Danger Guys and the Golden Lizard (2 page)

“A couple of … Danger Guys!”

A roar went up in the auditorium. Cheers exploded off the walls. People were jumping up and down.

And that was just Zeek and me!

The next thing we knew, we were dressed from head to foot in official Danger Guy gear. Hats, supply belts, packs, canteens. The works.

It was eight in the morning, and we were at the airport with our families, piles of luggage, and the Emersons.

In fact, both Zeek's parents and mine were taking a pleasure cruise at the same time as our big expedition. Our parents are almost as good friends as Zeek and me.

“Don't worry,” Mr. Emerson was telling our parents, “the boys will be waiting for you safe and sound.”

“And with lots of exciting stories to tell you, I'm sure,” Mrs. Emerson added.

Zeek's mom turned to us. “We'll see you boys in three days, when our ship docks at the Maribo coast.”

“That's right,” my mom added. “And don't worry about us, we'll be having plenty of excitement, too.”

Zeek's sister, Emily, stepped over, reading from a brochure. “Three decks, tons of movies, games, and all the desserts you can eat!”

My mom laughed. So did Mrs. Pilinsky.

I turned to Zeek. “Do you see that? No tears or anything. We're taking an expedition into unknown jungles in search of the supermysterious Golden Lizard, and our families are laughing.”

“Pretty sad, isn't it?” Zeek said, shaking his head. “We probably won't make it out alive.”

“Have fun!” my mom said.

“It's a jungle of death!” I said. She just smiled.

“She's trying to hide her fear,” I said to Zeek.

After we waved good-bye to our folks, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson told us about the Golden Lizard.

“Not very much is known about it,” Mr. E. said. “It could be something the size of a trinket, or it could be a huge statue. There are plenty of legends about the Lizard, though. It's supposed to have some kind of magic power.”

“Cool!” Zeek said, nudging my arm. “Maybe it holds the secret of life, or something.”

Mrs. Emerson handed Zeek and me our tickets. Then she held out a wrinkled brown sheet of paper. “A few months ago, we discovered an old map showing the way to the Golden Lizard.”

“Wow!” cried Zeek, unfolding the crinkly paper. It showed mountains and rivers and jungles. A dotted line wound across the map.

I couldn't believe it. “Zeek, this is it,” I said. “The expedition of a lifetime.”

Mr. E. reached over, unsnapped a pocket on Zeek's jacket, and tucked the brown paper inside. “Take good care of this. Just in case.”

I turned to Zeek. He stared back at me. “Just in case
what
? You mean, this might really be dangerous?” I asked.

Mrs. Emerson looked around at the people in the airport. “There are some who would stop at nothing to find the Golden Lizard.”

“Flight 119 for Maribo,” a voice called out over the airport loudspeaker. “Your plane will board in thirty minutes.”

“That's us,” said Zeek, snapping up his jacket pocket. “Let's hit the trail.”

“Why don't you kids order some breakfast first,” said Mr. Emerson, pointing to a little snack bar down the hall. “Mrs. Emerson and I will make sure our supplies are stowed on the plane. We'll be back in five minutes.”

I nodded and headed over to the snack bar. I couldn't believe it. I read the name on the outside. “The Waffle Shack. I love it!”

I live for waffles. They're my absolute favorite food.

Zeek tapped me on the shoulder. “Try to control yourself, Nood. I'm going to check out the comic books at the newsstand. Order me a hotdog.”

“A hotdog?” I gasped, holding my hand over my mouth. “It's eight in the morning!”

“Hey, I live dangerously.” He grinned. “Remember about the mustard, okay?”

I remembered, but I pretended not to. “Double squirt of Gold Spice, right?”

“Very funny, Noodle,” he said. “You know a single drop of that stuff makes my tongue go numb. It's yellow poison!” He walked over to the newsstand.

I bought a king-sized waffle for myself, a plain hotdog for Zeek, and sat down at one of the tables. For a joke, I moved a big squeezable jar of Gold Spice mustard right next to the hotdog.

Then I slowly poured syrup on my waffle.

N
.

I always pour the syrup on in the shape of a giant
N.
For Noodle, of course.

I was just putting the finishing touches on it when everything happened at once.

The Emersons stepped into the Waffle Shack just as six guys in oily black suits appeared.

The same guys from the night before!

Within seconds they closed in on the Emersons and had them completely surrounded!

THREE

“Hey!” I shouted, jumping up from my seat.

The six guys whirled around and stared straight at me. The short one with pudgy fingers who pointed a lot walked over. Slowly.

Uh-oh.

Mr. Emerson gave me a quick frown and shook his head slightly.

It was a sign. I understood right away. I wasn't supposed to let these guys know I was with the Emersons. I faked it. “Hey!” I shouted again.

“Hey, what?” the finger guy said.

“Hey, this waffle is
tasty
! Try one!”

“I ain't hungry!” he snarled.

“Oh, okay,” I said. I sat back down.

“Crazy kid,” Fingers mumbled. He turned back to Mr. Emerson.

Whew! That was close. Luckily, he didn't remember me from the night before. But, at just that moment, Zeek walked into the Waffle Shack, saw the Emersons, and started to call out to them.

“Boy, that Golden Liz—”

Oh, no! I had to act fast. I grabbed the first thing I could find.

It was the squeezable jar of Gold Spice.

Fllluuuurrrrrrppppp!

A thick stream of yellowy brown mustard shot through the air in a perfect arc and splatted on Zeek's lip.

“Boy, that golden mustard!” I shouted. “Wow, but it's
tasty
!”

The pudgy-fingers guy turned to me. “Again with the
tasty
?”

Zeek stopped and looked at me. He licked his lips. A look of horror came over his face. “Nooobble? I zed
no busstudd
!”

Fingers stared at Zeek. “Now there are
two
crazy kids! Let's get outta here.” He did his finger thing, pointing down the hall, and the big guys led the Emersons away.

“Da Bemberbuns!” cried Zeek. “Wuz sappen wiz da Bemberbuns!”

“Those guys,” I whispered, “are the same ones from school last night. They heard the Emersons talking about the Golden Lizard. Now they want it for themselves!”

Zeek nodded, rubbing his lips. “An da mabb.”

“Right, the map. But they don't know that we have it.”

“Im my bogget,” Zeek mumbled, patting his jacket.

Mrs. E. flashed a look back at us.

“I think she wants us to follow,” I said. “But we'd better stay out of sight. We're no good if they catch us!”

“Awight. Less go!”

We trotted down the main hall of the airport, dodging in and out of doorways. Hopping over luggage. Hiding behind tourists.

The men made a sudden left down a corridor and took the Emersons with them.

I glanced at a sign on the wall. “Our flight is this way, too. Once we see where they're going, we can alert airport security.”

“Securikee. No problumm.”

I looked at Zeek. “Hey, I actually understood you that time.”

Zeek kept rubbing his lips. “Ish coming back.”

We peeked down the hall and watched the men disappear through a door.

We crept up and opened it.

Warm air blasted us in the face. We were outside the terminal. And right there on the pavement was a sleek black minijet. Its engines were revving up.

Two of the black-suit guys were pushing the Emersons up the stairs into the jet!

“Holy cow, Zeek! They're being kidnapped!”

Fingers was shouting above the noise of the engines. I heard only a word, but it was enough.

“Maribo,” he said.

Then, before we could do a thing, Fingers jumped in, and the jet started to move. In seconds it was roaring down the runway and into the air.

“The Emersons are in big trouble, Zeekie. We've got to follow that minijet.”

“And just how are we going to do that—flap our arms really fast?”

I made a face. “Our plane is here somewhere. Maybe we can beat them to Maribo.”

We ran over to a small hangar on the runway. A mechanic was just coming out.

“We're looking for flight 119,” I said.

He wiped his hands on a cloth and pointed over his shoulder. “Right over there.”

I looked behind him. I couldn't believe it. “Zeek. It's—it's—the space shuttle!”

The jet was shiny and long, all white, with big fins and wings shooting off it.

I was about to run up the stairs into it, when—
WHOOM!
—the engines blasted, and it slithered out of the hangar, shot down the runway, and vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.

“But—that's our flight!” I cried.

“Not that one!” the mechanic shouted. Then he pointed to an old rusty shape in the back of the hangar. “
That
one!”

Zeek's face shriveled like an old apple. “Um, Noodle? Isn't that, like, the first plane the Wright Brothers tried? The one that crashed?”

Just then an old man stepped out from behind the rusty heap and shuffled over to us. Well, really he shuffled right past us.

“Where d'ya go?” he said. Then he turned around and saw us. “Oh!”

He shifted an old foggy pair of goggles to his forehead and stared at Zeek and me for a long time. “You're not the Emersons.”

“Um, no, sir,” I said. “But we're looking for their flight. Flight 119 to Maribo?”

“Heh-heh,” cackled the old man. “Well, you've found it! And you've found me, Montana Smith. Best dad-burn stunt pilot east of the Mississippi!”

“We're west of the Mississippi,” I said.

He blinked and looked disappointed. “Oh.”

“We have to follow that jet, Mr. Smith,” I said, pointing at the black speck in the sky.

“Heh-heh,” he laughed. “Follow that jet!” He thought that was pretty funny.

He turned around, twice, finally spotted his plane, and shuffled slowly toward it.

We all climbed into the rusty old plane. Montana sat up front in the pilot's cabin. Zeek and I jumped into the leather seats in back with all the Emersons' equipment. Expedition-quality stuff. It was really crowded in there.

“Heh,” cackled Montana. “Strap in.”

We strapped in. The engine sputtered, groaned, and finally rumbled to life.

Three hours later Mayville was far behind. We were flying south over the mountains toward Maribo. Into the jungle.

And the mystery of the Golden Lizard.

I looked out the little window next to my seat. Civilization was far behind. The view below was solid green treetops as far as the eye could see.

The jungle. It was awesome.

Far in the distance, I spotted a fat white thing floating over the tops of the trees. “Look, there must be a football game over there. It's a blimp!”

“Heh-heh. There ain't no game there!” the pilot said. “Scientists use blimps to pick up and drop off supplies to teams working in the trees.”

CLUNKA! CLUNKA! BLAM!

The plane suddenly shook and dipped left.

“Whoa!” cried Zeek. “What was that?”

“One of our engines sounds in a bit of trouble,” Montana said, checking some dials. “Don't matter. We'll make it just fine with the other.”

I looked out the windows from one wing to the other. “Sir, this plane only
has
one engine.”

“Hmm,” said the pilot. “That is a problem.”

CLUNKA! CLUNKA! BLAM! BLAM!

The plane dropped suddenly.

“We're going down!” Montana said.

“You mean here? Now? Into the trees?” I screamed.

VEEEEOOOUUUM!

The engine died, the nose turned down, and we dropped.

Yeah.

Here.

Now.

Into the trees.