Main Page: Indiana Jones and the Monkey King
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Previous: Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Wachtmeister Helmut Gutterbuhg thought he had experienced a rush of power when he got his new arm, but now, at the controls of this metal behemoth, it was amplified many times over. The entire thing felt like a massive extension of that arm, of his power. In a sense it was. Both technologies were brainchildren of the same twisted genius. The same funding, the same passion for the Third Reich had brought them into being. The same trust that had been placed in him to serve his Fuhrer.
A pity that this village had already been flattened and deserted by the time he arrived. Wiping it out himself would have been such a delightful bonus. Right now he almost felt as if he could single-handedly cleanse this entire cursed continent.
Of course, he recognized perfectly well the impracticality of mass-producing such tanks. That had never been the intention. A small handful would primarily serve as a symbol of German might, to strike terror into the enemy. And they would nowhere be more effective than these isolated backwaters, on these ignorant savages.
One of those ignorant savages still sat bound and gagged behind him. He glanced back and flashed a smile at the little Ungeziefer. Tyki had held up well the past couple days, considering they'd given him almost nothing to eat or drink. The only reason Gutterbuhg had left him intact this long was to ensure he lived to see the conquest of his home. Now, having reached the X on the map in the water cave, according to their spy, that moment was imminent. Tyki's usefulness would soon run out. Dr. Jones' and Dr. Clarke's already had. The others had always been expendable.
Gutterbuhg returned his attention to the periscope through which dust clouds from the tank's approach were still expanding and obscuring his targets. He was still not entirely adept at steering and aiming with one hand, but that was all right. He was in no hurry to finish this.
***
As Scraggy, Clare, Betsy, Kezure and the others dashed across the plains, Scraggy realized their leader was missing. “Indy?” he called out. “Indy?”
Indiana Jones, running in the opposite direction, could no longer hear as his thoughts raced along with his legs. The Nazis sure didn't look like they were here to negotiate. If he'd been wrong about their need to use Tyki as a bargaining chip, was the pygmy even still alive?
His worrying was cut short when he hit a wall and stumbled to the ground with an “Ooph!” Not a wall, he realized, but some kind of dark figure looming over him through the dust. As it cleared, he saw a horn.
The figure stepped forward and revealed itself as a black rhinoceros, a veritable tank in its own right, much smaller than the man-made version but just as capable of flattening him. What's it doing here? Indy wondered. His best guess was that it had somehow mistaken the sound of the tank for a mating call – just an assumption, since he had no idea what a rhinoceros mating call sounded like, though he was sure Clare would demonstrate if he asked nicely – and would not be in a pleasant mood once it realized its mistake.
Indy scrambled back up to his feet. “Hey, get outta here, Horny,” he said. “This place is about to get real dangerous even for you.”
The rhinoceros snorted in response. Then it charged.
“Shit!” Indy leaped aside just in time. “Hey, c'mon, I barely touched you!”
He didn't know how fast a rhino could run, but he guessed it was faster than a human, and if he let it get up to speed in this wide-open space he was done for. Instead he ran in a circle and let it follow him in mindless determination like a dog chasing its tail. The circle tightened smaller and smaller until they were practically alongside each other. An idea came to mind, more obvious and less insane than his last.
At the precise moment, he grabbed each of the rhino's horns in one hand, pulled himself up, and swung himself over onto its back. It grunted in surprise and staggered as if drunk. Not as comfortable as a horse, or even an elephant, he decided, but it sure beats going on foot.
Meanwhile, with most of the dust cleared, Gutterbuhg pursued the rest of the group. His vehicle was as fast and maneuverable as a normal-sized tank – that is to say not very much, but impressively so for its girth. He lined them up in his sights and screamed to the pair of gunners behind him, “Feuer!”
The shell echoed across the savanna like the earth itself splitting in two, sailing over their heads and blasting a row of palm trees to smithereens. The group changed direction like a well-organized herd. Another shot hit just off to the left, showering them with dirt and sending up another cloud of dust. They changed direction again. The tank followed, undeterred by the setbacks. It could keep going far longer than they could.
Indy would have come to their aid, but the rhino didn't particularly care for their predicament and was more concerned with bucking him off. For the moment he was safe from being trampled but that would do him no good if the tank took them both out anyway. He contemplated shooting it behind the ear and tried to reach for his gun without losing his grip.
Then the animal froze. Following its gaze, he saw the tank, which from this angle through its nearsighted eyes must have resembled another rhinoceros with a gun barrel for a horn. Whether his mount wanted to kill it or mate with it he didn't know, but in any case, it hunkered down and charged, apparently forgetting about him altogether. He hunkered down and held on for the ride.
The group paused for a few precious seconds, seeing the tank close in from one direction and the rhinoceros with its unexpected passenger from another. “This way,” Scraggy said, and they made a turn to the right, toward a ravine.
Now the tank and the rhino faced each other head-on, both moving at full speed, like jousters of a bygone age. Gutterbuhg's confusion quickly gave way to mirth. All this excitement and he got to bag a hunting trophy too? The rhino would barely make a dent on impact, but blasting it to bits would be so satisfying.
He waited until it closed within thirty feet, and screamed again, “Feuer!”
The blast was low, exploding in front of the rhino. Gutterbuhg squinted through the periscope, but dust obscured his view once again.
Confused and frightened by the explosion, the rhino screeched to a halt. “Thanks, pal, this is my stop,” Indy said, patting it on the flank before he jumped onto the oncoming tank and held on for dear life. He was happy to see the rhino turn and run off moments before the giant treads crushed it. Even though they hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, he felt that they'd bonded during their brief time together.
Scraggy, Betsy, Clare, Kezure, and the others arrived at the ravine's edge. It dropped down at least seven hundred feet onto jagged rocks below, with no visible route of safe descent. A lone manketti tree stood at least forty feet tall, its profusion of dead-looking branches outstretched to the sun.
Scraggy wasted no time scrambling up. “Safest place from bad spirits,” he explained, “is in branches of tree.”
The others looked at each other and shrugged, seeing no alternative. They followed. As Clare brought up the rear, she muttered, “I've got a bloody awful feeling about this.”
The dust cleared and Gutterbuhg spotted them immediately, the only sign of life on the savanna, the picture-perfect definition of “sitting ducks”. He would double back and look for Dr. Jones' remains as soon as he finished with them. Now he took his time, slowing down and getting his aim perfect. If he hit the base of the tree just right, they would all be launched into the ravine in a most entertaining fashion.
Indy climbed the side of the tank, searching for a passageway inside, but none was apparent. He saw his friends in the tree, saw the gun barrel swivel overhead to aim at them, and knew they had seconds to live. He grabbed one of the tank's headlights and twisted it until it snapped off. Then he leaped upward and stuffed it into the barrel's opening.
Nonchalant as could be, Gutterbuhg said, “Feuer.”
An explosion ricocheted behind him and sent both gunners flying back into the wall, out cold. Gutterbuhg choked through the smoke suddenly filling the cabin. He didn't know what had just happened, but he knew there could only be one cause. His commanding officer would not be happy, but he could worry about that later.
He picked up his radio and screamed into it, “The primary weapon has been disabled! We need backup, now!” He threw it down and saw the pygmy smirking at him. “Wipe that look off your face,” he roared, “or I will wipe your face off your skull!”
He didn't have time to see if Tyki complied or not. He returned to the periscope and swiveled it around, confirming that the American archaeologist had boarded the tank. Dr. Jones was crawling around the first level and feeling around as if searching for a way inside. Gutterbuhg hit a red button on the control panel.
Outside, dozens of machine guns ejected from secret slots all around the tank's first level. “Oh, shit,” Indy said again.
They fired in a preset pattern, swiveling on turntables, unable to actually track his movement. He managed to lunge and climb up to the second level before bullets pinged off the metal where he'd been a moment ago. But up here, the large swastikas dilated open, revealing hidden doors that disgorged German soldiers like a swarm of ants. They've got about as much individuality and soul as ants, too, Indy thought as they came at him.
The good news was that in such great numbers and close quarters they didn't dare use their firearms against him. Indy had no such reservations. He emptied his gun, sending uniformed bodies falling in all directions. Beneath them, the tank spun in circles as Gutterbuhg fought to regain control.
In the tree, the group's relief at not being blown sky-high and laughter at Indy's antics was short-lived. “Indy in trouble!” Scraggy said. “We must help!” He moved to shimmy down the trunk, but froze as a gun was cocked at his head.
“Don't move.”
Despite the order, Scraggy turned his head to see one of his own crew members holding the gun.
The man glanced away and motioned toward everyone else. “All of you, stay where you are.”
Clare's mouth fell open. Then she glared at him. “It was you,” she said. “You're the reason the Nazis found us.”
He smiled at her. “Nothing gets past you, Doctor.”
“I sorry, guys,” Scraggy said. “I never suspect. I not think a black man stupid enough to work for Nazis.”
The crew member's smile turned into a smirk. “Stupid? I got paid twice for this expedition. Their money is as good as anyone's. And who says you have to like everyone you work for?”
“They're trying to create a future that has no place for people like you,” Clare warned.
“An empty threat,” the crew member said. “They'll have their hands full with Europe and their so-called Jewish problem for a very long time. They'll keep throwing away their resources on wild goose chases like this one. I'm not at all worried about them coming to Africa long-term. It's just not a priority.”
“But they have no respect for you at all as a person,” Betsy blurted out, “an' you're just lettin' them use you like some kind of tool! Don't you have any pride?”
He motioned the gun toward her. “Spare me the self-righteousness, Miss Tuffet. You know as well as I do that if we were in America, 'the land of the free,' I could be murdered just for talking to you. And which country taught the Nazis everything they know about eugenics, anyway? I'll give you a hint: not Germany.”
For once, Betsy had nothing to say.
The group fell silent and helplessly watched the unfolding drama in front of them. Indy's spent weapon fell with a clatter as the remaining two soldiers pinned him down and attempted to push him off, onto the second level where the machine guns fired blindly away.
The traitorous crew member, his gun still trained on Scraggy's head, indulged himself with a glance at the sight. He never saw Kezure leap down on top of him. His gun discharged into the tree trunk as the pirate king batted his arm aside like a string, then punched him in the face hard enough to lift him from his feet and send him over the edge of the ravine.
Kezure smiled. “I couldn't take his pompousness much longer.”
His smile froze as the tree groaned. A crack formed around the trunk where the bullet had struck. It tilted ever so slightly.
“Nobody move,” Betsy said, “or we'll go over.”
Everyone gripped their branches a little tighter. Scraggy prayed under his breath. The tree swayed a bit more in the breeze than it had moments ago.
Indy flipped one of the Nazis over his head. The soldier fell directly in front of an entire row of machine guns and his body did a grotesque dance of death as it was riddled with bullets. Indy exchanged punches with the remaining Nazi and they tumbled over the rear of the tank, onto a small ledge just above the enormous rotating treads. Indy pushed his opponent onto the treads. The Nazi tried and failed to climb back up in the moment before he was dragged underneath the tank.
Indy looked up to see if any more were on their way. Only one more. Gutterbuhg emerged from another secret hatch on the tank’s top level and pointed his metal finger. Indy dodged around the side of the tank as bullets bounced off the metal beside him.
The others watched with bated breath from the swaying tree, silent and still as the grave. Kezure suddenly sneezed. The tree creaked and wavered over the ravine’s edge.
Gutterbuhg pursued Indy, playing cat and mouse along the top level of the tank. Indy peered around a corner and saw him ahead. He grabbed hold of the large rotating gun barrel, lifted his feet, and swung forward. The gun barrel carried him around the tank’s side to land right behind the unsuspecting Nazi. Indy jumped him and tried to force him down as he tried to move his mechanical arm into position.
No longer spinning in circles, the tank now drove straight toward the swaying manketti tree. Inside, Tyki watched helplessly through the periscope.
Indy looked up at a sudden buzzing sound and saw a Nazi biplane diving toward them. In his moment of distraction, Gutterbuhg pulled free and rolled out of the way. Indy ducked down as the plane flew over his head and missed him by a few feet. The pilot, not wanting to shoot at his own army’s tank, was using the plane as a battering ram with wings.
Gutterbuhg got to his feet and resumed fighting. The biplane looped in the air, coming back for another shot. Gutterbuhg and Indy both leaped out of its path once again. This time the pilot aimed lower, and the plane’s wheels grazed Indy’s back. He cried out in pain.
His back aching, he struggled to keep Gutterbuhg’s machine gun arm from shooting him. The biplane looped around once more. This time it wouldn’t miss. As it drew closer, Indy stopped resisting Gutterbuhg, instead grabbing the mechanical arm, using the Nazi’s own momentum to lift it into position, and pulling the trigger. A round of shots struck the plane’s belly. Its engine coughed, then it spun into a nosedive with a trail of black smoke and exploded on the ground several feet from the tank.
Gutterbuhg took a moment to recover from his shock. In that moment, Indy knocked him unconscious with two final punches to the face. Catching his breath, he turned to see that he was on a collision course with the tree full of his friends. Terrified to call out to him, they just stared back with terrified eyes. Even Kezure looked nervous.
Indy leaped into the open tank compartment and took the controls. He spoke German, but they were in an unfamiliar layout that would take him a minute to figure out, and he didn’t have a minute. Then behind him, Tyki squealed and motioned to a specific control, a red lever. Indy didn’t bother to ask if he was sure. He grabbed it and pulled.
The tank screeched to a stop, its treads halting inches from the tree. Scraggy, Clare, Betsy, Kezure and the others let out a unified sigh of relief.
They let out a unified scream as the tree cracked and sent them over the edge of the ravine.
With a second cracking sound, a bullwhip wrapped itself around the trunk of the tree. On the other end, standing in the tank compartment, Indiana Jones braced himself and pulled with all his strength. Getting the tree back up wasn’t an option. “Jump!” he shouted. “Jump!”
They were already jumping before he told them the second time. As soon as the last pirate’s feet touched the ground, Indy released his whip and let the tree splinter into a million pieces on the rocks below. He gasped, sweat pouring down his face, every muscle in his body aching, but none more so than his back where the plane had strafed him.
In front of him, Gutterbuhg stirred. “Oh no you don’t,” Indy said. He removed the ammo cartridge from the Nazi’s mechanical arm and emptied the bullets onto the ground, then pushed him inside the tank where he was soon tied up in Tyki’s place.
The pygmy crawled out of the tank and blinked in the sunlight. Tears of happiness filled his eyes at the sight of Clare. He ran to her and they exchanged a warm embrace. Next he shook hands with Scraggy and began an excited conversation like two old friends.
Indy grabbed the radio microphone and held it in front of the defeated Nazi. “Call your mommy,” he said.
Gutterbuhg growled at him, then spoke German into the microphone. Another German voice responded.
Indy snatched the microphone away and interrupted him. “This is Jones. I've got your tank, or what's left of it.” He wished he could see the bastard's face. “It's over, pal. You lose.”
Some distance away, Oberleutnant Mephisto forced the anger out of his voice. “Dr. Jones,” he said calmly. “You surprise me. For a supposedly intelligent man, you jump to childish conclusions. Remember… you are driving our tank. We can follow you anywhere.” Now he sneered and allowed his voice to rise. “You are far from defeating us, my friend. The battle has only just begun.”
If Indy had been there, he would have seen the long row of troop tents behind Mephisto, the Jeeps with their recoilless cannons, the canvas trucks filled with more troops and cannons and ammunition. He would have seen an Army big enough to invade an entire African nation. He couldn’t see it, but he got some sense of it through Mephisto’s voice and the complacent look that had come over Gutterbuhg’s ugly face.
“Yeah, well, don’t count on it,” he said, suddenly too worried to think of a wittier retort. He jumped out of the tank as Gutterbuhg’s laughter echoed behind him. He hurried over to the others, interrupting Tyki’s and Scraggy’s conversation. “We’ve got to move. Fast.” He pointed to Tyki. “Ask him if he knows the way to the City from here.”
Scraggy asked. Tyki answered and pointed. Scraggy translated.
“He do not know exact place, but it is somewhere over there.” He pointed in the same direction.
Indy looked. Several miles away, unnoticed during the tank chase, thick layers of clouds surrounded countless rows of mountains. He sighed. “A lotta good that does us. It could take us months, years to search every one of those.” He turned to Clare. “Any suggestions, Dr. Clarke?”
She shook her head. “My research falls just short, I’m afraid.”
“Scraggy? Kezure.”
They shook their heads. “If I knew how to get to the City,” Kezure said, “I wouldn’t have brought you, would I?”
Indy frowned. There had to be some way to narrow it down…
Betsy snapped her fingers. Before Indy could stop her, she reached into his satchel and pulled out the stone mirror he’d almost forgotten about. “Maybe Tyki knows what to do with this,” she said, and gave it to him.
His eyes widened in recognition as he took it. With excitement in his voice, he explained to Scraggy, who translated.
“It is Magical Mirror of Sun Wu Kung.”
Indy nodded impatiently. “Great, but whatta you do with it? Ask it who’s the fairest of them all? I think we already know that.” He pointed a thumb at himself.
“Dream on, Dr. Jones,” Claire said.
Scraggy asked Tyki. The energetic pygmy placed the mirror against an upright stone and adjusted it until it faced the distant mountains. With a high-pitched giggle, he gestured for everyone to gather around the mirror.
It reflected the clouds above the mountain. But above one specific mountain, they saw the image of a golden city – nothing too detailed, but unmistakable buildings. Indy looked at the actual mountain but saw only clouds. The city only existed in the magical mirror.
Clare smiled at him. “‘I come from Land of City on Clouds.’”
Indy nodded. “All right, we have our heading. Let’s go.” At least they wouldn’t have to walk. The tank wasn’t the most comfortable place for a rest, but he wasn’t picky.
“I miss my car, Indy,” Scraggy said as they walked back to it.
“She wouldn’t have made it up in those mountains anyway,” Indy said.
“We never know now. I keep tank when we finish?”
“Be my guest,” Indy said. “You don't think it's a giant demon anymore?”
Scraggy shook his head. “No, Indy. I not worried about Banseebaba right now. Nazi demons bad enough.”
Indy couldn't argue with that.
Next: Chapter Ten
A pity that this village had already been flattened and deserted by the time he arrived. Wiping it out himself would have been such a delightful bonus. Right now he almost felt as if he could single-handedly cleanse this entire cursed continent.
Of course, he recognized perfectly well the impracticality of mass-producing such tanks. That had never been the intention. A small handful would primarily serve as a symbol of German might, to strike terror into the enemy. And they would nowhere be more effective than these isolated backwaters, on these ignorant savages.
One of those ignorant savages still sat bound and gagged behind him. He glanced back and flashed a smile at the little Ungeziefer. Tyki had held up well the past couple days, considering they'd given him almost nothing to eat or drink. The only reason Gutterbuhg had left him intact this long was to ensure he lived to see the conquest of his home. Now, having reached the X on the map in the water cave, according to their spy, that moment was imminent. Tyki's usefulness would soon run out. Dr. Jones' and Dr. Clarke's already had. The others had always been expendable.
Gutterbuhg returned his attention to the periscope through which dust clouds from the tank's approach were still expanding and obscuring his targets. He was still not entirely adept at steering and aiming with one hand, but that was all right. He was in no hurry to finish this.
***
As Scraggy, Clare, Betsy, Kezure and the others dashed across the plains, Scraggy realized their leader was missing. “Indy?” he called out. “Indy?”
Indiana Jones, running in the opposite direction, could no longer hear as his thoughts raced along with his legs. The Nazis sure didn't look like they were here to negotiate. If he'd been wrong about their need to use Tyki as a bargaining chip, was the pygmy even still alive?
His worrying was cut short when he hit a wall and stumbled to the ground with an “Ooph!” Not a wall, he realized, but some kind of dark figure looming over him through the dust. As it cleared, he saw a horn.
The figure stepped forward and revealed itself as a black rhinoceros, a veritable tank in its own right, much smaller than the man-made version but just as capable of flattening him. What's it doing here? Indy wondered. His best guess was that it had somehow mistaken the sound of the tank for a mating call – just an assumption, since he had no idea what a rhinoceros mating call sounded like, though he was sure Clare would demonstrate if he asked nicely – and would not be in a pleasant mood once it realized its mistake.
Indy scrambled back up to his feet. “Hey, get outta here, Horny,” he said. “This place is about to get real dangerous even for you.”
The rhinoceros snorted in response. Then it charged.
“Shit!” Indy leaped aside just in time. “Hey, c'mon, I barely touched you!”
He didn't know how fast a rhino could run, but he guessed it was faster than a human, and if he let it get up to speed in this wide-open space he was done for. Instead he ran in a circle and let it follow him in mindless determination like a dog chasing its tail. The circle tightened smaller and smaller until they were practically alongside each other. An idea came to mind, more obvious and less insane than his last.
At the precise moment, he grabbed each of the rhino's horns in one hand, pulled himself up, and swung himself over onto its back. It grunted in surprise and staggered as if drunk. Not as comfortable as a horse, or even an elephant, he decided, but it sure beats going on foot.
Meanwhile, with most of the dust cleared, Gutterbuhg pursued the rest of the group. His vehicle was as fast and maneuverable as a normal-sized tank – that is to say not very much, but impressively so for its girth. He lined them up in his sights and screamed to the pair of gunners behind him, “Feuer!”
The shell echoed across the savanna like the earth itself splitting in two, sailing over their heads and blasting a row of palm trees to smithereens. The group changed direction like a well-organized herd. Another shot hit just off to the left, showering them with dirt and sending up another cloud of dust. They changed direction again. The tank followed, undeterred by the setbacks. It could keep going far longer than they could.
Indy would have come to their aid, but the rhino didn't particularly care for their predicament and was more concerned with bucking him off. For the moment he was safe from being trampled but that would do him no good if the tank took them both out anyway. He contemplated shooting it behind the ear and tried to reach for his gun without losing his grip.
Then the animal froze. Following its gaze, he saw the tank, which from this angle through its nearsighted eyes must have resembled another rhinoceros with a gun barrel for a horn. Whether his mount wanted to kill it or mate with it he didn't know, but in any case, it hunkered down and charged, apparently forgetting about him altogether. He hunkered down and held on for the ride.
The group paused for a few precious seconds, seeing the tank close in from one direction and the rhinoceros with its unexpected passenger from another. “This way,” Scraggy said, and they made a turn to the right, toward a ravine.
Now the tank and the rhino faced each other head-on, both moving at full speed, like jousters of a bygone age. Gutterbuhg's confusion quickly gave way to mirth. All this excitement and he got to bag a hunting trophy too? The rhino would barely make a dent on impact, but blasting it to bits would be so satisfying.
He waited until it closed within thirty feet, and screamed again, “Feuer!”
The blast was low, exploding in front of the rhino. Gutterbuhg squinted through the periscope, but dust obscured his view once again.
Confused and frightened by the explosion, the rhino screeched to a halt. “Thanks, pal, this is my stop,” Indy said, patting it on the flank before he jumped onto the oncoming tank and held on for dear life. He was happy to see the rhino turn and run off moments before the giant treads crushed it. Even though they hadn't always seen eye-to-eye, he felt that they'd bonded during their brief time together.
Scraggy, Betsy, Clare, Kezure, and the others arrived at the ravine's edge. It dropped down at least seven hundred feet onto jagged rocks below, with no visible route of safe descent. A lone manketti tree stood at least forty feet tall, its profusion of dead-looking branches outstretched to the sun.
Scraggy wasted no time scrambling up. “Safest place from bad spirits,” he explained, “is in branches of tree.”
The others looked at each other and shrugged, seeing no alternative. They followed. As Clare brought up the rear, she muttered, “I've got a bloody awful feeling about this.”
The dust cleared and Gutterbuhg spotted them immediately, the only sign of life on the savanna, the picture-perfect definition of “sitting ducks”. He would double back and look for Dr. Jones' remains as soon as he finished with them. Now he took his time, slowing down and getting his aim perfect. If he hit the base of the tree just right, they would all be launched into the ravine in a most entertaining fashion.
Indy climbed the side of the tank, searching for a passageway inside, but none was apparent. He saw his friends in the tree, saw the gun barrel swivel overhead to aim at them, and knew they had seconds to live. He grabbed one of the tank's headlights and twisted it until it snapped off. Then he leaped upward and stuffed it into the barrel's opening.
Nonchalant as could be, Gutterbuhg said, “Feuer.”
An explosion ricocheted behind him and sent both gunners flying back into the wall, out cold. Gutterbuhg choked through the smoke suddenly filling the cabin. He didn't know what had just happened, but he knew there could only be one cause. His commanding officer would not be happy, but he could worry about that later.
He picked up his radio and screamed into it, “The primary weapon has been disabled! We need backup, now!” He threw it down and saw the pygmy smirking at him. “Wipe that look off your face,” he roared, “or I will wipe your face off your skull!”
He didn't have time to see if Tyki complied or not. He returned to the periscope and swiveled it around, confirming that the American archaeologist had boarded the tank. Dr. Jones was crawling around the first level and feeling around as if searching for a way inside. Gutterbuhg hit a red button on the control panel.
Outside, dozens of machine guns ejected from secret slots all around the tank's first level. “Oh, shit,” Indy said again.
They fired in a preset pattern, swiveling on turntables, unable to actually track his movement. He managed to lunge and climb up to the second level before bullets pinged off the metal where he'd been a moment ago. But up here, the large swastikas dilated open, revealing hidden doors that disgorged German soldiers like a swarm of ants. They've got about as much individuality and soul as ants, too, Indy thought as they came at him.
The good news was that in such great numbers and close quarters they didn't dare use their firearms against him. Indy had no such reservations. He emptied his gun, sending uniformed bodies falling in all directions. Beneath them, the tank spun in circles as Gutterbuhg fought to regain control.
In the tree, the group's relief at not being blown sky-high and laughter at Indy's antics was short-lived. “Indy in trouble!” Scraggy said. “We must help!” He moved to shimmy down the trunk, but froze as a gun was cocked at his head.
“Don't move.”
Despite the order, Scraggy turned his head to see one of his own crew members holding the gun.
The man glanced away and motioned toward everyone else. “All of you, stay where you are.”
Clare's mouth fell open. Then she glared at him. “It was you,” she said. “You're the reason the Nazis found us.”
He smiled at her. “Nothing gets past you, Doctor.”
“I sorry, guys,” Scraggy said. “I never suspect. I not think a black man stupid enough to work for Nazis.”
The crew member's smile turned into a smirk. “Stupid? I got paid twice for this expedition. Their money is as good as anyone's. And who says you have to like everyone you work for?”
“They're trying to create a future that has no place for people like you,” Clare warned.
“An empty threat,” the crew member said. “They'll have their hands full with Europe and their so-called Jewish problem for a very long time. They'll keep throwing away their resources on wild goose chases like this one. I'm not at all worried about them coming to Africa long-term. It's just not a priority.”
“But they have no respect for you at all as a person,” Betsy blurted out, “an' you're just lettin' them use you like some kind of tool! Don't you have any pride?”
He motioned the gun toward her. “Spare me the self-righteousness, Miss Tuffet. You know as well as I do that if we were in America, 'the land of the free,' I could be murdered just for talking to you. And which country taught the Nazis everything they know about eugenics, anyway? I'll give you a hint: not Germany.”
For once, Betsy had nothing to say.
The group fell silent and helplessly watched the unfolding drama in front of them. Indy's spent weapon fell with a clatter as the remaining two soldiers pinned him down and attempted to push him off, onto the second level where the machine guns fired blindly away.
The traitorous crew member, his gun still trained on Scraggy's head, indulged himself with a glance at the sight. He never saw Kezure leap down on top of him. His gun discharged into the tree trunk as the pirate king batted his arm aside like a string, then punched him in the face hard enough to lift him from his feet and send him over the edge of the ravine.
Kezure smiled. “I couldn't take his pompousness much longer.”
His smile froze as the tree groaned. A crack formed around the trunk where the bullet had struck. It tilted ever so slightly.
“Nobody move,” Betsy said, “or we'll go over.”
Everyone gripped their branches a little tighter. Scraggy prayed under his breath. The tree swayed a bit more in the breeze than it had moments ago.
Indy flipped one of the Nazis over his head. The soldier fell directly in front of an entire row of machine guns and his body did a grotesque dance of death as it was riddled with bullets. Indy exchanged punches with the remaining Nazi and they tumbled over the rear of the tank, onto a small ledge just above the enormous rotating treads. Indy pushed his opponent onto the treads. The Nazi tried and failed to climb back up in the moment before he was dragged underneath the tank.
Indy looked up to see if any more were on their way. Only one more. Gutterbuhg emerged from another secret hatch on the tank’s top level and pointed his metal finger. Indy dodged around the side of the tank as bullets bounced off the metal beside him.
The others watched with bated breath from the swaying tree, silent and still as the grave. Kezure suddenly sneezed. The tree creaked and wavered over the ravine’s edge.
Gutterbuhg pursued Indy, playing cat and mouse along the top level of the tank. Indy peered around a corner and saw him ahead. He grabbed hold of the large rotating gun barrel, lifted his feet, and swung forward. The gun barrel carried him around the tank’s side to land right behind the unsuspecting Nazi. Indy jumped him and tried to force him down as he tried to move his mechanical arm into position.
No longer spinning in circles, the tank now drove straight toward the swaying manketti tree. Inside, Tyki watched helplessly through the periscope.
Indy looked up at a sudden buzzing sound and saw a Nazi biplane diving toward them. In his moment of distraction, Gutterbuhg pulled free and rolled out of the way. Indy ducked down as the plane flew over his head and missed him by a few feet. The pilot, not wanting to shoot at his own army’s tank, was using the plane as a battering ram with wings.
Gutterbuhg got to his feet and resumed fighting. The biplane looped in the air, coming back for another shot. Gutterbuhg and Indy both leaped out of its path once again. This time the pilot aimed lower, and the plane’s wheels grazed Indy’s back. He cried out in pain.
His back aching, he struggled to keep Gutterbuhg’s machine gun arm from shooting him. The biplane looped around once more. This time it wouldn’t miss. As it drew closer, Indy stopped resisting Gutterbuhg, instead grabbing the mechanical arm, using the Nazi’s own momentum to lift it into position, and pulling the trigger. A round of shots struck the plane’s belly. Its engine coughed, then it spun into a nosedive with a trail of black smoke and exploded on the ground several feet from the tank.
Gutterbuhg took a moment to recover from his shock. In that moment, Indy knocked him unconscious with two final punches to the face. Catching his breath, he turned to see that he was on a collision course with the tree full of his friends. Terrified to call out to him, they just stared back with terrified eyes. Even Kezure looked nervous.
Indy leaped into the open tank compartment and took the controls. He spoke German, but they were in an unfamiliar layout that would take him a minute to figure out, and he didn’t have a minute. Then behind him, Tyki squealed and motioned to a specific control, a red lever. Indy didn’t bother to ask if he was sure. He grabbed it and pulled.
The tank screeched to a stop, its treads halting inches from the tree. Scraggy, Clare, Betsy, Kezure and the others let out a unified sigh of relief.
They let out a unified scream as the tree cracked and sent them over the edge of the ravine.
With a second cracking sound, a bullwhip wrapped itself around the trunk of the tree. On the other end, standing in the tank compartment, Indiana Jones braced himself and pulled with all his strength. Getting the tree back up wasn’t an option. “Jump!” he shouted. “Jump!”
They were already jumping before he told them the second time. As soon as the last pirate’s feet touched the ground, Indy released his whip and let the tree splinter into a million pieces on the rocks below. He gasped, sweat pouring down his face, every muscle in his body aching, but none more so than his back where the plane had strafed him.
In front of him, Gutterbuhg stirred. “Oh no you don’t,” Indy said. He removed the ammo cartridge from the Nazi’s mechanical arm and emptied the bullets onto the ground, then pushed him inside the tank where he was soon tied up in Tyki’s place.
The pygmy crawled out of the tank and blinked in the sunlight. Tears of happiness filled his eyes at the sight of Clare. He ran to her and they exchanged a warm embrace. Next he shook hands with Scraggy and began an excited conversation like two old friends.
Indy grabbed the radio microphone and held it in front of the defeated Nazi. “Call your mommy,” he said.
Gutterbuhg growled at him, then spoke German into the microphone. Another German voice responded.
Indy snatched the microphone away and interrupted him. “This is Jones. I've got your tank, or what's left of it.” He wished he could see the bastard's face. “It's over, pal. You lose.”
Some distance away, Oberleutnant Mephisto forced the anger out of his voice. “Dr. Jones,” he said calmly. “You surprise me. For a supposedly intelligent man, you jump to childish conclusions. Remember… you are driving our tank. We can follow you anywhere.” Now he sneered and allowed his voice to rise. “You are far from defeating us, my friend. The battle has only just begun.”
If Indy had been there, he would have seen the long row of troop tents behind Mephisto, the Jeeps with their recoilless cannons, the canvas trucks filled with more troops and cannons and ammunition. He would have seen an Army big enough to invade an entire African nation. He couldn’t see it, but he got some sense of it through Mephisto’s voice and the complacent look that had come over Gutterbuhg’s ugly face.
“Yeah, well, don’t count on it,” he said, suddenly too worried to think of a wittier retort. He jumped out of the tank as Gutterbuhg’s laughter echoed behind him. He hurried over to the others, interrupting Tyki’s and Scraggy’s conversation. “We’ve got to move. Fast.” He pointed to Tyki. “Ask him if he knows the way to the City from here.”
Scraggy asked. Tyki answered and pointed. Scraggy translated.
“He do not know exact place, but it is somewhere over there.” He pointed in the same direction.
Indy looked. Several miles away, unnoticed during the tank chase, thick layers of clouds surrounded countless rows of mountains. He sighed. “A lotta good that does us. It could take us months, years to search every one of those.” He turned to Clare. “Any suggestions, Dr. Clarke?”
She shook her head. “My research falls just short, I’m afraid.”
“Scraggy? Kezure.”
They shook their heads. “If I knew how to get to the City,” Kezure said, “I wouldn’t have brought you, would I?”
Indy frowned. There had to be some way to narrow it down…
Betsy snapped her fingers. Before Indy could stop her, she reached into his satchel and pulled out the stone mirror he’d almost forgotten about. “Maybe Tyki knows what to do with this,” she said, and gave it to him.
His eyes widened in recognition as he took it. With excitement in his voice, he explained to Scraggy, who translated.
“It is Magical Mirror of Sun Wu Kung.”
Indy nodded impatiently. “Great, but whatta you do with it? Ask it who’s the fairest of them all? I think we already know that.” He pointed a thumb at himself.
“Dream on, Dr. Jones,” Claire said.
Scraggy asked Tyki. The energetic pygmy placed the mirror against an upright stone and adjusted it until it faced the distant mountains. With a high-pitched giggle, he gestured for everyone to gather around the mirror.
It reflected the clouds above the mountain. But above one specific mountain, they saw the image of a golden city – nothing too detailed, but unmistakable buildings. Indy looked at the actual mountain but saw only clouds. The city only existed in the magical mirror.
Clare smiled at him. “‘I come from Land of City on Clouds.’”
Indy nodded. “All right, we have our heading. Let’s go.” At least they wouldn’t have to walk. The tank wasn’t the most comfortable place for a rest, but he wasn’t picky.
“I miss my car, Indy,” Scraggy said as they walked back to it.
“She wouldn’t have made it up in those mountains anyway,” Indy said.
“We never know now. I keep tank when we finish?”
“Be my guest,” Indy said. “You don't think it's a giant demon anymore?”
Scraggy shook his head. “No, Indy. I not worried about Banseebaba right now. Nazi demons bad enough.”
Indy couldn't argue with that.
Next: Chapter Ten
