Main Page: Indiana Jones and the Monkey King
Previous: Chapter Thirteen
Previous: Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Indiana Jones, Clare Clarke, Betsy Tuffet, Scraggy Briar, Kezure, and the assorted pirates and crew members had gathered outside of the city walls for the journey home. Tyki, Bohbala, and several other pygmies stood with them as they exchanged their goodbyes.
Clare and Tyki, both in tears, communicated with hand signals indecipherable by anyone else. They shared a final embrace. Bohbala again thanked Indy for his help. Betsy said goodbye to the many gorillas, communicating in hand motions and growls.
Indy, holding the golden hooped rod, turned and moved across the drawbridge. The others followed. They could hear the cheering pygmies and gorillas behind them long after they disappeared into the clouds. Then at long last the drawbridge closed until the next visitor’s arrival.
***
After emerging from the cloud cover, the party had opted to wait out the scorching early afternoon sun in a shady section of the path. Indy napped with the others – or rather, most of the others. He didn’t see or hear the removal of the golden hooped rod or his whip and revolver.
He noticed their absence, though, as soon as he was awakened by a sword at his throat. Kezure stood over him, holding the weapon in one hand and the rod in the other. The other pirates held swords and daggers at the throats of Clare, Betsy, Scraggy, and the crew members, who had also been disarmed.
Kezure twirled the golden hooped rod in front of himself. He smiled at Indy with all his teeth. “She is a wonderful treasure, eh?”
“We had a deal,” Indy said.
Kezure stopped smiling and pressed his blade harder against Indy’s throat. “I have no deals with dead men.”
“Son of a bitch,” Indy snarled.
Kezure laughed, lowered his sword and backed off, but Indy was still in no position to do anything as long as his friends were hostage. His friends... he’d almost started to count Kezure among them. He’d almost forgotten that theirs was an uneasy truce, that Kezure, however charming he could be at times, was a wicked man through and through.
Kezure removed a stolen peach from his pocket, shined it on his cloak, and shrugged at Indy. “I am an old pirate, Dr. Jones. Do you suddenly expect me to treat you with kindness and fairness? It is not my way of life!” He took a large bite from the peach and nodded toward his men. “Kill them,” he said through a full mouth before taking another bite. “But save their hair. I will make a coat out of it. Oh, and the old man’s eyes, I like them.”
Before the pirates could carry out his orders, however, he let out a loud scream, clutched his stomach, and fell to his knees. The half-eaten peach rolled from his hand onto the ground. Indy rushed toward him and Clare broke away from her astonished captor to do the same. As the pirate king writhed and screamed, his hair fell out in clumps, his teeth rotted away, his skin shriveled, and his whole body became thinner, spindlier.
Some pirates stepped away, others stood rooted to the spot as Kezure’s skin withered, flaked, and peeled from his contorting bones. Finally his screams faded as his eyeballs rolled out of their sockets. Only his skeleton remained, and now this turned black and crumbled to dust. His clothing settled to the ground and several peaches rolled out of his cloak.
The pirates dropped their weapons and ran off down the mountain.
Indy held the half-eaten peach in his hand as if he could discern its secrets. Betsy looked at it and frowned. “I thought the peaches promised immortality... eternal youth?”
“The Garden of Immortal Peaches promises life only to those who are pure in heart.” Indy paused as he mulled over the implications for himself. “Kezure was evil. His heart was filled with greed.”
He dropped the peach to the ground. Even though he’d been cleared the first time, he didn’t want to take his chances with any of them. Maybe some bugs or animals will eat them and live to see my grandchildren on safari, he thought. He retrieved his weapons and the golden hooped rod and continued down the mountain path.
***
Indiana Jones stood on the Mozambiquan dock with a wooden crate marked “Fragile,” waiting impatiently to board an ocean liner bound for the United States. He checked his wristwatch and grumbled to himself. “Where is she? The boat leaves in five minutes...”
A horn interrupted his grumbling. He turned to see Scraggy, wearing driving goggles, in a battered and bruised motorcycle attached to a rickety sidecar with the word “Taxi” painted on its exterior. He pulled up beside Indy and jumped off. “Oh, Indy, Indy! I want to give you something for your journey!” He fumbled through his pockets, removed a small bottle of purple liquid, and held it out. “Take one drink before bed. It keep out all bad spirits.”
Indy shook his head and flashed a flask of whiskey inside his coat pocket. “Thanks, Scraggy, but this’ll keep out all the bad spirits.”
Scraggy shrugged.
“Indy!”
Indy turned. Betsy had finally decided to show up, but she’d brought Clare and nothing else. “Where’re your bags?” he demanded.
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
Indy blinked. “Huh? But you – you have to finish school.”
“I’m staying on as Clare’s assistant,” Betsy said.
Indy glanced at Clare, who looked rather pleased with herself, then back at Betsy. “But you’re my assistant.”
“Not anymore. I’m having my credits transferred.”
“Why?”
“Clare is a brilliant teacher.”
“So am I,” Indy snapped.
“Yes,” Clare cut in, “but I don’t offer a course in seduction.”
He glared at her. “You stay out of this.”
“Indy,” Betsy said, sounding a little hurt, “I thought you wanted me out of your life.”
“That was before I realized how gifted – how talented you are. I mean... I could really use you.”
“Especially aboard ship for three weeks,” Clare said, raising an eyebrow. “It gets terribly lonely.”
“Clare, I’m warning you...”
“Indy, I’ve learned a lot from you,” Betsy said. “But it’s time I started concentrating on a career in anthropology... instead of romance.” She let out a small laugh.
Indy sighed. This is the same girl who crossed the ocean in a barrel of bananas for me? “You’ve certainly developed a mature attitude,” he said.
She unexpectedly stepped forward and hugged him. “Thanks to you.” She paused and looked into his eyes. “You know, I always thought of you as my knight in shining armor...”
Indy’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t be sure why. “Really?”
“But now,” she continued, “I’ll think of you as the father I never had.”
He rolled his eyes. “Terrific.”
Betsy stepped away and Clare sidled into her position and extended a hand. “Dr. Jones, although your libido is questionable, your bravery and intelligence are exceptional.” She smiled. “It has been an honor working with you.”
Taken aback, he managed to shake the offered hand and say, “Why... thanks.”
He leaned toward her and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t back away.
Gathering his nerve, speaking in his most suave voice, he said, “You know, Clare, there’s something...”
“Yes...” Her voice was calm, unreadable.
“Something I’ve been wanting to do...”
“Yes...”
He leaned in a little closer. “Since we first met...” Aw, what the hell, I literally died the other day. He closed his eyes and leaned in all the way. In a moment he felt her warm, soft, moist lips, and they were everything he’d imagined. Ever after all this time, all these women –
He opened his eyes to the sound of Clare, Betsy, and Scraggy laughing, and looking straight back at him were the eyes of Bonzo the chimpanzee. He tried to move away, but Bonzo’s arms wrapped around him like he was a tree.
Through her laughter, Clare managed to call off Bonzo with hand motions and grunts. Indy wiped off his mouth.
“Sorry,” Betsy said, not sounding sorry at all. “Guess I left her cage open, and she followed us.”
The blast of a horn cut off Indy’s scathing retort. He’d almost forgotten about the ocean liner, and now it was drifting back from the dock. He turned and ran up the stairs, then leaped a few feet to the deck just in time.
When he looked back at his friends calling and waving to him, he saw his crate still sitting on the dock by Scraggy’s feet. Clare followed his gaze, picked it up, and shrugged at him. The distance was too great now for her to throw it over, or for him to jump.
“Better luck next time, Dr. Jones,” she said.
***
The wooden crate holding the golden hooped rod rested in a corner of Clare’s bedroom as she slept peacefully. She didn’t awaken when the nails began to twist with the slightest squeak, as if held by invisible hammers, or when they dropped to the floor one by one. The lid levitated for a moment, then dropped silently on top of them.
The golden hooped rod shimmered in the moonlight. Then it moved, twisting, shrinking, changing shape into a golden eagle. The bird looked around the room as if getting its bearings, flapped its wings, and flew out of the open window into the night.
***
Indiana Jones also slept, though not so peacefully. He’d made sure to shut his cabin’s porthole before bed, but now it mysteriously swung open and allowed the golden eagle to fly inside. It transformed back into the golden hooped rod and leaned against the wall. The moonlight reflected off it into his eyes and woke him up.
He sat up in bed, wondering if he was still dreaming. Then he got up, crossed the room, and touched it. In that moment Sun Wu-Kung’s words came back to him: “The Golden Hooped Rod will be a faithful friend. It is capable of one hundred transformations, and will always remain by your side.”
He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about its true power, of course, or about the monkey king or the peach garden or any of it. People would never rest until they’d found the golden city and ruined the natives’ way of life forever. He’d buy them a few more decades, at least. He’d have to make up a story about finding this on the black market or something. Maybe I stole it from Kezure’s pirates. Yeah, that’ll do.
Even he was already finding the true story difficult to believe. Really, he’d died? Really? It felt more like a dream than the dreams he’d been having a moment ago. But when he looked out the porthold at the moon and the stars above, and the peaceful dark ocean below, it didn’t seem to matter either way.
Next: Epilogue
Clare and Tyki, both in tears, communicated with hand signals indecipherable by anyone else. They shared a final embrace. Bohbala again thanked Indy for his help. Betsy said goodbye to the many gorillas, communicating in hand motions and growls.
Indy, holding the golden hooped rod, turned and moved across the drawbridge. The others followed. They could hear the cheering pygmies and gorillas behind them long after they disappeared into the clouds. Then at long last the drawbridge closed until the next visitor’s arrival.
***
After emerging from the cloud cover, the party had opted to wait out the scorching early afternoon sun in a shady section of the path. Indy napped with the others – or rather, most of the others. He didn’t see or hear the removal of the golden hooped rod or his whip and revolver.
He noticed their absence, though, as soon as he was awakened by a sword at his throat. Kezure stood over him, holding the weapon in one hand and the rod in the other. The other pirates held swords and daggers at the throats of Clare, Betsy, Scraggy, and the crew members, who had also been disarmed.
Kezure twirled the golden hooped rod in front of himself. He smiled at Indy with all his teeth. “She is a wonderful treasure, eh?”
“We had a deal,” Indy said.
Kezure stopped smiling and pressed his blade harder against Indy’s throat. “I have no deals with dead men.”
“Son of a bitch,” Indy snarled.
Kezure laughed, lowered his sword and backed off, but Indy was still in no position to do anything as long as his friends were hostage. His friends... he’d almost started to count Kezure among them. He’d almost forgotten that theirs was an uneasy truce, that Kezure, however charming he could be at times, was a wicked man through and through.
Kezure removed a stolen peach from his pocket, shined it on his cloak, and shrugged at Indy. “I am an old pirate, Dr. Jones. Do you suddenly expect me to treat you with kindness and fairness? It is not my way of life!” He took a large bite from the peach and nodded toward his men. “Kill them,” he said through a full mouth before taking another bite. “But save their hair. I will make a coat out of it. Oh, and the old man’s eyes, I like them.”
Before the pirates could carry out his orders, however, he let out a loud scream, clutched his stomach, and fell to his knees. The half-eaten peach rolled from his hand onto the ground. Indy rushed toward him and Clare broke away from her astonished captor to do the same. As the pirate king writhed and screamed, his hair fell out in clumps, his teeth rotted away, his skin shriveled, and his whole body became thinner, spindlier.
Some pirates stepped away, others stood rooted to the spot as Kezure’s skin withered, flaked, and peeled from his contorting bones. Finally his screams faded as his eyeballs rolled out of their sockets. Only his skeleton remained, and now this turned black and crumbled to dust. His clothing settled to the ground and several peaches rolled out of his cloak.
The pirates dropped their weapons and ran off down the mountain.
Indy held the half-eaten peach in his hand as if he could discern its secrets. Betsy looked at it and frowned. “I thought the peaches promised immortality... eternal youth?”
“The Garden of Immortal Peaches promises life only to those who are pure in heart.” Indy paused as he mulled over the implications for himself. “Kezure was evil. His heart was filled with greed.”
He dropped the peach to the ground. Even though he’d been cleared the first time, he didn’t want to take his chances with any of them. Maybe some bugs or animals will eat them and live to see my grandchildren on safari, he thought. He retrieved his weapons and the golden hooped rod and continued down the mountain path.
***
Indiana Jones stood on the Mozambiquan dock with a wooden crate marked “Fragile,” waiting impatiently to board an ocean liner bound for the United States. He checked his wristwatch and grumbled to himself. “Where is she? The boat leaves in five minutes...”
A horn interrupted his grumbling. He turned to see Scraggy, wearing driving goggles, in a battered and bruised motorcycle attached to a rickety sidecar with the word “Taxi” painted on its exterior. He pulled up beside Indy and jumped off. “Oh, Indy, Indy! I want to give you something for your journey!” He fumbled through his pockets, removed a small bottle of purple liquid, and held it out. “Take one drink before bed. It keep out all bad spirits.”
Indy shook his head and flashed a flask of whiskey inside his coat pocket. “Thanks, Scraggy, but this’ll keep out all the bad spirits.”
Scraggy shrugged.
“Indy!”
Indy turned. Betsy had finally decided to show up, but she’d brought Clare and nothing else. “Where’re your bags?” he demanded.
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
Indy blinked. “Huh? But you – you have to finish school.”
“I’m staying on as Clare’s assistant,” Betsy said.
Indy glanced at Clare, who looked rather pleased with herself, then back at Betsy. “But you’re my assistant.”
“Not anymore. I’m having my credits transferred.”
“Why?”
“Clare is a brilliant teacher.”
“So am I,” Indy snapped.
“Yes,” Clare cut in, “but I don’t offer a course in seduction.”
He glared at her. “You stay out of this.”
“Indy,” Betsy said, sounding a little hurt, “I thought you wanted me out of your life.”
“That was before I realized how gifted – how talented you are. I mean... I could really use you.”
“Especially aboard ship for three weeks,” Clare said, raising an eyebrow. “It gets terribly lonely.”
“Clare, I’m warning you...”
“Indy, I’ve learned a lot from you,” Betsy said. “But it’s time I started concentrating on a career in anthropology... instead of romance.” She let out a small laugh.
Indy sighed. This is the same girl who crossed the ocean in a barrel of bananas for me? “You’ve certainly developed a mature attitude,” he said.
She unexpectedly stepped forward and hugged him. “Thanks to you.” She paused and looked into his eyes. “You know, I always thought of you as my knight in shining armor...”
Indy’s heart skipped a beat, and he couldn’t be sure why. “Really?”
“But now,” she continued, “I’ll think of you as the father I never had.”
He rolled his eyes. “Terrific.”
Betsy stepped away and Clare sidled into her position and extended a hand. “Dr. Jones, although your libido is questionable, your bravery and intelligence are exceptional.” She smiled. “It has been an honor working with you.”
Taken aback, he managed to shake the offered hand and say, “Why... thanks.”
He leaned toward her and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t back away.
Gathering his nerve, speaking in his most suave voice, he said, “You know, Clare, there’s something...”
“Yes...” Her voice was calm, unreadable.
“Something I’ve been wanting to do...”
“Yes...”
He leaned in a little closer. “Since we first met...” Aw, what the hell, I literally died the other day. He closed his eyes and leaned in all the way. In a moment he felt her warm, soft, moist lips, and they were everything he’d imagined. Ever after all this time, all these women –
He opened his eyes to the sound of Clare, Betsy, and Scraggy laughing, and looking straight back at him were the eyes of Bonzo the chimpanzee. He tried to move away, but Bonzo’s arms wrapped around him like he was a tree.
Through her laughter, Clare managed to call off Bonzo with hand motions and grunts. Indy wiped off his mouth.
“Sorry,” Betsy said, not sounding sorry at all. “Guess I left her cage open, and she followed us.”
The blast of a horn cut off Indy’s scathing retort. He’d almost forgotten about the ocean liner, and now it was drifting back from the dock. He turned and ran up the stairs, then leaped a few feet to the deck just in time.
When he looked back at his friends calling and waving to him, he saw his crate still sitting on the dock by Scraggy’s feet. Clare followed his gaze, picked it up, and shrugged at him. The distance was too great now for her to throw it over, or for him to jump.
“Better luck next time, Dr. Jones,” she said.
***
The wooden crate holding the golden hooped rod rested in a corner of Clare’s bedroom as she slept peacefully. She didn’t awaken when the nails began to twist with the slightest squeak, as if held by invisible hammers, or when they dropped to the floor one by one. The lid levitated for a moment, then dropped silently on top of them.
The golden hooped rod shimmered in the moonlight. Then it moved, twisting, shrinking, changing shape into a golden eagle. The bird looked around the room as if getting its bearings, flapped its wings, and flew out of the open window into the night.
***
Indiana Jones also slept, though not so peacefully. He’d made sure to shut his cabin’s porthole before bed, but now it mysteriously swung open and allowed the golden eagle to fly inside. It transformed back into the golden hooped rod and leaned against the wall. The moonlight reflected off it into his eyes and woke him up.
He sat up in bed, wondering if he was still dreaming. Then he got up, crossed the room, and touched it. In that moment Sun Wu-Kung’s words came back to him: “The Golden Hooped Rod will be a faithful friend. It is capable of one hundred transformations, and will always remain by your side.”
He wouldn’t be able to tell anyone about its true power, of course, or about the monkey king or the peach garden or any of it. People would never rest until they’d found the golden city and ruined the natives’ way of life forever. He’d buy them a few more decades, at least. He’d have to make up a story about finding this on the black market or something. Maybe I stole it from Kezure’s pirates. Yeah, that’ll do.
Even he was already finding the true story difficult to believe. Really, he’d died? Really? It felt more like a dream than the dreams he’d been having a moment ago. But when he looked out the porthold at the moon and the stars above, and the peaceful dark ocean below, it didn’t seem to matter either way.
Next: Epilogue