His grandfather’s word about a member of the Jungle Explorers’ Society never leaving anyone behind came back to him, and Andy knew with mounting certainty that Rusty would have never done such a thing. His doubts about the stalwart bush pilot had vanished after he’d told him about the conversation with Bartlemore. And as for Abigail? Andy knew with certainty that she would have felt exactly the same.
That left only one conclusion. The only way that they would have left Andy behind was if something had gone terribly wrong. They must have been attacked by something in the darkness. But what did that mean for Andy? Should he try to navigate back up the path to where they had started? Poor Cedric had mentioned that the bats must have a way out. Perhaps that direction led to freedom.
“No. I’m g-going to f-find them,” Andy said, his teeth chattering. “A Jungle Explorers’ Society member doesn’t l-leave anyone behind.”
And as scared as he sounded to himself, he knew it was the right thing to do. He would try to rescue his friends. And if Rusty had been leading them downward into the tunnel rather than up, it seemed like that was the logical place to start.
Andy hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, which meant he was faced with the daunting challenge of edging his way along the wall in total darkness. He probed with his foot for any weakness on the trail ahead, hoping he would be able to anticipate any traps.
As he inched along, time seemed nonexistent. The only sounds were his breathing and shuffling steps as he went doggedly forward, aware of nothing but the next safe foothold.
It felt to him like several hours had passed when he finally rounded a corner of the cave wall and saw a tiny light in the distance. He’d been fortunate not to fall into any traps along the way and sagged with relief at being able to see anything at all.
Moving carefully, he approached the light source with furtive steps, still watching where he was going.
When he finally got there, he felt a mix of relief and horror. The relief came at seeing Abigail. But the horror came when he saw what had trapped her.
Andy didn’t know how to describe the beings that floated in front of Abigail other than as three transparent apparitions. The first spirit was dressed like an Incan god. He wore a feathered headdress and held a cruel-looking club. The second was a woman with long silver hair. Her face was a twisted mass of scars, and she stared at her captive with empty holes where her eyes should have been. The last—and worst, in Andy’s opinion—was a skeletal thing that still had mummified skin hanging in tatters from its bones. The shrieks seemed to be coming from its hanging broken jaw as it hovered over the frightened girl.
As Andy took in the tears running down Abigail’s face, the paralyzing fear he’d felt at seeing the apparitions melted away and was replaced with anger. The next thing he knew, Andy was running full bore at the hovering creatures, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Hey! Leave her alone!”
The apparitions turned. When the skeleton saw him, it let out another shriek and began floating in his direction. Andy didn’t hesitate. He leapt in the direction of the ghosts, grabbing the rope he’d used to tie himself to Abigail and swinging it wildly above his head. It was the only thing he had handy since he was without his pen, but it was better than nothing. Besides, he was dealing with ghosts. Who knew if any mortal weapon would really work against them? All he could think to do was to look as fearsome as possible and try to chase them away.
It didn’t work.
And it wasn’t necessarily because of the rope. It was because, just as Andy drew close to the horrifying creatures, he heard a loud, familiar voice behind him shout, “Cut!”
The ghosts halted where they were and looked inquiringly at the source of the interruption. Andy and Abigail stared, too, and were surprised to see Bartlemore standing there, looking completely at ease.
Bartlemore grinned and walked over to Andy. He took the rope from Andy’s hands and tucked it beneath his arm.
“Thanks, I’ll be needing that,” Bartlemore said.
Andy stared, gobsmacked, as Bartlemore turned to the three spirits and said, “That’ll do. Now that we have the last two, phase one of the mission is over. You may return to your quarters.”
The spirits nodded at Bartlemore and, without a sound, exited the room through a nearby tunnel.
“What’s going on?” demanded Andy. “Who—or what—were those things?”
Bartlemore grinned. “They work for me. They’re part of the Collective. Gifted stage magicians, all three.”
Andy stared at Bartlemore. “Work for you? Wait. What are you saying?”
Bartlemore’s trademark grin grew even wider. “What I’m saying, Andy Stanley, is that I have you trapped. I have imprisoned each of your companions, and now I have you and Abigail Awol, a naughty girl who is going to be severely punished for her betrayal.”
Abigail’s face paled. “Y-you’re with the Collective? The famous John Bartlemore?”
Bartlemore snickered and said, “Hardly. The real John Bartlemore is probably lounging by a pool surrounded by Hollywood starlets right now.”
Suddenly, a haze seemed to pass over Bartlemore. To Andy, it felt like his eyes had gone blurry, almost like he were severely in need of a pair of glasses. As quickly as it appeared, the haze faded. In place of Bartlemore the actor stood Yaw Ripcord. She grinned, her full lips parted in a pink lipsticked smile.
Andy and Abigail couldn’t believe their eyes. Yaw seemed to enjoy their stunned looks and let loose a rich, throaty laugh.
“Fun, isn’t it? Wonder how it’s done? Nothing up my sleeve…” She pulled up the sleeve of her blouse in imitation of a stage
