The Adventures Of Indiana Jones (47 page)

It was going to be okay, he told himself. His father would be proud of him. He was always complaining about people who looted archaeological sites. And now his son, Junior—Indy, I’m Indy—had caught four of them red-handed.

He felt someone tapping him on the shoulder, and he turned to see the dwarf, who was now nose to nose with him. “I’ve got another question.”

“What’s that?” Indy asked.

The dwarf pointed past him. “Did he come on a horse, too?”

Indy jerked around and saw Fedora staring at him through the window.

“
M
AKING NEW FRIENDS
?” Fedora asked with a grin.

Indy stood up and started backing away. “Yeah, sure am.” He kept his eyes on Fedora but spoke to the others. “Watch out for this man. He’s a thief.”

Fedora climbed in through the window and tried to squeeze around the fat lady.

“Now just a minute,” she said, pushing herself to her feet and blocking Fedora’s way. “We don’t want your kind on this train.”

Indy seized the opportunity and charged for the door at the end of the car. He pushed through it and leapt onto a flatcar. In the center of it was an impressive calliope with rows of shiny steam whistles rising behind a pearly keyboard. He ducked around it and glanced back to see Fedora crashing through the door with the bearded lady clinging to his throat. Fedora threw her off and vaulted onto the flatcar.

Indy grasped a lever on the side of the calliope for support, but the lever moved and the calliope burst into life. Steam and noise blasted from the pipes. Fedora’s companions, who had boarded the flatcar from the auto, stopped in their tracks and covered their ears against the horrendous off-key honks and squeaks. They staggered back and were nearly blown from the train by an explosion of steam.

Indy, meanwhile, scrambled to the roof of the next car and clambered along it until he reached a trapdoor. He threw open the lid and lowered himself onto a catwalk suspended from the ceiling of the car. Several feet below were numerous vats that looked as though they contained every species of snake, lizard, alligator, and crocodile. It was a virtual Noah’s Ark of the reptile world.

Indy stared into the vats, fascinated and horrified. The last thing he wanted to do was end up down there. His only hope was that the others would somehow miss seeing the trapdoor and would keep going to the next car. But the moment he thought it, the door flew open and Half-breed and Roscoe dropped down onto the catwalk.

Now what?

Indy scurried toward the rear of the car, wondering what he was going to do when he reached the end of the catwalk. No matter how brave and strong he thought he might be, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle both of them. Hell, Roscoe alone could be trouble. He was the sort of kid who would fight dirty, would do things like give up and then jump on you when your back was turned.

He noticed a second trapdoor above him at the end of the catwalk. Great. He’d slip out before they cornered him. Sure. It’d be a cinch. But before he could take another step, a metallic screeching sound pierced the air. The catwalk started shaking. He looked up, and dread filled him like a poison gas. Their combined weight was too much for the structure, and one of the bolts holding it to the ceiling had begun to pull loose. The catwalk was slipping and swaying, threatening to dump them into the vats of slithering reptiles.

The three of them froze in place, fearing that a single step would send them tumbling. Indy glanced up at the trapdoor. It was a step away, and there was a handle next to it. He could grab it, swing up, kick open the door, and swing out onto the top of the car.

And then what, hotshot? The other two thieves are probably waiting up there, Indy said to himself.

He didn’t know what he would do, but there wasn’t time to think about it.

He crouched and leapt for the door handle. His fingers grazed it, but he couldn’t get hold of it. He landed off balance on one foot and grasped the railing. The catwalk swayed beneath him, and he heard a series of loud cracks as several bolts suddenly tore free. Roscoe and Half-breed screamed, but it was Indy’s side of the catwalk that dropped. He plunged to the floor of the car, landing with a heavy thud on a raised wooden platform.

For a moment he didn’t move. He was afraid he had broken something—his legs, maybe his arms, maybe even his neck. But worse than the fear that he had broken a limb was the darkness. He couldn’t see. Panic bubbled in his throat, and a scream slid down his tongue—but then he realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut when he fell. He laughed softly to himself, but as he opened his eyes, his laughter turned weird, desperate, almost a cackle. He was eye to eye with an enormous anaconda.

The head of the snake was so huge that it looked more like Tyrannosaurus Rex than a snake. Its tongue darted out and flicked against his cheek. An icy chill raced down his spine, his eyes widened in horror. He rolled over, bolted to his feet, and edged backward.

He was afraid that if he looked away from the anaconda, it would attack him. He wasn’t watching where he was going, and one foot stepped off the edge of the platform. He wobbled a moment, then tumbled backward. He landed softly; he wasn’t hurt. But then he realized where he was—he had fallen into a vat of snakes.

Hundreds of writhing reptiles were suddenly sliding under and over him. The roiling mass engulfed him like quicksand. Only it was worse than quicksand, much worse. He was smothering. The snakes were sucking away his breath, his life. Once, when he lifted his head from the wiggling nightmare, he glimpsed Half-breed and Roscoe struggling to stay on the dangling catwalk above him.

Roscoe clung to Half-breed’s leg, but the dark-haired thief wanted no part of the kid. He reached for the trapdoor and shook his leg, attempting to rid himself of Roscoe, who cried out, terrified that he would plummet into the jaws of one of the carnivorous crocodiles snapping below them.

Then the snakes covered Indy again, and he lost sight of everything. But he didn’t give up. He was fighting for his life. Snakes were piled below him as well as on top of him, and that kept him from regaining his footing. So he did the only thing he could do: he kicked against the wall of the vat.

After several kicks at the same spot, the side of the vat cracked open. With all the energy he had left in him he kicked again. This time the wall gave way, and the wiggling mass of snakes suddenly slid out the side, taking Indy along for the ride.

He leapt up, gasping for breath. He jerked snakes off his shoulders, his legs. He would never feel the same about snakes again. Above him he heard the screech of metal and curses, as the two thieves struggled to get through the trapdoor. But his focus now was on a door in the floor that was probably used when the car was cleaned out.

Indy snapped open the door and was immediately bombarded by the pounding din of the cars speeding over the rails. The tie beams of the tracks blurred below him. He hesitated—his father would kill him if he knew what he was about to attempt. Bad enough that he’d leapt onto a moving train from a horse and had fallen into a vat of snakes, but now he was going to attempt the impossible.

But he wasn’t about to stay in the car with snakes and gators. And there was no other way out. Besides, he had to get away from these thieves.

He took a deep breath and lowered his head through the door. A steel bar ran the length of the car. He reached down and touched it with his hand. It was warm but not hot, and it was just high enough above the tracks to accommodate him as long as he kept the bar close to his chest.

Only ten feet. That was all the distance he had to crawl.

And ten feet isn’t impossible, is it? I can crawl ten feet. I know I can, Indy told himself.

Carefully he lowered himself through the door, gripping the steel bar first with his hands, then with his arms and legs. He inched forward; the clatter of the train vibrated through his body, threatening to shake him from it.

Oh, shit. What did I do this for?

He told himself to concentrate. He knew that as long as he concentrated and used every ounce of his strength, he could do it.

I’m going to make it. I’m going to make it. He said it over and over again as he pulled himself forward.

Finally he reached the end and realized he hadn’t figured out how he was going to get off the bar. The front of the car extended a foot or so beyond the end of it. Maybe if he just stayed where he was, he’d be okay.

But how long could he hold on before his arms would tire? The vibration was already jolting him to his bones.

He thought a moment about the cross tucked beneath his belt. If it slipped out and smashed on the tracks, all his efforts would be useless. He let go with one hand, and carefully reached forward to the end of the car. His fingers patted the lower edge of the front wall, feeling for something to grasp. But he didn’t find anything.

Then he remembered the safety cable that connected the cars below the coupling. Where was it? He extended his arm as far as he could reach. His fingers touched something, then slipped off. He tried again, and this time he grabbed the cable.

Now what?

He was stretched between the cable and the bar and he had to go one way or the other. He was momentarily paralyzed by indecision. Which way? Does it matter? He closed his eyes, let go of the bar with his other hand, and reached blindly for the cable. He grasped it and slid his feet along the last inches of the bar. Then his legs were dangling in midair, and he was pulling himself forward, hand over hand. He opened his eyes and saw the coupling above him. He hooked his arm over it, then swung a leg up as if he were mounting a horse. He had done it! He was riding atop the coupling between two cars.

He pulled himself forward toward the next car. It was virtually a cage on wheels. Inside, behind the bars, was a huge Bengal tiger. He reached up to the nearest bar, stood up on the coupling, balancing himself. Then he climbed to the outside of the cage.

He edged his way along the narrow outer skirt of the car by holding on to the cage. He stopped once as he felt something crawling along his leg. He wriggled his nose as he reached into his pants and pulled out a snake. He readjusted the cross under his belt and moved ahead.

The tiger paced back and forth inside the cage, watching him. Indy stared back. As he neared the front of the cage, the tiger paced closer and closer. He crouched down to rest, hoping the massive cat would ignore him. Even though the bars were between him and the tiger, a swipe from the creature’s paw through the space between the bars would be deadly.

What he didn’t realize, though, was that another sort of danger was literally around the corner. Rough Rider had worked his way along the opposite side of the cage and was inching across the front now. Like the tiger, the thief had fixed his eye on his prey.

Indy was staring at the tiger, mentally telling it to back off, when a hand clamped on his neck.

“Gotcha!” Rough Rider shouted.

At that moment the tiger lunged at the bars. He thrust his paws out, raking his claws across Rough Rider’s shoulder and back, shredding his jacket. The thief yelled out in pain and surprise and grabbed his shoulder. He tottered a moment, then fell from the train.

Indy glanced back, to see Rough Rider rolling along the railroad bed. He turned toward the front of the car, and a fist sank into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He doubled over, gasping for breath, certain he was dying. He looked up, to see Roscoe hovering over him.

“Girl Scout.” The kid sneered and drew back his fist to punch him again.

But Indy slammed the heel of his boot down onto Roscoe’s foot. He poked him in the eye and bit his hand. The kid yelped in pain, and Indy scooted past him. He fled to a neighboring stockcar and climbed up a ladder to its roof.

Roscoe quickly recovered and cursed Indy as he climbed behind him. Indy had just reached the top when Roscoe grabbed his ankle. He fell to the roof, and the two boys grappled, rolling perilously close to the edge.

The rattle of the rails pounded in Indy’s ears as he saw Roscoe raise a knife in the air. The tip of the blade glinted as Roscoe thrust. Indy rolled over just in time to avoid the plunging blade. He crawled away, but Roscoe scrambled after him, tackling him as he tried to rise to his feet.

Whatever was in the boxcar beneath them must have been huge, Indy thought, because every time he or Roscoe moved, something pounded against the side of the boxcar, shaking it. But he didn’t have time to ponder that matter. He was too busy trying to stay alive.

“Gimme that cross!” Roscoe shouted, flashing the blade in the air over Indy. “Right now!”

Indy grabbed Roscoe’s wrist, bending it back, trying to get him to drop the knife.

Suddenly a rhino horn slammed through the roof’s wooden slats, missing Indy’s head by inches. He rolled to one side, and Roscoe’s wrist slipped free. Indy pushed him away, but Roscoe lunged for him, stabbing the knife at his throat. Indy jerked his head, and the blade slammed into the wood, just missing his ear.

As Roscoe struggled to loosen it, the rhino struck again and this time his horn went right between Indy’s legs. Roscoe pulled out the knife and thrust it at Indy’s midsection. Indy saw it coming down, saw the blade gleaming in the light. His legs shot out and slammed into Roscoe’s chest, throwing him back. Roscoe faltered a moment, arms pinwheeling for balance, and barely avoided falling off the car.

Indy rolled over onto his stomach and looked back just in time to see Roscoe hurtle the knife at him. It probably would have slammed into his face, but at that instant the rhino horn burst through the roof next to Indy’s head and the blade struck it.

Indy stumbled to his feet and saw a water tank alongside the tracks directly ahead. Its spout was facing the tracks and protruded above the train. He suddenly knew how he could get away. He ran to the side of the car, calculated the distance, and timed his leap.

He caught the spout perfectly, but the train’s velocity caused the spout to swing rapidly around the water tank. He hung on, closed his eyes, and finally, as the spout slowed, he let go. He only dropped a couple of feet and realized he had spun completely around. He was back on the train! This time he landed on the roof of another stockcar and immediately collided with Half-breed, who was knocked off his feet.