Abigail was the daughter of Albert Awol, Ned Lostmore’s oldest friend and a great adventurer in his own right. His daughter had definitely inherited her father’s bravery. Andy sighed as he thought about the cowardice he had shown in leaving the members of his team behind. His grandfather kept telling him he had the Lostmore Spirit, but right now it felt like Abigail had a lot more of it than he did.
“Come on,” Abigail said. “I’ll take you to base camp. It’s not too far from here.”
As Andy walked with Abigail through the deep undergrowth, he explained what had happened with the gorillas.
“But you got the key, right?” Abigail asked.
Andy grinned and patted his right trouser pocket. “Right here.” Then Andy’s expression grew troubled. “I hope the others made it to safety.”
His hand remained on the key in his pocket. He hoped that having retrieved it would be enough to redeem him for his botched mission.
Andy was so deep in thought that he didn’t notice when Abigail stopped moving. “Oof,” he said, crashing into her.
Abigail raised her finger to her lips and gripped Andy’s arm. “There’s something moving out there,” she whispered.
Andy scanned the dense jungle and listened intently. He didn’t see or hear anything amiss.
After a few moments of standing in silence, Andy whispered, “I don’t hear anything. Maybe it’s a false—”
But he never got to the word alarm. Without warning, a gigantic shape leapt, snarling, from behind a tree.
“Down!” Abigail shouted.
Andy fell to the ground as Abigail pushed down hard on his shoulder. A flash of tawny fur with ebony stripes shot over him. Andy whirled around to see Abigail standing face to face with a giant tiger! And judging by the pronounced ribs on its heaving flanks, it was very hungry.
“Nice kitty,” Abigail said in a soothing voice. “We don’t want to hurt you.”
I think she’s got it the wrong way around, Andy thought. He reached slowly into his pocket, trying not to make any sudden moves. Carefully, he removed his Zoomwriter and twisted the cap.
I hope the battery has had some time to charge.
The tiger drooled as it stalked closer to Abigail, its body tensed and ready to spring. Andy knew he had to work fast. Everything depended on his being able to distract the beast with his pen.
Andy pressed the top of the cap, aiming the pen directly at the massive cat.
When completely full, the pen could have easily knocked the beast back at least fifty feet. However, it hadn’t had enough time to fully recharge. But it wasn’t completely dead. The pen had just enough power left to produce a very large BANG!
With a hiss that sounded as loud as a steam engine, the beast leapt into the air, its tail stiff, and bolted into the nearby brush.
Andy’s hand shook as he lowered the Zoomwriter.
Abigail offered him a grateful smile. “Good thinking!” she said.
“Th-thanks,” stuttered Andy as he placed the pen back in his pocket. Then, keeping his eyes peeled and his footfalls as soft as possible, he followed Abigail the rest of the way to the camp.
Andy’s eyes widened as he looked around at the sophisticated base camp. The hastily cleared plot of land was dotted with portable bungalows. A large fire pit in the center of camp was equipped with a cooking station, and the delicious smells of roasted plantains, pork, and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Several Society members were gathered around the fire, sitting on camp chairs and sipping from metal cups. Andy recognized the curling red mustache of his friend Rusty Bucketts, a bush pilot with a shiny ball bearing in place of his missing eye. Andy had seen firsthand how accurate a weapon Rusty’s artificial eye and trusty slingshot could be. The pilot was hot-tempered but good-natured, and Andy was glad to see that he was part of the team.
Sitting next to the pilot were the beautiful conjoined twins, Betty and Dotty. The sisters were lethal assassins and martial arts experts, as lovely and deadly as poisonous flowers. When they saw Andy, the two flashed him matching delighted smiles. Andy offered a wave and smiled back, blushing a little at the attention.
Andy glanced around the camp for anyone else he might know. He had met many of the Society members during his last mission. But Molly the talkative mime and Cedric the witch doctor weren’t in sight. Abigail’s father, Albert, seemed to be absent as well.
“I wonder where they are,” Andy murmured. “I was really hoping to see them again.”
Before Andy could think any further on where his missing friends might be, his eyes alighted on a familiar figure standing a little apart from the others. It was a big barrel-chested robot with a heavy glass plate on its torso. Andy recognized his grandfather’s robotic assistant, Boltonhouse, at once. More importantly, he recognized the precious cargo the machine carried in its transparent chest cavity.
“Grandfather!” Andy exclaimed, running over to greet him.
Bobbing on a string inside the robot’s rotund metal chest was Dr. Ned Lostmore, a living, breathing shrunken head.
Ned chuckled when he saw his grandson. “Andy, my boy! You made it. Knew you would, of course,” Ned said in his sophisticated English accent. Andy saw that Ned’s blue eyes were twinkling and his white handlebar mustache was turned upward with his broad, welcoming smile. “And the key?” Ned asked.
“It wasn’t easy, but I got it,” Andy said, producing the key he’d been sent to retrieve. Ned squinted through his monocle at the brass key and nodded with satisfaction.
“Well done, lad. Well done, indeed! That particular key has given us a deuce of a time. It opens a very special vault. If it hadn’t been for the disastrous run-in that led to my current, ahem, disembodied state, I feel certain that I would have never misplaced such a valuable object. It’s difficult to complete a mission when one has a
