The Perilous Polynesian Pendant

by Jason Lethcoe

  Before he could take a second breath, another icy wave broke over Andy’s head, pushing him back below the surface. It took all his strength to paddle upward again and tread water.

  “Help!” Andy shouted. But even as he called, he knew it was useless. There was nobody around for miles.

  Andy’s aching arms slowed their desperate treading.

  I can’t…can’t keep this up.

  His mind raced with fear.

  I’m going to drown here. No one will ever know what happened to me. I’ll just disappear….

  Andy felt the water inch up toward his nose. Then, suddenly, an idea hit him.

  The Zoomwriter!

  The thought was like being thrown a life preserver.

  Andy fumbled in his trouser pockets, his numb fingers clutching at anything they found there. To his profound relief, he felt them brush against the barrel of the pen. He withdrew it from his pocket and moved the cap to the back. Then, with his last ounce of strength, he pushed down hard three times on the cap.

  Grandfather said that help would come. And it will, Andy told himself, trying to draw hope from the words. Struggling to keep his head above the water, Andy searched for the promised help.

  Someone…please!

  But as the seconds ticked by, any hope the pen had provided him with gave way to despair. Rescue was impossible. He had no idea where he was, and even if the pen had transmitted a distress signal, how in the world could his grandfather get anyone to him in time?

  Andy’s arms and legs were numb. He’d expended every bit of effort he could manage. His heart felt like lead as he realized that his last moments on Earth were rapidly disappearing.

  With an unexpected calm, Andy Stanley allowed himself to sink slowly below the surface and resigned himself to the fate that awaited him in the briny deep.

  Good-bye, Grandfather. I’m so sorry I failed you….

  Andy awoke to find himself lying on a cot, a beak hovering near his nose. He would have jumped backward in shock, but he found that his arms and legs were so sore he could barely move.

  “You’re up. He’s up!” A cockatiel hopped excitedly on Andy’s chest.

  A second voice chimed in from behind the cot where Andy lay.

  “Keep it down, Hoku! The kid needs rest.”

  The bird—who Andy assumed was Hoku—bobbed her plumed head, still excited. She tried to lower her voice, but it came out in a hoarse, excited whisper. “You’ve been through a lot, Andy Stanley. You’re lucky we found you, yes you are.” Then, as if whispering were too difficult to manage for more than a few seconds, the bird called out in a loud voice, “He’s lucky we found him, isn’t he? Isn’t he, Skipper?”

  “Yes, Hoku, you dumb bird. He’s lucky. Now what part of quiet didn’t you understand?” said a man, coming into view. Andy noticed that the man was carrying a bamboo tray loaded with a Brown Betty teapot and three slightly cracked cups. He could only assume the man was the “skipper” to whom the bird was speaking.

  Hoku, who was still perched on Andy’s chest, dipped her head and looked shamefaced. “Sorry, Skip.” Then she forced her voice into a loud whisper again and looked back at Andy. “Sorry!”

  Andy stared at the bird, dumbfounded. Thoughts like What happened?, How did I get here?, and Did that bird actually talk? swirled around his aching head.

  “Who are you? And how did you get her to do that?” he croaked at the strange man. “Is it some kind of trick?”

  Hoku fluffed out her feathers in irritation, and she squawked loudly. The man guffawed. “Oh, you shouldn’t have said that, boy. You don’t want to make an enemy of old Hoku,” he said. “She hates being compared to…what shall we call them…ordinary birds.”

  Andy winced as he pushed himself up on his elbows. Hoku had flown to a nearby window and was staring outside. Andy got the impression that she was offended and trying to ignore him.

  “I’m sorry, Hoku. I didn’t know. I…I’ve never met anything quite like you before,” he said.

  Hoku preened for a moment, then seemed to decide that Andy’s apology was sufficient. Hopping down from the window, she fluttered to sit on the man’s shoulder.

  The big man chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Aw, see there? She’s decided to forgive you.” He tickled the bird under the chin.

  Andy studied the man in front of him, noting his grizzled appearance. He was tall, and his head nearly touched the rafters. His rumpled shirt showed signs of serious wear, and he wore mismatched socks beneath a pair of grimy Bermuda shorts.

  Andy suddenly felt self-conscious. He realized that he didn’t know where he was or who this person who had apparently come to his rescue was.

  “Um, excuse me. You seem to know my name, but I still don’t know yours,” he said. “Who are you, if you don’t mind my asking? And where am I?”

  The man replied in a deep, resonant voice. “Albert Awol, onetime skipper and known to most of my listeners as the Voice of the Jungle. I run a small radio station out of my hut here.”

  Albert gestured expansively to the slightly cluttered room. Andy noticed a small desk, a microphone, and a very old record player surrounded by shelves of carefully stacked records.

  “And you’ve already met Hoku. She’s just one of several enchanted birds that occupy the Tiki Room, not far from here. As to where you are, you’re in Hawaii.”

  Albert handed Andy a cup of warm tea.

  Andy took a sip and felt immediately comforted. The tea had a wonderful blend of flavors he’d never encountered before, something tropical, with the scent of hibiscus flowers.

  “The Tiki Room? What is that?” Andy asked.

  “It’s a magical place,” Albert answered. “Ancient. Only people invited there are allowed entrance.

  “Your grandfather discovered the Tiki Room on one of his expeditions,” Albert continued. “He was looking for a magic feather that was rumored to give whoever found it the ability to fly!”

  At the mention of his grandfather, something stirred in the back of Andy’s mind. “Albert Awol,” he said, rolling the name around in his head. “My grandfather said I was supposed to find you. Of course, I didn’t expect you to be rescuing me from a zeppelin crash.”

  Albert laughed. “I knew you were coming and didn’t expect that, either. Your grandfather is one of my closest friends. There’s nobody who knows more about jungle exploration and exotic cures. He cured Hoku of a terrible case of the Amazonian jungle flu.”

  Hoku nodded enthusiastically. “He did, he did! Great man, your grandfather. A great man!”

  Albert continued, “We picked up the distress call he sent, but even hopping right on Annie, I barely got to you in time.”

  “Annie?” Andy asked, puzzled.

  “Amazon Annie, my jungle boat. That old gal and I have had some mighty fun adventures together,” Albert explained. “Rushed her to you as fast as I could. Just managed to pull you out of the drink. Saw the wreckage. You’re lucky you survived!”

  So the pen had worked after all. Andy felt around in his pockets and was relieved to find that the Zoomwriter was still there. His grandfather had been right about how important it was. If he hadn’t remembered it, he certainly would have drowned!

  “You saved my life,” Andy said. “I don’t know how to thank you….”

  Albert shrugged. “Don’t thank me. Thank Madame Wiki. She’s the medicine woman who cured your hypothermia.”

  Hoku hopped up and down, excited. “She is the keeper of the Tiki Room. She knows about the old magic, she does. Very old magic.”

  “Madame Wiki?” Andy asked, interested. “Where is she? My grandfather said that I was supposed to find something called the…Tiki Key. Do you think she might know about it?”

  Albert scratched his stubbly chin. “Oh yes. She’s been part of the Society for a long time. But you’re in no condition to go see her yet. You need to rest.”

  Albert grabbed a pith helmet from a nearby hat rack and then put on a heavy canvas jacket. “Hok
u will look after you,” he said. “I’ve got an appointment with Trader Sam…a world traveler with a good head for business. He’s only here for one day, and he’s supposed to do an interview on my show this afternoon.”

  Albert pointed a thick finger at Andy. “If you’re anything like your grandfather, you’re probably itching to get on with your mission. Don’t wander off. The Molokai jungle is no place to go exploring without a guide.”

  Andy nodded. He’d read enough about the tropics to know that dangerous animals and venomous insects could be lurking anywhere. He would rather have a guide than stumble into something horrible unawares.

  Andy reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the Zoomwriter. He might need it soon.

  With a last nod at Andy, Albert walked out of the hut.

  Andy waited until he was sure Albert was gone, and then he carefully swung his legs over the edge of the cot. Wincing at his incredibly sore muscles, he eased himself off the bed.

  “Careful, Andy Stanley. Be careful!” said Hoku. “Albert says you should rest, yes, you should. Rest is what you should do.”

  Andy ignored the bird. He was too curious about his new surroundings. If he was indeed going to be there for a while, he might as well make the most of his time.

  Someone tried to kill me. And now here I am, stuck in a stranger’s hut. He says his name is Albert Awol, but how do I know he’s telling the truth? He could be anyone! I need to find out more about him.

  Andy limped across the room, navigating carefully around the assorted bric-a-brac that filled Albert’s hut. He noted a piece of an airplane wing, an African spear, several cracked teapots, and some big band sheet music. On a rickety coffee table was a book of Hawaiian mythology. Andy leafed through it, taking note of the vivid illustrations of various Hawaiian gods and goddesses.

  Koro, the midnight dancer; Pele, goddess of fire and volcanoes; Maui, the mighty one; Ngendei, the earth balancer…Boy, there are a lot of them!

  Andy would have loved nothing more than to pore over the book with another cup of that delicious tea, but it was not the time. He replaced it on the table. Maybe I’ll have a chance to read it later. Some extra information on Hawaiian culture might come in handy.

  Across the room, Andy spotted a shelf containing a number of framed photographs. Moving slowly so as to avoid another injury, he hobbled to the shelf.

  Andy picked up the first photo. It was a picture of Albert with two people Andy assumed were his wife and daughter. Albert looked much younger in the photo than the man Andy had just met, and Andy recognized him as the man in the photo at Ned’s house. The three were standing in front of an old-fashioned biplane with the words JUNGLE NAVIGATION COMPANY scrawled across the fuselage in curling script.

  Andy studied the photo. The girl was very pretty. Wow, what a beautiful smile, he thought. There’s something familiar about her. Where have I seen her before?

  Andy set the picture back on the shelf and made his way down the row of photos. A good many showed an older Albert than the first photo. That’s odd. Albert is alone in most of these. I wonder what happened to his wife and daughter. Why were there no more pictures of them?

  Andy’s gaze wandered lazily over the next few photos. When he reached the last picture in the row, his eyes widened in surprise. In his eagerness, he grabbed the frame.

  It was a much younger version of Albert with another boy about his own age.

  If Andy hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that he was looking at a picture of himself. The boy in the picture was tall and thin, with the same pale complexion and straw-like sandy hair. Both boys were wearing safari gear, and they stood arm in arm, grinning broadly.

  Andy turned the photograph over and saw that there was something written on the back of the frame.

  ALBERT AND NED ON THEIR FIRST EXPEDITION.

  “Grandfather,” Andy breathed.

  A voice behind him made him jump.

  “My best friend,” Albert Awol said.

  Andy turned and saw Albert standing in the doorway. He suddenly felt self-conscious for snooping around the skipper’s hut.

  “I was just…I mean, I’m sorry if I…” Andy stammered.

  Albert waved him off. “Wouldn’t have expected anything less from Ned’s grandson. In fact, I’d have done the same thing.”

  He walked over to Andy. “Forgot my bug repellent,” Albert said with a shrug. He took the framed photo from Andy’s hand and smiled.

  “Ned and I couldn’t be separated at that age. We were both determined to join the Jungle Explorers’ Society. Of course, Ned was the one approached first for membership. They’d been watching him for years.”

  Albert’s gaze grew distant as he stared at the old photo. A strange look passed over his face. He seemed to be contemplating something deeply.

  “When we were boys, Ned was always coming in first in everything. He had the highest marks at school; teachers and classmates adored him….You get the idea.” Albert chuckled. “Quite the hero, your grandfather. But he was also kind enough to vouch for me to the Society. That picture was taken just after we were accepted. It was the proudest day of our lives. We’d spent hours studying explorers. We’d memorized every map we could get our hands on and even made a few of our own. Those were happy times.”

  Albert handed the photo back to Andy, who peered at it again. I guess that answers that. Albert must be who he says he is. This photo proves it.

  Andy set the photo down and looked back at Albert.

  “When I heard about his encounter with the head shrinker, I couldn’t believe my ears,” Albert said. “The great Ned Lostmore outsmarted by a witch doctor? Nonsense!” Albert waved his hand wildly. “And when Cedric wrote to me about the upcoming funeral, I was devastated. I wanted to attend but was detained here due to a tropical storm.” Albert sighed and shook his head. “Hard to imagine a world without Ned in it. Thank goodness it was just an elaborate ploy.”

  He laughed and waved his hand again in a dismissive gesture. “That ceremony was classic Ned, doing everything he could to throw them off his scent. But I can’t believe that he actually had his head shrunk. Such bad luck, there.”

  “Excuse me,” Andy interrupted. “But who do you mean by ‘them’? Was it Professor Phink’s henchman who shot down the zeppelin, or was it someone else?” Andy shifted on his feet nervously. “My grandfather mentioned that he had many enemies.”

  Albert looked Andy over, as if sizing him up. “If your grandfather didn’t tell you, then maybe I shouldn’t—”

  “Please,” Andy begged. “This whole adventure is already much more than I ever wanted. If I don’t know anything about my adversaries, I think I’ll go crazy. I can’t stand to be constantly looking over my shoulder and wondering if someone is going to…”

  “Stab you in the back?” Albert finished.

  Feeling pained, Andy nodded in agreement.

  “Well, I do know something about being betrayed,” Albert replied. He moved to the shelf and removed the photograph that Andy had examined earlier.

  Hoku fluttered to Albert’s shoulder, looking agitated. Albert stroked the bird’s feathers, murmuring soothingly to her. Then he pointed to the young girl in the photo.

  “I taught my daughter, Abigail, everything I know. How to pilot a plane, skipper a boat, navigate through jungles, and be an expert in self-defense. Ned always said she would be the best of us, that she would probably be the head of our society one day. I wanted her to continue the legacy….”

  Albert’s eyes became misty. “We were a close family. But when her mother died, something changed in her. She blamed me for the accident that took her mother’s life. After that, nothing was ever the same between us.”

  Andy didn’t know what to say. He could tell that the memories were terribly painful for Albert, but he was at a loss as to how to help. After a long silence he asked in a small voice, “What happened?”

  Albert sighed and shook his head. “Exploring the temple was
your grandfather’s idea. He said the Society had gotten an anonymous tip that there was a rare specimen of plant in the area. Ned could never resist the possibility of finding a new cure, and he was sure the leaves had extraordinary healing properties, in spite of all the stories about a curse.”

  Albert waved his gnarled hand. “Nothing new, really. Ned has always ignored danger when he is really intent upon a discovery. Laughed it off with one of his silly jokes.”

  “He does have an interesting sense of humor,” Andy confessed.

  Albert snorted. “I’ll say,” he grumbled. “But there’s a brilliant mind behind those jests. Your grandfather was…is…an amazing man.”

  Andy noticed how Albert corrected himself. He had to admit that if he hadn’t seen his grandfather’s condition for himself, he wouldn’t have known how to describe Ned’s current state, either.

  Albert looked back at the picture of his wife and daughter. “Lucy wanted to go with me. She said that I’d been gone too much and that we needed more family time together. Abigail, of course, was dying to go. It was going to be her first real adventure, and we’d been training together for so long.”

  Albert brushed a hand across his teary eyes.

  “I should have said no,” Albert continued in a broken voice. “Shouldn’t have even gone myself. I knew the temple was dangerous, but I never thought that our enemies would arrange an ambush.

  “They knew that Ned was Keymaster and figured that by capturing him they could make him give up the secret locations of the treasures we were entrusted to protect. But they didn’t know him like we do. Ned would never betray us.”

  Albert sighed. “Lucy…died in the attack….No matter how I tried to convince Abigail that the professor wasn’t who he said he was, that he was working for our enemies, she still believed the ambush was my fault. Ned and I knew the professor from our days at university. He always wanted to be a part of the Jungle Explorers’ Society, but they saw through him. They knew he was a bad egg. Everyone did.”

  “The professor?” Andy asked. “You mean Phink? What can you tell me about him?”