Hopes
and Schemes
part
1
TaleSpinand its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.
Riversidle,
Californea
October 1936
Twilight
In the living room of a modest, white, two-story house located in the middle of a modest residential area in the growing metropolis of Riversidle, five-year-old Molly Cunningham was perched on the arm of the couch, turning the radio knob in an attempt to find her favorite program.
The little yellow bearess paused when she heard an announcer say, “...brought to you by Gloss-O-Matic. When your floor has lost that showroom sheen, buy...”
“...a new romantic, dramatic, comedic, action-packed cinematic epic starring Kitten Kaboodle as...”
“...Broadcast Sally,” said a velvety voiced woman, “playing all your favorites on this beautifulWednesday evening. Next up is Rosebeary Clooney singing...”
“...bottom of the 7th of the Series,” a deep voice said. “Sox leading the Pirates 3-1. Two men out. Grover Bearenson at bat. There’s the windup, the pitch and...” Crack! “It’s...”
“...Faster than a speeding airship. More powerful than a turbine. Able to leap city blocks in a single bound. It’s Danger Woman!”
“Yay!” Molly shouted. With an excited bounce that caused her red blanket ‘cape’ to flap, she settled herself on the couch, rescued her colander ‘helmet’ from sliding off her head, and picked up Lucy, her favorite doll.
“In this week’s episode,” the announcer continued, “Danger Woman encounters the evil Dr. Nematoda whose dirty schemes bury the city in grime. Can our heroine worm her way out of this one? But first, these messages...”
“Molly, turn it down!” Rebecca Cunningham shouted from the next room. “Mommy can’t hear herself think.”
“Aw...” Molly grumbled, but complied. Since a commercial was still playing, she said to Lucy, “I’m counting on you to tell me when Danger Womancomes back on, trusty sidekick.” She saluted her doll, hopped off the couch, and skipped into the den where her mother was sitting at her desk. “Nowcan you hear yourself think?” she asked with childish candor.
“Yes, Pumpkin.” Rebecca’s smile dissolved into a sigh as she swivelled in her chair, turning her attention back to the bank statement in her hand. “Almost $20,000 saved, and if we sell the house...”
Tears threatened to veil her large brown eyes at the thought of parting with the home she had come to as a bride. For a while, her gaze lingered on a framed photograph of her deceased husband that was sitting on the corner of her desk. Then, she swivelled in her chair to look around the comfortable den. Opposite her was her husband’s desk, which was identical to hers. There once was a time when his cluttered desktop had driven her to distraction, but now it was empty, devoid of even a single piece of paper. One by one, she looked at all of the pictures that she and her husband had hung together, at their framed MBA diplomas, at all of the mementos that they had accrued over the years. Even the smallest thing held a special memory. Finally, she turned back to her desk and looked past the lacy curtains to the trailing trumpet vine clinging to the trellis beside the window. The hummingbirds that were sipping from the delicate pink flowers were so close that if she opened the window, she could have touched them. Beyond that was the radiant sunset flooding the world in its yellow and orange beauty.
“Is everything okay, Mom?” Molly whispered, perceptive beyond her tender age.
“Yes, honey,” the petite brown bearess said, rousing herself from her bittersweet reverie. She scooped up her daughter, gave her a warm hug, and set her on her lap. “Where was I? Oh, yes. If we sell the house, we’ll have...” she punched the keys on the adding machine, “over $50,000.”
“Fifty thousand dollars?” Molly cried, twisting around to look up at her mother’s face. “We could buy lots of Frosty Pep with that.”
“Or a business, which is what we’re going to do. Won’t that be fun, having our own business?”
“What kind of business?”
“I’m not sure yet.” Rebecca’s eyes fell on the neat mountain of books, maps, and magazines on her desk. On the topmost magazine, a tiger’s visage - handsome, strong, with a hint of arrogant complacency - was framed with the caption: Shere Khan Named Fortune 5000's Wealthiest Man for the Ninth Consecutive Year.She had looked through them countless times, but nothing had appealed to her. The ideas in them all seemed so mundane. She wanted to have a business that was new, exciting, and would make a big profit in a small amount of time.
“I know!” Molly exclaimed. “How about an ice cream stand?”
Rebecca chuckled. “I was thinking of something a little bigger than an ice cream stand.” She returned to examining the bank statements.
“Okay. Then how about an ice cream factory?”
“No, and you’re not getting any more ice cream today, young lady.”
Molly was disappointed, but she knew not to press her luck when her mother spoke in that stern tone. She crawled on top of the desk and started to rifle through the books and magazines haphazardly. Suddenly, she said, “Can we buy an airplane?”
“An airplane?” Rebecca exclaimed, her hand suspended in mid-air over the adding machine.
“Yeah! It’d be fun to have an airplane and fly wherever we wanted to,” Molly said, holding up a Fortune 5000with a sleek silver airplane streaking across the front.
“Speaking of going places, you need to get your bath and get ready for bed, young lady.”
“Aw, Mom, but Danger Woman’sstill on.”
“Okay. After Danger Woman,” she said, kissing her daughter on the cheek.
After Molly had scrambled down from the desk and had skipped into the living room, Rebecca picked up the magazine that the little girl had dropped on the floor. The caption on the front read: Air Cargo - Fab or Fad? She had never considered the air cargo business before...
Meanwhile..
Baloo’s Air Service
Cape Suzette
Fifty miles southwest of Riversidle, on the outskirts of the coastal city of Cape Suzette, a houseboat constructed of mismatched airplane parts was moored to the dock near a rundown lighthouse-like structure that served as both the office and living quarters of the proprietor of Baloo’s Air Service.
Inside the small houseboat, a wiry lion wearing grease-spattered overalls and an orange visor was fiddling with a radio that had seen better days. The tip of his tongue protruded from his mouth in concentration as he turned the radio’s knobs. However, he couldn’t get it to make a sound.
“What’s wrong with you, Gladys?” the lion wondered, wiggling a wire gently. “Cat got your transistor?”
After checking every wire and connection, the mechanic got the biggest hammer out of his toolbox. He considered the radio for a while, then gave it a good whack on the top of its worn wooden cabinet. With a snap, crackle and loud pop, an announcer said, “...top of the 8th in the Series. Sox still leading the Pirates 4-1...”
“Wildcat! Hey, Wildcat, where are ya?”
The lion mechanic put his ear to the radio’s speaker. “I didn’t know Baloo was on the radio. You never tell me anything, Gladys.”
A big grey bear in a faded yellow button-down shirt and red pilot’s cap bellowed, “Wildcat!” as he poked his head in the doorway. Seeing the very person he was searching for, he lowered his voice. “Oh, there ya are.”
“How’d you get out of the radio and all the way across the room without me seeing you, Baloo?” the mechanic wondered.
“Huh?” Baloo scratched his head. “Aw, never mind.” Deciphering Wildcat’s convoluted thought processes would take too much time and energy. “I’m headin’ to Louie’s to grab some grub, an’ wanted to know if...” Hearing someone else speaking besides him, he turned towards the radio. “Whatcha listenin’ to?”
“The Series. The Sox are beating the pants off of the Pirates. At least that’s what Gladys tells...”
Baloo interrupted impatiently. “So, are you gonna come with me or not?”
“Nah, I think I’ll stay here, listen to the game, and make jellybean omelets. They’re my favoritebrain food.”
“Then you’d better eat lots of ‘em. You need all the help you can get,” Baloo said derisively.
“Oh, hey, Baloo, I just remembered. I, like, don’t have any jellybeans or eggs, ‘cause I, like, don’t have any money.”
“When’s the last time I paid ya?” the pilot asked, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully.
“Um...four weeks ago or last month. I can’t remember which.”
Baloo tossed Wildcat a couple of dollars and some coins. “There ya go, pal. That’s all I got on me. I’ll give ya some more when I fly my next job.”
“When will that be?”
“I dunno,” Baloo said with an unconcerned shrug as he turned to head to his seaplane, which was moored at the far end of the dock, beside the arching sign that said ‘Baloo’s Air Service’ in faded lettering. “Whenever Louie starts makin’ me pay dough every time I go.”
“Hey, Baloo!” Wildcat said, rushing to the door. “Before I almost forget again, the man from the bank called. Said he wanted to talk to you about something real important.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bankers always got somethin’ they think is real important to jaw about, but the Big Guy is tellin’ me that right now findin’ some food is more important.” The big bear patted his large stomach.
“All right, Baloo,” Wildcat said quietly with a shrug of his thin shoulders. Who was he to argue with his boss? After all, the Sea Duck wasn’t his plane. He just fixed it when it was ‘sick’. The mechanic stood in the doorway, watching the overweight pilot hurry down the dock and climb into the seaplane. As he listened to the twin Superflight 100 engines start up, a smile of satisfaction crossed his lean leonine features. “Fit as a banjo.” After the Sea Duck had vanished between the cliff opening, he went back into his houseboat, asking, “What did I miss, Gladys?”
Meanwhile...
Pirate Island
One hundred sixty degrees southeast of Cape Suzette, a mist-enshrouded volcanic archipelago arose from the placid Pacific Ocean. The volcanoes’ harsh, craggy dull brown were a severe contrast to the sparkling blue ocean surrounding it, but the ugliness didn’t matter to the fierce band of air pirates who had made this desolate spot their hideout.
Inside the largest volcano, there was a large harbor concealed from prying eyes by two massive stone doors. There, the pirates’ behemoth mothership, the Iron Vulture, was moored. In the gloom and shadow of the cave, it appeared to be a sleeping purple and black bird with its yellow beak floating on the dark water. However, the inside of this large ship of the air was teeming with activity.
At that moment, the pirates were gathered around the long tables in the Iron Vulture’sdining room, eating dinner and listening to the Series on a stolen radio.
Kit Cloudkicker, the smallest and youngest pirate, was crammed on a bench between Dumptruck and Gibber. The eleven-year-old bear cub was hunched over his plate in order to protect his food from the others. His ears strained to listen to the game amid the chomping, slurping, gulping, and smacking of the uncouth pirates.
The radio announcer was saying, “...Sox ahead 4-1. Lou Growling of the Pirates up to bat...”
Dumptruck, a grey canine named so due to his massive size, ripped a chunk out of his roll. “Are der Pirates losing?”
From across the table, Hal, a rotund orange feline, replied, “Yeah, but they’re pirates. They’ll do something sneaky and get ahead.”
A lanky ferret with long, limp moustaches called Mad Dog stealthily purloined a loin from Hal’s plate before remarking, “Like steal some bases. Pirates are good at stealing.”
The pirates all vociferously voiced their agreement, except Dumptruck, who was busy eyeing Kit’s chicken leg.
“Don’t even think about it,” Kit growled as his hand closed over it. He had had to fight tooth and nail to get that chicken leg.
Sneering, Dumptruck drew a pistol from his coat and pointed it at Kit.
“Okay, okay, take it,” the boy snapped, flinging it on the other pirate’s plate.
Dumptruck popped it - bone and all - into his mouth.
Under his breath, Kit muttered, “I hope you choke on it.”
Dumptruck spit the chicken bone onto his plate. In a thick Swedish accent, he asked suspiciously, “Did you say someting, little meatball?”
Despite the fact that Dumptruck could have killed Kit with one blow of his meaty fist, the boy stood up on the bench, looked him unflinchingly in the eye, and defiantly retorted, “Yeah, I said...”
Just then, their leader and captain, Don Karnage, strutted into the room and turned off the radio.
“Aw, Captain, we were listening to the Pirates,” Mad Dog whined.
“From now on, you will listen to thispirate!” the ruggedly handsome brown wolf said as he made his way to the head of the table. “I, Don Karnage, pirate extraordinaire, have come up with another stupendous plan to plunder Cape Suzette.”
“Anotherone?” Mad Dog whined.
Dumptruck stopped picking his teeth with his fingernail to ask, “Will dis one vork, Captain?”
Mad Dog added, “Yeah, I’m getting tired of getting shot at by those cliff guns.”
“It came from my wonderfully brilliant mind, so of course it will work!” Karnage shouted. He repeatedly thumped the table with his fist for emphasis, causing the dishes and cutlery to dance.
His curiosity piqued, Kit peered around his comrades and asked, “Well, what is it, Captain?”
Karnage’s face lit up. “I am so glad you have asked that, my boy.” His voice took on a mysterious tone as he described his plan. “Under the coverlet of darkness, we will fly towards Cape Suzette without any lights on. The gunners will not shoot what they cannot see. It is brilliant, yes-no?”
On both sides of the table, the skeptical pirates nodded and murmured their reluctant approval. In the back of their minds lurked the many previous failed attempts to plunder Cape Suzette.
Kit thought, It’ll never work. The gunners will hear the Vulturefor sure.
Don Karnage, who was not satisfied with his loyal lackeys’ less-than-enthusiastic response, menacingly drew his sword from its sheath. “Well...?”
Intimidated by their commander’s fierce expression and the fact that he was a master of torture, the pirates wildly applauded, cheered, and stomped their feet. Even Kit whistled half-heartedly.
Karnage beamed. “Thank you, thank you. No, stop it, you are too kind.”
Immediately, there was silence. The dim-witted pirates were merely following orders to ‘stop it’.
With a sigh of exasperation, Karnage said, “You didn’t have to stop so soon.”
The cheering recommenced, louder this time.
“Ah...that is more like it,” the pirate captain said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
That
Night
Iron Vulture
The night was as black as coal as the hulking Iron Vultureflew towards Cape Suzette like a shark stealthily gliding towards its prey. It seemed that even Mother Nature was cooperating with Don Karnage in his plan to sneak by the cliff gunners unnoticed, for the cloud cover was heavy, blocking even the slightest trace of the moon or stars.
The pirates scurried around the huge hangar as they prepared to attack. Don Karnage paced the upper deck above them, impatiently watching the reddish glow in the sky over the city grow steadily closer. Also on the upper deck was first mate Gibber.
Mad Dog snapped the barrel of his pistol shut. “Remember when the captain had us paint the ship blue so we would be invisible?”
“But then it rained,” Hal reminded them as he handed out gunny sacks, “and all of the paint washed off and the guns shot at us.”
With a coil of rope slung over one muscular shoulder and a rifle slung over the other, Dumptruck remarked, “And den he dressed da ship up like a boat and tried to sail it between the cliffs.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mad Dog said. He slipped his pistol and a handful of extra bullets into his pockets. “But we hit a reef and the disguise fell off.”
“And the guns shot at us,” Hal added.
“Shut up with the tripping down memory lane, you flea brains!” Karnage shouted, leaning over the bannister, causing all of the pirates to stop in their tracks. “This time there is no paint, and there is no rain to wash the paint away.”
“Und ve don’t have to vear dose skimpy bathing suits,” Dumptruck said in a not-so-quiet aside to Mad Dog.
Mad Dog winced. “That thing chafed.”
“That plan would have been very successful if it had succeeded.” Breathing heavily with rage, the Captain clenched his hands around the railing and glared down at his minions.
Kit, who had climbed the ladder to the upper deck in order to get a better look at where they were going, ventured quietly, “Uh, Captain, why don’t we try to plunder a different city? One that doesn’t have cliff guns?”
Karnage whirled around, ready to vent his anger on the handiest target. “Because Cape Suzette is the most spectaculous city around here. The trading hubcap of Usland. It is the center of everything there is to be in the center of. When we plunder Cape Suzette, we will have hit the jack-in-the-pot, the bulls in the eye. And it is the closest, you estupide, little, no-nothing boy!”
“Yeah, but it seems that...”
“Are you the captain?” the wolf asked, giving the boy a rough poke in the chest with his forefinger.
“No, but...!” To Kit, it seemed pointless to continue their futile quest to try to plunder a city as well-fortified as Cape Suzette. It was as stupid as repeatedly knocking your head against a wall.
“Whois the captain?” As he waited for the obvious answer, Karnage polished his fingernails against his immaculate jacket.
Kit sighed in resignation. It was frustrating to be right, yet know that he couldn’t win. “You are.”
“Of course I am!” Karnage drew his sword and swung it through the air to emphasize each ‘I’. Kit had to duck in order to keep his head intact. “I am the captain. Imake the decisions. And right now, Iam deciding that we need to turn off all the lights.”
All over the Iron Vultureswitches were flipped, plunging them into total darkness, save for one small lightbulb at the far end of the hangar.
“If anyone so much as utters one pipping-squeak, he will suffer the wrath of the dreadful pirate, Don Karnage!” At the top of his lungs, he commanded, “Turn off that light!”
“Yes, sir, Captain,” Hacksaw said, flipping a switch.
Ka-boom!went a cannon as it exploded from the Iron Vulture’sprow and flew towards the cliffs.
“Oopsy!” Hacksaw whimpered. “Wrong switch.”
Suddenly, there was a multitude of ear-splitting explosions all around them. The Cape Suzette cannoneers were returning fire with a vengeance, trying to blast the pirates out of the sky or at least drive them away from the city. The behemoth airship rocked from side to side as firework-like bombs pierced its skin and knocked out its topside propellers. Chaos ensued as the pirates hurried to extinguish fires and repair electrical damage.
“HACKSAW!” Karnage roared.
“B-but, Captain, I-I thought it was the light switch. Honest.”
“I will deal with you later,” Karnage said between clenched teeth. “But for now...retreat!”
As the wounded airship turned around, the pirate captain took one last look at Cape Suzette. “I willget in somehow if it is the last thing I do,” he muttered determinedly under his breath.
Khan
Towers
Downtown Cape Suzette
The Next Day
Sunlight poured through powderpuff-like clouds onto the city of Cape Suzette, warming the harbor, dancing on rooftops, and glinting off windows. The largest window in the city was located at the top of ninety-story Khan Towers; it allowed the wealthiest man in the world, Shere Khan, a magnificent view of both the city and the cliffs protecting it.
At that moment, however, Khan was not paying the slightest attention to the beautiful weather outside. Instead, the intimidating tiger, impeccably clad in an expensive suit, sat behind his claw-marked mahogany desk, his back to the window, perusing the latest Fortune 5000 magazine.
“Khan Industries worth 3.3 billion dollars,” he read. “Miniversal Corporation worth a mere 2.9 billion dollars. Better luck next year, Mr. Sultan.”
A trace of a smug smile was on his normally impassive face. He had been number one ever since Fortune 5000 Magazine had started their annual 'wealthiest man in the world' feature.
The man who prided himself on being completely emotionless gloated to himself as he read the article, which confirmed what he already knew: whomever had the most money had the most power. Power to make more money. More importantly, power to spread his business to every corner of the globe from Aridia to Zilbaldo, even communist Thembria. Already, Khan Industries surpassed its competitors in a vast variety of commodities from spices to military equipment to energy resources. Little by little, Khan Industries was buying up the world and gaining control over the global market. That was this ruthless businessman’s one goal in life. After all, he lived by the golden rule: ‘He who has the gold, makes the rules’.
Buzz!went the interoffice intercom.
At any other time, this unscheduled interruption would have irritated him, but because he was in a good mood, he wasn’t even mildly annoyed. He pressed the ‘transmit’ button. “Yes, Mrs. Snarly?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but Dr. Debolt insists upon seeing you despite the fact that his appointment isn’t until 2:30 next Thursday.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Snarly. Show him in.” He closed the magazine, folded his hands over it, and calmly turned his attention towards the elevator at the far end of the room.
A moment later, a small apricot-colored rabbit with a shock of grey hair bounced out of the elevator into the office, his lab coat flapping. In his hands was a small blue treasure chest, edged with gold plate and decorated with yellow suns. In a shrill, excited voice, the scientist squeaked, “Success, Mr. Khan! Success! We were able to create the sub-electron amplifier. According to my calculations, I knew it would work in theory, but putting it into effect was a different...”
Shere Khan cut short his long-winded rambling by asking pointedly, “How many were you able to produce?”
“Only one, sir. Here it is.” He proudly set the treasure chest on the desk and opened the lid. Lying on a bed of black velvet was something that resembled a large ruby.
Khan reached for it, but before he could touch it, Dr. Debolt said, “I wouldn’t touch it barehanded if I were you. You might get a nasty shock. Here. Wear this.” The scientist dug a black rubber glove out of his lab coat pocket and handed it to his employer.
The businessman donned the glove and carefully picked up the stone. As he turned it in his hand, sunlight gleamed off its many facets. “I thought you said you’d be able to produce an unlimited amount.”
Shrinking under the businessman’s piercing gaze, Dr. Debolt stammered, “Yes, but that was before we...”
“How much energy will this one produce?”
“Enough to run all of your businesses,” Dr. Debolt said, nervously pushing his glasses up on his nose, “I think...”
“You think?” Khan quirked an eyebrow. If there was one thing he didn’t like, it was unanswered questions. “I want toknow.” He gently returned the stone to the box and removed the glove. He pushed both towards the scientist.
“We will after we run more tests and...”
“Fine,” Khan said, pulling a sheet of his personal stationary from his desk drawer. He scribbled a memo and signed his name with a flourish. “Get one of my pilots to transport it to my power plant in the NoSmokey Mountains.”
“But if it needs more adjustments, it’ll have to be transported back here to the lab.”
“Do whatever is necessary. I want a report no later than Friday of next week,” Khan commanded, handing the note over the desk to the scientist.
“Yes, sir.” Dr. Debolt shoved the note and glove into his lab coat pocket, picked up the box, and bounced out of the room as fast as he had bounced into it.
When the elevator had swallowed up the scientist, Shere Khan smiled to himself. Resting his elbows on his desk, he pressed his fingertips together. The sub-electron amplifier, which his scientists had been working on for over a year, was coming along ahead of schedule. It was, perhaps, the most important invention of the century. Better still, it was hiscompany’s invention. An invention that would save him money and make him money in the process. He looked down at the magazine.
“Wealthiest man in the world ten years in a row...”
End of part 1
Hopes
and Schemes A
Week Later A
very determined Kit stood on the deserted upper deck, grappling gun
in hand. Opposite him loomed one row of propellers that kept the
behemoth airship aloft. They hummed in pitch-perfect unison,
whipping the wind into a frenzy and making the deck vibrate. Shaking
his hair out of his eyes, the boy balanced the grappling gun on his
shoulder and, squinting into the sun, aimed it towards the top of the
nearest propeller shaft directly under the blur that was the
propellers. “Careful...”
he murmured to himself as his finger hovered over the trigger. “Too
high and you’re propeller chow.” Clang!went the claws of the grappling gun as it latched onto the propeller
shaft. “Yeah!”
Kit pushed the button that retracted the grappling gun’s rope, thus
stretching it tauter. With one hand tightly clutching the grappling
gun, he reached under his sweater and produced his airfoil, which he
unfurled with one flick of his finger. When
he slid his airfoil beneath his feet, a gust of wind from the
propellers propelled him into the air, almost taking his breath away.
Simultaneously, he pushed the button that fully extended the
grappling gun’s rope. “Wa-HOO!”
Kit shouted, exulted. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he
surfed on the air currents created by the propellers. Ten thousand
feet below, between the rapidly moving puffy white clouds, he could
see the white-capped ocean. He knew that this was dangerous, but the
danger only added to the excitement. For
a few moments, he forgot about what he was supposed to be doing:
watching for the arrival of captured cargo planes and the return of
Don Karnage and his band of airborne marauders so that he could alert
the others. What did he care about cargo planes or loot or helping
Karnage restore his faith in his pirating abilities after their most
recent failed attempt to plunder Cape Suzette? He was lost in the
joy, in the freedom, of flying. He
was called back to reality by a distant burst of gunfire. Glancing to
his left, he saw a maroon and taupe cargo plane break through the
clouds in the distance. It was so state-of-the-art that even Kit,
who made it a point to know everything about aircraft, didn’t know
the make and model. Buzzing and circling around the cargo plane like
a bunch of angry bees was a fleet of the pirates’ single-man,
single-engine, bi-wing CT-37s. As
Kit watched the larger plane dodging, weaving and diving in a futile
attempt to escape the CT-37s that were peppering it with bullets, he
felt a pang of pity for the cargo plane’s pilot. The pirates may
not have known their elbows from an aileron, but they didknow how to capture a cargo plane. In fact, during the eleven months
that Kit had spent with the pirates, he could count the planes that
had slipped from their grasp on one finger. But he wasn’t
surprised. The CT-37s were smaller, faster, and therefore, easier to
maneuver than the bulkier cargo planes. They were also armed with
rapid-fire machine guns. Kit
was so engrossed in the dogfight that he was completely caught
off-guard when the grappling gun’s rope was sheared in two by the
propeller. “Whooooooa!”
he cried as he lost his balance and slipped off his airfoil.
Plummeting through the air, he caught his board before it could
follow the grappling gun into the deep blue sea. He started to climb
back on his board, but before he could, there was a pingas the airfoil struck one of the rapidly spinning propellers and was ripped from Kit’s hands. The
airfoil clattered to the deck at the same time that Kit landed with a thumpand an “Oof!” on the upper beak. Driven by momentum, the boy
proceeded to roll head over heels down the beak. Just
as he fell over the edge, he snagged the tip with his fingers.
Dangling on the edge of the beak, he cast a nervous glance over his
shoulder. A drop of cold sweat ran off his nose and descended to the
ocean ten thousand feet below. “Jeepers,”
he gulped. “What a time to be without my airfoil.” The
gunfire, which was getting louder, and the roar of the planes’
engines, which were growing closer, barely registered in the back of
Kit’s mind. He grunted with exertion as he struggled to pull
himself onto the smooth metal. His shoulders felt as if they were
being torn out of their sockets, yet his desperately groping fingers
couldn’t find a bolt, a nut, anythingto grab onto. He
was slipping... Slipping... “Maybe...ugh...this
wasn’t such a...ugh...good
idea after aaaaaaaall!” As
he hurtled through the air, he squeezed his eyes shut in preparation
for the fatal impact. He opened his eyes in surprise when he landed
with a jarring thud,
not in the ocean, but on something hard. He
had fallen onto the cargo plane’s fuselage as it was herded through
the Iron
Vulture’sopen beak. He braced himself as it skidded into the hangar and,
brakes squealing, shuddered to a stop. Head
reeling, heart pounding, Kit said as loud as he could, “Cargo
plane’s here. Come and get it.” His
announcement as well as the sound of the cargo plane’s engines
acted as a signal that drew the rest of the pirate crew from all
corners of the Vultureto share in the action. A
moment later, the CT-37s lowered into the hangar via hydraulic lifts.
Karnage nimbly hopped out of his black and red plane and strutted
over to his latest capture, proud as a peacock. Kit
slid off of the plane to join the pirates who were now surrounding
the plane. As he did so, he couldn’t help noticing that the gold
SK insignia on the door was riddled with holes. He
also noticed the panther pilot anxiously peering out the port cockpit
window at the pirates, who were heavily armed with crowbars, guns,
and nasty dispositions. “Ah-ha!
The catch of the day,” Karnage crowed. He grinned up at the
cockpit, showing all of his pointed teeth. He loved to torture his
prey as a cat does a mouse. Rapping on the cockpit door, he sang,
“Knock, knock.” Petrified,
the pilot rolled down the window. “W-who’s th-there?” “Don
Karnage.” “Don
K-Karnage who?” “Do
you mean to tell me you have not heard of the greatest plundering
wonder of all time?” the pirate captain said in mock-indignation.
“Open up the door and we will get antiquated.” The
panther pilot reluctantly opened the door and threw up his hands in
surrender. Karnage
paused a moment, as if waiting for something. Then, he looked back
at his minions and sighed before barking, “Don’t just stand there
like the estupideidiots you are! You know what to do! Ransack the sacks! Confiscate
the crates! Plunder that plane!” Yelling,
the pirates rushed inside the plane through the open door, knocking
the pilot down. Karnage
climbed into the plane and loomed over the pilot, sneering, as the
pirates cracked open the crates in the cargo hold with crowbars. “Captain,
there’s nothing here but some old books,” Mad Dog whined. “Yeah,
der worthless,” Dumptruck added. Karnage
stepped over the pilot and entered the cargo hold where the
illiterate pirates were frowning at the titles on the books and
magazines. The only pirate not disappointed was Kit, who was
engrossed in the latest edition of Flyboy
Magazine. “Dis
one doesn’t even have pictures.” Dumptruck disdainfully tossed
the book aside. “This
one does.” Mad Dog held up the most recent edition of Fortune
5000magazine. “But I can’t tell what it says.” Karnage
snatched the magazine from Mad Dog. “Give me that, you very ugly
pirate!” He read aloud: “‘Shere Khan named Fortune
5000'sworld’s wealthiest man for the ninth consecutive year?’ Ishould be the richest man in the world! Me, me!”
Furious, he ripped the magazine to shreds. He then whirled around
to where the pilot was lying like a terrified slug on the cockpit
floor and stuck the point of his sword in the pilot’s neck. “You!
Pilot! Who does this plane belong to?” The
pilot, his eyes affixed on the sword, stammered, “S-S-Shere
K-Khan.” Karnage
grinned with glee. “Hee-hee! This is some money that he’ll
never see. Take the books!” “Und
the magazines, too, Captain?” “The
magazines, the books, everything! We will have a glorious bonfire.” Cheering,
the pirates opened the back hatch and piled out of the plane with
their booty. Mad
Dog staggered under the weight of one crate. “Now all we need to
steal are some weenies.” “Und
marshmallows,” Dumptruck added, carrying six crates with ease. Gibber
muttered something into Hal’s ear as he handed him a crate. Hal
replied, “Yeah, we should make s’mores.” The
panther pilot was shocked when one of the pirates - a boy clutching a
magazine - surreptitiously slipped a quarter into his hand. After
the last pirate had left the plane, Karnage, his dashing form framed
by the cargo hold doorway, ordered the pilot, “Go back and tell
your wealthiest man in the world boss that I, Don Karnage, will make
him the poorest man by stealing all his cargo from him. Now make
like the birdy and flee!” With a dramatic flourish of his sword,
he hopped out of the plane. The
cargo plane, its back hatch still open, made a hasty U-turn and an
even hastier exit from the Iron
Vulture. Iron
Vulture A
dim light shone from under Kit’s pillow where he was reading his
new magazine by flashlight. Turning a page, the boy shivered. The
chilly dampness of an unusually cold November night had penetrated
and permeated the metal frame of the huge flying fortress, turning it
into a gigantic refrigerator. To top it all off, his blanket had
been stolen by his comrades. Even
if he hadn’t been enthralled in his magazine, he still couldn’t
have slept. The snoring of his three roommates - Mad Dog, Dumptruck,
and Hacksaw - was enough to wake Rip Van Winkle. The nasal wheezing
of Mad Dog. The ear-piercing whistling of Hacksaw. The rumbling,
bed-shaking snores of Dumptruck. Individually, they were unbearable.
Together, they were maddening. “Howard
Huge’s latest model, the Cabin-Cruiser 107 features a new, creative
design...” Wheeze. Whistle. SNOOOOOORE. Kit
pulled his pillow closer around his ears. “The Cabin-Cruiser 107
features a new, creative design in that...” Wheeze. Whistle. SNOOOOOORE. With
a sigh of exasperation, Kit popped open the vent cover above his bed.
He shoved his flashlight and magazine between his pillow and pillow
slip, tossed his pillow into the vent, and crawled in after it. Blindly,
he crawled along the dark shaft, pulling his pillow behind him and
silently counting the vent branches. One
left. One right. Two left. Three left. Two right... When
he felt the air getting warmer, he knew that he was getting closer to
the furnace room. Kit
had been with the air pirates for eleven months and yet he truly
didn’t feel like he belonged with them. Sure, he put on a tough
facade whenever he was around them to avoid being stomped on or shot
at, but there wasn’t one of them with whom he could have an
intelligent conversation. Intelligence seemed to bypass the air
pirates with the exception of the captain. Don
Karnage. At one time, Kit thought that he had found a father figure
in him, someone who would care about him. He quickly discovered that
that wasn’t true. Karnage blew hot and cold. His moods shifted
faster than the wind. One minute, Kit was his prized protege, the
next, he could find himself locked in the brig with moldy bread and
rats for company. All Karnage truly cared about was himself. His
one goal in life was to go down in history as the pirate who had
robbed an entire city, then the world. His second goal was to be
considered the most handsome pirate in history. Kit,
having been a street urchin before hooking up with the pirates, was
used to self-centered grown-ups, but what he couldn’t stomach was
the way Karnage and the other pirates treated pilots whose planes
they hijacked. They rarely let anybody go, because freed captives
could inform authorities about Pirate Island’s location, details
about the Iron
Vulture,
and other piratical secrets. Kind-hearted Kit paused in crawling,
shut his eyes, and clamped his hands over his ears in an attempt to
block out those horrific images and sounds, seared into his memory.
He shook his head, and with a look of determination that made his
eyes appear unnaturally old in his young face, started to move
through the duct system. Every
moment he spent with the pirates was like walking a very precarious
tightrope. He always had to be vigilant, always had to pretend to be
tough, even when his insides quaked with fear. Sometimes he wondered
what would happen if he slipped off the tightrope. Would he end up
like all of those pilots - tortured until he begged for death? But
he didn’t allow himself to think about that. Any regrets that he
had about accepting Karnage’s offer to join the pirates wouldn’t
help his current situation. He would just have to do what he’d
been doing all of his life: keep moving forward and see where fate
led him. Finally,
he turned into a little alcove. This was his special hiding place,
his refuge whenever Karnage was especially angry at him or when he
wanted to escape the noise and chaos of the air pirates. Where he
could let down his guard for a while and just be Kit. Here,
he had stored his boyish treasures: extra batteries for his
flashlight, candy bars and apples swiped from the kitchen, and a few
much-thumbedFlyboy Magazines.
He reached into his pillow slip for his magazine and his flashlight.
The flashlight emitted a soft, almost home-like glow as he propped
his pillow against the vent wall and leaned against it. It wasn’t
exactly comfortable, but at least it was warm and quiet. He
picked up his new magazine and turned to the article that he had been
reading: a feature about Howard Huge’s new airplane, the
Cabin-Cruiser 107. Kit
silently read: ‘When asked about why the emergency exit was under a
passenger seat, Howard Huge replied, “Because it’s too hard
climbing through the luggage compartment.” Following the harsh
criticism that the Cabin-Cruiser 107 received from the aviation
community, the eccentric Howard Huge had been dismissed from his
position as designer.’ “I’m
not surprised. What a nut,” Kit murmured, turning the page. The
next article’s headline read: “Pilot Oscar Wiggerstomper feared
lost in the Bearmuda Trapezoid.” “Who’s
Oscar Wiggerstomper?” Kit wondered to himself as he flipped to the
next page, which had an advertisement for a radio. He
would have liked a radio, but what really caught his eye was the ad
itself - a typical happy family spending a typical evening gathered
around the radio. For a moment, he allowed himself to pretend that he
was the boy fiddling with the radio’s knobs while Father smoked his
pipe, Mother knitted, and his little sister played with the dog. Then,
Kit chided himself. He knew that he would never have a family. He
had given up on that dream long ago. He, an orphan ever since he
could remember, was a loner and would always be a loner, but he
didn’t mind it so much. Frankly, he liked being self-reliant and
able to do pretty much whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. But
he what he wouldn’t give for just one friend. Kit
flipped to the back of the magazine to the advertising section. His
eyes longingly lingered on the planes for sale. Which one would he
choose if he had his choice? And how would he customize it so it
would be the fastest, best plane in the world? “I’ll
get my own plane someday and fly out of here, away from these stupid
pirates.” But
how? Karnage
was greedy when it came to parceling out the loot. Everyone did the
dirty work and the captain got the loot. He
had thought about stealing from Karnage, but that would be dangerous,
even deadly. “Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggghhhhh!” An
angry scream reverberated through the Iron
Vulture,
ripping through Kit’s thoughts and making him jump guiltily.
Surely, Karnage didn’t know that he was thinking about stealing
from him...or did he? Even
if he hadn’t have spent almost a year with the air pirates, he
would have known that that scream meant nothing good. He decided to
find out what the yelling was about, so he turned off the flashlight
and stealthily crawled through the vents towards Don Karnage’s
bedroom. A
shaft of light coming from a room below told him that he was getting
close. He peered down into the room. Karnage was pacing furiously
around Gibber. “Month
after week I, Don Karnage, am forced to settle for paltry heists and
dinky trinkets.” The wolf tossed a gold-plated cup aside. He then
drew his sword and jabbed an imaginary foe, all the watching himself
in the mirror. “Surely a pirate of my statue is destined to do
something great, something magnificent, something big!” Gibber
muttered something in the captain’s ear. “Perhaps...but
where would I get a bathtub big enough to hold it?” He sheathed
his sword. “The feared pirate Don Karnage’s density lies not in
the plundering of mere cargo planes, but in the starry skies.” He
pointed to a picture of a city cut out of a magazine that was taped
to the wall. “Thatis what is worthy of my greatness. To go down in history as the
pirate who plundered a city, but not just any city. Cape Suzette.” Again,
Gibber whispered something in Karnage’s ear. “Yes,
yes, yes,” Karnage said impatiently. “Those nasty cliff guns are
the fly in my eye. The ointment in my soup.” He jumped up and
down in rage. “Every time, they shatter my plans to figurines!” Gibber
muttered a lengthy suggestion. “Sneakity-sneak
up on Cape Suzette from the backside, away from the gunners? Hmm...”
Karnage pondered that idea for a minute, then dismissed it with a
wave of his hand. “If we did that, I could not make my grand
entrance. No, we must find a permanent-press way to get rid of the
guns, for once and for all, but all I have is an estupidepirate crew and these estupidebooks.” He picked up one of the books that he had saved from that
evening’s bonfire and was about to throw it across the room when he
noticed its title. Instead of tossing it, he opened it. Gibber,
peering over Karnage’s shoulder, murmured a few words. Giving
his first mate a nasty look, Karnage slammed the book shut. “When
I know what I’m doing, I’ll know what to do. Now, go. Go, go,
go!” He roughly shoved Gibber out of the room and banged the door
shut. Once
alone, or so he thought, Karnage stretched out on his bed, opened the
book, and flipped through it. Kit strained to see what the captain
was looking at, but it was futile from his precarious perch. “No,”
Karnage said, flipping a page. The
pirate captain continued to thumb through the book, saying an
increasingly drowsy ‘no’ with each page. Then, he started to
yawn and his eyes drooped. A few moments later, he fell asleep with
the open book tented on his chest. Burning
with curiosity, Kit quietly unlatched the grate and let it swing
downward into the room. The boy winced and quickly retreated into
the all concealing shadows when the grate’s hinges squeaked. After
what seemed like an eternity, he cautiously peeked down into the
room. To
his relief, Karnage was still asleep in the bed directly below him. He
fished a small ball of twine out of his pocket and tied a large loop
at one end. He then proceeded to lower it slowly down into the room.
The loop fluttered slightly, blown about by Karnage’s deep, even
breathing. Careful...Kit thought as he lassoed the book. He
gasped when Karnage rolled over, causing the book to slide over the
side of the bed. Giving
the twine a quick jerk, Kit just prevented the book from hitting the
floor. He quickly pulled it up to the vent and read the title: Do
It Yourself Electronics. Make
your own toaster...radio...pizza oven...lamp? Kit
read as he flipped through the technical diagrams and complicated
equations. This
looks like something from Better
Homes and Cockpits.
There’s nothing here that he could use to invade Cape Suzette,
unless he’s planning to bomb the cliff gunners with appliances. Kit
jumped, startled, when Karnage rolled onto his back and mewed, “I’m
cold, Mama.” Uh-oh!
He’s waking up! Looking
around frantically, Kit spied a piece of wire dangling from the vent
ceiling. Fashioning the wire into a fishhook, he attached it to the
twine and lowered it once more into the room where he hooked the
blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed and tugged it up over
Karnage. “Gracias,
Mama,” Karnage smiled. “Don’t
mention it,” Kit murmured wryly as he swiftly retracted the twine,
removed the fishhook, and slipped the book into the loop. When
the book was halfway down into the room, it slipped out of the loop
and smacked Karnage right in the face. Karnage,
instantly awake, sat up in bed. “Who? What? Where? And sometimes
why?” Luckily
for Kit, he didn’t notice the piece of twine that was snaking its
way back through the open grate. After blearily gazing around the
room, the captain lay back down and closed his eyes. Kit,
upon hearing Karnage’s even breathing, closed the grate and started
to make his way back to his alcove and his new Flyboy
Magazine,
thinking, Captain
or no, I prefer my bedtime reading material. End
of part 2
Hopes
and Schemes TaleSpinand its characters are property of Buena Vista / Disney Co. and are
used without permission. All other characters are mine and cannot be
used without permission. The
Next Afternoon Just
out of range of the cliff guns, the air pirates’ CT-37s circled in
the clear blue sky like a flock of vultures. Their collective
attention was on the cliff opening and, more specifically, the planes
coming and going from said cliff opening. When
the Sea
Ducksped by below them, Dumptruck said into his C.B.’s microphone, “How
about dat big, juicy yellow cargo plane, Captain? I bet it has a lot
of loot.” “How
many times do I have to remind you pathetic pirates?” Don Karnage
impatiently said into his own mike. “We are onlyhijacking Shere Khan’s planes.” “Why
are we getting revenge on Shere Khan?” Mad Dog whined. “This
is not about revenge! This is about getting even.” Mad
Dog accepted that explanation without a second thought. “Oh.
That’s different, then.” Karnage
ordered, “Keep your eyeballs peeled, men. Maybe not this minute,
maybe not the next, but sometime soon, one of Khan’s planes will
come along with our names on it.” Gibber
whispered into his mike. “Of
course it won’t have ‘Gibber’ painted on it, idiot! That was a
mere figuring of my speech.” Meanwhile... Baloo
was steering with his feet and wrestling with a chart. Obviously,
the chart was winning, because it was clinging to his face like a
leech. With a cry of frustration, the big bear ripped it from him. He
glared at the chart, which had landed on the co-pilot’s seat, then
took a deep breath, and determinedly picked it up, stretching it taut
between both hands at arm’s length. “All right-y now. If Cape
Suzette is here, then Crab Town must be...” He
squinted at the tiny words on the chart, superimposed across oceans
of blue and lands of green. “It’s...” he looked at one
corner; “no...” he scrutinized the opposite corner; “no...”
he studied the two remaining corners; “no! Aw, doggone it! How am I supposed to deliver crabs to Crab Town if
I can’t findCrab Town? Hey, stay cool, Baloo. No need to get crabby. Maybe ya
can’t find Crab Town on this chart, because it ain’t on this
chart.” He crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder. He
then opened the glove compartment. An avalanche of charts, parking
tickets, sunglasses, candy wrappers, and bottle caps spilled out. “Swell.” The
irritated bear set the autopilot - a crowbar slung across the control
yoke - and bent down to pick the charts out of the clutter. “Where’s
a navigator when I need one?” he muttered to himself. He pulled a
wad of old gum off of one of the charts and popped it into his mouth.
“Every time I try to go somewheres, I get lost tryin’ ta find it
or I get lost when I get there, just like last month’s crazy trip
to Walla-Walla Bing Bang.” He
rifled through the charts. “Crab Town...Crab Town...ah-ha!”
Glancing at the compass on the control panel, he turned the plane
towards the east. A
Half Hour Later Rebecca
and Molly stepped out of the grocery store and headed towards their
car, which was parked a block away. Humming to herself and to Lucy,
whom she cradled, Molly skipped along the sidewalk, happy that she
had persuaded her mother into buying not one, but two cartons of
Frosty Pep ice cream. However, Rebecca wasn’t as happy as her
daughter, for she was wrestling with two heavy sacks containing a
week’s worth of groceries as well as problems about her as-of-yet
nonexistent future business. Hearing
the sound of propellers, Molly stopped in her tracks and looked up to
see a yellow seaplane soaring above them. “Lookee, Mom. A plane!”
the little girl cried, pointing skywards. She watched it until it
disappeared from sight. Without
looking up, Rebecca said absently, “I see it.” She was more
concerned about making it to the car without dropping the bags.
“Open the door, honey.” Molly
stood on tiptoe and tugged on the handle of the rear door, allowing
it to swing open. As
Rebecca slid the sacks into the car’s backseat, she murmured, “I
just can’t believe it.” “That
a plane flew over? Hey, there it goes again!” the little girl
exclaimed as the orange-trimmed yellow plane circled back. Rebecca
briefly glanced up at the plane, which was now making wide circles
over the city as if the pilot were either lost or joyriding. “Get
in the car, Pumpkin.” Rebecca shut the rear car door and got
behind the wheel. More to herself than to her daughter, she said
despairingly, “In the whole city of Riversidle, there isn’t one,
single failing business, and I called every bank and used every
connection that I could think of.” Molly,
who was pressing Lucy to the window so that the doll could watch the
plane with her, suggested, “Well...what if you tried another
city?” Rebecca’s
eyes lit up. “Molly, you’re a genius!” “Nuh-huh,
I’m a bear.” Rebecca
chuckled as she started the car. A
Month Later “Come
on. Hurry it up, already!” Mad Dog whined. “Go
faster, you little creepy-crawly,” Dumptruck cheered. Smugly,
Hal said, “Mine is gonna beat the socks off yours, Mad Dog.” Mad
Dog retorted, “Is not.” “Is,
too.” “Is
not, not, not!” “Is,
too, too, too!” Kit,
surrounded by cheering men, was sitting on a rock in Pirate Island’s
main cavern. He stifled a yawn. The cockroach races never ceased to
excite his fellow pirates, but to the eleven-year-old, they had long
ago lost their luster. When
one of the cockroaches hopped across the line scratched in the dirt,
Mad Dog crowed, “Ha! Mine won! Mine won!” Hal
growled, “It doesn’t count. The fly fell off.” ”You
wanna make a big deal of it, big mouth?” “Yeah,
bean pole!” “Who
you callin’ bean pole, fatty?” Mad Dog cried. He punched Hal as
hard as he could in the stomach, but the husky feline didn’t move
an inch. Hal
laughed scornfully. “Is that the best you can do?” In
retaliation, he gave Mad Dog a rough shove, causing him to backpedal
until he slammed against the wall and slumped to the floor. “Ow!”
Mad Dog whined, dizzily getting up. He glared at Dumptruck. “Don’t
just stand there, dum-dum. Are you going to let him treat me like
that?” “Er...no,
Mad Dog.” Dumptruck bodily picked Hal up and sent him flying
across the room. Kit
ducked, but the pirates standing behind him didn’t. They crashed
to the floor like bowling pins. The
boy knew that that was his cue to leave. The last time he’d been
caught in a pirate brawl, he’d woken up two days later with a black
eye and broken ribs. Of course, that time he had been caught
unawares. This time he knew to heed the warning signs. He
dodged between kicking legs and ducked around flying fists until he
reached the cavern’s doorway. Glancing back at the thick cloud of
dust that now enshrouded the melee, he could hear punches, cries of
pain, and angry oaths. He knew that the fight was just a way for the
dim-witted pirates to break up the monotony of the past few days. Entertainment
was scarce between raids and pillages. Besides eating, sleeping, and
a few assigned chores, there just wasn’t that much to do.
Furthermore, they really didn’t have anything to look forward to,
because they never knew when the next heist would be. Karnage always
kept his plans strictly hush-hush. A
very bored Kit wandered through the warm, dusty passageways,
mechanically avoiding booby-traps and kicking at loose pebbles. He
paused outside Karnage’s room. At that moment, he would have loved
to have an intelligent conversation with someone. Someone with an
I.Q. bigger than the cockroaches they raced. Kit
tentatively knocked on the door. From
inside the room, Karnage’s voice came floating out. “If you
brought a present, come in.” When
Kit opened the door, a big smile crossed the captain’s rugged
wolfish features. “Ah, my puny protege. You are just in time to
help me with a persistent problem that has been bothering me for a
long time.” Kit
was so flattered that he forgot that he was supposed to be a rough,
tough burly pirate. He squeaked, “Me?” “Do
you see any other proteges here?” Karnage asked, tapping his foot
impatiently. “Nope,”
the boy replied, his habitual tough-guy attitude returning. He
swaggered into the room. “I’m the one and only.” Kit
was glad to be needed by someone. His eyes lit up when he noticed
several charts spread out upon the table. It had been a long time
since he had used the navigational skills that he had acquired during
his hobo days. However, he tried not to sound too eager when he
asked, “What’s the problem?” “Which
of these is more worthy of my greatness?” “Huh?
Oh...” Disappointed, Kit focused his attention on the black and
brown sheaths that Karnage was holding. Both were identical except
for color. He hesitantly pointed to the black one. “You
know, that one is my especial favorite, too.” He slapped Kit on the
back so hard that the boy stumbled forward. Then he strapped the
sheath around his waist, plunged his sword into it, and turned to the
full-length mirror to admire himself. “For havingexcellemundo
taste like me, you should be rewarded.” He picked up a red
handkerchief from the top of his dresser and knotted it around Kit’s
neck. “There. Ah-ha!” He led the boy to the mirror. “Did you
ever see anything so handsome, meaning my wonderful self, that is?” Kit
silently shook his head and tried not to gasp aloud. The scarf was a
little too tight. After
a few minutes of posturing, Karnage said, “Are you still there? Was
there anything you wanted?” “Naw...I
just had a question.” “Speak
up. I always listen sometimes.” “Do...do
you ever get tired of...” He wanted to say ‘being a pirate’.
Instead, he said, “Being the handsomest pirate in the world?” Karnage
laughed. “Of course not! What a silly-willy thing to say. Now,
go. Run away and find some other thing to do. I am most busy here.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the handsomest pirate of them
all?” Kit
slipped out, leaving Karnage posing in front of the mirror. Once
again, Kit wandered restlessly through the passageways that connected
the caverns, wondering what to do next. He came at last to the
interior cove where the Iron
Vulturewas docked. He picked up a few stones and made them skip across the
still, dark water. Between splashes, he could hear a faint pinging,
as of a hammer. He surmised that Rachet was doing some repairs. Kit
dropped the rest of the pebbles and jogged towards the open beak.
For a pirate, Ratchet was fairly easygoing and he had even let Kit
help him with airplane repairs before. “Ratchet?”
Kit’s voice echoed throughout the hangar. No
reply met his ears except the faint, far-away sound of hammering. He
was about to turn away when he noticed the CT-37s tantalizingly lined
up against the walls of the hangar. After a quick glance around to
make sure he truly was alone, he climbed into the cockpit of the
plane nearest the door. He
had begged Karnage repeatedly to teach him to fly, but the captain’s
reply was always the same: “I’m not letting a juvenile
delinkidy-wink fly.” But
that didn’t deter Kit. It had been his lifelong dream to be a
pilot. Flying was constantly on his mind. He ate it, slept it, and
thought about it every ten seconds, at least. Kit’s
hands trembled with excitement as he gripped the control yoke and ran
his eager eyes over the control panel. He
knew without a shadow of a doubt that he could pilot this plane.
After all, he had read about it and had seen it done a million times.
And if those stupid pirates could fly, so could he. No
one was around, therefore no one would know if he just started it up. With
a determined expression on his face, he pulled the pre-ignition
catalyzer, pressed the ‘start’ button and... Vroom! The
engine purred to life. The prop wash ruffled his hair as well as
his new red bandana. He could feel the plane’s vibration coursing
through his body. A
big smile spread across his face. This was the most fun he had had
in a long time. Then
the smile slid from his face when he remembered the pirates. His
eyes fixed on the open beak, Kit waited with baited breath. He was
sure that someone would have heard the engine’s roar echoing in the
cavernous hangar. However, when no one appeared, he decided that it
wouldn’t hurt to just taxi around the hangar. He scooted to the
edge of seat in order to reach the foot pedal. When he pressed the
pedal down with the tip of his toes, the plane lurched forward. “Whoa!”
he cried, removing his foot from the pedal as quickly as if he had
stepped on a nail. Learning
from his mistake, this time, he gently tapped the pedal. “Ah-ha!”
he shouted exultantly as the CT-37 glided forward slowly. Holding
the control yoke with one hand, he reached over to the machine gun.
“Enemy fighters at four o’clock. Fire! Fire!” Caught
up in the excitement of his imaginary game, Kit’s hands
accidentally gripped the trigger of the machine gun too tightly,
causing a burst of rapid gunfire to pour from the gun and... KA-BOOM! When
Kit dared to open his eyes, he saw a mass of flaming wreckage of what
had once been three CT-37s. “Oh...no!”
he squeaked. He quickly turned off the engine and scrambled down
from the cockpit just as he heard the sounds of running feet pounding
towards the Iron
Vulture. “What
is it?” Mad Dog whined from the edge of the open beak. “It
looks like der bonfire,” Dumptruck said. Coughing
a little from the smoke, Hal added, “Aw, I forgot the
marshmallows.” “Shut
up, you idiots, and put that fire out before we all go boom-boom!” The
other pirates hurried off to find buckets. Seeing
Kit trying to sneak past him, Karnage shouted, “You! Boy!” Knees
trembling, Kit spun around. If he hadn’t have already been scared,
the look of concentrated fury on the captain’s face would have made
him scared. Despite his fear, he squared his shoulders, donned his
habitual tough expression, and forced himself to walk calmly towards
Karnage. “You called?” “Did
you create this messy messiness?” Defiantly,
Kit retorted, “So what if I did?” Don
Karnage backhanded Kit across the face. “Do not use that tone-age
with me!” Slap! “And always...” Slap!“call me...” Slap! “Captain!” Slap! Kit’s
cheeks stung and his pride pricked with resentment. The other
pirates’ snickering only fueled his anger. Sullenly, he muttered,
“Yes...Captain.” Karnage
glared down at Kit. “This time you made the wrong mistake. We
must find an appropriately appalling punishment for you.” Later... Karnage
ushered Kit, who was carrying a mop and a bucket of soapy water, into
the Iron
Vulture’skitchen. “As punishment for your estupidestupidness, I want you to pick up every scrap of garbage, then mop
the entire Iron
Vulturefrom top to bottomouses. Make it span and spick, got it?” Drearily,
Kit said, “Got it, Captain.” The
kitchen was filthy. Garbage was strewn all over the floor and there
was crusty food splattered on the walls from countless food fights. “I
want this floor clean enough to eat off of. No more of this dirt and
stickery.” “Yes,
Captain.” After
Karnage left, Kit started picking up garbage. “Why are pirates
such slobs?” Two
Hours Later Kit
walked out of the kitchen with a full trash can. It had taken him
two whole hours just to pick up the trash and scrape the food off the
walls. After he disposed of the trash, finallyhe could mop and move to the next room. As
he struggled with the putrid-smelling, cumbersome trash can, who
should come strolling down the hallway but Mad Dog and Dumptruck. “There’s
the little protege, picking up garbage.” Mad Dog smirked. Dumptruck
snickered. “Do you like your new job?” “Maybe
we should help out.” “Right.” They
both took hold of the trash can and dumped it over Kit’s head,
burying him in a mound of trash. “Thanks
a lot, guys!” Kit gasped, pushing his way up through the used paper
products, rancid rinds, and an unidentifiable greyish brown glop. Between
guffaws, the pirates said, “Don’t mention it.” “Our
pleasure.” “See
ya,” Mad Dog sneered. “Wouldn’t wanna be ya.” Chuckling,
Dumptruck added, “Yeah.” As
they continued down the hallway, they lustily sang, “Old MacDonald
had a farm...” Kit
glared after them. “I’ll Old MacDonald you,” he muttered.
With a sigh, he turned the trash can upright and started to pile the
trash back into it. Iron
Vulture Kit,
exhausted, aching, and angry, carried the mop and the bucket of water
into the radio room. After he had cleaned this room, he could sleep.
He was so tired that he knew that he could even sleep through his
roommates’ snoring. But
before he started mopping, he decided to take a little rest. He
sank into the leather chair. Before him was the radio. He had seen
it used, so he knew how it worked. He donned the headphones and
flipped the switch to turn it on, but all he heard was static. He
turned the knob to a different frequency. More
static. Guess
there’s nobody up at this time of night. Despite
his fading hopes, he continued to turn the knob slowly. He was
desperate to hear a friendly voice, even if it was the voice of a
stranger. Finally,
he heard a man say, “...your position? Over.” “Flying
above the NoSmokey Mountains. Will reach Cape Suzette by 0430 hours.
Over.” “Cargo
onboard? Over.” “Cargo
is onboard and secure. You know, this is one pretty stone. Bigger
than any ruby my grandmother has. Over.” “You
shouldn’t be talking about the stone, Duane. Over.” “Relax,
Carl. No one’s listening this time of night. Over.” “You’d
better hope not. That thing is worth a fortune and if it falls into
the wrong hands, the big boss will be steamed. Over.” “Gosh!
I mean gosh,”
Kit whispered to himself. He had stumbled onto something both
interesting andvaluable. He
pressed the headphones closer to his ears, eagerly listening for more
information. “What
Shere Khan doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Over.” Static
ripped through the headphones, causing Kit to wince. “...was
that, Duane? Over.” “...storm.
Nothing...about. Over.” “...know
what’ll happen if you...by lightning. Over.” An
intense burst of static made Kit’s ears tingle. As he removed the
headphones, his mind was awhirl. A
jewel worth a fortune? That was exactly what he needed to break free
from the pirates once and for all and buy a plane of his own. But
how to get it? After
accidentally blowing up three CT-37s, he knew Karnage would keep
closer tabs on him. He couldn’t fly and he definitely couldn’t
swim from Pirate Island. Slowly,
an idea came to him. Maybe
if I can get Karnage to steal it for me. BANG!
went the radio room’s door as it slammed shut behind someone. Kit
spun in the chair, his heart leaping into his throat. In the doorway
stood Don Karnage, clad in his purple monogrammed bathrobe. He held
a sandwich and had a book - Do
It Yourself Electronics -tucked under one arm. “What
are you doing sitting down, you juvenile delinkity-wink? Get back to
work!” “Whatever
you say, Captain.” Kit shrugged. His mind was working overtime as
he hopped out of the chair and plunged the mop into the bucket.
“Guess you don’t want to hear about something that can make you
the richest man in the world.” “What
do you know that I don’t know yet?” As
he mopped, he said airily, “Oh...it’s not thatimportant. Just a jewel. You’ve stolen tons of jewels before.” Karnage
dropped his sandwich and book, grabbed Kit by the front of his shirt,
and lifted the boy so that they were face to face. “Spill the
baked beans.” “Well,
I was listening to the radio...” Kit said slowly. He knew that
the more he prolonged the suspense, the more Karnage would be
interested. “The
jewel!” The captain tightened his grasp on the boy’s sweater.
“What about it?” “A
giant ruby...worth a fortune,” Kit gasped out. “Best part of it
is that it belongs to...” “Who,
who, who?” “Shere
Khan.” Karnage
shook Kit roughly until his head felt like a maraca. “Anything
else?” “That’s
all I heard,” Kit said, truthfully enough. Karnage
dropped Kit like a hot potato. After putting on the headphones to
hear about the jewel for himself, he glared at Kit. “What are you
lying there for, boy?” “The
mopping...?” Kit began, pointing towards the mop and bucket. “You
are done. Finito.Go.
Leave me in pieces.” Biting
his lip to keep from smiling, Kit slowly got to his feet and gathered
the mop and bucket, all the while intently watching Karnage. The
pirate captain was muttering, “I don’t care a hooting owl about
Aunt Milly’s gallstones. Tell me about the jewel. The jewel!” Suddenly,
Karnage seemed extremely interested in something that he had heard.
He scooped up Do
It Yourself Electronicsand flipped it open. Kit
jumped, startled, when the captain whooped for joy. Karnage
flung the headphones aside and rushed out of the room, shouting at
the top of his lungs, “Get up, you very stupid pirates! Get up! I
have a very important-type announcement! ” “Wait!”
Kit cried, chasing after him. “What is it, Captain?” “We
are going to plunder Cape Suzette, and this time it willwork!” “But...but
how?” Kit couldn’t see how a they could plunder Cape Suzette
with a mere jewel. Karnage
smiled fondly down at him. “I will not tell you at this momentous
moment, my boy, but you can be very ensured that it will give a whole
new meaning to the word ‘piratical proceedings’.” End
of part 3
Hopes and Schemes TaleSpinand its characters are the property of Disney/Buena Vista Television
and are used without permission. All other characters are mine and
cannot be used without permission. Pirate Island Rays
from the setting sun filtered down through the clouds, transforming
both the sky and the sea into a brilliant orange. Kit, sitting
cross-legged on the floor with his back to the cave wall, glanced up
from polishing his airfoil to admire the beautiful scenery. It looked
just like a picture surrounded by a jagged, rocky frame. This
small cave, complete with a ‘window’ overlooking the ocean, was one of
his favorite thinking places. Since it was far from the caverns
utilized by the other pirates, he could sit undisturbed amongst the
shadows and drift into the land of daydreams. He folded his airfoil
with a press of a button and concealed it beneath his sweater. Propping
his head in his hands, he gazed out over the sparkling ocean, filled
with a restless longing to fly to the horizon and beyond. And once he got his hands on that jewel mentioned by the pilots on the radio the night before, his dream would become a reality. There was only one catch: His plan for escaping the pirates hinged largely on the pirates. A
million questions crowded into his mind as he absently stared at a
point on the horizon. Would Karnage steal the jewel? And if Karnage
stole the jewel, how could he, Kit, get it? And once he got it, how
could he get away? And once he got away, where would he go? Frankly, Kit really didn’t care where he went as long as it was away from the air pirates. He
was sick of being kicked around. Sick of being bossed around. Sick of
the brutality. Sick of the pointless plundering. Honest Kit hated
stealing. Stealing to survive was one thing, but stealing just to steal
was wrong. He was tired of being bullied, of being surrounded by crude,
rough, ignorant pirates, of constantly having to be on the defensive,
of having to fight for everything he had, of not being able to trust
anyone. He was just sick of being a pirate. Once he got the jewel
and had gotten away from the pirates, he’d somehow find Shere Khan and
return it to him. Surely the richest man in the world would reward him
for recovering his precious jewel. That way, everybody would win. He’d
have money and his freedom and Shere Khan would regain his property. Don
Karnage and his band of pirates would be the only losers in the deal,
and Kit knew from experience that they wouldn’t take the loss of the
valuable jewel well. But he had to escape and he wasn’t going
to go back to being a penniless street urchin, not when he had the
chance to have a few dollars and a plane of his own. Kit gritted
his teeth in determination. He was no quitter. He’d escape from the
pirates somehow or die trying...which he knew might very well be
possible. His thoughts were interrupted by an ear-splitting klaxon horn that signaled the Iron Vulture’s return. The
boy roughly brushed his hand across his eyes. A second later, his usual
tough expression had replaced his fleeting look of despair. He
sprang to his feet and hurried out of the cave, into the dusky, narrow,
winding passageway that led down, down, down towards the cove where theIron Vulture was moored. At the tunnel’s end, Kit slammed into Hal, causing the fat feline to drop the box he had been carrying. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going, shrimp?” “I was watching where I was going, and if you had been watching where I was going, I wouldn’t have run into you,” Kit said rudely. Confused, Hal stammered, “Oh...sorry.” “No problem. I’ll let it slide this time.” Hal picked up the box, pondering what the boy had said. “If he was...and I was...” Kit grinned and jogged towards the Iron Vulture’s open beak where the other pirates were unloading their recently stolen loot. As he approached, he heard Mad Dog saying, “Flagpoles and wire? Has the captain gone crazy?” Don Karnage, breathing heavily with anger, stalked over to the lanky ferret and smacked him across the face. “Never...call...me...that...word!” Mad Dog rubbed his sore cheek. “A thousand groveling apologies, Captain.” “Vhat do ve need with all dis junk?” Dumptruck wondered. Karnage bristled with indignation. “Junk? Junk?JUNK? This is not junk! These are the finest flagpoles and wires that
pirates can steal. And once we have everything, we will be able to
steal the finest whatever whenever we want. Do you not see? Si?” “No...” droned the confused pirates. The
pirate captain sighed. Just once, he’d like to meet a pirate who had
the slightest glimmer of brains. “Of course you can’t, because only I
can do what I do the way I do it.” “Huh?” A few of the pirates scratched their scruffy heads. “Very well. Let me let you fooligans in on a little, tiny secret.” The pirates leaned in closer, eager to hear what their captain had to say. “This...thingy...” he said, for lack of a better word, “is a need-to-know thingy and only I need to know about it, you know?” With a little chuckle, Karnage walked away, feeling vastly pleased with himself. “Vhat did he say, Mad Dog?” Dumptruck asked. “Search me. I still think the captain is...” Mad Dog made sure Don Karnage was far away before mouthing: “Crazy.” Khan Towers Clouds,
driven by a tempestuous wind, scudded rapidly across the sky,
foreshadowing an approaching storm. The intermittent shafts of
moonlight that pierced the clouds turned objects that were familiar and
friendly by day into forbidding, fearsome monsters. In downtown Cape
Suzette, a lone withered leaf skittered across the deserted street in
front of Khan Towers where it took shelter in the warm glow at the base
of the streetlight. High above the streets, Shere Khan sat behind
a raised podium in an amphitheater-like room. Khan Industries’
departmental managers - all middle-aged, grey male panthers wearing
almost identical grey suits - sat in a semicircle around him. The manager furthest to the right stifled a yawn, then whispered to his neighbor, “These late-night meetings are ridiculous.” His colleague murmured, “Business waits for no man, especially Shere Khan.” When their boss looked sternly in their direction, they turned their attention to the speaker. Jenkins, the head of Energy, was saying, “All coal-burning plants are at one hundred percent capacity and...” Just then, Owen, Shere Khan’s right hand man, burst into the room. “Mr. Khan! Mr. Khan, sir!” Khan frowned down on the interloper from his lofty height. “I thought I told you never to interrupt me during a meeting.” Feeling about two inches tall, the scrawny tiger stammered, “Y-yes, sir, but this is important!” Khan sighed. If it wasn’t more than a million dollars, he didn’t consider it important. “What is it?” “Air pirates have hijacked one of your cargo ships, sir.” The podium gained a few more claw marks courtesy of Shere Khan. “And what did they steal this time?” “You aren’t going to believe it, sir.” “Try me.” Owen
cringed and tugged nervously on his tail. He hated to be the bearer of
bad tidings. Shere Khan always made him feel as if it were somehow his
fault. His voice trembled when he said, “Railroad track.” The departmental managers muttered confusedly amongst themselves. “Railroad track?” Khan quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. “Railroad track?” Owen nodded. “Meant for your railroad in Zambeezee.” “I
am aware of their intended destination,” Khan said dryly. “What about
the diamond-tipped drill bits that were also in that shipment?” “Don Karnage said that they were worthless.” “One point five million dollars of diamond-tipped drill bits...worthless?” “Yes, sir,” said the yes-man. While
Khan silently mulled this over, he absently scraped one claw against
the desk. After a few tense moments, he said impatiently, “Is that all,
Owen?” “Yes, sir.” Owen, realizing that that was his cue to leave, scurried out of the room. “Continue, Jenkins,” Shere Khan said curtly. Pirate Island Glancing over his shoulder every few steps, Kit purposefully, yet furtively, made his way from his bedroom through the Iron Vulture.
Karnage had recently decreed that anyone caught sneaking around the
workshop, day or night, would be hung by their pinkies. That threat may
have deterred the other pirates, but not Kit. It only made him more
curious to find out what Ratchet had been building. Whatever that thing
was, it made Karnage extremely happy. And since Karnage wouldn’t tell
him what it was, he’d just have to find out for himself. Just as
he was about to turn the corner, Kit stopped in his tracks. He had
heard a noise akin to a puppy’s whimper. With his back to the wall, he
cautiously peeked around the corner. The boy sighed with relief when he
realized that the noise was coming from Hacksaw, who had fallen asleep
on guard duty. The brawny canine stood in the middle of the corridor,
his arms folded across the butt of his shotgun, his head resting on his
arms. As Kit tiptoed past him, he twitched slightly and let out another
whimper as if he were having a bad dream. Kit scurried through
the hallway and down the stairs. As the boy hurried past the radio
room, he noticed that Gibber was there. Ever since the night that Kit
had heard about the stone, either Gibber or Will, Karnage’s second
mate, had been stationed at the radio, listening for more information
about the jewel. Quickly and quietly, Kit went out the open beak
and skirted around the harbor to the cavern designated as the workshop
where the pounding of a hammer and the sizzling of the welding torch
could be heard at all hours of the day and night. A fire was
roaring in the large furnace, making the room feel like an oven. The
tarp that usually covered the mysterious machine had been thrown off.
Rachet stood on a platform, his welding mask pulled down over his face.
Sparks were flying from his welding torch. For a few moments, Kit gazed
at the huge contraption, constructed from an array of diverse items
that had been stolen one by one from Shere Khan’s cargo planes and
ships. Kit took a deep breath and strutted over to the base of
the platform where Ratchet was working. “Yo!” he shouted to get the
mechanic’s attention. Ratchet turned off the welding torch, pushed up his mask, and looked down at the boy. “The captain know you’re here, kid?” “The captain doesn’t need to know everything,” Kit replied insolently. “Need any help?” “Sure,” Ratchet said with his habitual sniff which made it seem like he had a perpetual cold. “I could use a hand.” Kit scrambled up the ladder to the platform. Ratchet
placed an industrial-strength spring up against the machine’s metal
frame. “Hold this there.” When Kit took hold of it, the spring slipped
a fraction of an inch lower. The mechanic jerked the spring up,
snapping, “No, there.” He flipped down his welding mask. Kit
squeezed his eyes shut to protect them from the blinding light of the
welding arc. When the mechanic turned off the torch and inspected his
work, the boy asked casually, “So, what’s this thing for?” “To get into Cape Suzette.” Sniff. “How?” “You sure ask a lot of questions.” He took a book from his tool belt and flipped to a marked page. “I helped steal this stuff, I figure I got a right to know how this thing works.” Ratchet
looked at Kit for a long time as if he was considering what to say.
Finally, he muttered, “It’s too complicated for a kid like you.” Sniff. “Try me,” Kit said, peeking over the mechanic’s arm at the book. “Nuh-huh.” Ratchet slammed the book shut and shoved it back into his tool belt. “The captain wouldn’t like it.” Becoming frustrated at the lack of answers, Kit sputtered, “W-well...then could you give me a demonstration?” “Can’t.” Sniff. “It ain’t put together yet, ‘cause I ain’t got all the parts.” “What other parts do you need?” Vaguely Ratchet said, “Couple of things.” Sniff. “Run along, kid. It’s way past your bedtime.” As he climbed down the ladder, Kit muttered under his breath, “Thanks for nothing. I hate being a kid. No one ever tells you anything.” Iron Vulture Like every other day for the past month, one of Shere Khan’s captured cargo planes rolled into the Iron Vulture’shangar. The fact that it was Christmas made no difference to either
Shere Khan, who insisted that Christmas was just another business day,
or to Don Karnage, whose plan was to plunder every one of Khan’s cargo
planes that came his way. Don Karnage chuckled to himself as he
strolled towards the captured plane’s cargo hold door. “Santa has
deposited yet another present in our stockings, my mangy minions. It is
time to rip off the wrappings and get to the goodies inside!” With
an excited cheer, the pirates jimmied open the door with crowbars, then
hopped into the cargo hold. In the middle of the cargo hold was a
single, large crate, twice as tall as it was wide. Splayed across each
of the four sides of the crate was ‘Fragile’, ‘This Side Up’ in big,
red letters. Through one hole in the crate, a beak protruded. Through
another hole, a bulging, darting eye watched them. A tuft of purple
feathers stuck out of yet another hole. A chorus of muffled squawking
came from within. But what was really noticeable was the overpowering stench. “Ew, yuck!” Mad Dog exclaimed. His hand automatically flew to his nose. “Something smells...funny.” “Don’t look at me,” Dumptruck said, his hand over his own nose. “I took a bath last veek.” Due to the clothespin on his nose, the panther pilot said nasally, “I wouldn’t open that if I were you.” “But
you are not me. Don Karnage can leave no stone unturned, no crate
unopened.” He pushed a couple of other pirates closer to the crate
while he, himself, moved closer to the door. “Open it!” His eyes watering, Kit murmured, “Do we have to?" Karnage hopped out of the plane, shouting, “I will wait out here where it is safe, I mean, so you can see the present first.” “Gee, thanks,” Kit said sarcastically. When
the pirates stuck their crowbars in the crate to pry it open, the
panther pilot retreated into the cockpit and slammed the door behind
him. Before the pirates knew what was happening, they were engulfed in
a flurry of feathers, flapping wings, and pecking beaks. “What
are these?” Kit shouted over the discordant squawking. He attempted to
shield his face with his hands while struggling to push their
assailants back into the crate. “Gor...” Mad Dog coughed, then
spit a feather out of his mouth. “Gorilla birds! Ow! Get away from me,
you stupid bird! That’s my nose, not your dinner!” Finally, after
struggling for several minutes, they managed to corral the birds in the
crate. The pirates, tired, sweaty, reeking, and covered in feathers and
peck marks, fled from the cargo hold moments before the plane flew out
of the hangar. With a wan laugh, Don Karnage said, “Merry...Christmas?” The pirates collapsed in a heap. Pirate Island Leaning
against the wall in the main cavern, Kit ran a finger underneath the
uncomfortable elastic band that strapped his party hat to his head. He
felt stupid wearing the purple polka-dotted hat, but pretending to
enjoy the lame New Year’s Eve party was the perfect excuse for keeping
tabs on Don Karnage. At the moment, the pirate captain was immensely
enjoying sitting on his throne-like chair in the middle of the cave, a
real gold crown on his well-groomed head, barking orders to the minions
who were waiting on him hand and foot. For more than a month, Kit
had been trying to figure out Karnage’s zealously guarded secret behind
the mysterious, monstrous machine in the workshop. But more
importantly, he wanted to know about Karnage’s plans to steal the
jewel. Every day, he became more and more impatient to quit the air
pirates. The boy knew that only by sticking close to the captain would
he get the answers he’d been looking for. Kit was momentarily
distracted from his self-appointed surveillance when Mad Dog and
Dumptruck walked past him towards the winding passageway that led to
the outdoor ledge where Karnage liked to sunbathe. “This year, we’re gonna bring the New Year in with a bang,” Mad Dog said with a nasal chuckle. Dumptruck
followed him, carrying a large crate. From the top of the crate
protruded rockets and coils of fuse. “Yeah, vith lots and lots of
firevorks!” “And they say kids shouldn’t play with
matches,” Kit muttered under his breath. His eyes wandered around the
room, wondering how much longer the so-called party was going to last. Except
for Don Karnage smacking Sadie for bringing him green grapes instead of
purple, the most exciting thing happening was over by the refreshment
table where Hal and Hacksaw were arguing over the last cookie. Kit
strolled over to them. “Hey, guys. Whoa!” he gasped, pretending to be
astonished by something behind them. “What’s that over there?” When both pirates spun around to look, Kit swiped the cookie and hurried away. “What’s
the big idea, kid?” Hal said, turning towards the table. “There’s
nothin’ there.” He looked down at the empty plate, crestfallen.
“There’s nothin’ here either.” Hacksaw peered under the rickety card table, searching for the cookie. “Where’d it go?” In
a shadowy corner of the cave, on the opposite side of the room from the
refreshment table, Kit gobbled down the stale chocolate chip cookie. As
he wiped the crumbs from his sweater, he noticed Gibber enter the cave
and whisper something into Don Karnage’s ear. Karnage nodded at Gibber, then shouted, “The party is over! Everyone, go away!” “But it isn’t midnight yet, Captain,” Hal pointed out. “WhenIsay it’s midnight, it’s midnight! Go!” To emphasize his point, he drew
his pistol and shot at the ceiling, causing them to be showered with
rocks. Grumbling amongst themselves, the pirates filed out of the
room. Kit, however, flattened himself to the stalagmite he was hiding
behind and listened with all his might. When it appeared that
only Karnage and Gibber remained, the captain said, “Now, tell me all
the little, minuet detailings that Khan’s chatty pilots spilled all
over the radio and into your listening ear.” Kit, knowing that his whole future depended on this, strained to hear what Gibber was muttering into the captain’s eager ear. “Tomorrow from the power plant in NoSmokey Mountains to Cape Suzette for more testings?” With a nod, Gibber murmured briefly. “Starting from the mountains at 3 PM? Good,” Karnage said with a business-like air. “We will steal it then.” Gibber muttered something else into the pirate captain’s ear. “Who cares about the rest of the cargo?” Karnage said impatiently. “It is expandable.” Just
then, Kit accidentally kicked a pebble. The unlucky pebble skidded
across the rocky floor, bouncing off other rocks and stalagmites like a
ball inside a pinball machine, making a noisy, echoing racket in the
large, silent cavern. Don Karnage was immediately on his feet.
“What’s that? Who’s there? Show your miserable self, or I will show my
sword to you!” Swift as summer lightning, he drew his sword from his
scabbard, prompting Gibber to jump out of the way. The pirate captain
pivoted to the north, to the east, to the south, then to the west,
scanning the remotest recesses of the cave. Spying the edge of Kit’s
red bandana peeking out from behind the stalagmite, he said in a
triumphant, sing-song voice, “I am seeing you! Whoever you are, I will
slice you and dice you into a million fragments for listening to
Karnage’s secrets!” Kit’s heart pounded in sync with Karnage’s boots, which were coming closer... Closer... Kit
silently cursed himself for getting stuck in a corner with no exit. His
mind raced to conjure up a plausible excuse for being there. Suddenly,
he looked down and, seeing something, bent down to scoop it up. “Got
you, boy!” Karnage swooped down on Kit and picked him up by the scruff
of the neck. “Now...” the pirate captain snarled, his razor-sharp teeth
mere inches from the boy’s face. “What have you to say for your
pipping-squeak self?” “Get your own cockroach!” Kit retorted. “C-cockroach?” Karnage sputtered in surprise. “Cockroach.
For the races.” The boy opened his hand to reveal a cockroach munching
on a cookie crumb. He held it close to Karnage’s face. Repulsed, Karnage dropped the boy. When Kit hit the ground with a ‘thump’, the roach fell from his hand. “Ew, ew, ew! Nasty creepy-crawly!” The pirate captain skewered the insect with the tip of his sword. Kit
scrambled to his feet and was about to make a break for it when Karnage
caught him by his scarf. He threw the boy to the ground and wagged his
finger at him. “Ah-ah-ah. I’m not through dealing with you yet.” He
raised his sword high above his head, a murderous gleam in his eyes. Trembling
in terror, Kit huddled on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and
clenched his teeth, determined not to cry out in pain. Just when he had thought he had drawn his last breath, there were several loud, screaming whistles, followed by cave-shaking booms! Kit
opened his eyes just in time to see Gibber and Karnage being chased,
yelling and screaming, around the room by a blazing rocket. Thankful
for Mad Dog and Dumptruck’s stupidity, he lost no time in making his
escape. Riversidle Rebecca, clad in a nightgown and robe, was lounging on the living room couch. Beside her, the radio was playing softly. “...Dirk
Cluck bringing you the New Year’s Eve party from Cape Suzette. The main
square is packed as the clock approaches midnight...” But she
really wasn’t interested in anything Dirk Cluck was saying. All she
could think about was the failing business she had learned about
earlier today. Air cargo sounded so adventurous and romantic. Her
thoughts were consumed with the places she would go and the things she
would do, not to mention all the money she would make. While
Rebecca’s thoughts were fixated on a fitting, yet memorable name for an
air cargo business, Molly padded down the stairs and into the living
room with Lucy in tow. Through a yawn, the little girl said, “Is it
next year yet?” “No, and you should be in bed, young lady.” “But me and Lucy wanna see next year. Pleeeeease?” “Oh,
all right,” Rebecca said reluctantly, wondering how Molly always
managed to get around her. “But just until midnight, then straight back
to bed.” “Yay!” Molly hopped up on the couch beside her mother and snuggled up next to her. Rebecca
wrapped her arms around the little girl and kissed the top of her head.
“A lot of good things are going to happen for us in 1937. I may have
found us an air cargo business today.” “You mean, one with a plane?” Molly asked excitedly. Rebecca nodded. “With a plane. It’s in Cape Suzette.” “Where’s Cape Suzette?” “It’s about an hour’s drive from here, near the ocean. We’ll have to pack up all our stuff and move there.” “When?” “As soon as the bank forecloses on the loan. The current owner is six months behind on his payments.” “When will that be?” Rebecca
smiled at the note of impatience in her daughter’s voice. “The man at
the bank said that he was giving Baloo, that’s the current owner, until
the end of next week, and if he doesn’t pay, we’re going to buy it and
make lots of money shipping cargo all over the world.” “Baloo’s a funny name,” Molly remarked. Rebecca gave her a fond smile. “It is unusual, but the bank said he’s a terrific pilot.” “A
pilot?” Molly exclaimed. “Think he’ll take me on plane rides? Think
he’ll teach me and Lucy how to fly?” She ‘flew’ her doll through the
air, making engine noises. “Maybe, honey,” Rebecca said with a
twinge of anxiety. For the first time she wondered what kind of a man
she would be exposing her young, impressionable daughter to. She had a
vague idea that pilots were irresponsible, free spirits who needed a
lot of discipline. It was obvious that this one especially needed
discipline, because he certainly didn’t know how to run a business. As
Molly continued to play airplane with Lucy, Rebecca’s gaze turned to
the window behind the back of the couch. She smiled. Their future
seemed as bright as the stars that shone in the sky. Louie’s To
the southwest, the same stars were twinkling over Louie’s Place. It was
nearly midnight, but the party had just begun to be in full swing.
Music blaring from the nightclub could have been heard from miles away.
Simian waiters balancing trays of frothy fruit drinks swung on ropes
above the crowded dance floor where the most energetic dancer was Baloo. When the jazzy tune ended, Baloo headed over to bar, panting a little. Behind
the bar, Louie was mixing up a fruity drink, his long arms and legs
seeming to be everywhere at once. “Hey, check out that chick by the
stage, cuz. I know who I wanna be kissin’ when the clock strikes
twelve.” Baloo, catching a glimpse of the young, raven-haired
vixen, grinned as he plumped down on a barstool. “Roger that. Some
party, huh?” “Not bad for a night’s work,” Louie replied, taking
a couple of shaboozies from a customer and stuffing them into his
overflowing cash register till. “Work.” Baloo cringed as if the
word offended him. “As my ol’ daddy used to say: work is fine for
killin’ time, but it’s a shaky way to make a livin’.” Louie
chuckled. “Yeah, but for us who didn’t inherit a ka-jillion shaboozies
and who like three squares a day and a roof over our heads, work is theonly way to make a livin’.” Grumpily, Baloo muttered under his breath, “Work ain’t my definition of livin’.” Baloo’s
expression grew thoughtful as he absently stared at the crowd. This was
as far away from work as he could possibly get. Therefore, he should
have been ecstatically happy. He loved to party, loved dancing, loved
to mingle with others, and especially loved flirting with pretty girls,
but tonight he wasn’t in the mood. In fact, he was a little bored. All
the faces seemed the same. Even the music seemed old. Or maybe it was
him that was getting old. For the first time in his life, he considered
leaving a party early. He felt as if he needed to spend time with a
friend who had never let him down, who never made him feel old, who
never made him feel lonely, namely the Sea Duck. Flying always cheered him up by providing a way to escape the troubles of the world. “Earth to Baloo.” Louie blew a noisemaker in Baloo’s face, startling the big bear. “What’s with the long face?” “Whatcha mean?” Baloo quickly assumed an overly bright smile. “I’m flyin’ high.” “You
got that right,” Louie said with a knowing look. “Your head has been in
the clouds all night. C’mon, cuz, ditch the deception an’ dish the
dirt. You can’t fool your oldest and bestest pal.” Baloo
shrugged. The smile slid from his face. “Just antsy in the pantsy, I
guess. Holidays always get me a little down in the dumpster.” Louie
had been friends with Baloo for such a long time that he knew what the
big bear had left unspoken. Holidays were a time for being with family
and, being a middle-aged bachelor with no family himself, he suspected
what Baloo was feeling. He conveyed his sympathy through a friendly
slap on the shoulder. “Ol’ Doc Louie’s got the sure cure for the blues,
Baloo. One Mango Fizz, heavy on the fizz.” “Thanks, my man.” “Now,
I’m gonna go personally welcome that dishy dame to Louie’s fine
establishment.” He licked his palm, removed his hat, and slicked back
what remained of his thinning hair before nimbly vaulting over the bar. Baloo downed the drink in one gulp, then passed the back of his hand across his mouth. “Not if I beat you to her.” Khan Towers The
downtown streets of Cape Suzette were packed with revelers, eager to
usher in the new year with music, dancing, and fireworks. In the middle
of the square, people of all ages and species were gathered around the
stage from where Dirk Cluck was introducing the next act. “Looks
like we have time for one more song in 1936,” Dirk Cluck, the popular
emcee, said into the microphone. “Ladies and gentleman, the Gandrews
Sisters!” The crowd let out a deafening roar as the newest
singing sensations, the Gandrews Sisters, took their places at the
microphones and the band started playing. Ninety stories above, a dropped pin could have been heard in the quiet, serene office of Shere Khan. Khan
stood at the large window, gazing out over Cape Suzette. Clad in a
black monogrammed, silk robe with a drink in his hand, he mulled over
the past year and thought about the year to come. Below him, the people
were only thinking of tonight. They weren’t gifted with his far-seeing
vision, a necessary trait for making him the wealthiest man in the
world. And thanks to the sub-electron amplifier, which would
revolutionize the way power was generated, he would become more rich
and more powerful. As of next week, all the electric power he needed or
would ever need would be produced by something that fit in the palm of
his hand. When the fireworks were let off over the cliffs,
signifying the beginning of the new year, he raised his crystal
champagne glass. “To 1937...and the future.” Meanwhile... Amid the cheering on the radio, Rebecca hugged Molly with a joyful, “Happy New Year, honey.” Meanwhile... When Baloo and Louie both tried to kiss the raven-haired vixen’s cheeks, she ducked, causing them to kiss each other. “Yee-uck!” Baloo cried, spluttering. “Blech!” Louie spat. He grabbed someone’s drink from a nearby table and gargled with its contents. Meanwhile... Fireworks were still popping and whistling throughout Pirate Island, filling the caverns with smoke. Amid the fireworks, Don Karnage lifted his glass and choked out, “To the future, and the beginning of a new error.” Kit,
who had fled to his favorite ‘thinking cave’, following his near brush
with death was now more determined than ever to escape Pirate Island.
He looked out over the dark, rolling waters, sprinkled with the light
of a million stars and illuminated with the intermittent, multi-colored
flashes of fireworks. “Only one more week to freedom,” he murmured to
himself. One Week Later An extremely nervous Dr. Debolt was alternately pacing and hopping in front of Shere Khan’s huge desk. Always calm, cool, and composed, Khan drawled from behind his newspaper, “Calm yourself, Doctor.” Dr.
Debolt paced even more furiously. “Do you know how many hours have gone
into this? All the research, the trials, the failures, the...” “The stone will arrive at my power plant.” The businessman leisurely turned a page in the newspaper. “But the pirates!” the scientist squeaked. “They’ve hijacked every plane in the last three weeks!” “My
best pilot is flying my fastest plane to get it there. Besides, other
than the pilot, yourself, and myself, no one knows of the stone’s
whereabouts.” “What if it falls into the pirates’ hands?” “Then they’ll receive a nasty shock, won’t they?” Shere Khan smiled grimly at the skittish rabbit. Before
Dr. Debolt could open his mouth to offer one more protest, Khan folded
the newspaper and placed it on his desk. “If Don Karnage does steal it,
he won’t know what it is. Your secret is safe, Doctor.” “But...!” Khan
held up a hand. “Furthermore, Karnage recently seems to be only
interested in hardware, not jewels.” He picked up a list and read from
it. “Wire, flagpoles, railroad track, glass tubing.” He pushed the list
in Dr. Debolt’s direction. “If you can tell me how Don Karnage is going
to profit off these items, then I’ll listen to your concerns.” “But...!” “Good day.” Shere Khan once more retreated behind the newspaper, an irrefutable signal that the matter was closed. Knowing that he couldn’t argue with the great and powerful Shere Khan, Dr. Debolt picked up the list and left. Meanwhile... With a nail protruding from the corner of his mouth and a hammer in his hand, Wildcat knelt on a loose floorboard in the office. “I’m
headin’ to Louie’s, Wildcat,” Baloo said as he came down the stairs,
skirting around all the boxes and junk piled on them. He didn’t
normally spend this much time at Louie’s, but he had to go somewhere
and do something. He could only sleep and eat so much, and frankly, he
was a little bored, but not bored enough to work. He was neverthat bored. “Can you take a peek at the sewer lines while I’m gone? I
think they’re plugged up somewheres. The bathroom has a funny smell to
it.” “Funnier than usual?” Wildcat murmured around the nail. “Yeah. Thanks!” Baloo said, banging the door shut on his way out. Just after he nailed the floorboard down, the mechanic heard: Ring! Ring! Surprised, Wildcat looked at his hammer. “You say something?” Ring! Ring! “Oh, it’s the telephone!” he realized with a good-natured laugh. Ring! Ring! Wildcat
dug underneath a pile of papers, following the sound of the ringing, to
find the phone. “Hello? Uh-huh. Nope, he’s not here right now. Uh-huh.
Sure. I’ll give him a message. You’re going to stop by later today to
discuss the...what? Fore-close-sure.” He sounded out the unfamiliar
word slowly. “Yup. Sure. I’ll tell him. ‘Kay, bye.” He hung the
receiver back on the cradle, crossed the room, and opened a trap door
in the floor. He then dropped his hammer into one pocket of his grimy
overalls, and fished a wrench out of another pocket. “Come on, Silver,
we’ve got to find a poor little plugged up sewer pipe.” Whistling, he
disappeared down the ladder into the basement. Meanwhile... Rebecca
hung up the phone and turned to her daughter. “Well, that does it. If
we buy the business, the movers will bring the rest of our things to
Cape Suzette tomorrow.” “Now can we go?” Molly said impatiently. “Yes, Pumpkin,” Rebecca said, patting her daughter’s golden head. “Yay!” Molly rushed outside to the car with Lucy in tow. Rebecca
gathered her purse, suitcase, and her daughter’s suitcase, then gave
one last look around the room. Except for the boxes and furniture piled
in the entry way, ready for the movers to pick up, the house was bare. At
any other time, she would have cried, but her excitement about the
future outweighed her sorrow about letting go of part of the past.
Smiling, she walked out of the house for the last time and shut the
door. She placed the suitcases into the car’s trunk alongside a
couple of boxes containing bedding and other personal items. In order
to be at the Cape Suzette National Bank first thing in the morning,
they were going to drive there this afternoon and stay in a motel
overnight. Rebecca wanted to make sure that no one snapped up the air
cargo service that she had mentally dubbed Higher for Hire before her. After getting into the driver’s seat, Rebecca grinned over at Molly, who was fairly bursting with excitement. “Lucy is real happy we’re gonna buy a business and an airplane.” Laughing,
Rebecca playfully tweaked the little girl’s nose. Molly had talked of
nothing but airplanes all week. “I’m with Lucy,” she said, starting the
car. Meanwhile... Kit, hiding
in the vent, heard Don Karnage and a few other pirates clomp towards
the control room. His heart was pounding, his hands were sweating, his
nerves were pushed to the breaking point. This was it. This was the day
that he was going to escape from the air pirates. However, the only way
out was through everything he was running from, meaning that he had to
escape quickly; otherwise, the pirates would kill him for what he was
about to do. He mentally prepared himself for the chase of his life. His
spirits rose when the small treasure chest Karnage clutched came into
view. The chest alone could be worth something, but the jewel that he
knew to be inside was worth a fortune. It was his ticket out of there. Kit
jumped, slightly startled, when Don Karnage cleared the table directly
below him with one sweep of his arm. Charts, pens, and ink went flying
onto the floor. The pirate captain then reverently placed the chest in
the center of the rough wooden table. “Riches, my men. Riches
beyond your limited, insignificant dreams. But not beyond mine.” The
pirate captain’s laugh held a hint of insanity. “For soon, I, Don
Karnage, shall be the wealthiest man in the world!” Chortling, he spun
around happily. Here goes everything... Kit thought. Taking a deep breath, he kicked the vent grate open and jumped down into the room. The End
part
2
Iron
Vulture
That
Night
part
3
Two
Miles West of Cape Suzette
The
Sea Duck
Downtown
Riversidle
Pirate
Island
3:30
AM
part 4
The Next Afternoon
Two Weeks Later
3:00 AM
Two Weeks Later
Night
Christmas
New Year’s Eve
New Year’s Eve
New Year’s Eve
New Year’s Eve
Riversidle
Louie’s
Pirate Island
Thursday Afternoon
Khan Towers
Baloo’s Air Service
Riversidle
Iron Vulture