by Chase Wilder
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First published in the United Kingdom by Egmont UK Limited, 2014
First published in the United States of America by Egmont USA, 2014
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806
New York, NY 10016
Cover illustration by Jacopo Camagni
Interior illustrations by Artful Doodlers
Text & illustrations copyright © 2014 Imangi Studios, LLC
All Rights Reserved
www.ImangiStudios.com
www.egmontusa.com
ISBN 978-1-60684-572-1
eBook ISBN 978-1-60684-575-2
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v3.1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgement
First Page
With special thanks to Myke Bartlett
As the engine roars, you cling tightly to the edge of your seat. The swamp buggy is bouncing wildly along muddy banks at the edge of a wide, flat lagoon. To make matters worse, Guy Dangerous is singing. You, he, and Scarlett Fox have been driving across the island for hours now, and the lagoon is getting more and more swampy.
It’s an amazing place, beautiful and frightening at the same time. Trees hung with moss stretch their branches across your path. Alligators bask in the sun and slide into the water. Snakes glide past on mud banks and toads croak around murky pools. You wonder what it would be like to be stranded out here, miles from civilization.
Guy’s voice isn’t that bad, actually. He’s singing some old song about sleepy lagoons and tropical moons. Scarlett, meanwhile, is listening to opera on her iPod and pretending she can’t hear him.
“You’re pretty quiet, kid!” Guy shouts at you. “How are you feeling?”
“Excited!” you tell him.
“I bet you are! We’ll make an ace treasure hunter of you yet.”
As the buggy roars down the middle of a broad stretch of water, you see the shape of a boat in the far distance. You sit up. Is that the wreck you’ve come here to explore?
No—it’s way too small, and it’s floating upright on the water, instead of lying at an angle. This must be the houseboat where Scarlett’s old friend Pedro Silva is putting you up for the night.
You close your eyes, remembering the crazy series of events that brought you here.
It all started with the legend of the wreck. Deep in the swamps, the stories say, lies the wreck of a riverboat, a vintage paddle steamer called the Marie Laveau. Long thought lost, it has now been located. You were amazed to discover that this long-lost vessel was actually your personal property!
You weren’t entirely clear on how you came to inherit this mysterious wreck, but it has something to do with an eccentric old great-aunt Beatrice, way back in the twisty branches of the family tree. She was the owner of the Marie Laveau and all its contents. Now the rights to the atmospheric old vessel have transferred to you.
Owning a wrecked steamboat didn’t sound like much of a thrill on the face of it, but then you found a letter from Beatrice. The Marie Laveau had been carrying a very special cargo when it was wrecked, the letter claimed. On board was a priceless ceremonial mask.
“I was the sole survivor of the Marie Laveau,” wrote Beatrice. “I have never dared to retrieve the mask myself.”
That mask, along with the rest of the wreck, now belongs to you. You’ve seen pictures of the mask, and while valuable, it sure is funny-looking. It’s a strange monkey face, with empty eye sockets. Beatrice’s letter insisted you entrust it to a museum—but you’ll need to find it first! Besides, there was no telling what other treasures might be on board. You couldn’t wait to get to that swamp and start exploring.
Of course, your parents wouldn’t let you go. For some crazy reason, they thought it would be too dangerous. Talk about buzzkill!
That’s when Guy Dangerous and Scarlett Fox stepped in. “We’re research explorers,” Scarlett told you, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “My museum has been looking for the Marie Laveau for years. Let us accompany you and we’ll keep you safe. Deal?”
Naturally, you said yes.
“It’ll be educational and very perilous!” said Guy, grinning. Scarlett elbowed him in the ribs. “I mean, fun,” he said, still grinning. “Extremely fun.”
Now, as the buggy closes the distance to Pedro Silva’s houseboat, your body hums with excitement. You’re at the start of a great adventure.
“You do realize your old pal Silva’s going to want to come along, too, right?” Guy yells.
Scarlett pops out one of her earbuds. “Don’t be silly. He’s retired.”
“He says he’s retired. I don’t buy it. Nobody ever really gets out of the treasure-hunting game. Once it’s in your blood …”
Scarlett laughs. “You’re so suspicious! Relax, Guy. Pedro’s a gentleman. Old-fashioned.”
“Well, ain’t that the truth,” Guy mutters. “Old-fashioned. You said it.”
You get your first glimpse of Pedro Silva when he comes out on deck and waves. He has dark hair streaked with gray and the most amazing beard you ever saw, long and pointy. His hat has a feather sticking out of it. Talk about dressing to impress.
“Scarlett!” Silva purrs. “So wonderful to see you again! And I see you brought your personal bodyguard.”
“Enjoying your retirement, Silva?” Guy growls. “Looks like you’re getting a little tubby.”
“And who is this?” Silva’s gaze fixes on you. You feel those cold eyes sizing you up.
You introduce yourself. Silva gives a thoughtful nod. “Come aboard, amigos. Welcome.”
Just as you’re climbing onto the houseboat, the distant sound of a motor catches everyone’s attention. Another swamp buggy is approaching.
Silva frowns. “I hope you have not invited more guests, Scarlett.”
She shrugs. “Nothing to do with me!”
The other buggy pulls up. A well-muscled guy gets out and flashes a cop’s badge.
“Officer Barry Bones,” he says, looking at you. “You and me need to talk, bud.”
“You and me?” you say, surprised.
“What’s this about?” Guy demands, stepping in front of you protectively.
“None of your business,” says Barry Bones. He turns to you again, keeping his voice down low. “We need to talk about the mask. I think you’re in grave danger.” You get the impression he’s warning you not to trust the others. “Just know that I’m a friend, and that I want what you want—for the mask to end up in a museum. Not everyone does …”
Guy clenches his jaw … and his fist. “Sounds like you’re accusing us of something, Officer.”
The situation is getting tense.
To your relief, Silva steps in. “Why don’t we all sit down to dinner? You, too, Officer Bones. It’s all served, and it would be a shame to waste it.”
Everyone, including Barry, grudgingly accepts.
Turn to this page.
Although Silva is
charming and welcomes everyone, you’re convinced it’s all a big act. He has mean-looking eyes, and there’s something about him that makes you feel that he’d be more at home on the ocean waves, sailing some old-time pirate ship, than here in a houseboat on a swamp.
You shake the feeling off. You’re probably just being silly. All this talk of treasure must be getting to you. Plus, Silva’s a great cook. The fish he serves is done to perfection.
“So, now we are all friends, yes?” he says with a thin smile. “Let us talk about this wreck of yours. Surely you don’t expect this mask still to be on board, after all these years? The wreck will have been picked clean by now.”
You feel a thud of disappointment.
Barry Bones nods. “The mask’s not there. But I know where it is.”
“Sure you do,” Guy snorts.
Silva pours you another glass of juice. “The mask is cursed, amigo. Did nobody tell you that?”
“No,” you say. “But I’m not afraid of curses.”
Silva laughs coldly. “I expect the crew of the Marie Laveau thought the same thing. At first. Did you ever hear the story of how the ship was lost?”
You know this story well. “There was a storm.”
“That was the official story, yes.” Silva taps his nose, which is pointy like his beard. “Nobody would have believed the truth.”
“Which is?” says Barry.
“The Marie Laveau was set upon by demon monkeys. That is part of the curse of the mask.”
Total silence. Scarlett clears her throat. Guy whistles. Barry looks awkward. Silva laughs as he clears the plates away. You have to wonder—did he really just say that? Demon monkeys? Are you stuck on a houseboat with a complete lunatic?
“So,” Scarlett tells you across the table, “it’s decision time. What’s our next move?”
“We need to stick to our plan,” Guy says. “Let’s head out and explore the wreck as soon as we can. The mask’s in there. I can feel it in my, uh, bones.” He gets up, adding that he’s planning to camp on the banks of the swamp.
Barry Bones has other ideas. “You’ve got to trust me, buddy. I know that’s a lot to ask. But stay here and you’ll be in serious danger. I promise I’ll explain more on the way.” He nods at the others and leaves, gesturing for you to follow.
Scarlett suppresses a yawn. “I suggest we enjoy Silva’s hospitality for now, and make a decision in the morning,” she says with a sleepy smile. Silva nods. “Bad weather is on the way, and you do not want to be caught in a storm. Besides, the wreck has waited for you for many years, yes? It can wait a little longer.”
To go with Guy’s plan, turn to this page.
If you trust Barry Bones, go to this page.
To spend the night on the houseboat with Scarlett and Silva, head to this page.
You’re crawling through a tight and disgusting pipe. You stop suddenly as a web stretches across your face, and something large and leggy starts climbing up your face. It tiptoes down your neck and skitters along your spine. Then there’s the smell. You’re beginning to suspect this pipe is a sewer.
At what point did this seem like a good idea?
Still, at least you’re going in the right direction. Ahead, you can see daylight. Unfortunately, you can also see a family of black rats. They’re just hanging out, chatting among themselves. Until they see you, that is. One look in your direction and all six of them rush forward, nipping at your fingers with sharp yellow teeth. That’s just unsanitary! You shriek and flap at the rats until, miraculously, you manage to scare them off.
Shuddering, you keep squeezing down the pipe until you come to a grille fitted into the roof. Using all your strength, you shove it free and heave yourself through the gap.
You stand up and discover that you’re in the heart of the temple, a broad chamber with a curved roof. A clear bolt of sunlight comes through a hole at its apex, spotlighting an altar in the center of the floor.
You’ve had some scares since you first started this crazy treasure hunt, but this is when your heart stops. There, resting on top of the stone altar, is the golden mask. You’ve found it!
Turn to this page.
You dream of a demon monkey chasing you down a mountain. Its terrible screaming shakes the trees.
You wake up clutching at your sheets. It’s a relief to see daylight in the portholes. All that talk about demon monkeys must have gotten to you. For a moment, you think you can still hear screaming.
Wait. You can still hear screaming. But this is a man, not a demon monkey. Maybe Guy’s tent wasn’t as gator-proof as he hoped!
You jump out of bed. The screaming is coming from upstairs. You recognize Silva’s voice and wonder who he’s shouting at.
As you get up on deck, you see Silva being bundled off the boat by a group of dark figures. For a second, you mistake the figures for demon monkeys, but the morning sun reveals that their strange, animal-like faces are just masks. No, not just masks—rough-and-ready copies of the mask, carved from old wood and embedded with gravel.
They have knives strapped to their bare legs and crossbows belted across their backs. Silva is struggling against them, trying to avoid being dragged onto a waiting speedboat. He has his backpack, no doubt full of gems—your gems, from your wreck—slung over his shoulder.
There’s no sign of Scarlett.
Do you rush to help Silva and rescue the treasure? Run to this page.
Or do you stay where you are and hope the masked men won’t notice you? Go to this page.
Guy picks a spot on squishy ground, in the shadow of the wreck, and pitches his tent.
“Aren’t you worried about gators?” you ask, glancing at the water’s edge near the tent’s screen door.
“I never worry about anything,” Guy says. “Besides, this tent is gator-proof.”
You raise an eyebrow at the flimsy canvas.
“Well, gator-resistant,” Guy admits.
You wonder if it’s too late to head back to the boat. But one look up at the wreck is enough to change your mind. It’s almost ghostly, a relic of some bygone age of adventure and excitement. You can hear it creaking and trembling. If only it was morning already! You can’t wait to start exploring.
You also can’t wait to eat. Maybe you can get started on the cooking while Guy wrestles with the tent. “Is the food in your backpack?” you ask.
“What food? Explorers don’t carry food. If you get stuck in quicksand, the last thing you want is a can of Spam dragging you down.”
“Then what are we going to eat?”
Guy puts a heavy hand on your shoulder and grins. “The question is, what aren’t we going to eat? But food isn’t important right now.”
Your stomach rumbles loudly in disagreement.
“Think,” he says. “What’s most important to an explorer?”
You sigh. “Um. Water?” you suggest.
“Smart. Now, we’ve got two options. We can head farther into the swamp and see what turns up. Or you can fill up the collapsible bucket here.”
The murky water is sucking at your feet. “Where’s the bucket?” you ask.
“Here,” he says, passing it to you. “But watch out, that’s a muddy shore you’re standing on. You’ll need to wade out pretty deep, otherwise you’ll be bringing back a bucket of dirt.”
To wade in with the bucket, turn to this page.
To search for water, go to this page.
The houseboat is great! The food is good, the cabin is warm, and Silva tells a few more weird stories about shipwrecked ghosts and demon monkeys.
You want to stay up late, but you’re exhausted. It’s been a long journey getting this far, and tomorrow will be a big day. You head to bed, dreaming of treasure.
Walking down to your bunk, you pass Silva’s room. His door has been left ajar.
You know it’s wrong to poke around in someone else’s stuff, but something doesn’t sit right about Silva. What’s he doing here in the swamp, so close to the wreck, if he r
eally isn’t interested in the Marie Laveau?
You creep into his cabin. There is a small bed with a lush red velvet bedspread, a narrow wooden wardrobe, and a solid oak writing desk. The top of the desk is plastered with an ancient map of the world and an old two-way radio on top. There’s nothing in the wardrobe but some puffy shirts.
Ah well. You’re about to give up when you spot a dusty old chest under the desk, shoved against the cabin wall. You pull it out, wiping away some of the dirt on the lid. There’s a faded label, and it reads: Marie Laveau.
Opening the box, you find that it’s full of precious gems. Silva has been on board your wreck! No wonder he told you it was picked clean.
You hear footsteps. Someone is coming down the stairs. You’re holding gems in your hands. This could be awkward to explain.
If you choose to hide, turn to this page.
If you take a deep breath and face whoever it is, head to this page.
The air inside the mine is cold and tastes like old smoke. Didn’t miners once keep canaries to let them know if their mine had a gas leak? That’s one thing you didn’t think to pack!
“Check that out,” Barry says, shining his flashlight at some marks in the dust by your boots. “Somebody else has been here recently, maybe in the last day or two.”
You’re about to ask who, when a hurled dagger whizzes past you. It sparks against the jagged rocks of the mine wall. You drop into a crouch and peer out around the side of the entrance. Then you wish you hadn’t. A dozen figures with hunched shoulders and evil-looking skull faces are scrambling out of the bushes.
“Demon monkeys!” you gasp.
Pedro Silva was right!
A second later you realize their skull faces are masks, carved from wood. They’re just men after all. Sadly, the long knives in their hands are all too real.
