" When the bushes rattled again, Karnage had a very sudden change of heart. He grabbed Kit's backpack, and along with his, tossed them up and over the ledge. "There!"

Kit reached for a rope to pull Karnage up, but something in the distance caught his eye. "Whoa… I think you made it mad."

"I what?" Karnage looked... the varan had its head poked from the foliage, staring at him, and wether for hunger, anger, or bloodthirst, it had 'kill' in its eyes. Karange's voice cracked. "The rope, boy. Now."

Kit wrapped the rope around the nearest tree, then lowered it down to Karnage, but yanked it back just as he was going to grab hold. "Wait."

"For what?" The varan was on its way, and Karnage was breaking into a sweat.

"If I let you up here, you gotta give me your word you're not gonna pull anything. Understand? I want this treasure too, and I don't need you gettin' in the way."

"What! That is blackmail!"

"Yep."

"Impressive," Karnage said under his breath.

"We got a deal?"

"Absolutely n ― " The creature started charging towards Karnage. "Yes! Yes! Deal! The rope!"

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"I swear on my life, boy! Now shut up and hurry!"

Kit lowered the rope again and braced himself at the other end. Karnage grabbed on and climbed for dear life, although not quite fast enough. The lizard made a lunge for him, and the dangling pirate quickly reached down and lifted his tail out of way. "Yiiee!"

The lizard caught one of the tails of his coat instead, ripping it off. Soon Karnage climbed to the top of the cliff, panting. Looking back down at the lizard, and his blue coattail sticking out of its mouth, he shook his fist at it. "I hope you choke on it, you repugnant reptile!"

Kit peered down the cliff beside him, rubbing his arms. "You know, you're a lot less scrawny than you look."

"And you!" Karnage grabbed Kit by his sweater, holding him near the edge. "I should drop you right now and make you lizard lunch!"

"You gave me your word! You swore on your life!"

"Who's going to know?" Karnage smirked heartlessly, with a piercing and taunting glare that with no further need for explanation proved to Kit all he could do and get away with. "And who cares if the whole world knows? Do not ever try to trap me, wretch. I am a pirate, and you are so overly under-qualified!" He pushed Kit to the ground, away from the ledge. "Remember that!"

Kit landed on his hands and knees, and seethed for a moment while Karange gloated over the point he had made.

Karnage went on, "It is lucky for you, that I do keep my ― oof!" Kit had charged forward and headbutted Karnage in the gut, rocking the pirate back and causing his feet to slip over the ledge. Karange yelped and grabbed big handfuls of grass and roots, just enough to keep his shoulders from going below. With the varan still under his feet, he kicked and clawed frantically for what traction he could muster to pull himself to safety.

"Don't ever tell me what to do," Kit said, coldly. "Just remember that."

For a moment, Karnage was torn between what was more important: worrying about the varan snapping his leg off, or giving Kit the dirtiest look he could furrow. Somehow the latter choice seemed best. "Keep it up, boy! I ― ow!" Kit had thrown the rope at his nose, and Karnage, grumbling a concession to an unspoken truce, climbed to safety.

As Karnage smacked the dirt from his knees and sleeves, Kit picked up his backpack. "As far as I'm concerned, this is the last I'll be seeing of you. I'm outta here."

"Oh no you don't!" Karnage picked his own backpack up and started after Kit. "You do not actually think I will let you get there first?"

"Let me? Ha," Kit said. "I'm younger and way faster."

"You did not seem so fast when that beast had you cornered," Karnage replied. "And I had to save your miserable hide."

"My hero," Kit mumbled. "I don't need you slowing me down."

"Me slowing you down? You know you would not survive two minutos out here without me to protect you, which I will not, so stay out of my way!"

"You're the one who's followin' me," Kit said, very annoyed.

"Am not! You are following me!"

Kit turned to face him, throwing his arms up in the air. "I know where I'm goin'! How am I following you?"

"See? You admit it!" Karnage started walking away, leaving a confused Kit behind.

"I don't think so!" Kit caught up with him. "We'll see who makes it there… in one piece."

Karnage turned up his nose. "Don't make me laugh."

"Don't make me laugh!" Kit retorted.

"I am already laughing at you! Ha ha ha! You hear that?!"

Curious animals watching the two lost sight of them as they disappeared into the dense jungle, their repartee resounding throughout.

"Laugh it up! You couldn't find your way out of a sleeping bag."

"Why don't you get swallowed by a mosquito, you mangy midget!"

"Midget?"


Richter's assistants, colonels Jackson and Taylor (and for the record, Richter could not tell them apart save if he took the time to read the initials stitched on their jackets, which he never did), were headed back to their camp, talking about and questioning the two gunshots they had just heard.

"Maybe the big guy shot his own dinner," one remarked.

"I could've swore they sounded like they were coming from the other direction, though. By the way, you tell him all we could find were a handful of berries."

"Me? Why me? You were the one that got us lost. 'I know where I'm going,' he says."

"Yeah, well you ― what the? Hey, look at that!"

Beside them, there was the unmistakable shimmer of gold beaconed from the grey shrubbery. They quickly investigated; it was the tome dropped from the Iron Vulture, intact. They knew not what it was, or where it came from, but they knew the berries would not matter anymore. With great excitement over their discovery, they rushed back to camp, eager to show Richter.

When they reached their tents, they stood there, stunned, seeing Richter sitting up on the ground, holding his head and groaning. "Mr. Richter? What happened?"

"He got away," Richter growled. "I was ambushed! I knew there were other pirates around here!" Huffing with rage, Richter paced around a small circle, calculating his next move. It took a double-take for him to notice what one of the pilot's was holding before him. Of all the people to be holding it from out of nowhere, he could hardly believe his eyes, and was momentarily speechless. "That can't be..."

"We found it, just laying there," the pilot said, handing it over. "It looks important."

"Buddy, you don't know the half of it," replied Richter. He pried the tome open and flipped through the thick pages, and his deadpan face glew with pleasant surprise. "Hell, I guess I take back some of what I said about you two tenderfoots."

"Um... thanks."

Richter looked up at the sky. A half-smile wrinkled up his cheek. "They wouldn't have dropped it on purpose. Those propellers we heard earlier were from their ship, and it's not here anymore, neither are any of their planes. Karnage is stranded." He shut the tome and tucked it in his arm. "I'll deal with this later."

"Isn't this what we're here for, though? Shouldn't we make this our priority?"

"Right now, our priority is that pirate and however many of his fleabag lackeys are here with him," said Richter, and he searched around ground. "Where's my rifle?"

Amidst their confusion of what Richter was scheming ― how he had closed the tome as if to just forget about it ― the panthers looked around as well, and finally noticed that they had significantly less possessions than when they were last there. "Our packs are gone! We've been robbed!"

Richter threw them a contemptuous look. "Ya think?"

"You think that could explain the gunshots we heard?" one panther ask the other.

Richter raised an eyebrow. "Gunshots?"

"Yes sir. We heard two of them while we were… uh, tracking down a wild boar."

"Which way?"

"Northeast."

Richter stepped close to his face. "You sure?"

"Y-yes!" The panther nodded as if his life depended on it being the right answer.

"That's gotta be the pirates. Come on, we're going after them!"

"Uh, begging your pardon, Mr. Richter," the other panther said, meekly stepping forward.

"What?"

"Well, sir, our orders were to secure the location of the excavation site and radio back for reinforcements, not to ― "

"Gentlemen, not that I'm not thrilled that by some dumb luck you stumbled on a relic that I've been busting my back for years to find, but let me lay this down for you." Richter's tone was that of a vengeful drill sergeant, articulate with a forced calmness that wrestled with the urge to pop their heads open like soda bottles. "We paid very good money and were given very specific details for the whereabouts of a very valuable treasure, and we have wasted the day following those directions only to find they were a total crock!" He roared that last part right in the panthers' faces, who about fainted backwards. "We bag Karnage first. The last thing I'm going to do is let that sniveling coward get one up on me."

"But sir, it's getting dark, and we've lost most of our supplies, including the lanterns. Standard procedure dictates that we stay here until morning then return to town to regroup ― ack!"

Richter grabbed the pilot roughly by the necktie, which, uniform or not, to him was the most ridiculous thing in the world to be wearing in the jungle. "My procedure dictates that we do things my way, or you can go on your own. Understood?"

"Y-yes sir," he choked.

Richter released him and shoved him away. 'But he's right,' he thought. 'It'll be pitch black out there.' "At first light tomorrow we move out. Northeast."

"But sir…"

"Stop 'but sir-ing' me!" bellowed Richter, clenching his fist. The panther squeezed his lips so tight he got a cramp in his mouth. "If we ignore the pirates here, then we might as well shoot ourselves in the back. We start thinking about Rhamastan again once I have Karnage's head on a stick, got it?"

They nodded.

"Good. Now make yourselves useful and get a campfire going."

"Uh, one more thing, sir…"

"And if I hear one more whine out of you two, I'm gonna have your heads on a stick!" Richter snapped. The menace in his voice went shook through their bones like a shock. It was more incentive to commence work immediately than any paycheck bonus.


Kit and Karnage kept a determined pace, side by side, as if in a race. The growing darkness continued to make seeing more difficult with every passing minute, and by then, their bickering had been replaced by exhausted panting.

"You… are… getting… tired," Karnage said, one word per breath. "Why don't you just… give up?"

"Me? Tired?" Kit panted. "Never… I could… go… another… ten miles…"

"So… could… I!"

"But it is getting dark… maybe we should…"

"Ah-hh-ha," Karnage said, with more of a wheeze than exclamation. "You do want to give up."

"I can keep on as long as you can," said Kit. "But… it's gettin' hard to see, that's all."

"Excuses," Karnage said. "I can still see perfectly ― whoa!" He tripped over a log, landing chin-first in the soil. Kit, in turn, stumbled over him, and neither one seemed able to move. "H'okay," Karnage exhaled, trying to catch his breath. "Perhaps… we rest."

"Yeah, perhaps." Kit's throat stung from breathing so hard. He rummaged through his backpack, but found no canteen. Instead, he took out the lantern and searched further for the matches.

Karnage's ears perked up. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Kit asked.

Karnage listened for a few seconds. "I could have sworn… never mind."

Kit glanced around nervously. "You know, I really wish you saved that last shot."

"Frightened, boy?" Karnage smirked.

Kit scowled and resumed looking for the matches. "No."

"Of course not," Karnage said sarcastically. "It is too bad you cannot be as brave as ― " Quickly, Karnage shot up to his feet. "H'okay, that time, I heard something."

"I… I didn't hear anything," Kit said. "M-maybe it was just the wind, if anything."

"Right… just the wind…" Karnage's voice trailed off. "… or 'anything'…" He swallowed. "Are you ever going to get that blasted thing lit?!"

"I'm just lookin' for some stinkin' matches, okay?"

"Oh, here," Karnage snatched the backpack away from Kit and dug his hand inside of it. "If you want something done right…"

"… you gotta have me do it for you," Kit muttered to himself.

Karnage found his search to be as futile as Kit's. "I should keelhaul the ignoranimoos who did the packing here!"

"Hold on," Kit sighed. He reached inside his sweater, pulling out a lighter. "Here, I wanted to save this in case the matches ran out."

Karnage blinked. "What else do you keep under there?"

"None of your business," Kit replied, and picked up the lantern to light it.

"Uno momento," said Karnage, taking the lantern and lighter out of Kit's hands. "I do not want you breaking this thing. I will do it."

Kit rolled his eyes and let him be. "Yeah, you do all the breaking you want." His attentioned turned to the backpack that Karnage had brought, where from it he brought up another lantern. "There's one here, too."

"Yeow!" Karnage yelped.

"What happened?"

By the light of the just-lit lantern, Kit saw Karnage stick his singed finger in his mouth. "Nophing."

"Well, at least you didn't break it," said Kit , and handed him the other lantern. "Here, give me that one and light this one, too. And I think we got a problem."

"Yeow!" yelped Karnage again, and one more lantern lit. "What problem?"

"Looks like we each got a blanket to keep us warm, but that's it."

"So?"

"So, you ever hear of rain? Thunderstorms? This place has 'em all the time, and we don't have any kind of a tent."

"So, supposing we do not need a…" Karnage was suddenly interrupted by a clap of thunder from the distance. Resigned to the whole wretched situation, he plopped down against a tree and sighed. "You had to say something, yes?"

"Fantastic," grumbled Kit. He sat at the opposite side of the tree, cocooned himself inside a blanket, and kept his lantern in his lap for the extra warmth. "We'll be swimming out here if it starts raining. I hate this place."

"For once, we agree," said Karnage. He greedily snatched the blanket of his own from his backpack and threw it around himself. "If it was not for you, I could be in a nice, warm bed right now, in my own ship, and up to my ears in gold."

"Aw, quit gripin'," said Kit. "No one forced you to tag along, you know."

Karnage slowly sunk to the ground, sliding down the tree. "If you want to fight more, boy, at least wait until tomorrow when I am wide awake, so when I throttle you I can remember it."

Kit set his lantern down, flipped the top of his blanket over his head like a hood, and curled up on the ground.

Hours passed. At nightfall, the tree boughs high overhead disappeared in a chilled, moonlit mist. Kit shut his eyes for a moment, then soon after for only brief moments at a time. While his eyes were heavy and begging for sleep, the jungle became louder than ever. There was life all around them, but nothing to be seen in the rustling shadows, and amidst the mighty symphony sang by the frogs and crickets there were the unmistakable howls and growls of the hunting beasts. All of the quivering he did was not from the cold air alone.

Groggily, he sat up. As much as he had enjoyed not hearing a peep from the pirate on the other side of the tree, his pride was no contention to his wanting to wake up in the morning not eaten. "You asleep?" he whispered.

"What ― why?" Karnage snapped, immediately enough to tell he had been keeping his ears keenly to the jungle, despite his own weariness.

"Listen, I'll make a deal with you. I don't know what's out there, but if we need to high-tail it outta here, one of us should be a lookout. We could take shifts, you for awhile, me for awhile, one at a time."

"Oh, please, boy. What makes you think I would not rather leave you here."

"I guess I'm just tired enough to take the chance, that you're not the lowliest piece of dirt in the world."

"Fine, then. But you take first shift."

Kit rolled on his stomach, hiding his face in his arms. "I'm not gonna..." He yawned. "Make it."

"Of course, I do the hard part," Karnage muttered. "It's always me and my gracious generosity. But I am telling you, you lazy leech, I am waking you up in...!" He stopped when he realized Kit was already fast asleep. The boy's foot slid near his thigh, and Karnage pushed it away as if it carried a contagious disease. "Hmph."

A nocturnal bird squawked somewhere high above. Karnage looked up, and as he saw no sign of the sky, and considered that somewhere up there, his airship was still flying... without him commanding it.

It was only a few months ago that he had left the Iron Vulture in command of Dumptruck, when he insisted on being lowered to Cape Suzette in person instead of using the un-glorious radio to make his demands of the city. And by the time he came back, his crew had threatened mutiny. Of course, that fat bear that was glued to his back had something to do with it. Then there was the last time he had let them take the Iron Vulture out without him, and not only had the crew gone completely to pot, he was chased around his own ship by a mad red ape lady who tried to smother him in wet lipstick. Proven time and again, the pirates could never hold together without him.

'Perhaps, just this one time,' he thought, 'those numbskulled nincompirates will maintain somedisposure and order without me…' He imagined what was actually happening up there, and moaned. "Who am I fooling?"


On board the Iron Vulture, the pirates had gathered in the galley to discuss their situation. 'Discuss', however, would not quite befit how the motley bunch held a meeting; in such a forum, shouting, shoving, punching, and name-calling were far more efficient means to express one's ideas.

"You're all a bunch of knuckleheads," cried second-mate Will, amidst the shouts of approval and disapproval from the crew over who should be captain in Don Karnage's stead. "I can't believe what I'm hearin'!"

"Why don't ya put a sock in it, Mister Second Mutt," snarled Bandit Patch. "Karnage ain't here no more, and you ain't tellin' us what to do!"

"None of ya know a bloomin' thing when it comes to bein' a captain," said Will . "None of ya know how to run a ship!"

Mad Dog chimed in, "You gotta be a pilot to be the boss, and that counts you out!" There was a small uproar of agreement to that effect.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Will replied. "See how far any of you ugly mugs get without my help."

"Yarn-for-brains has a point, though," said Sadie. "Sky-jackin' is our bread and butter. The new boss needs to be one of our best pilots."

Mad Dog nodded. "Yeah! And since I'm the best pilot around here, it oughtta be me!" To that effect, there was a larger uproar of disagreement.

"Yer way too skinny to be der captain," said Dumptruck. "Karnage picked me last time, remember? I'm going to be in charge around here."

"But you got to be capt'n last time," Mad Dog whined. "I wanna be capt'n this time!"

And then Mad Dog and Dumptruck 'discussed' the matter, which is to say Dumptruck grabbed his scrawny companion by his vest and glared at him nose-to-nose. "Der, I'm gonna be da captain, see? Any second nominations?"

Mad Dog gulped. "I vote for you," he said miserably.