The Golden Paw

by Jason Lethcoe

  Rusty scowled at Bartlemore. It was a look of such loathing and hatred that it seemed to Andy that, had it been able to, Rusty’s gaze would have killed Bartlemore on the spot.

  Charlie gave Bartlemore a thumbs-up and kept turning the crank on the side of his camera, as if he were advancing the film inside. “Got it, J.B.”

  Andy couldn’t help feeling uneasy as he watched Charlie point the camera at Rusty. Knowing that there wasn’t any film inside, but rather a dangerous weapon, made him look at the entire situation differently. The conflicting emotions about whether or not he should tell Rusty about its being a weapon rose again. His indecision, coupled with discomfort at the giant skeleton rising in front of him, made his stomach lurch.

  “Are you all right?” Abigail asked with a worried expression. “You look really pale.”

  “I’m fine,” Andy managed.

  But he didn’t feel that way.

  Cedric continued with his speech. “If one can navigate the three gateways inside, the temple is supposedly at the center of the maze. And if the intelligence gathered by Ned is correct, then we haven’t much time before our enemies are upon us, so we’d better get cracking.”

  “How do we know that those scalawags are behind us?” demanded Rusty. “They could already be inside for all we know!”

  “Ah, but we can tell,” Cedric said proudly. “Follow me over here, if you please.”

  The thin Englishman led them to a cave opening not far from the statue. Above the rough-hewn entry was a stone lintel carved with ancient symbols. Andy studied the creepy images of skulls, bones, and some kind of demonic thing with fangs. He tried to swallow but found, without surprise, that his throat was dry.

  Cedric pointed at a stone with the impression of a human hand on it to the left of the entrance. Upon closer inspection, Andy saw a small hole at the tip of the pointer finger.

  “Entering the maze requires a blood offering. According to my research, this small hole actually conceals a needle. Anyone who wishes to go in must put their hand here and allow their finger to be pricked. The few accounts we have say that once the blood drips down to the base of the palm, the door opens.”

  For emphasis, Cedric knocked on the stone wall just behind the entryway. It sounded as solid as it looked.

  “Since there’s no fresh blood on the stone, I believe that we can safely assume that we’ve beaten the Collective here. Now then, who wants to go first?”

  Andy definitely didn’t. He tried to look as inconspicuous as possible as everyone exchanged nervous glances.

  After a long moment, Rusty cleared his throat and, with a loud grunt, pushed Cedric out of the way. The beefy man slapped his hand down on the stone. “Do your worst!” he exclaimed.

  They all held their breath. After a moment, Rusty let out a bark of surprise as something pierced the skin of his pointer finger. Seconds later, a trickle of blood flowed down the finger of the hand to the bottom of the palm impression.

  At first, nothing happened. And then, with a mighty groan, the heavy stone wall began to roll backward into a hidden recess. Andy watched, openmouthed, as the door moved away. He was amazed at the skill of the ancients—that they had been capable of creating such a thing. How did it work? Was it the moisture of the blood?

  It’s ancient technology, Andy thought. I’m sure that there’s a simple scientific explanation for it.

  In spite of all he had seen, Andy clung to the notion of scientific explanation. The truth was, the scarier implication that the door was moved by something supernatural was something he didn’t want to consider. He’d had a gnawing unease with the supernatural ever since his last adventure. Hawaiian gods were supposed to be myths. But what he’d witnessed had defied all logic.

  Andy watched as Rusty slipped through the door, which slammed shut behind him. He’d hoped that entry would require only one blood offering—that they could all follow Rusty through—but that didn’t seem to be the case. Of course not, he thought bitterly. That would be too easy.

  One by one, Andy’s friends opened the door and entered the maze. Soon, only he, Bartlemore, and the cameraman were left. Andy tried his best to keep his hand from shaking. He was about to set his palm on the indentation when Bartlemore grabbed his shoulder and whispered, “Remember, no matter what happens, don’t let Rusty Bucketts out of your sight. If we get separated, leave some kind of sign or mark, and I’ll try to catch up with you.”

  Andy nodded. Bartlemore, noticing his uneasy expression, gave him a slap on the back and assured him that there was nothing to fear.

  But Andy wasn’t so sure. He watched as his own blood dripped down the stone and the door slid open. Staring into the opening where the others had walked into the darkness beyond, he murmured, “Here goes nothing.” And then, his heart hammering in his chest, he crossed over the threshold and heard the heavy stone door slam shut behind him.

  It took a few moments for Andy’s eyes to adjust to the darkness. For a panicky second or two, it felt like he was wearing a blindfold, and he worried that he wouldn’t be able to see a thing! But after a minute or so, he found that he could make out some very dim shadows in front of him. He reached out a hand to steady himself as he walked forward, but immediately recoiled as his hand brushed the wall. It was covered with some kind of slime!

  “Careful there, son,” came Rusty’s familiar voice. “Those walls are covered with something foul.”

  “I noticed,” Andy replied, wiping his hand on his trousers. He automatically sniffed his fingers to see if they were clean and nearly gagged at the stench.

  Rusty chuckled from somewhere nearby. “I’m not sure, but it might be bat guano,” the big man said. Andy felt Rusty grip his shoulder and push him gently forward. “This way. Cedric is trying to get some torches lit, and I’m sure we can spare a little water so that you can wash up.”

  Andy was eager to wash. The very idea that there were bats somewhere above gave him the willies, not to mention the idea that they’d been there so long they’d coated the walls with their droppings.

  Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light. Andy, who had grown accustomed to the darkness, shielded his eyes against the blinding glare. When he was able to focus again, he was relieved to see Cedric standing nearby with a flaming torch in his hand.

  His relief was temporary. There was a sudden rush of flapping wings and high-pitched shrieks as hundreds of bats, all startled by the sudden light, came flying past the top of his head.

  “AIEEEEE!” Andy screamed. He would have been mortified about how high-pitched his voice sounded, but he couldn’t help it. The beating wings were all around him, and he swung wildly at the air, trying to swat the beasts away.

  As quickly as they’d come, the bats were gone. As Andy stood there, wide-eyed and quivering, he was relieved to see that the others, especially Abigail, had been startled as well.

  “They must have another way out,” Cedric speculated. “There’s no way around that door.”

  “That’s good news,” Rusty said. “It means that if we get trapped in here, we’re sure to have fresh air.”

  True to his word, Rusty offered Andy a canteen and a bar of soap. Andy quickly washed his hands and dried them on a small towel that Abigail had brought in her pack.

  Now that there was light, everyone took the opportunity to look around and examine the tunnel. The walls that surrounded them were rough-hewn, but incredibly high. So high, in fact, the torchlight couldn’t reach the ceiling the bats had flown down from.

  The walls were well illuminated, though. Andy noticed the horrible slime dripping down from unseen heights and felt a wave of nausea.

  “Here, have a peppermint,” Abigail said. Andy accepted the candy gratefully and popped it in his mouth. He immediately felt relieved as the familiar cool mint flavor coated his mouth and brought comfort in the ominous surroundings.

  “Let’s move forward with extreme caution,” Rusty said. “Be on the lookout for traps, and if you see anything suspiciou
s at all, give a shout.”

  Andy shouldered his pack and followed the others, keeping his eyes trained on Cedric, who was in the front next to Rusty, his torch raised against the gloomy darkness. The air had a damp, tomblike quality, and their footsteps echoed as they walked. There was also another smell, something dark and sinister that Andy couldn’t place. Something like a mountain of moldy socks that lingered in the background.

  Andy made a mental note to breathe as little as possible as he continued doggedly forward, trying his best not to get spooked. The candy helped his throat not feel too dry, but he was sucking it like crazy in an effort to calm himself down.

  They hadn’t proceeded more than twenty feet when Cedric let out a cry.

  “AAAAAAAAAGH!”

  At the sound of the scream, the entire tunnel was plunged back into darkness and there was a moment of terrible confusion and panic. Andy nearly crashed into Betty and Dotty.

  “Blast it, where are the matches?” Rusty shouted.

  “I’ve got some!” Abigail said.

  There was the sound of some fumbling and then, a second later, a new torch was lit. But being able to see didn’t make Andy feel any better. Just in front of them was a gaping hole. It had been covered with some kind of sticks or hay meant to make it blend in with the rocky floor. It seemed Cedric had walked right into it!

  Rusty kneeled by the edge of the pit and shouted down into the darkness. “Cedric! Are you all right?”

  There was no reply. Rusty lowered his torch as far down as he could, trying to see to the bottom of the pit, but the hole was evidently very, very deep. In spite of Rusty’s torch, the bottom was swallowed in darkness, and there was not even the flicker of light from Cedric’s torch below.

  “Is he…?” Andy started. But he knew the answer before he even finished his sentence. There was no possible way anyone could survive such a fall.

  The group lowered their heads. Even Bartlemore, whom Andy hadn’t noticed before, seemed at a loss for words. Betty and Dotty went over to Rusty and, in a very rare show of affection, wrapped their arms around him. Rusty looked overcome by grief.

  Andy thought back to when he’d first met the highly educated man at his grandfather’s funeral. Cedric had been really friendly and had even gifted Andy with a jar of crocodile teeth, a cure for some mysterious malady only he seemed to know.

  He’d been a good man, and even though Andy hadn’t known him very well, he immediately felt the loss. It seemed impossible to believe that one minute Cedric had been there, and the next he hadn’t. It had happened so fast!

  Andy glanced over at Abigail and noticed how shaken she looked. He wished he had something to give her, like the comforting peppermint that she’d offered him, but he didn’t have anything. Instead, he moved closer to her and, after taking a deep breath, reached over and held her hand. Abigail looked startled at first. But she returned his gentle grip with a thankful squeeze.

  They stood that way for a few minutes before Rusty announced in a hoarse voice that it was time to move forward. As a precaution, he suggested that everyone feel ahead in the darkness with anything they could find to test for traps. The conjoined twins tapped lightly with their katanas. Rusty had a hiking stick and waved it cautiously over the pathway ahead, scraping it gently on the floor. Because Andy and Abigail were in the middle of the pack, they weren’t as vulnerable. But just to be safe, Andy took out a rope from his bag. He offered one end to Abigail and tied the other around his waist.

  “That way if one of us falls, the other has a chance to save them,” he said.

  Abigail agreed and tied the end around her own waist.

  The group moved even more cautiously now that they’d seen what terrible traps were in store for them. And if the going was slow, Andy didn’t mind too much. The phrase “better safe than sorry” had more meaning to him than ever now.

  The tunnel twisted and turned, and several times the group was forced to choose between passages. Along the way they discovered three more of the hidden pits. Thankfully, due to their constant vigilance, nobody fell in. But each time they found one, they were all reminded of poor Cedric, and it cast a gloom over the expedition.

  To Andy, it seemed like no matter which path they chose, they continued to head steadily downward. The lower they went, the closer and clammier the air grew. Andy shivered and zipped up the front of his leather flight jacket. As he continued to walk, he couldn’t keep the images of giant cobwebs out of his mind. The downward slope felt like a spiral that was drawing him closer and closer to something monstrous, like a spider lurking in the center of its lair.

  After about two hours of walking, Rusty called for a halt. Andy was relieved to slip off the straps of his pack and give his aching shoulders a break. After untying the rope that he and Abigail shared, he slumped to the ground. As Andy sat down, he glanced behind him and noticed that Bartlemore and his cameraman were no longer with them. “Has anyone seen Bartlemore?” he asked.

  The others turned to him with surprised expressions. They’d been so intent on watching out for pitfalls, nobody had even noticed that he wasn’t following them.

  “He probably got lost in one of the side tunnels,” Rusty grunted. “Good riddance, I say.”

  But Andy didn’t know how to feel about his disappearance. What if he’d fallen down a pit, like Cedric? He couldn’t remember exactly when he’d stopped hearing the sound of Charlie’s camera crank and Bartlemore’s footsteps.

  He told me to leave him a trail marker, Andy thought. But now that it had come to it, he didn’t know whether he should. Rusty had seemed truly upset over Cedric’s disappearance. Would a traitor to the Jungle Explorers’ Society have felt that way? What if Bartlemore was wrong and the traitor was somebody else?

  Andy wished he had his Zoomwriter pen. He could have used the wireless communication setting to send a telegraph to his grandfather and let him know that he needed help! He felt a renewed sense of loss at having left the valuable pen behind and smacked the side of his leg in frustration.

  Abigail noticed and asked, “Something wrong?”

  “I wish I still had my pen,” Andy replied miserably.

  Abigail looked surprised. “You lost it?”

  Andy nodded. “Back at the place we landed, where I missed the plane. I left it on the counter in the store.”

  Abigail gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, Andy. I know how much that pen meant to you.”

  Andy’s eyes burned, but he forced himself not to cry. “It’s just that Bartlemore’s missing and I don’t know what to do. Remember what I told you? About you-know-who being a spy?”

  Andy gestured at Rusty with a tilt of his head.

  Abigail shrugged and whispered, “I still say that Bartlemore was off his rocker about all that. Besides, he might just be lost in a nearby tunnel. It’s really a blessing in disguise. Ned wouldn’t want him to film us finding the Golden Paw.”

  “Yeah, but what if he’s hurt somewhere? We can’t just not look for him,” Andy said.

  Abigail looked worried. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt, either. Not even Bartlemore. But I don’t think that Rusty will want us to go back and look for him. He could be anywhere! The fact that we’ve made it this far without dying is a big enough deal. Why would he risk our lives for someone he can’t stand?”

  Andy stood and brushed off his trousers.

  “Where are you going?” Abigail asked.

  Andy gave her a level stare. “To tell Rusty everything.”

  “He’s a what?” roared Rusty.

  “A government agent working with my grandfather. He said that you were a spy working for the Collective,” Andy said sheepishly.

  “And you believed him?” Rusty said. “Tell me that you didn’t.”

  “Well…I…” Andy said. He fidgeted nervously. Now that he’d brought it out into the open, the charge that Rusty was a spy seemed ridiculous. The way Rusty looked at him with his big orange handlebar mustache twitching, Andy couldn�
�t tell if he was about to laugh or rage at him.

  It seemed like Rusty didn’t know, either, and he started making a strangled choking sound that was somewhere between a guffaw and a shout.

  “I’ve known your grandfather for years, boy, remember that. I swore an oath, and if you knew me half as well as he does, you would know that Rusty Bucketts is always true to his word. Bartlemore…that lowlife, sneaky, lying son of a…”

  Betty shot Rusty a warning glance, and the big man stopped talking. Instead, his face red and flushed, Rusty took a moment to gather himself and gave Andy a serious stare.

  “That two-bit excuse for an actor is no government agent, and—” he began.

  “But he showed me his badge and ID,” interrupted Andy.

  Rusty held up his big hand to stop Andy short. “Faking a badge and ID is easy enough to do, boy. Why, if you could see the phonies I’ve dealt with over the years, your hair would curl—”

  But Rusty was suddenly interrupted by a long, keening wail. It was very loud and seemed to emanate from the darkness ahead of them. It sounded to Andy like a woman’s voice, or some kind of tortured cat, and it made all the hairs on his arms stand on end.

  “What was that?” Abigail asked.

  “Shhh!” Betty and Dotty said in unison. In one fluid motion, the sisters grabbed fistfuls of throwing stars from the silken pouches at their waists.

  The scorching red had drained from Rusty’s face at the sound. It seemed as if the sound had affected him much the same way it had Andy. The big pilot reached into his rucksack and pulled out his slingshot. “Stand back Andy, Abigail,” he hissed. “Betty and Dotty, you ladies are with me.”

  “Roger,” Dotty said. Betty nodded in curt agreement with her sister.

  A second wail, this one decidedly closer, echoed through the tunnel. Andy wheeled around to look behind him.

  “It sounded like it came from over there,” he said, pointing to the tunnel they’d come from.

  “Time to move. Go, GO!” Rusty said.