The Tomb of Shadows. Peter Lerangis
down,” Torquin grunted.
As the other two men maneuvered in the confusion, I snatched up the blowpipe, jammed a dart down the tube, and blew. It sailed into the clearing, nearly hitting Aly and Cass along the way.
Eeee! chided the monkey, holding out another dart.
The men couldn’t seem to decide where to point their rifles, at Torquin or me. I aimed carefully, firing once again. Cass and Aly dove to the ground, out of the way. But my shot sailed true this time, catching one Massa in the side of the neck.
EEEEEE! The monkey was jumping up and down now.
“My feeling exactly,” I said.
The monkey began gesturing frantically into the trees. I turned to see the remaining commando on his knees, lifting his rifle.
I ducked behind a bush, reaching for a dart. But I had used the last one. The monkey was grabbing my shoulder, leapfrogging over my head. “Hey!” I shouted.
Crrrack!
I flinched as the creature’s body jolted backward. It hit me in the face, knocking me to the ground. As I fell, a warm liquid oozed downward onto my neck.
I turned to see Torquin pummeling the last attacker with his massive fists. Cass and Aly were screaming, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“Little man, are you okay?” came Fiddle’s voice.
I blinked the blood from my eye. Fiddle was kneeling over me, cradling my head in his hand. “F-fine,” I said, spraying his face with red dots. “I thought you were going without us.”
“I was, until Gigantor got ahold of me,” he replied. “Dude, you totally rocked the Massa. I am impressed.”
“It wasn’t just me,” I said, sitting up.
Above, the setting sun had cast the sky orange. The waning light illuminated the small body of the monkey, lying in a twisted position on its back.
* * *
I watched Torquin quickly dig a hole with a bayonet. As he lowered the monkey’s body into it, distant shouts and explosions filtered through the thick jungle. The sky was darkening, which would only be to our advantage. By my calculation, the battle for the island had been under way for hours. We had little time and less hope of defeating the Massa. But in that moment all I could think about was the bravery of the little creature.
I felt a tear drop from my cheek onto the dirt. Aly looked at me with concern and put a hand on my shoulder.
“He took one for me,” I said with a shrug. “He didn’t deserve this.”
Aly nodded. As we rushed to cover the hole with soil, Torquin softly murmured, “Good-bye, Wilbur.”
“That’s the monkey’s name—Wilbur?” Cass asked.
Torquin wiped at his cheek with a huge hand.
“Guess he really meant something to you,” Aly said.
Torquin shook his head. “Humid today, is all.”
With a rustle of leaves, another commando emerged from the bush. It took a moment to recognize it was Fiddle, dressed in a Massa outfit he’d taken from an unconscious soldier. “I suggest we all suit up, guys. No time to lose.”
I turned. The four Massa officers were tied to trees at the edge of the clearing, their uniforms piled at their feet. “Four Massa, five us,” Torquin said. “I get uniform later.”
“Better hope they make them in plus sizes,” Fiddle said. “Now, hurry. And take the weapons, in case these guys wake up and break free.”
Leaving the gravesite, we each grabbed an outfit and put it on. The guys were all big, so the garb fit loosely over our own clothes.
Cass rolled up the cuffs of his baggy pants, pulled his belt as tight as it went, and grabbed a commando rifle. As Aly picked up another rifle and strapped it over her thin shoulders, her whole body sagged.
Fiddle gave her a dubious look. “You guys are a bigger danger to yourselves than the Massa are.”
“Try us,” Aly said.
“Follow me,” Cass said, stepping to the edge of the clearing. As we fell in behind, dodging our way around vines and trees, the jungle seemed to grow darker by the second. Under the helmet I was sweating like crazy. The noise from the compound had subsided, which meant the battle was winding down. What would we see? My heartbeat quickened with a mixture of hope and dread.
My rifle clanked heavily against my side, but that was nothing compared to the swarm of mosquitoes around my ankles. “Get away!” I said through gritted teeth, bending to swat at the cloud of tiny bugs.
I stopped in midslap at the sight of a flat rock, nearly as big as a manhole cover. On it was a carving of a fierce griffin, a half eagle, half lion. I bent down to examine it. I’d seen it before—back when I’d first tried to escape from the KI.
“Hm,” Torquin said, looming up behind me. He picked up the rock and scowled at the carving. “Griffin. Pah!”
The burning smell grew stronger. Through the branches now, I could see the winking lights of the compound. Distant voices shouted. From our left came the sound of painful, pitiful groans. Cries for help.
I looked at the others. They had all heard it, too. We changed direction, moving closer. I knew where we were now—just behind our dormitory.
We crouched behind thick brush. Not ten feet in front of us was a scraggly field, where a guard moved slowly back and forth, smoking a cigarette. “They’re using our dorm as a prison,” Aly whispered.
“At least they’re keeping KI people alive,” Fiddle said.
A pinpoint of light shot through the air. Before I could react, the stub of a lit cigarette hit the side of my face.
“Gggghhh—”
Torquin’s beefy hand closed around my mouth, cutting off an outcry. My cheek stung, and his fingers only made it worse.
The guard stopped in his tracks. He came closer to the jungle’s edge. Toward us. I held my breath. His eyes scanned the bushes as he shone a flashlight. From the dorm came a sudden clatter and the muffled voice of a KI captive: “Emergency! Yo, Massa lunkheads—Fritz is having a seizure! Somebody get him his medication!”
Fritz. The mechanic who had been part of my KI training.
But the guard ignored the voice. The beam was coming closer. It would discover my face first. I crouched lower, pressing my hands against the rocky ground. Torquin was to my right. He turned to me and mouthed the words “talk to him.” He gestured to my uniform.
I had almost forgotten. We were dressed like them. But what was I supposed to say?
“I see you …” the guard said, stepping closer.
Torquin glared. Taking a deep breath, I stood. “Of course you did!” I said, pointing to the welt on my cheek. “I … fell.”
Lame, lame, lame, Jack!
A smile grew across the guard’s face. He raised his rifle. “Nice outfit, kid. I know who you are,” he said. “And your face is going to look a lot worse if you don’t tell me where your little friends are.”
He lifted his rifle high over his head. I stepped back, shaking.
A dull gray blur shot across my line of sight. It connected with the Massa’s face with a sickening thud. Silently, he and his rifle fell to the ground.
The griffin rock was resting by his head.
“Now,” Torquin said, stepping triumphantly out of the woods, “we have fifth uniform.”