Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 4 Sam angled the plane down towards a short dirt path on the ground below. They'd been flying for a few hours now, and Seth Blake wanted nothing more than to get back on land. But as she angled for the short runway in the middle of the vast sea of jungle trees, Blake began to have second thoughts. Maybe staying airborne would be all right after all. Despite his hopes to the contrary, Sam Jones pulled the plane down towards the ground. She sailed down to the dirt path that served as a runway, but at the rate she was going she'd fly head long in to the bush. Blake could barely watch as she angled the plane smoothly on the ground, and pulled it straight towards the bush... But there wasn't any bush there. Just under the tree line, the jungle had been cleared, forming a cleverly placed secret landing area. Blake pulled himself out of the plane, and quickly dropped to the ground below. He'd never been so happy to be on God's green earth in his life. His happiness shot to fear as a trio of African tribesman emerged from the bush. He yanked his pistol from its holster, leveling at the three spear-carrying men. "Whoa, there, neighbor."A tall, muscled Caucasian emerged behind the tribesmen. "We're on your side." Blake squinted at the bearded man in front of him. It had been years since he'd seen him, but he'd recognize William Quartermain anywhere. "Will?" "One and the same, old friend. I've been in this neck of the woods for years now, and I guess the Chamber thought they'd be no one better for the job." Blake ran up and shook his friend's hand. "Well, for a change they were actually right." Sam Jones walked up to the two friends. "Not to interrupt your beautiful moment here, but shouldn't we be on our way." Quartermain smiled. "The lass is quite right. We've got several days worth of walking before we reach the tomb of King Midas." Great, Blake thought. What happened to all the easy missions? The next couple of days almost killed Blake. Hours and hours of continuous walking with no end in site. And to make matters worse, it was through treacherous, dense jungle, where at any second a ravenous beast or poisonous insect could spell your death. Blake remember how annoyed he was at the museum opening, but he'd give just about anything to be back there right now. It would be far better than four hours of sleep and the endless blisters that this trek provided. Surprisingly, everything seemed to be going well on their journey. The three tribesman seemed to know what they were doing, and Quartermain translated their language and instructions well. But Murphy and his law followed Blake wherever he went, and he finally struck on the third night. Blake awoke as Quartermain shook him to consciousness. Quartermain brought a single finger to his lip, signalling quiet. He pointed off in to the distance, where a lion was slowly approaching. It stalked back and forth, never quite taking its eyes off of the party. "It thinks we're prey," Quartermain whispered. "We're going to try and make a break across the shallows to escape it. Otherwise we'll end up dinner when the rest of the pride appears." Blake just nodded. Give him foreign nationals and spies anyday. At least he knew what he was dealing with there. This wilderness stuff was for the lions, so to speak. "We'll move when I signal three," Quartermain whispered. As he spoke, Sam moved towards Blake. She seemed worried, but Blake hoped she hadn't came for comfort. He wasn't exactly sure about this plan either. Quartermain raised a finger to signal "one". Blake made sure all their supplies were gathered as Quartermain signalled "two". At "three", Quartermain shot off towards the river, and Blake pulled Sam along right behind. The tribesmen flanked them as they headed to the shallow portion with only the starlight shining through the trees to guide them. The lion shot out after them, quickly closing on its prey. They hit the water at a sprint. But as they quickly splashed across, the water began to move in answer. "Damn it," Quartermain yelled. "Move it people! We've got crocs in the water." Just as he spoke, a tribesman not more than two feet from Blake and Sam shot down and in to the water. Blake could hear the crunch as the crocodile chewed in to the man's leg. Blake could do nothing but pull Sam forward, hoping to escape a similar fate. The lion splashed in to the water behind them as they passed the halfway point of the shallows. Not more than 10 yards ahead stood the other side and a chance at freedom. The lion struggled to find footing in the water as it sunk down to almost its head in the water. As it struggled across, it didn't stand a chance. The crocodiles lunged down upon it, ripping the lion to pieces. Blake and Sam reached dry land, but they continued on behind Quartermain and the two remaining tribesmen. A good hundred yards back in to the jungle, Quartermain slowed down. The tribesmen stopped with him. Blake and Sam dropped to the ground as they came to a halt. "The crocs should be busy with the lion for the rest of the night. Let's get another hour or two of rest and than head out again." "What about the dead man," Sam asked. "There will be time for a memorial after we find the Midas Hand. We need to rest with what little time we have before moving on." Sam didn't seem to like the idea much, but she differed to Quartermain's superior knowledge of the wild. Blake just sank to the jungle floor, sleep on his mind. __________________________________________________________________ The next two days were significantly harder, as the jungle grew ever denser. Dangerous insects joined the dangerous animals here, and Quartermain answered the problems by placing a second guard at night. Every got that much less sleep because of it. Blake would rather participate in that than die a painful death however. It was during the second night's rest that Quartermain called the alarm. Before anyone could even rise to defend themselves, the tribe of warriors were upon them. They numbered fifteen strong, all carrying poison-tipped spears. Quartermain's pistol was at the ready, and he stood ready to fight, but Blake just walked casually over to him. He pulled the weapon away. He'd bet a million dollars that the only reason these enemy natives were here was the damn Nazis themselves. "We surrender," he said, dropping Quartermain's weapon and his own. One of the Africans seemed to be translating this to their chieftain. With a blinding speed, the tribe descended on the party's own African guides. Within seconds the two men had been stabbed through at least five times each. They lay dead on the ground before them. Sam ran to Blake, clutching him in fear for their lives. Normally Blake wouldn't mind being this close to a beautiful woman, but now didn't seem like one of those times. The translator walked towards the survivors. "Your surrender is accepted," he said with a perfect English accent. "You will accompany us." Blake nodded in agreement. "Let's go then." "As you wish," the tribesman replied. "I am Mgambe. Anything you wish to communicate to my people, you may do so through me." Quartermain moved forward. "You can tell them I'm not damn well pleased with your murdering of our guides!" Mgambe just looked at him, unfazed. "I think I will not tell them this. The chieftain might change his mind about trading you unharmed." "Trading," Blake asked as they set out upon their way. "Yes, we're to trade you to the other white men for some of our own people's freedom." Sam seemed curious about this. "Are your people enslaved?" "Why yes, madam. The other white men hold our women and children hostage. Many of our men also serve them as they dig in to the holy tomb." Blake and Quartermain's eyes met as they heard the word tomb mentioned. They spoke not at all, but both silently agreed that this must be King Midas's tomb itself. They continued behind Mgambe and the rest of his tribe for the better portion of that day. The African sun was hotter than it had been in many, many days, and Blake was beginning to feel the pain of it all. Mgambe offered him a drink from his water pouch. "It won't be long," the translator told him. And it wasn't. Within half an hour they had emerged in to a small clearing. As they entered the clearing, the Nazi soldiers guarding the clearing raised their rifles. The tribe and their captives stopped as well. Blake didn't like this situation at all. Too many Nazis and tribesmen for them to have any chance of escape. Two men emerged from a hole in the ground nearby. One smiled as he saw Blake before him. Seth grimaced as he recognized the man's face. Luther. "Welcome," Luther said, grinning broadly. "Welcome, Mr. Blake, to the tomb of King Midas. It seems you will be joining him in death."