Danger Guys on Ice
Page 5
Zeek nodded, rubbing his lips. “An da mabb.”
“Right, the map. But they don’t know that we have it.”
“Im my bogget,” Zeek mumbled, patting his jacket.
Mrs. E. flashed a look back at us.
“I think she wants us to follow,” I said. “But we’d better stay out of sight. We’re no good if they catch us!”
“Awight. Less go!”
We trotted down the main hall of the airport, dodging in and out of doorways. Hopping over luggage. Hiding behind tourists.
The men made a sudden left down a corridor and took the Emersons with them.
I glanced at a sign on the wall. “Our flight is this way, too. Once we see where they’re going, we can alert airport security.”
“Securikee. No problumm.”
I looked at Zeek. “Hey, I actually understood you that time.”
Zeek kept rubbing his lips. “Ish coming back.”
We peeked down the hall and watched the men disappear through a door.
We crept up and opened it.
Warm air blasted us in the face. We were outside the terminal. And right there on the pavement was a sleek black minijet. Its engines were revving up.
Two of the black-suit guys were pushing the Emersons up the stairs into the jet!
“Holy cow, Zeek! They’re being kidnapped!”
Fingers was shouting above the noise of the engines. I heard only a word, but it was enough.
“Maribo,” he said.
Then, before we could do a thing, Fingers jumped in, and the jet started to move. In seconds it was roaring down the runway and into the air.
“The Emersons are in big trouble, Zeekie. We’ve got to follow that minijet.”
“And just how are we going to do that—flap our arms really fast?”
I made a face. “Our plane is here somewhere. Maybe we can beat them to Maribo.”
We ran over to a small hangar on the runway. A mechanic was just coming out.
“We’re looking for flight 119,” I said.
He wiped his hands on a cloth and pointed over his shoulder. “Right over there.”
I looked behind him. I couldn’t believe it. “Zeek. It’s—it’s—the space shuttle!”
The jet was shiny and long, all white, with big fins and wings shooting off it.
I was about to run up the stairs into it, when—WHOOM!—the engines blasted, and it slithered out of the hangar, shot down the runway, and vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.
“But—that’s our flight!” I cried.
“Not that one!” the mechanic shouted. Then he pointed to an old rusty shape in the back of the hangar. “That one!”
Zeek’s face shriveled like an old apple. “Um, Noodle? Isn’t that, like, the first plane the Wright Brothers tried? The one that crashed?”
Just then an old man stepped out from behind the rusty heap and shuffled over to us. Well, really he shuffled right past us.
“Where d’ya go?” he said. Then he turned around and saw us. “Oh!”
He shifted an old foggy pair of goggles to his forehead and stared at Zeek and me for a long time. “You’re not the Emersons.”
“Um, no, sir,” I said. “But we’re looking for their flight. Flight 119 to Maribo?”
“Heh-heh,” cackled the old man. “Well, you’ve found it! And you’ve found me, Montana Smith. Best dad-burn stunt pilot east of the Mississippi!”
“We’re west of the Mississippi,” I said.
He blinked and looked disappointed. “Oh.”
“We have to follow that jet, Mr. Smith,” I said, pointing at the black speck in the sky.
“Heh-heh,” he laughed. “Follow that jet!” He thought that was pretty funny.
He turned around, twice, finally spotted his plane, and shuffled slowly toward it.
We all climbed into the rusty old plane. Montana sat up front in the pilot’s cabin. Zeek and I jumped into the leather seats in back with all the Emersons’ equipment. Expedition-quality stuff. It was really crowded in there.
“Heh,” cackled Montana. “Strap in.”
We strapped in. The engine sputtered, groaned, and finally rumbled to life.
Three hours later Mayville was far behind. We were flying south over the mountains toward Maribo. Into the jungle.
And the mystery of the Golden Lizard.
I looked out the little window next to my seat. Civilization was far behind. The view below was solid green treetops as far as the eye could see.
The jungle. It was awesome.
Far in the distance, I spotted a fat white thing floating over the tops of the trees. “Look, there must be a football game over there. It’s a blimp!”
“Heh-heh. There ain’t no game there!” the pilot said. “Scientists use blimps to pick up and drop off supplies to teams working in the trees.”
CLUNKA! CLUNKA! BLAM!
The plane suddenly shook and dipped left.
“Whoa!” cried Zeek. “What was that?”
“One of our engines sounds in a bit of trouble,” Montana said, checking some dials. “Don’t matter. We’ll make it just fine with the other.”
I looked out the windows from one wing to the other. “Sir, this plane only has one engine.”
“Hmm,” said the pilot. “That is a problem.”
CLUNKA! CLUNKA! BLAM! BLAM!
The plane dropped suddenly.
“We’re going down!” Montana said.
“You mean here? Now? Into the trees?” I screamed.
VEEEEOOOUUUM!
The engine died, the nose turned down, and we dropped.
Yeah.
Here.
Now.
Into the trees.
Buy Danger Guys and the Golden Lizard Now!
About the Author
Over the last two decades, Tony Abbott has written dozens of mysteries, comics, and adventure books for young readers aged six to fourteen, with series including Danger Guys, the Time Surfers, the Weird Zone, Underworlds, Goofballs, and the long-running fantasy series the Secrets of Droon. He is also the author of the fantasy epic Kringle and the realistic novels Firegirl (winner of the 2006 Golden Kite Award for Fiction), The Postcard (winner of the 2008 Edgar Award for Best Juvenile Mystery), and Lunch-Box Dream. Among his latest novels is The Forbidden Stone, the first installment of the twelve-book saga the Copernicus Legacy. Tony has taught on the faculty of Lesley University’s MFA program in creative writing, is a frequent conference speaker and visitor to schools, and presents workshops to creative writers of all ages. His websites include www.tonyabbottbooks.com, www.thecopernicuslegacy.com, and the literary blog www.fridaybookreport.com.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1995 by Robert Abbott
Illustrations Copyright © 1995 by Joanne L. Scribner
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
ISBN: 978-1-4804-8637-9
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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