No Time Like the Present

part 1

TaleSpinand its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.

I’d like to dedicate this story to all Spinners everywhere, especially the many devoted Kit Cloudkicker fans. :D

Higher for Hire
June 1938
Tuesday

Mellow late afternoon sunshine streamed through the windows of the room that doubled as an office and living room at Higher for Hire. Everything - from the steadily ticking grandfather clock to the neat stack of unopened mail on the desk - seemed to be anxiously waiting for Baloo and Rebecca to return from their honeymoon.

No one was more anxious than Kit and Molly. They were sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the couch, playing Candy Cane Land to pass the time.

Neither of the cubs was truly interested in the board game, especially Molly, who kept rushing outside hoping to see a yellow Conwing L-16 seaplane soaring through the cliff opening. Finally, Kit, to keep her from wearing herself out, said that he would tell her when the Sea Duckarrived.

“When’s Wildcat coming back with the groceries?” Molly asked, choosing a card from the top of the pile.

Kit glanced at his wristwatch. “Hmm...he left three hours ago. He should have been back by now.”

“Maybe he got lost in the grocery store again.” She moved her red gingerbread man game piece ahead to a yellow space.

“Maybe.”

Their ears pricked up at the sound of a plane propeller.

“Is that the Sea Duck?” Molly asked, ready to spring to her feet.

Without a second thought, Kit said, “No.” As Baloo’s navigator, he knew the powerful roar of the Sea Duck’s twin Superflight-100s well. That high-pitched, whining engine was not even close.

“Aw...” Disappointed, the seven-year-old slouched against the couch and watched as Kit took his turn.

Moving his green gingerbread man piece to a purple square had landed him in the Taffy Trap; consequently, he had to move back three spaces. The thirteen-year-old smiled at the little yellow bearess across from him, saying, “Your turn.”

Molly forgot to look at the card she had just chosen from the top of the pile when another plane flew overhead, its engine coughing and sputtering. “Is that the Sea Duck?”

Kit thought that plane needed a serious tune-up. He knew Baloo would never let ‘his baby’ fall into a such a deplorable state of disrepair. “Nope.”

Just as Molly picked up her red gingerbread man to move it, a plane buzzed low over Higher for Hire, shaking it on its foundation.

“That’sthe Sea Duck,” Kit said with a grin.

Molly dropped her gingerbread man, scrambled to her feet, and ran out the door, shouting, “Mommy and Daddy are home! Mommy and Daddy are home!”

Kit scooped the game pieces and board into the box and followed her, his feelings badly mixed. On the one hand, he was as excited as Molly at seeing Baloo and Rebecca. Higher for Hire had seemed strangely quiet without them the past three days.

Yet, their return meant changes.

Big changes.

Perhaps the most important changes Kit had ever encountered in his young, yet eventful, life.

Changes such as being adopted and having a place he could truly call his own among loving, caring people whom he loved and cared for in return. These were things that this orphan had dreamed of ever since he could remember.

And now, after years of loneliness and longing and looking, his dream had come true.

Ironically, he wasn’t quite as ecstatic as he thought he should have been. Deep, deep down in his heart there was a vague, niggling doubt that threatened to ruin his happiness.

Kit hastily dismissed it as he jogged down to the edge of the dock to join Molly. She was literally jumping up and down with excitement. If he hadn’t have been thirteen, he might have done the same. Instead, he just grinned from ear to ear as the Sea Duck slowly pulled up to the dock.

When the cockpit door flung open, the children chorused, “Welcome back!”

“Well, hey, strangers!” Baloo said jovially, stepping out of the plane. He tousled both cubs’ hair, then swung Rebecca to the dock and kissed her with a tender, “Welcome home, honey.”

“It’s amazing we still have a home after that stunt you just pulled, flyboy,” the petite brown bearess mock-scolded, poking him in the chest with every syllable.

“Hey, it was just a little buzz off the top,” Baloo said, holding up his hands in self-defense. “No harm done.”

Kit smiled to himself. From the glints of fun in Baloo and Rebecca’s eyes, he knew that they were enjoying their sparring match.

“You didn’t have to try to scalp it.” Her face softened when she saw the cubs smiling up at her. She protectively pulled them into her arms. “Why, you could have hurt Kit and Molly.”

“They look fine to ol’ Papa Bear.” He tousled their hair again, grinning. “We gonna stand out here all day, or are we gonna let the kids see what we got ‘em?”

“Presents?” Molly’s ears perked up. She broke free of her mother’s embrace and started to skip all over the dock with seemingly boundless energy. “Presents! Presents! Presents!” she sang.

“Aw, I bet they don’t want ‘em.” Baloo winked at Rebecca.

Rebecca, her arm around Kit’s shoulder, suppressed an amused smile. “Probably not.”

“Sure we do!” Molly eagerly tugged on the hem of Baloo's shirt. “Can we see ‘em? Please, Daddy? Pleeeease?”

Baloo sighed, as if giving the cubs their presents was a big hassle. “I guess...” he said reluctantly, “if ya really, really want to.”

Molly whooped with joy.

“Come on, Molly,” Rebecca said, holding out a hand to her daughter. “We’ll go in the house while Daddy and Kit get the bags.” She flashed a mischievous smile at Baloo over her shoulder.

“Been home two minutes an’ she’s already got me workin’,” Baloo grumbled, trudging into the plane.

Despite Baloo’s complaining, Kit could tell from the broad smile on the big bear’s face that he was more than willing to comply with his wife’s orders.

“You went shopping?” Kit said, trotting behind Baloo. “I thought you were going camping.”

“Well, you know Becky,” Baloo chuckled as he pulled the topmost sack off of a small mound of shopping bags that was piled in one corner of the cargo hold and rummaged through it. Not finding what he wanted, he put it aside and reached for the next one. “I guess it was kinda a fair trade.” He put that sack aside and looked in a third. “I got to catch some fish, an’ she got to catch some sales.” He plunged his hand into a fourth. “Only we did more shoppin’ an’ sight-seein’ than fishin’. Can’t ya tell?”

“Yeah,” Kit said with a weak laugh. There were still a few boxes lining the perimeter of the Higher for Hire’s walls from when Rebecca and Molly had moved in last week and here was more stuff; he didn’t know how it was all going to fit. One thing was for certain: it wasn’t going to get from the plane to the house by itself. With a resigned sigh, he picked up a bulging suitcase and started for the door.

“Leave that, Li’l Britches. We can get the rest of this stuff later. Ah-ha!” From inside a big brown paper sack, he pulled out two smaller, identical white sacks. “There ya go, kiddo,” he said, giving one to Kit.

Kit curiously glanced inside the sack as he and Baloo walked towards Higher for Hire, but all he saw were several colorfully-wrapped packages. Whatever they were, they were sure heavy.

Inside the office, Baloo gave Molly her sack and sank into his favorite well-worn easy chair with a contented sigh. “Ah, it’s good to be back.” He watched with amusement as Molly, sitting on the floor at his feet, tore into her first present.

Rebecca patted the couch, gesturing for Kit to sit beside her. “Go ahead, open your presents, sweetie,” she told him. “See if you can guess where we went.”

With a grin, Kit plopped down beside her, pulled out the topmost package, and started to unwrap it.

Before he could get it opened, Molly let out a squeal of delight. She held a black beret of soft merino. “Where’d ya get this?”

“Bought ‘em at the top of the Eyeful Tower offa a genuine monsewer,” Baloo replied.

“The view was beautiful,” Rebecca added.

“Yeah, it was,” Baloo said, grinning at her. “The scenery wasn’t half bad neither.”

Rebecca blushed with pleasure.

Molly stuck the oversized beret on her head, one side drooping over her left eye, and eagerly delved into her sack for more. With a grin, Kit stuck his matching beret on his head atop his baseball cap.

He had barely taken out a large, rectangular-shaped package when Molly whooped for joy. She took the lid off of a two pound box of assorted Swizz Mizz Chocolates. Her eyes grew very wide as she surveyed the luscious, mouth-watering bonbons.

“You can have one piece now, then I’ll put it up so you can have one piece every day for a long time,” Rebecca told her.

“What about Kit? Are you gonna put his box up, too?” Molly asked, wondering which piece of candy looked the yummiest.

“Kit’s old enough to regulate his own chocolate consumption.” Rebecca leaned towards, murmuring, “I trust you won’t eat it all today.”

Shaking his head, Kit quipped, “Nah, I’ll save half for tomorrow.”

Baloo and Rebecca chuckled.

Frowning, Molly said indignantly, “I’m seven. That’s old enough to reg’late my own chocolate consumption.”

“Molly, I said no,” Rebecca said in a firm tone that meant that further arguing was useless.

“Aw...” Her frown disappeared when she saw a colorfully-painted, wooden, gondola-shaped bank on Kit’s lap. “Neato! Did I get one of those, too? Did you ride in one of these boats?”

“Yup an’ yup,” Baloo replied.

Looking at the gondola, Rebecca smiled dreamily. “Remember that, Baloo?”

“How could I forget?”

“The moon, the stars, the romance...” She sighed.

“The gondola guy who kept goin’ ‘round in confused circles. We musta seen that same block fifteen times. I told you we shouldn’t have picked the cheapest guy.” His scowl softened into a smile. “It was one of the best nights of my life.” He blew a kiss at Rebecca, who ‘caught’ it with a giggle.

“Do you have a penny, Daddy?” Molly said. “I wanna try my bank boat out.”

“Penny...penny...” Baloo said, rummaging around in his shirt pocket. “Yup, here’s one.”

Molly took the coin from his palm, put it in the mouth of the miniature gondolier, and ‘rowed’ the oar that he held, causing the tiny man to swallow the penny. She waited breathlessly as the penny clinked its way down into the bottom of the ship. “Neato!” she cried, clapping her hands.

“Pretty nifty, huh?” Baloo poked around in his pocket again, but all he came up with was his pilot’s license and a piece of lint. “Sorry, Kit-boy,” he said with an apologetic shrug. “I’m all tapped out.”

“That’s okay,” Kit said, smiling wanly. Even though he wasn’t surprised at Baloo’s lack of cash, he still felt slightly excluded. He silently chided himself. What did one penny matter? After all, Molly was a little kid and he was a teenager. He had lots of pennies in his room with which to try out his new coin bank. He shouldn’t be so selfish by denying Molly her enjoyment.

But the penny wasn’t the problem. It was something else. Something about the way Baloo and Rebecca were exchanging intimate glances while Molly chattered about what had happened during their absence made him feel as if he was missing out on something.

He told himself that that was ridiculous. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Baloo and Rebecca loved him. Why, didn’t the fact that they were going to adopt him tomorrow prove that?

However, no matter how hard he tried to push that ‘left out’ feeling aside, it persisted in encroaching onto and ruining his happiness.

Just then, Baloo’s booming, “Well, don’t that beat all!” broke into his train of thought.

Half-heartedly, Kit joined in on the laughter over the amusing anecdote that he had missed during his musings.

Looking at Baloo, Rebecca, and Molly, he wondered: if he had gained the family he had always wanted, then why did he feel as if he had lost something very special?

End of part 1

No Time Like the Present
part 2

Wednesday Night

Kit was curled up in bed, staring through the darkness at the ceiling. The quick tick, tick, tick of the alarm clock on the night stand and an occasional muted ship’s horn from the harbor outside subconsciously intermingled with his musings of that day’s events.

It had started out wonderfully. After all, his adoption day shouldn’t have been anything but wonderful.

Even a mundane thing like breakfast had been great with Molly chattering brightly about being adopted and Rebecca sharing smiles with him over Baloo’s lame jokes. He could barely choke down a few bites of his Cheery-os. He had been so excited.

After breakfast, the foursome had dressed in their Sunday best and traveled downtown to the adoption agency. There, he waited for what seemed like hours with Molly in the reception area. If the hard bench wasn’t bad enough, Molly almost drove him crazy by repeating ‘Molly Elizabeth von Bruinwald’ over and over and over. He had been a little embarrassed when the motherly secretary had given them candy. As if he were a little kid who needed candy to keep him occupied! But in order to avoid hurting her feelings, he had accepted it graciously.

But all of the discomfort had been forgotten when their parents- hisparents - had emerged from the office, adoption papers in hand.

Baloo, grinning from ear to ear, had boomed, “Gather ‘round, von Bruinwalds!”

He remembered the rapture of being caught up in Baloo’s warm embrace with him saying, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with us, son.” The tears in the pilot’s eyes had mirrored his own.

His joy overflowed when Rebecca hugged him close to her, whispering, “Nownothing can take you away from me.”

Then, Molly’s wondering, “What’s everybody crying about?” had made himself, Baloo, and Rebecca laugh.

However, their tears were short-lived. They had all disappeared by the time they had returned to Higher for Hire.

Home, Kit thought, smiling to himself as he snuggled further down under the blanket.

Then, his smile faded as he recalled what had happened next.

When they had walked into Higher for Hire, they had been greeted by faint scraping and rustling noises.

“What’s that?” Rebecca whispered, clutching at Baloo’s arm.

“Sounds like it came from in there,” Baloo murmured. He gestured towards the kitchen.

Thinking it could be mice, Rebecca shivered with fear.

“Danger Woman’ll check it out,” Molly proclaimed, starting towards the kitchen.

“No,” Rebecca said firmly, grabbing her daughter’s hand. “Baloo will check it out.”

“I will?”

“Youwill,” Rebecca replied, giving him a pointed look and a little shove in the direction of the kitchen.

“Okay.” Baloo gulped. “Here goes.” He crept to the door and put his ear to it. “Don’t hear anything now.” When he pushed open the door, he was hit in the face with a bunch of balloons.

From the kitchen came Louie’s raucous guffaws. “You shoulda seen your face, fuzzy.”

Baloo swatted the balloons away impatiently. “Why? How’d it look?”

“Ugly, as usual.” Louie smirked.

“Hey!”

“What’s going on?” Kit asked as his eyes moved from the streamers and balloons draped around the walls to the treat-laden table.

“It’s a jamboree for the new fam’ly,” Louie proclaimed with a big grin as he ushered them into the kitchen.

Wildcat blew his noisemaker. “Happy New Year!”

When they had gathered around the table and had been served chocolate cake and Louie’s famous Lemon Sludge punch, Rebecca looked at Baloo, “Should we give the kids their you-know-whats?”

“What, Mommy? What you-know-whats?” Molly asked.

Rebecca bent down to wipe her daughter’s chocolate-ringed mouth with a napkin. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Through a mouthful of cake, Baloo said, “The you...? Oh, yeah. Sure, why not?” He took a swig of the punch and turned to Louie. “So, get this, innkeeper. Me an’ Becky were sittin’ at this outside café in Gay Pearee just down the street from the Eyeful Tower. One of the things on their menu was pain, no jive.”

“Stomach pain from eatin’ frog legs?” Louie interjected.

“No, meaning ‘bread’,” Rebecca clarified. “And it’s pronounced ‘pan’, darling.” She exited the kitchen to get something from the office.

“You say ‘pain’. I say ‘pan’. Bo-bee-bo-bee-do. Let’s call the whole thing off,” Louie sang.

“Anyhoo, I asked the gar-con if it was swift or slow pain, an’ do you know what he said?”

Between bites of cake, Molly and Wildcat chimed, “What?

Baloo scratched his head. “Actually, I ain’t too sure about that part.”

“You sure do know how to tell a story,” Louie chuckled. “Badly.”

“I thought it was pretty funny, Papa Bear,” said loyal Kit.

Completely ignoring Kit’s comment, Baloo scowled at Louie. “It wasn’tthat bad.”

“It wasn’t that good, neither.”

Just then, Rebecca came in, a small package in each hand. “I hate to break up this riveting conversation, but I have something important. Adoption presents for Kit and Molly. From your father and me” She gave one to each cub, then sat down between Kit and Molly to observe their expressions.

Kit tore the ribbon and wrapping off of his package to reveal a small rectangular box. Inside that box was a pocket watch nestled on a bed of blue velvet. From the tiny circular filigree of interlaced leaves engraved on the outside of the 14K gold-plated lid, Kit surmised that it hadn’t been cheap. When he carefully removed it from the box and opened the lid, he noticed an inscription on the inside. It read: To our son Kit. Lots of love from your parents. June 15, 1938

“Wow...” was all Kit could say. Deeply touched, he read and re-read the inscription. He was seeing it, and he still couldn’t believe it.

Rebecca pointed at the watch face. “See, it even has a second hand so you can time your track races if you want to.”

Kit’s eyes met hers and he nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered, blinking back tears.

Rebecca, her own eyes misty, enfolded him in her tender embrace. “I love youso much, Kit. Never, ever forget that.”

Hugging her back, Kit silently nodded and breathed in the subtle sweet scent of her perfume. He had never been happier than at that moment.

“Mommy, can I wear mine now?” Molly asked.

“Sure, honey,” Rebecca sniffled. She gave Kit one last squeeze and went to help Molly with the clasp of her gold locket.

Kit smiled broadly at Baloo, who was sitting on his left. “Thanks, Papa Bear. This watch is great.”

Baloo gave him a brief, one-armed hug and a light noogie. “I told Becky you’d like a watch better’n a pocket knife.” Swiveling in his chair to face Louie, he loaded another large slice of cake on his plate before saying, “Lemmee tell ya about the time me an’ Becky were in Italee...”

An hour later, Kit, squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. As he looked around the kitchen, everyone seemed to be having such a good time. He was the only one who felt bored and excluded, partially due to the fact that, at thirteen, he was too young to truly participate in the grown-up conversation, yet was too old to wrap himself up in streamers and play ‘mummy’ with Wildcat and Molly.

Everyone’s obliviousness to his plight only added to his misery.

As the adults’ laughter filled the kitchen, Kit sighed, slouched in his chair, and loosened his tie. He longed to escape to his room, but that would seem rude, especially since the party was being thrown in his honor. Instead, he opened his pocket watch and wondered how much longer it would last. Knowing Baloo and Louie’s party-hardy reputations, it could last until the wee hours of the morning. His heart sank.

If I can handle air pirates, I can handle one measly party, he thought in an attempt to bolster his resolve.

He took a sip of the perfect mixture of tart-yet-sweet that was Louie’s Lemon Sludge and half-heartedly listened as Baloo recounted adventure after adventure that he and Rebecca had shared on their honeymoon. Normally, he loved Baloo’s stories, but today they grated on his nerves like fingers on a chalkboard.

“So I look over at Becky an’ say, ‘What? No French fries? We’re in Francais, ain’t we?’” Baloo guffawed and slapped his palm on the table, making everything on it dance.

“My husband,” Rebecca said with a rueful shake of her head. “You’d think he’d never been out of Cape Suzette before.”

“Sounds like Mr. World-Traveler left his brain behind,” Louie joked.

“S’long as I took my heart with me.” Baloo winked at Rebecca over Kit’s head.

Not for the first time did Kit wish that he wasn’t sitting between Baloo and Rebecca. He felt as if he were the net in the middle of their flirtatious ‘tennis match’. Worse still, Baloo had blatantly ignored all of his tentative attempts to enter the conversation and had even turned his broad back on him several times.

Rebecca counted on her fingers. “Your heart, your fishing pole, your fishing tackle...you had enough fishing gear to catch a pod of whales.”

“I did catch me a whopper.” The big bear spread his arms out wide to show how big the fish was.

“ThatI believe, fuzzy. A whopper of a story, that is!”

“It’s true. Tell the man, Beckers.”

“Do you mean the guppy or the tadpole?” Rebecca giggled as she rose to pour them all more Lemon Sludge.

“That big trout that we fried up for our supper, sweetheart.” Baloo playfully swatted her backside.

“Watch it, Baloo. I can still fire you.” She poured some punch for herself and sat down. Her brown eyes flashed a challenge at Baloo over the rim of the glass when she took a drink.

Baloo rose to the bait. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly. “And then where would you be?”

Looking adoringly at her, Baloo murmured, “Lost.” He leaned over Kit to kiss his wife.

For Kit, to have the big bear’s bulk hovering unwelcomely over him was the last straw! It was one thing to be ignored. It was another to be stomped on like a doormat.

Kit, seething with repressed anger, scraped his chair back with an irritated, “Excuse me!”

Infuriated, he stormed out of the kitchen and rushed upstairs to his room where he flung off his suit jacket and hastily changed into sweater.

“Lost,” Kit scoffed as he pulled on his baseball cap. “He’d be lost without me to navigate.”

A burst of laughter came from the kitchen, fueling his anger. He felt the immediate need to get out earshot of their annoyingly cheerful voices.

An old adage of Baloo’s unwillingly came to mind: If there’s no place else to go, the only place to go is up.

With that thought in mind, he sprinted up the stairs to the third story, through his parents’ bedroom to the door that led outside to the widow’s walk. On the way, he closed every door that he could to shut out the sounds of the party below.

Kit breathed a deep sigh of relief as he sat down on the edge of the widow’s walk with the sparkling Cape Suzette harbor and bright blue sky stretching before him.

As he sat there, his head pillowed against a rail post, with the warm afternoon sunshine pouring down on him, breathing in the briny sea air, and listening to the calm splash of the water against the shore, his anger subsided. Though Baloo’s utter disregard of him still rankled.

He stayed there, watching the airplanes and boats coming and going through the cliffs, until he saw Wildcat returning to his houseboat to finish packing up for his visit to his girlfriend Clementine, who lived in Boomstone. The vacation was a thank-you gift from Baloo and Rebecca for keeping an eye on Higher for Hire during their honeymoon.

Shortly after Wildcat left Higher for Hire, Baloo and Louie had walked down the dock together, joking and laughing. Together, they had flown away in the Sea Duck, presumably to take Louie back to his island.

“And Baloo didn’t even ask me to come along,” Kit whispered sadly into his pillow.

Since he couldn’t sleep, he sat up in bed and flipped on the light. He reached over to the night stand for his new Space Riders comic book. On top of the comic was his pocket watch, right where he had tossed it after the party.

Forgetting about the comic book, he picked up the pocket watch and opened it. Once again, he read the inscription.

Kit Cloudkicker von Bruinwald. It would take some getting used to, but it had a nice ring to it. He loved the fact that he was now Baloo’s son, something that he had wanted ever since he had literally run into the pilot at Louie’s Place.

He glanced at the empty bed across the room. It seemed odd not to see Baloo there.

Kit heaved a deep sigh.

Despite his happiness about being adopted, there was a queer lonely ache in his heart. He missed the talks, the jokes, the laughter that he and Baloo used to share long after the lights were out. He even missed the crumbs on the floor from Baloo’s midnight snacks.

But he didn’t miss Baloo’s blind-ruffling snoring or having to muffle that snoring by wearing earmuffs that cut into his head and made it uncomfortable to sleep. Rebecca now had those earmuffs.

Rebecca, to whom Baloo would share all his secrets. Rebecca, to whom Baloo would impart his adventures first.

And he, Kit, had been relegated to being just one of the kids. Baloo had made that very clear at the party by ignoring him in favor of Louie and Rebecca.

It made him sad to think that he was no longer Baloo’s confidant, best friend, and co-pilot in every crazy scheme. But if there was one thing Kit knew from experience was that life wasn’t easy or fair. He’d get used to it in time. He didn’t want to get used to it, but he would. All of a sudden, life felt flat.

He snapped the pocket watch’s lid shut, turned off the light, scooted down under the covers, and placed the watch on the night stand.

At least he thought he did.

Just as he closed his eyes, the watch teetered on the edge of the night stand and fell to the floor with a crash!

Kit’s eyes flew open. Oh, no!

Alarmed, he flipped on the light, peered over the side of his bed, and gasped. The watch’s tiny, intricate innards lay scattered all over the hardwood floor.

Boingwent the spring as it popped out.

Kit leapt from his bed. Kneeling, he scooped up the pieces.

He crouched there for a moment, gazing at the watch pieces, his mind whirling. He couldn’t let Baloo and Rebecca know that he had already broken it. They would think he was careless and didn’t appreciate the gift.

Like Baloo would notice if it was broken anyway, he thought bitterly.

But still, he had to get it fixed. He didn’t want to be grounded.

What a time for Wildcat to visit Clementine!

With Wildcat gone, there was only one person who could help him now. After wrapping the watch pieces up in a clean handkerchief, he hastily dressed, went to the door, and peered down into the office. Baloo was sitting in his favorite armchair with Rebecca snuggled on his lap. They were talking quietly, their arms intertwined about each other.

There was no way he could sneak past them. He’d be busted for sure, then questioned and lectured.

Kit quietly closed the door. He crossed the room in determined strides. Pushing the lamp to one side, he crawled on top of the night stand, opened the window, and looked out into the starlit night. It was a straight shot down to the cobblestone pavement two stories below.

That didn’t faze him. He whipped out his airfoil and flicked it open with the practiced push of a button. Making sure that the handkerchief containing the watch pieces was safely in his pocket, he jammed his cap further down on his head. He climbed onto the windowsill, took a deep breath, and jumped. He slipped the airfoil beneath feet and glided down, landing with the silent agility of a cat. With a push of a button, the airfoil collapsed like a fan. He stowed it beneath his sweater.

Looking up at his open bedroom window, he didn’t know how he was to get back inside, but he’d think about that later.

Right now, he was on a mission.

He quickly made his way through the near-deserted streets of Cape Suzette towards downtown and Khan Tower, skirting the places where he knew street pirates hung out.

Finally, he arrived at his destination. Panting a little after his long jog, Kit looked up at Khan Towers - all 90 stories of it. It towered before him, a massive symbol of billionaire Shere Khan’s wealth and power.

There were still a few windows lit up, attesting to the long, arduous hours Mr. Khan demanded from his employees.

Kit hoped that the person he needed to see, Khan’s scatterbrained inventor Buzz, would be one of those working late. But to ascertain that, he had to first get past the doorman and up to the fifty-second floor to Buzz’s lab.

Kit cautiously crept up the steps, between the twin stone tigers guarding the building. With his back to the skyscraper’s wall, he peeked through the revolving door. He could see the doorman guarding the elevator at the far end of the lobby. He stood there for a minute, pondering what to do.

Luck was on his side. Just then, an attractive young woman emerged from the elevator and smiled at the doorman. The doorman smiled back and exchanged a few pleasantries. Kit saw his chance and took it. While the doorman was engaged in conversation, he stealthily slipped through the revolving door and dove behind a potted plant just inside the door.

Now, for getting across the lobby to the elevator.

Again, luck was on his side. The gallant guard offered to walk the woman to her car. Once they were outside, Kit sped across the lobby. His heart pounding, he hit the ‘up’ button and kept his eyes peeled for the doorman's return. After a moment, the door opened. He stepped inside and pressed the floor number.

When the elevator door closed and the car began its ascent, Kit breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe now.

At the 52nd floor, the elevator door opened. Kit cautiously looked into the lab before stepping out. “Buzz?” he called.

All he heard was the low hum of machines and a bo-ing! Bo-ing! Bo-ing!

What in the world is that? the boy wondered. It sounds like a gigantic pogo stick.

The noise was getting louder by the second.

All of a sudden, an odd-looking figure jumped out from behind a tall machine. Actually, it jumped over the machine.

“Aah!” Kit crouched as it bounced over him.

“Kit?” Buzz said, bouncing from the ceiling to floor. His lab coat comically flapped up and down with every bounce. “Am I glad to see you!”

“Yeah.” Kit’s head bobbed as he watched the inventor’s great leaping bounds. “What are those?” he said, meaning Buzz’s shoes. Each penny loafer had two springs taped to the bottom.

“Springy shoes designed for dusting the top of tall furniture. At least they will be when I get the tension right on the springs. I can’t stop. Been bouncing around here for hours,” the inventor said, as if bouncing around the lab at all hours of the night was normal.

“I’ll stop you...somehow.” After Kit got into the rhythm of Buzz’s bouncing, he lunged for the inventor’s legs. "Whoa!" he yelled as he was dragged while the shoes continued their jumping. His head felt as if it was going to split as they bounced ever lower and lower.

Finally, their combined weight was enough to overtake the shoes.

“Did...did we stop?” Buzz stammered as he swayed, then fell on his backside.

Holding his spinning head, Kit replied, “I think so.”

Buzz removed the shoes, which bounced a little ways by themselves. “Next time I’ll set the tension a little lower.”

“Good idea,” Kit said, dizzily getting to his feet.

“Thanks for the help, Kit. Stop by anytime,” Buzz said. He crawled underneath a bench to retrieve one of the errant shoes.

“Okay.” When Kit got halfway to the elevator, he stopped. “Wait. I came to ask you a favor.”

Buzz locked the shoes in a cupboard where their thumping could still be heard. “Sure, sure. Anything.”

“My watch is busted. Can you fix it?” Kit took out his handkerchief and shook out the pieces onto a lab bench.

Buzz peered at the pieces through his large, googly eyes. “Looks just like my watch. Of course I can fix it. Make yourself at home.” He started to rummage through drawers and cupboards in search of tools.

Kit sat down on a lab stool, his chin propped in his hands. His eyes drooped as he watched Buzz work. He must have dozed off, because he woke with a start when Buzz exclaimed, “I’ve got it!”

Through a yawn, Kit muttered, “Is my watch fixed?”

“Not only that, but I’ve thought of my next great invention. Platypus carriers!”

“Platypus carriers?” Kit echoed wonderingly.

“Yes. For when you want to carry your platypus. It’ll be a sensation! Everyone needs a platypus carrier.”

Kit picked up his now-intact watch and left, murmuring to himself, “That Buzz sure is a crazy old coot, but he’s a great guy for fixing my watch.” He looked at the inscription inside. Satisfied that it was his watch and that it was repaired, he snapped the lid shut.

When he arrived home around 11:00 PM, a light was on in the bathroom, so he knew one of his parents was still awake. He skirted the building, opened the office door, and peeked in. The room was dark, so he slipped in and closed the door, cringing when it creaked.

Halfway up the stairs, he froze when he heard a faraway door slam. His eyes strained to see through the darkness. At first, he didn’t see anything. Then, he spotted a light coming from under the kitchen door.

Baloo's getting a midnight snack, he thought.

He hurried up the stairs. Just as he passed the bathroom, the doorknob rattled.

Oh, man!

Kit sped into his room and dove under the covers. He lay there, eyes closed, trying to calm his breathing. At the last moment, he remembered to remove his cap. He stashed it underneath the blanket.

A moment later, Rebecca tiptoed into the room. Kit held his breath while she smoothed his hair and tucked the covers around him. She stood there for a moment, her hand on his shoulder. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead. What if she’d discovered somehow that he wasn’t asleep?

Much to Kit’s delight, he felt her gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she stepped out as quietly as she had come in, leaving the door open a crack.

Kit breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling very warm and loved, his hand stole up to his cheek where she had kissed him.

Then, Kit heard Baloo’s heavy tread plodding up the stairs. Out in the hallway, Rebecca asked Baloo accusingly, “Are you eating something?”

Baloo swallowed loudly. “Not anymore.”

Rebecca whapped Baloo playfully.

“Are the little tykes a-snoozin’?”

Little tykes? Kit thought, outraged. I’m thirteen years old, for crying out loud!

The rest of Baloo and Rebecca’s murmured conversation faded as they ascended the stairs to their bedroom.

Any joy that he had felt over Rebecca’s goodnight kiss was forgotten in fuming over Baloo’s careless remark.

Little tyke?

Baloo had been thoughtless in the past, but that was going over the line.

The worst part of was that Kit loved Baloo so much that he would go through fire and water for him. It hurt excruciatingly that Baloo had just tossed him aside like an empty wrapper.

The day that had begun so wonderfully for Kit ended in tears.

End of part 2

No Time Like the Present
part 3

Thursday Morning

A state-of-the-art airplane cut through the clear, cerulean sky with Kit Cloudkicker, Ace of the Skies, piloting. In the pocket of this brave, determined young man was a letter direct from the President of Usland destined to save the world.

All of a sudden, air pirates swooped down, peppering his plane with bullets.

Sorry, guys. I’m outta here, he thought with a cocky grin.

He pushed the throttle up to increase his speed, but no matter which way he went, no matter what tricks he used, the pirates stayed right on his tail.

Just then, from out of nowhere, came the Sea Duck. Kit’s spirits soared. Help had arrived. Together, he and Baloo would show those air pirates a thing or two.

To his utter astonishment, the Sea Duck began firing on him.

Since when does the Duck have guns?

Kit picked up the mike to inform Baloo of his identity, but was alarmed to find out that he couldn’t utter a syllable.

The gunfire from the Sea Duck poured in heavier and heavier. Kit tried every trick he knew, but he couldn’t out-fly Baloo.

Finally, Kit’s wounded plane plummeted down, down, down towards a vast red ocean, thick black smoke pouring from the engines, gaining momentum with every heart-pounding second..

Kit, who had no time to jump, squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath, awaiting the plunge into the watery grave.

Any second...impact.

“Kit, wake up!” someone shouted, pouncing on him.

“Aah!” Kit yelped, heart racing.

A familiar voice said contritely, “Sorry I scared you.”

Kit, badly shaken by his nightmare, cracked his eyes open to see his sister’s smiling face a few inches from his own. He let out a big sigh of relief. “Molly?”

“Hi.” Molly hopped off of the bed, causing it to bounce slightly. “Daddy’s making pancakes. He said that he’s the fastest flapjack flipper this side of Philly.”

“What time is it?” Kit said groggily, glad that he was still alive.

“Time to get up, silly. Mommy says if you don’t get up now, you’ll be late for the cargo run, and if you don’t hurry all the pancakes will be gone.” She giggled as she skipped out the door.

Jeepers, what a nightmare! Kit blinked a few times to clear his head and willed his heart to stop pounding. He took comfort in all of the familiar objects in his room.

Slightly dazed, he arose. He dressed mechanically and grabbed his baseball cap from where it hung on the bedpost, flipping the bill backwards. The sight of his new pocket watch made him pause for a second.

Oddly enough, last night’s excursion to Khan Towers seemed more dream-like than his nightmare.

Kit slipped the watch under his sweater beside his airfoil. After quickly making his bed, he walked out of his room, down the hallway to bathroom. The bathroom door was shut. When he turned the knob, he found that it was locked.

“Swell.”

He was about to knock when Rebecca emerged. She smiled at him cheerfully. “Morning, sweetie. How’d you sleep?”

“Fine.” He wasn’t going to mention his late-night excursion to see Buzz. Hoping that his guilt didn’t show, he hurried into the bathroom.

Kit wrinkled up his nose. The room reeked of hairspray. Choking a little, he rushed to open the window to let the noxious fumes escape.

He was painfully embarrassed when he spotted Rebecca’s bra drying over the shower rod. Blushing beet red, he reached for a towel to fling over it, only to slip on Molly’s rubber ducky and do a nosedive on the hard wooden floor.

He pushed himself up and went over to the sink, his head reeling. Upon opening the medicine cabinet over the sink to get his toothbrush, an avalanche of tiny bottles fell out. He caught every bottle except for one, which shattered in the sink. The strong scent of Rebecca’s perfume mingled with the waning scent of hairspray.

“Uh-oh. She’s not going to be happy about this...”

Kit piled the bottles on the back of the toilet. Very carefully, he picked up as many glass shards as he could, then rinsed the rest down the sink.

He was becoming annoyed. All he wanted to do was brush his teeth!

A thorough search of the medicine cabinet finally revealed that his toothbrush and the toothpaste were on the topmost shelf.

What’s it doing up there? My toothbrush is always on the bottom shelf! At least it used to be.

Since he couldn’t reach it, he climbed up on the sink. Just as his hand closed over both toothbrush and toothpaste, he slipped and fell, hitting his chin on the edge of the porcelain sink in the process.

Now, Kit was sore in more ways than one. He slammed the medicine cabinet door shut and went about brushing his teeth. The Kit in the mirror glowered darkly back at him. This was not the way his first full day of being a part of a family was supposed to start.

After brushing his teeth, he returned his toothbrush to its rightful place on the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet.

Seeing the myriad of tiny bottles on the back of the toilet, he sighed in exasperation.

Why do women need all this junk for anyway? he thought as he crammed the bottles in the cabinet and shut the door as fast as he could. He could hear them clinking and crashing inside.

I hope they all broke!

His chin throbbing, Kit went downstairs, thinking about how he should break the news to Rebecca about her perfume. He hoped it wasn’t too expensive.

Then, he thought of something that was critically important, something so important that superceded even the pain of his bumped chin. During the previous day’s excitement of the adoption and the adoption party, he’d forgotten to ascertain where he and Baloo were going on their cargo run today. He needed to know so that he could map a flight plan before takeoff.

Upon entering the kitchen, he saw Rebecca and Molly sitting at the table. Rebecca was perusing the newspaper and daintily sipped coffee while Molly hungrily ate pancakes and bacon. Baloo stood in front of the stove, spatula in hand. Four golden pancakes were sizzling in the skillet, their hot, appetizing aroma mingling with the scent of bacon and the sweet scent of maple syrup.

“Get your plate ready, Muffin,” Baloo said, sliding his spatula under one of the pancakes.

“Ready, Daddy.” A ring of maple syrup around her mouth attested to the fact that she’d already eaten several flapjacks.

“Hold it up real high.”

Standing on tiptoe, Molly held her plate over her head.

“One for the money. Two for the show. Three to get ready an’ four to GO!” Baloo deftly flipped a pancakes on it. “Bull’s-eye!” he said victoriously. “Right on the button. Want another one, Becky?”

“No, thanks, darling. Give them to Kit. He hasn’t had any yet.”

“Hiya, kiddo. Didn’t see ya there. Pull up a plate, an’ I’ll whip up some more flapjacks,” Baloo said as he handed Kit a plate with three pancakes. Humming, the big bear poured four more globs of batter into the skillet.

Kit sat down at the table and reached for the bottle of maple syrup that was sitting in the middle of the circular table. He poured a generous amount of syrup on his pancake stack and asked, “Baloo, where are we...?”

Before he could ask about the destination of their cargo run, Rebecca interrupted anxiously: “Kit, honey, where’d you get that nasty bump on your chin? I hope you aren’t coming down with the mumps.”

Swallowing a bite of pancake, Kit shook his head. “I already had the mumps years ago at the orphanage.”

Looking him over critically, she felt his forehead, then put her fingers on his wrist.. “No fever. Pulse steady.”

“I just bumped my chin on the sink upstairs. It’s fine, really,” he futilely protested as she got up, grabbed a dishtowel from a drawer, and bustled over to the icebox. “You don’t have to go to any trouble, Miz...Rebecca.”

“It’s no trouble. How in the world did you bump your chin on the sink anyway?”

Thinking about all of those broken little bottles that belonged to her, Kit shrugged and said truthfully enough, “I slipped.”

“You should be more careful, sweetie.” Rebecca placed the cold compress on his chin. “There. Hold it like that and sit still.”

Kit nodded. The cold, wet compress was making his fingers ache and chin numb. “Can you tell me where...?”

“Hush!” Rebecca admonished. “If you don’t stop moving, the swelling will never go down.”

Icy droplets were dripping on his legs and making him uncomfortable. He shifted slightly in his chair, saying earnestly, “But, Miz Cunningham, I really need to know...!”

Molly interjected with, “Can we have pancakes every morning?”

Baloo, who was flipping the flapjacks in the skillet, replied languidly, “Depends.”

“On what?” The little girl ran her finger around her plate and licked it.

Rebecca gave her a reproving look and handed her a napkin. “It all depends if Baloo can get up this early every morning.”

“No, huh?” Molly said innocently.

Kit, who was simultaneously holding the compress to his face with one hand and eating pancakes with his other hand, smirked.

“She knows you well, Baloo,” Rebecca laughed.

Pretending to be annoyed, Baloo gently tweaked Molly’s nose. “Sometimes you’re too smart for your own good, Button-nose.”

Sensing a lull in the conversation, Kit said quickly, “Miz C...Rebecca, where are we...?”

But his question was cut off by the ringing of the telephone in the office/living room.

Rebecca rose from her chair, murmuring, “That better not be Henry calling to say that he messed up our mango order again. I spend more time on the phone with that man than I do all of our clients combined...”

Kit was almost to the boiling point. No one would allow him get a word in edgewise, and he had to know where they were going on their cargo run - and soon. “Papa Bear, where are...?”

“Hot an’ fluffy,” Baloo said jovially, piling four more pancakes on Kit’s plate. “Just like ya like ‘em. Eat up, Li’l Britches.”

Kit cringed inwardly when Baloo patted him on the head. As if I was a little kid. He recalled the ‘little tyke’ remark that he had overheard the pilot say the night before. The anger from that remembered remark along with the frustration, the dejection, the abject disappointment that he had felt at the adoption party rolled over him like a great, dark wave.

In addition, an irritating, icy cold rivulet was running down his neck. Something snapped inside of him.

“Jeez, what am I - chopped liver?” he shouted. “Can’t I ask one, simple question around here?”

Frightened by his outburst, Molly stopped eating; a half-eaten piece bacon protruded from her mouth. Baloo, who had stopped humming, flipped a flapjack onto his head and stared at Kit in utter astonishment.

Rebecca poked her head from office, her hand over the telephone receiver. “What’s wrong?”

Struggling to keep his emotions under control, Kit said shakily, “I just want to know where we’re going on today’s delivery.”

“Lumbago,” Baloo and Rebecca said simultaneously, flashing each other a questioning look.

“I knew that,” Molly whispered tremulously, peeking over the tabletop.

“Well,I didn’t and I’m the navigator!” Kit threw down the towel with a clunk of ice. He then stormed outside, banging the door.

Baloo plucked the pancake from his head and ate it. “What’s up with him?”

Thoughtfully, Rebecca murmured, “I wonder...”

Outside, Kit hurried past Wildcat’s houseboat to the Sea Duck, wishing that Wildcat was there instead of in Boomstone. In his simple, bumbling way, the mechanic knew how to fix hurt feelings. Instead, he climbed into the cockpit and closed the door behind him in an attempt to shut out his troubles.

He rummaged around in the glove box until he found the maps that he was looking for. His anger subsided as he deftly charted a course for Lumbago. That done, he carefully folded the maps and returned his pencil and sextant to his pocket. His fingers closed around his new watch. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened it.

Kit’s eyes lingered on the inscription.

Could it have been only yesterday morning that he was so happy, so excited to finally be a part of a family?

And now...

His feelings were so badly mixed that he didn’t know what hewas feeling.

He’d wanted to be part of a family for so long and this was what he got? A father who ignored him, a fussy, overbearing mother, and a hyperactive little sister who kept interrupting him.

How many nights had he prayed that they would become a real family? That Rebecca and Molly would stay with him and Baloo forever? That Baloo and Rebecca would get married so he could have a mother and father like a regular kid?

He’d only had a family for one day, and already they were driving him crazy. Maybe having a family wasn’t going to be all he had hoped it would be.

Kit returned his watch to his pocket and swiftly swiped the back of his hand across his eyes.

A Half Hour Later

At long last, Limbo’s Long-Lasting Liniment was loaded in the seaplane, ready to be delivered to the hospital in Lumbago. Kit sat in the navigator’s seat, waiting impatiently as Baloo and Rebecca lingered over their goodbyes. They stood on the dock, locked in each other’s embrace.

“I love you,” Rebecca murmured dreamily.

“I love you more.”

“No, I love you more.”

“Ilove you more.”

Kit gritted his teeth. Any other time, his parents’ lovey-dovey dialogue would have seemed almost cute. But not this morning.

He felt ready to jump out of his skin with impatience when Baloo finally climbed into the cockpit. After he started up the engines, the pilot blew kisses to Rebecca through the open window.

Molly, who stood on the dock beside Rebecca, grinned and waved at Kit. “Bye, big brother!”

Kit gave her a curt wave.

Let’s just go already!

Kit was relieved when the Sea Duck taxied away from the dock, away from Higher for Hire, away from Rebecca and Molly, and took off.

Three Hours Later

Kit peered out the window at the dull grey clouds crowding around the Sea Duck, engulfing it in gloom. In addition to the purr of the twin Superflight engines, his ears were filled with the roar of a strong southernly wind.

Because of the gale threatening to blow them off course and because he’d never been to Lumbago before, the young navigator had to keep on top of their position, or they’d get lost.

To his consternation, he had had to mention the course corrections several times before it penetrated Baloo’s thick skull. Because of that and the wind, they were a trifle off-course and a little behind schedule.

We could wind up in Watoosi and he wouldn’t even care, Kit thought bitterly.

Baloo, humming as he flew, was completely oblivious to Kit’s scowl as well as the grey weather around them. From where he was, the sun was shining all over.

“Five degrees south,” Kit said clearly and precisely, pitching his voice above the combined noise of engines and wind.

After a few moments, Baloo awoke from his pleasant daydream. “Huh? You say somethin’, kid?”

Kit sighed with exasperation. “It’s just our course correction, that’s all. No big deal.”

Incognizant of Kit’s sarcastic tone, Baloo said jovially, “Give it to me again, Li’l Britches. Ol’ Papa Bear’s all ears.”

Once again, Kit gave him the coordinates, and Baloo turned the plane accordingly.

“Ya know, I think I married the best gal on earth.”

Here we go again, Kit thought, fixing his eyes out the starboard window. All Baloo had done on this trip was sing Rebecca’s praises, and, frankly, he wasn’t in the mood to hear it again; but, being in a plane ten thousand feet in the air, he had no choice.

Kit propped his chin in his hand and sighed.

Baloo chuckled, “Another sigh like that an’ you’ll blow us off course.”

“What do you care?” Kit mumbled under his breath. He savagely gouged a hole in the map with his sextant.

Baloo wiggled a finger in his ear. “How’s that, kid?”

“Isaid,” Kit snapped, “what do you care if we’re off course or not?”

Baffled by Kit’s outburst, Baloo was truly taken aback. He thought that everyone was as happy as he was. He looked at Kit as if he hadn’t seen him in a long time. “I care.”

“Sure you do - about Rebecca.” Kit glared out the window, refusing to meet Baloo’s eyes.

Baloo, confused and alarmed at his son’s behavior, said, “Wait a doggone minute! I care ‘bout you an’ Molly, too. I adopted ya, didn’t I?”

Kit, his mood as dark as the clouds outside, said frostily, “It was better before you adopted us.”

“Now you’re plumb not makin’ sense!”

“Oh, like you make sense all the time?” Kit scoffed. He met Baloo’s eyes with the most defiant scowl the big bear had ever seen from his son.

Baloo recoiled. He was deeply pained to think that Kit hated him and the return of the tough-guy routine confused him. Tentatively, he ventured, “I thought you wanted me an’ Becky to get married. I thought ya liked her.”

“I did...I do.” Kit waved dismissively and returned to staring out the window. “Aw, you’ll never understand.”

“C’mon, Kit, don’t be like that.” Baloo put a gentle paw on the boy’s shoulder.

Kit shrugged him off and scooted to far side of the seat.

Rubbing the back of his neck, a very hurt, concerned, bewildered Baloo gazed at his son. He was failing his first day of fatherhood and he didn’t know why. For lack of anything better to say, he asked, “What time ya got? Don’t wanna be late.”

“That’s a first,” Kit said sardonically. He pulled out his new pocket watch and checked the time. “It’s 9:45.”

“You sure about that?” Baloo squinted at the sun that had just broke through a gap the clouds, bathing the seaplane in its warm glow. “Mr. Sun’s tellin’ me it’s closer to noon.”

Before he could retort, “I know how to tell time!” Kit held the watch to his ear. It wasn’t ticking. He murmured under his breath, “I guess Buzz didn’t fix it after all.”

“Buzz? What about Buzz?”

“Broke,” Kit said quickly. He wasn’t in the mood to explain why he went to see Buzz the night before. “My watch is broken.”

“Already?It’s brand-spankin’ new.” Baloo snatched the timepiece and shook it. When the watch didn’t even try to tick, he said, “So much for authentic Swizz craftsmanship. Maybe we shoulda got ya that knife after all.”

Frowning, Kit retrieved his watch and carefully looked it over. Seeing that the knob on the side wasn’t pushed in, he murmured to himself, “So that’s the problem.” He set the hands to twelve o’clock, then, he pushed in the knob.

With a jarring jerk, a blinding flash of light, and a thundering boom, the Sea Duck disappeared.

End of part 3

No Time Like the Present
part 4

The Sea Duck
Time and Place Unknown

When Kit and Baloo, their heads reeling, had blinked the spots from their eyes, they could see that instead of ocean, strange vegetation flashed beneath them. The Sea Duck was soaring over what seemed to be a primordial forest. Off in the distance were several volcanoes, belching spurts of lava.

“When did we hit the jungle?” Baloo said, bewildered.

“Look out!” Kit yelled as a pterodactyl with a wingspan as wide as theSea Duck swooped towards them.

Baloo dove sharply to avoid it, putting them on a collision course with a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

“Aah!” Kit yelped, digging his fingers into the armrests. “Port! Port!”

“Don’t hafta tell me twice.” Baloo jerked the seaplane to the left, barely missing the dinosaur’s snapping mouth full of razor-sharp teeth by inches.

TheSea Duck swooped up again until it was skimming high over the tree canopy, out of the reach of any hungry dinosaurs who might want to sink their teeth into it.

Baloo swiped his arm across his brow. “I think we took a wrong turn somewheres.”

“Yeah,” Kit panted, keeping his eyes peeled for more large, man-eating reptiles.

“Well, you’re my navigator, Kit. Where are we?”

“I’m not sure,” Kit murmured, instinctively knowing that this jungle wasn’t on any known map. He pondered as to how they could have gotten to the prehistoric age. As far as he knew, neither he nor Baloo did anything unusual before the bright flash and loud noise. One thing was for certain: it couldn’t have been done by pirates with mirrors, because the jungle and dinosaurs were far too elaborate for even Don Karnage and his thieving gang. He recalled the events leading up to their being in the jungle. He and Baloo were arguing, he adjusted his watch, and... “My watch!”

“Your watch?” Baloo glanced at the pocket watch in his son’s hands. It looked like an ordinary watch to him. “What about your watch?”

Kit briefly filled him in about the watch breaking and his late-night excursion to Khan Towers. “I think Buzz fixed my watch toowell. Maybe even turned it into a time travel device.”

“Time travel?” Baloo chuckled. “You’ve been readin’ too many comic books. Everyone knows time travel ain’t possible.”

“Isthat possible?” Kit said, his voice cracking as he pointed to the pterodactyl that was playing a game of air chicken with theSea Duck.

Flustered, Baloo stammered, “Well...I...you...” As the screeching pterodactyl, flying at ramming speed, drew closer and closer, he said through gritted teeth, “You’ve got some major explainin’ to do, kid.”

“Can we get out of here first?” Kit randomly turned the watch’s hands forward and punched in the knob.

Once again, the Sea Duck bucked and reared as a bright flash filled Baloo and Kit’s eyes and a thunderous roar filled their ears.

A split second later, the pterodactyl and the jungle were ancient history, but that didn’t mean that they were safe.

Instead of a pterodactyl, there was a silver car-sized thing coming right towards them. The driver of the approaching vehicle, a wild-eyed man with bushy white hair, frantically honked and stuck his head out the window, waving and shouting.

Sharply yanking back on the stick to get out of the way, Baloo cried, “First dinosaurs, now spaceships?”

Pressing his nose to the window, Kit peered out. They were flying above a city, but it was unlike any city he’d ever seen. Suspended in the air above the metropolis were lights resembling that of a runway and traversing these lighted pathways were all sorts of flying objects that looked like the spaceships in his Space Riders comics.

Wide-eyed, a baffled Baloo looked over at Kit. “Okay, ya convinced me, kid. That watch is dangerous with a capital ‘danger’. I’m gonna hafta have a talk with Buzz when we get back.”

“Ifwe get back. I think I took us too far forward in time this time.” Kit carefully turned the watch’s hands backwards a few hours. “Here goes,” he said, clicking the knob into place.

The pilot and navigator, being prepared for the boom and bright flash, squeezed their eyes shut.

When they dared to open their eyes, they found themselves in the middle of a blizzard. Because of the howling winds and blinding, driving snow, they couldn’t see anything save a solid wall of white. If not for the Googleschlocker gyrocompass, they wouldn’t have known which way was up.

“Whoa! Talk about a cold snap!” Baloo exclaimed, every muscle in his body straining to hold the Sea Duck steady. “This is worse’n springtime in Thembria. Get us outta here, Kit!”

“But I don’t know how to work this thing!” Kit yelled over the roar of the wind. “We could end up someplace worse!”

Although Baloo couldn’t see out the windows, he was aware from the drag that ice was amassing on the wings and propellers. His suspicions were unfortunately confirmed when the Sea Duck went into a spin. Engine number one had frozen solid. Before he had time to correct the spin, engine number two froze, causing the seaplane to stop spinning and began dropping like a rock.

Watching the altimeter plummet faster than the temperature, Baloo nervously wiped at the sweat freezing on his brow and shouted, “It don’t get worse than this! In about two seconds, the Duck’ll turn into a gigantic frozen popsicle, not to mention us! Do somethin’! Anything!”

Kit set the watch hands forward one hour. “Here goes everything,” he muttered. Cringing, he punched in the knob.

Boom!and the bright flash.

To their relief, the snowstorm disappeared. Left in its place was the eerie silence of a double engine stall.

“Start the engines, Baloo! Start the engines!”

“No dice! They’re frozen solider than a Thembrian icebox.” Baloo pitched the nose forward to correct the stall and to keep them from going into a spin.

“Just like everything else,” Kit muttered. Because the windshield and side windows were covered with a thick, opaque ice, they couldn’t ascertain their position. He prayed that there was nothing to run into up ahead like a mountain. After failing to get the frozen window to roll down, the young navigator frantically tried to defrost a spot on the windshield by rubbing at the glass with his palm.

“Where are we, Britches? What’s our heading?” Baloo said, panicked.

“I’m working on it.” As he rubbed at the window, adrenaline coursed through his veins. But it was no use. The ice was too thick to melt with only the heat from his cold hands. In desperation, he tried the door handle, but the door was frozen shut, too.

Baloo ran his eyes over the control panel. He didn’t like what he saw. With the combined weight of the cargo and ice, they were dropping like a rock. He tried the engines one more time, but they wouldn’t start. “Kit!”

“I know. I know!” Loathe as he was to harm the Sea Duck, it appeared that he had no choice. Picking up the flashlight, he started whacking it against the side window. “Come on,” he said through clenched teeth as he aimed one powerful blow after another at the glass.

Finally, a baseball-sized portion of the window shattered. Kit poked the glass pieces outside with the end of the flashlight, allowing a gust of warm air into the cockpit. The boy peered through the hole. “We’re over a forest,” he said in relief. “No mountains or buildings or other obstacles in sight. And there’s a clearing!” He checked his compass. “Turn to one-four-oh degrees, quick!”

“C’mon, baby,” Baloo said, wrenching the steering yoke to the right.

Kit instructed, “Bank her in at 15 degrees. Now back 2 degrees. Uh-oh! Here comes the trees!” He flew back in his seat and buckled his seatbelt.

“Hang onto your kneecaps,” Baloo murmured, gritting his teeth.

Pilot and navigator braced themselves as the underside of the Sea Duck’sfuselage grazed the tops of the trees, causing the plane to rock violently. They heard the horrible splintering of branches and the high-pitched squeal of wood scraping against metal.

“Whoa!” both yelled as the ice sheath covering the windshield blew off in one large chunk and shattered as it bounced over the top of the plane, allowing them to see the whirlwind of leaves and branches whizzing past them.

For a wonder, the landing gear deployed, and when the wheels touched turf, Baloo stomped on the brakes, causing the plane to fishtail. The trees at the edge of the clearing were coming up fast.

"We're runnin' outta runway!"

“Papa Bear!” Kit shouted, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt the plane swing wildly to the right, then back to the left, then the searing pain of his seatbelt squeezing against his midriff when it shuddered to a stop.

“You okay, Li’l Britches?” Baloo gasped, prying his aching fingers from the control yoke.

Kit slowly opened his eyes. Exhaling with relief, he said wearily, “Yeah. You?”

“Been better.”

For a few moments, they sat in stunned silence, staring at the green leaves pressed against the windshield and listening to the ice chunks sliding off the Sea Duck. The glimpses out the side windows told them that they were ringed in by forest on all sides. It seemed to be a warm, peaceful place.

“I wonder where we are,” Kit mused, glancing at watch in his hand. “I wonder when we are.”

Frustrated, Baloo pounded his fist against the control yoke. “Doggone it! If we don’t make it home by supper, Becky’ll worry.”

The scowl returned to Kit’s face. “Becky, Becky, Becky. Is that allyou ever think about?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned the door handle, but the door wouldn’t budge. With a swift, angry kick, the half-frozen door flew open, allowing him to jump out.

“Hey, where do you think you’re goin’?” Baloo shouted, fumbling with his seatbelt. “Kit! Hey, Kit! Li’l Britches!”

Ignoring Baloo, Kit kept walking into the woods. He had to get away from Baloo and his everlasting prating about Becky. When he had gone a few hundred yards, he sat down on a mossy log, his back to the Sea Duck.

“Miles,years, away from home, we don’t know where we are, and the only thing he thinks about is Rebecca.”

Kit recalled the first day that he had known Baloo. He had stormed off then too, mad that Baloo cared more for the Sea Duck than him. That time, Baloo proved that Kit meant more by sacrificing the gorilla birds to save him from the air pirates. But the Sea Duckwas just a thing, a machine. Rebecca was a warm, loving, intelligent person - and Baloo’s wife.

He stared at his innocuous-looking pocket watch, still clutched tightly in his hand. It was ticking away steadily.

I wish I knew how this thing works...

Kit jumped when he heard a twig snap behind him. Seeing Baloo, he resolutely turned his back to the approaching pilot, snapped the watch’s cover shut, and slipped it beneath his sweater.

“There ya are, kid,” Baloo said, relief evident in his voice.

Without turning, Kit said sarcastically, “Oh, so you wanna talk to me now?”

Baloo sat down gingerly on the log, causing it to sag and creak ominously. Kit scooted towards the end.

“You know better than to go runnin’ off in a strange place.”

“Is this the fatherly lecture?” Refusing to meet Baloo’s eyes, Kit disdainfully flicked a mushroom off the log.

Baloo, at his wit’s end, wrung his hat in his hands. “You know I ain’t got much practice at this parenting stuff. Tell me what I’m doin’ wrong.”

“Where do you want me to start?” Kit retorted with a scornful smile.

“Does it got somethin’ ta do with Becky?”

Kit opened his mouth to spout something sarcastic, but changed his mind. Instead, the tough-guy expression dropped from his face, leaving a very miserable boy. After a long pause, he whispered sadly, “Yeah.”

Fiddling with his cap, Baloo said quietly, “I thought ya liked Becky.”

“I do,” Kit mumbled, absently running his finger along a groove in the log’s bark. “She’s a...a great person and I really like...loveher, but...but whenever she’s around, you act like...”

“Like?”

“Like I don’t exist.”

“I do, huh?” As was his habit, Baloo rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

Kit flicked his finger against another mushroom. Brokenly, he mumbled, “I miss you, Papa Bear. I miss the fun we used to have, just you and me. And...and now...”

“Yeah?”

With a sigh, Kit admitted, “I don’t know if I want a father if it means losing my best friend.”

After a momentary pause, Baloo murmured contritely, “You’re right, Li’l Britches.”

Astonished, Kit looked over at the big bear.

Baloo smiled sadly and put a hand on Kit’s shoulder; this time, he wasn’t shrugged off. “Gimme a second chance?”

Before Kit could say anything, their attentions were arrested by something crashing through the forest nearby. “What was that?”

Baloo and Kit hurried to the clearing just in time to see a knight astride his noble, yet slightly saggy steed emerge from the forest. The sunlight glinted off his shining armor as well as the scabbard that hung from his side. In his hand, he carried a long, deadly-looking lance. He and his horse made a semi-circle circuit of the seaplane once, then twice.

“What ho, dragon!” the knight called to the Sea Duck. “Prepare to be vanquished.”

When Baloo had picked his chin off the ground, he whispered, “What’s ‘vanquished’?”

Kit made a slashing motion across his throat.

Baloo gulped. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

The knight backed his horse to the very edge of the clearing, brandished his lance, and charged the Sea Duck.

“No! Not my baby!” Baloo shouted, running towards the knight.

Before the pilot could get halfway across the clearing, the knight’s lance struck the seaplane’s back hatch, but the horse kept going. The knight fell off the horse and landed on the grass where he lay there, helplessly flailing his metal-clad limbs. “Helpeth! I havest fallen and I canst gettest up!”

Kit rushed past Baloo to the knight’s aid.

“Wait, kid!” Baloo said, jogging after his son. “You don’t know if he has more of them pointy sticks.”

“We can’t just leave him there. Besides, he can tell us where we are.” To the knight, Kit said, “We’ll help you, mister.”

As they helped him struggle to a sitting position, the knight said in a muffled voice, “Thank thee, O noble sires. Canst thou please removest my helmet so I mightest view the visages of my kindly rescuers?”

Baloo tugged and tugged on the helmet, but it would not budge. He panted, “It’s no use. It’s stuck tighter’n a burr in a dog’s fur.”

“Where’s a can opener when you need one?” Kit murmured. Getting an idea, his eyes lit up. He ran to Sea Duck, and returned with tube of liniment. “What if we tried this?”

Baloo shrugged. “Give it a go.”

Kit liberally squirted some around the seam where the helmet met the neck. Then, Baloo twisted the helmet and pulled upwards. This time, it slid off.

“Dunder?” Baloo and Kit cried, surprised.

“How didst thou knowest my name?” the familiar-looking warthog exclaimed.

“Lucky guess,” Kit said sheepishly.

“Thou must be great sorcerers to divine such knowledge,” Dunder said, awe-struck, as he took in the bears’ odd-looking clothing.

“Not prezactly,” the big bear said, assisting the knight to his feet. “Name’s Baloo. I’m a pilot. If it’s got wings I can fly it. Sometimes if it doesn’t. This here’s my plane.” He gestured proudly to the Sea Duck.

Astonished, Dunder’s eyes moved from the pilot to his plane. “You are master of the great yellow dragon?”

Baloo grinned. “Guess you could put it that way.”

“Are you also a master of the yellow dragon?” Dunder asked Kit.

“I’m sort of a master in training,” Kit said proudly.

Dunder nodded solemnly. “I, too, am in training. Verily, I wish to be a true knight, but, alas, I have yet to pass my final challenge.”

“Challenge?” Baloo echoed.

“Aye, I must slay the dragon that lives in the Dragon Den.”

“Gee, sounds rough,” Kit said sympathetically.

“If I fail, I become a court jester, the most disgraceful and disagreeable position in all the land.” Dunder examined the liniment used to get helmet off. He ran his finger around the rim of his helmet and licked it off his finger. “This...”

“Liniment,” Kit supplied.

“Aye. It has a goodly taste. May I havest more?”

“Knock yourself out.” Baloo gave him the tube.

“Knock myself out? Why wouldst I do that?” Dunder said, fascinated by the tube’s screw-on cap.

Baloo chuckled. “Never mind.”

They all turned when they heard rustling and clanking behind them. Soon, a donkey bearing a short knight came crashing through bushes. The knight’s lance dragged on the ground.

“Must be winter. The knights are gettin’ shorter,” Baloo joked.

“Knight-in-training Dunder!” the second knight said in a lisping voice. “What is the meaning of this? Why aren’t thou practicing thy knightly duties?”

“I was meeting new friends, sire.”

“Knights don’t have friends. How many times must I tellest thou that? And when we get home, I needest thou to dry off the inside of my helmet again. It’s all dampeth.”

“Yes, sire.”

When the donkey came to a stop, the diminutive knight snapped, “Dunder!”

“Sorry, sire.” Dunder removed the shorter knight from the donkey’s back and set him gently on the ground, then raised his helmet’s visor.

“Spigot?” Baloo and Kit said simultaneously.

“That’s...” Spigot’s tone of voice changed from annoyed to pleased. He preened and stood as tall as his short stature would allow. “Yes. It seemest my reputation hast preceedeth me...as it shouldst. I am Sir Spigot, Dragon Slayer Extraordinaire, Bravest Knight in all of Hammalot.”

“Hammalot?” Baloo and Kit echoed wonderingly.

Sir Spigot pounded his breastplate with his fist. “Standeth back whilst I dispose of yon dragon permanently. Knight-in-Training Dunder, my lance.”

“But your knightship,” Baloo interjected. “ This ain’t a dragon. It’s an airplane.”

“Air...plane?” Sir Spigot stumbled over the word uncertainly. “Ah-ha! A new noble beast for me to conquesteth! The king will be so please-ed.” With a grunt of exertion, he brandished his sword, but couldn’t swing it, because it was too heavy. Its point dropped to the ground.

Baloo threw himself between Spigot and the seaplane. “But I’m tellin’ ya. That ain’ no beast.”

“Does thou...” Clank! went his visor. Irately pushing up the visor, he continued, “Does thou darest defy Sir Spigot?”

“Well...yeah!”

“Knight-in-training Dunder! Seize them!”

“How come?” Baloo asked.

“For preventing a knight from performing his knightly duties. Our glorious king will decideth your punishment.”

“Way to go, Baloo,” Kit sarcastically as they were gently led away by Dunder.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault that that watch landed us here.”

Hammalot

From far away, Hammalot appeared to be a place where peace and prosperity reigned. The white stone castle, complete with many turrets that reached towards the blue sky, sat on a verdure hill overlooking a serene river. Gathered under the protective wings of the castle was a picturesque village consisting of thatched-roof huts. Both the castle and village were securely surrounded by a high wall with many guard-posts. The only means of entry into Hammalot was through a drawbridge in the wall.

As they walked across the drawbridge, Baloo commented, “It looks like somethin’ outta one of Molly’s storybooks.”

Upon closer inspection, Hammalot wasn’t so picturesque. Pigs, dogs, and chickens as well as dirty children ran rampant in the squalid streets. Serfs in drab clothing skittered out of their way in deference to knights as they passed.

Spigot, who seemed to be oblivious to the filth and poverty surrounding him, preened with pride. “Welcome to Hammalot, fairest city in the land.”

Kit couldn’t help contrasting the rag-clad serfs and lowly huts with the shining castle. Just like Thembria, only in a warmer climate.At that moment, he almost wished for the freezing temperatures of Thembria if only to mask the stench that couldn’t have only been attributed to the livestock.

Baloo and Kit were marched into the castle, down a long corridor with high vaulted ceilings and colorful tapestries lining the walls. Two ladies-in-waiting of warthog persuasion clad in bright silk gowns and pointy hats with streamers trailing from the top curtsied and stared after the strangers with large eyes.

At the end of the hall was a pair of tall, double doors that reached to the ceiling. They all waited as Spigot spoke a few words to the man guarding the door.

The guard peered at Baloo and Kit for a few moments before opening one of the doors and announcing in a booming voice, “Sir Spigot, Knight-in-Training Dunder, and two captives.”

Before entering the throne room, Dunder and Spigot removed their helmets and carried them under their arms. Spigot licked his palm to slick back his hair, then strutted into the room. Everyone else followed - Dunder meekly, with eyes cast down, Baloo and Kit with eyes wide and mouths agape.

The throne room was fitted out with the best that money could buy. Almost every inch of the walls were covered with tapestries depicting the glorious feats of the Knights of the Sound Table. On the left side was the legendary table itself where a few knights were gathered, drinking mead out of pewter mugs. And at the far end of the throne room were two large, ornate chairs where the king and queen sat. In attendance were the faithful ladies-in-waiting. Adding to the mayhem was a jester, who pranced around the room, playing his lute and singing. All activity, save for the queen’s noisy gnawing on a turkey leg and the jester’s singing, ceased when Baloo and Kit entered.

“What is it, Sir Nozzle?” the king, who looked suspiciously like the High Marshall, drawled.

“Sir Spigot, O Worthy Sire,” he corrected with a deep bow.

“Whatever.” The king plucked the lute from the jester and broke it over the entertainer's head, causing him to slump to the floor, unconscious. “Why havest thou pestereth us? Cannot thou seest that we are busy?”

The queen, having finished her turkey leg, tossed the bone at Spigot. It ricocheted off his breastplate with a clang.

“Well thrown, my queen,” Spigot said with a nervous laugh.

Grunting, the queen snapped for the page to bring her another turkey leg.

“Gettest thou to the point, Nozzle.”

Proudly, Sir Spigot proclaimed, “Knight-in-training Dunder and I foundest yon dangerous strangers lurking in the forest.”

The king yawned. “Thou knowest the drill. Burn them at the stake.”

Baloo exclaimed, “But I don’t wanna die before I’m born!”

Before they even had a chance to flee, four big, burly knights flanked the time travelers and started dragging them towards the door.

“Help!” Baloo and Kit yelled.

End of part 4

No Time Like the Present
part 5

Hammalot

Baloo and Kit were tied back-to-back to a charred stake in the middle of a grassy courtyard. Under their feet was a big pile of firewood. Everyone in the realm, from the lowliest peasant to the King and Queen, was in attendance. After all, it wasn’t every day that they got to see a good burning at the stake.

The court jester strolled amongst the crowd, strumming on his patched up lute and singing to the tune of ‘Greensleeves’: “The strangers will burneth, their eyes will sting, much to the delight of the Queen and King...”

Baloo muttered, “I’d like ta make somethin’ of his sting.” He tried to wriggle his bound hands, but the knots were too secure. He couldn’t even move his pinkies. Slumping against the stake in defeat, he said, “Well, guess this is so long, Li’l Britches. It was nice knowin’ ya.”

Kit, whose was concentrating on freeing his hands, said absently, “Yeah. Same to you, Papa Bear.” When he had loosened the knot enough to slip his small hands out, he murmured a triumphant, “But I’m not burned yet.”

Feeling Kit working on his ropes, Baloo grinned. “It’s really nice ta know ya.”

Following a loud trumpet fanfare that rendered half of Hammalot deaf, Sir Spigot clanked up to the royal box where the King and Queen sat on their outdoor thrones, shaded from the hot sun by a striped canopy. Removing his helmet and handing it to Dunder, who stood respectfully behind him, he bowed theatrically, then said, “Thy royal highnesses, honorable knights of the Sound Table, beautiful ladies of the court...” He flashed a simpering smile at the women.

The king barked, “Keepeth it short, Sir Spigot!”

Spigot cleared his throat. “Anon, we art about to burneth yon strange strangers...”

Under his breath, Baloo interjected, “Nobody’s stranger’n you, shorty.”

“But before the strangers art toasted to a crispeth, perhaps you’d like to hear of my latest-eth dashing deeds, sire.”

“Another dragon, Nozzle?” the apathetic King said while the crowd groaned.

“It was as tall as a full-grown oak and a wingspan of a hundred eagles. Thou shouldst seen the destruction it caused in the forest. Whole trees snapped in two.”

“It made-eth a big mess,” Dunder added.

“But the scurvy beast was no match for Sir Spigot! One well-placed jabbeth with my lance and the dragon was silence-eth. Sire, mightest I request that thy royal highness and thy lovely wife,” the Queen stopped gobbling a mutton leg long enough to look disdainfully at Sir Spigot; “travel to yon dell two hilltops over to see-eth the carcass of this great beast?”

The king snorted impatiently. “If it existeth.”

The other knights snickered. They knew Sir Spigot’s reputation for tall tales.

“But it does existeth, sire! I sweareth it does!” Sir Spigot cried.

“Verily!” Dunder waved the tube of liniment above his head. “The strangers brought this out of the belly of the yellow dragon.”

“What manner of strange substance is that, pray tell?” the king asked languidly.

“The strangers call it liniment. It getteth helmets off, stoppeth squeaks, and has a goodly taste.”

The queen perked up her ears. She snapped her fingers, prompting the page to seize the liniment from Dunder and bring it to her. After tasting one drop, she smacked her lips, smiled, and squeezed the entire tube into her mouth. She then grunted, “Good! More!”

From atop the pyre, Baloo yelled, “We got a whole bunch of that stuff back in the plane, er, yellow dragon. We’ll give it to ya if you let us go.”

“Theymasteresth the yellow dragon?” the king said, showing slight astonishment.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Baloo and Kit, who were now untied, but trying to act as if they weren’t.

Dunder nodded furiously. “Aye. They toldest me so.”

A gasp ran through the crowd. Everyone stepped a few paces back from the stake.

“Listen, folks, this is all a big misunderstandin’. Ya see, this mornin’ me an’ Kit were...” Forgetting that he was supposed to be tied to the stake, Baloo stepped to the edge of the woodpile.

From within the amazed crowd, two people shouted: “Howst he came to be freed?” and “They must be great sorcerers, indeed!”

“Great sorcerers?” Baloo said wonderingly, looking behind him. Seeing no one there but Kit, he squeaked, “Us?”

The king demanded, “If thou art a sorcerer, show us thy magic.”

Baloo gulped. “Magic?” Glancing helplessly at Kit, his mind raced to remember any of Louie’s magic tricks.

Kit shrugged and murmured, “Nothing like a command performance.” He didn’t like the fact that they were surrounded by knights with swords that could mince them into itty-bitty pieces.

“Magic now!” the king commanded loudly.

Getting a sudden idea, Baloo began digging through his shirt pocket. “Gimmee a sec, your majesty.”

“What are you doing?” Kit whispered.

“Lookin’ for my matches.”

“Matches?” Kit echoed, his voice cracking. “That’s the last thing we need right now!”

“They want sorcerers. They’re gonna get sorcerers.” Finally, Baloo located his matchbook and tore off one match. Holding it up, he boomed, “Behold! With one flick of the wrist, I’ll set this ordinary stick on fire.”

But no matter how many times he struck the match against the strip on the back of the matchbook, it refused to light.

Chuckling nervously, Baloo said, “Must be defective.” He tossed that match aside and tried another one. To his immense relief, it lit.

Collectively, the awestruck Hammalottians murmured, “Ooo!” As in one accord, they bowed deeply.

“Now that’s more like it!” Baloo basked in the glow of fame. When the flame scorched his fingers, he shook the match to extinguish the fire.

The king said, “O mighty sorcerers, because of thy unlimited magic and thy powers over dragons, thou shalt be rewarded.”

Taking his burnt finger out of his mouth, Baloo beamed at Kit. “This is gettin’ better an’ better.”

“Thou art to accompany Sir Nozzle and Knight-in-Training Dunder on a quest. A quest to destroyeth the dragon that liveth in the Dragon’s Den.”

Baloo blanched. “Dra...dra...dragon’s Den? With a real, live fire-breathin’ dragon?”

The king drawled lazily, “What other kind of dragon be there but fire-breathing? Now, go. I tireth of thee.”

With another blaring trumpet fanfare, the crowd dispersed. Baloo and Kit had just hopped down from the stack of firewood when Dunder approached them.

Shyly, Dunder said, “Wouldst thou great sorcerers honor me by staying at my humble abode?”

Baloo shrugged. “Might as well, unless ya got a Hammalot Inn?”

Confused, Dunder replied, “But we are-est already in Hammalot.”

Baloo chuckled. “Never mind. How many knights have made it through this dragon quest, anyhoo?”

“None,” Dunder replied as the threesome crossed the courtyard and ambled down the hill from the castle towards the village.

“None?” Baloo and Kit echoed, alarmed.

“The dragon moved into the cave a fortnight ago. Before that, the Dragon’s Den was calleth ‘the really large hole in the hill’.”

“An’ we get to be the first ta face it,” Baloo said glumly. “Swell.”

“How do you know a dragon lives in the cave?” Kit asked as they stopped before a modest, one-room, drab-brown, thatched-roof hut, which was exactly identical to its neighbors.

Lowering his voice, Dunder said, “All day and all night, there are fearsome noises and spurts of fire from deepeth within the Dragon’s Den as well as earth-shaking rumblings that can be feltest all the way here in Hammalot.” He smiled shyly at Baloo and Kit. “I am relieveth knowing that I havest two brave sorcerers with me on my quest.”

“Yeah. Sorcerers,” Baloo murmured uncertainly. Every muscle in his body was taut, ready to flee to the Sea Duck, away from Hammalot and a prospective dragon’s quest.

Kit asked, “Where is the cave? Is it far from Hammalot?”

“Nay, ‘tis not far. It is but over the river and through the woods.”

“To grandmother’s house we go,” Baloo sang.

Dunder flashed him a puzzled glance before pointing across the river to a hilltop shrouded in haze. “Ifeth the dragon’s smoke wasn’t so thicketh, thou couldst see the opening of the cave from here. But come, we must resteth so that we mayst start on our journey at dawn’s first light.” He entered his hut with Baloo and Kit on his heels.

Dunder’s Hut
That Night

While Kit nibbled half-heartedly on a bland boiled turnip, he looked around at the one room that served at Dunder’s humble abode.

Jeepers, Higher for Hire is a palace compared to this place!

He, Baloo, and Dunder, sitting on upended empty wine casks, were gathered around a rough-hewn table near the fireplace. The room was dark, for the two windows cut in the bare walls were covered with oilcloth. The only source of light was a sputtering fire in the stone fireplace, which also filled the air with an acrid smell of smoke. The firelight cast weird dancing shadows over everything, especially Dunder’s suit of armor standing in the corner by the door. A black iron pot hung over the fire where a few small turnips bobbed in the stale, brown water. Barely discernable over the crackle of the fire and bubbling of boiling water were the faint sounds of rats squeaking and scurrying on the thatched roof. Overhead, from the bare rafters, hung scraggly bunches of turnips and onions. In one corner of the dirt floor was a crude bed of straw that Dunder had graciously offered to Baloo and Kit.

It wasn’t much, but to Dunder, it was home.

Dunder fished a mushy turnip out of the pot and asked politely, “Wouldst thou like some more boiled turnips?”

“No, thanks,” Baloo said hastily, hoping that his host didn’t see the turnips that he had surreptitiously dropped on the floor and buried with his toes. They tasted worse than whatever Louie scraped up for his All-You-Can-Stand-For-A-Dollar Special.

“I’m full,” Kit mumbled, putting a hand over his growling stomach. He didn’t want to eat all of Dunder’s meager supply.

Dunder pushed back his pewter plate and rose from his seat. “Ifest thou don’t mind, I’m going over to Sir Spigot’s. He saidest I needest more instructions before tomorrow’s quest, and I needest to polish his armor.”

“Isn’t he coming, too?” Kit said.

“Nay. He toldest me that he’s slain so many dragons that it wouldst be unfair for him to assisteth.”

After Dunder left, Baloo and Kit swivelled on their casks to face the fire. Now that the sun had gone down, the evening was chilly as evidenced by the wind whistling through the chinks in the walls.

Baloo leaned backwards against the table, resting his elbows on it. “No matter when or where, Spiggy’s still the same ol’ blowhard with the same short temper.”

“Is that a short joke?” Kit lisped in imitation of the diminutive knight.

Baloo’s chuckle trailed off into a longing sigh. “Man, I sure do miss Becky’s cookin’.” He tossed the remainder of his turnip into the fire, causing the flame to sizzle.

“Yeah.” Kit’s stomach growled again. A few overcooked turnips weren’t enough to satisfy his voracious teenaged appetite.

For a while, Baloo and Kit stared into fire, each lost in their own thoughts.

Kit broke the silence with: “I’m sorry, Papa Bear.”

Reluctantly, Baloo awoke from his pleasant reverie of roast beef, mashed potatoes, and Rebecca sitting opposite him. He looked over at his son. “For what?”

“For getting us stuck here.” Kit twiddled his thumbs nervously. “I wouldn’t blame you for being mad.”

“Mad?” Baloo said, surprised. “Kid, I ain’t mad.”

“Really?”

“Naw...accidents happen,” Baloo said, pushing himself up from the table. He gingerly shifted on the uncomfortable cask. Giving Kit one of his rare stern looks, he said, “But I am kinda disappointed. Disappointed that ya didn’t trust Becky an’ me enough ta tell us that your watch busted instead of runnin’ off to Buzz like a scared rabbit.”

Matter-of-factly, Kit admitted, “But I’m used to doing things for myself.”

“I know, kiddo, but ya don’t gotta do that so much now that ya got me an’ Becky lookin’ after ya. Ya gotta let us be the parents once in a while, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kit mumbled contritely. Meeting Baloo’s eyes, he said, “Does this mean that you won’t ignore me anymore?”

“Huh? You say somethin’?” Baloo teased.

Kit, pretending to be annoyed, playfully punched Baloo in the stomach. In turn, Baloo pushed Kit’s cap down over his eyes before putting an affectionate arm around the boy.

Mischievously, Kit asked, “And you won’t talk about Rebecca all the time?”

“I don’t know ‘bout that.” Smiling dreamily, the big bear added more to himself than to his son, “She’s one special gal.”

“Yeah, she is.” Kit smiled, his thoughts returning to the memory of his mother’s tender goodnight kiss. Then, his smile faded. Quietly, he asked, “Think we’ll ever see her or Molly again?”

In the space of a moment, Baloo’s face grew old. Swallowing hard, he whispered, “I hope so, Li’l Britches. I sure hope so.” His arm tightened around Kit as they returned to staring into the glowing embers.

Later That Night

Baloo, resplendent in bright medieval garb, sat on a grassy bank beside a bubbling brook. The moonlight made it as almost as bright as day. He strummed on a lute not unlike the court jester’s and sang to the tune of “I Dream of Jeannie”: “I dream of Becky with the glowing green eyes. She’ll whack you with a rain spout if you tell her lies...”

His song was curtailed by Covington streaking past him, screaming, “Heeeeelp!”

“What in the...?”

Feeling his lute being snatched from his hands, Baloo looked up to see Rebecca standing over him. Her glowing green eyes held a terrible demonic expression that made Baloo shiver in fear. Fused to her right hand was a large key, pulsating with a light the same hue as Rebecca’s eyes.

“B-Becky?” Baloo said warily.

The demon Rebecca fixed her gaze on him, her unearthly eyes narrowing. A low growl escaped her throat. Then, catching a glimpse of Covington zigzagging blindly around the trees in the forest, she hungrily licked her lips, raised the lute over her head, and bounded off, disappearing into the forest.

“Mommmeeee!” Covington yelled as he emerged from the forest. Desperate to get away from Rebecca, the jaguar jumped into the stream and waded across.

Rebecca growled, “We could make beautiful music together, Covington,” as she splashed in after him.

“Becky, come back!” Baloo shouted aloud, waking himself. Heart pounding, he looked around, dazed, at the darkness. He chuckled with relief. “Just a dream. Becky with green eyes? Nah, that’d never happen.” Feeling straw instead of a mattress beneath him and remembering his predicament, his face crumpled with anguish. “Oh, Becky...”

Kit, who had been awakened by Baloo’s outburst, lay very still in the straw, listening to his father’s stifled sobs and wishing that hewas a sorcerer so that he could fix the entire mess with a wave of his magic wand.

When the sobs were replaced by snoring, Kit rose, brushed the straw from his clothes, tiptoed past Dunder sleeping peacefully on the bare floor in front of the cold fireplace, and wandered outside. He sat down on a cask just outside the door and hugged his knees to his chest to conserve warmth. Everything was quiet save for a dog howling mournfully and the clinking of the guard’s armor as he paced the castle parapet. The stars sparkled overhead like diamonds on black velvet.

He wished with his whole heart he was home in his own comfortable bed in his own room with his family nearby. The sleepy slosh of the harbor outside. A gentle breeze whispering in the branches of the elm tree. The familiar nighttime sounds of Cape Suzette in the distance.

When Kit’s stomach growled, he pulled his knees closer to his chest and tried to pretend his hunger pangs away as he had often done during his street urchin and air pirate days. But he found that he couldn’t. Living at Higher for Hire during the past year and a half had rendered the old trick unnecessary.

Sitting huddled on the cask, hungry and alone in a strange, unfriendly environment reminded him too much of his life prior to Higher for Hire. As if a dam had burst, carefully buried memories of the hard, harsh days and cold, cruel nights flooded into his mind, threatening to crush him under a wave of despair and heartbreak.

As tears pricked his eyes, Kit became aware of an object pressed against his chest. It was his pocket watch, the symbol of his adopted parents’ love, reminding him that he was wanted, he belonged somewhere - even if it was centuries in the future. He wished that he knew how it worked so he could transport himself and Baloo back to their own time, away from Hammalot and dragons.

His thoughts shifted to the quest they were going to embark on in the morning. Was there a real dragon? Surely not. They were only things of medieval legends.

Just then, a spurt of fire flew up in the sky over the hilltop where the Dragon’s Den was. It was closely followed by a muffled roar and a slight tremor of the earth.

Staring at the stream of fire blazoned against the dark sky, Kit shivered, not entirely from cold. He’d encountered many outlandish things during his short, yet full, life, but never a dragon.

What if we never make it home?

The Next Morning

“We art here,” Dunder proclaimed. Sunlight glinted off his armor as he carefully dismounted from his noble steed.

“So soon?” Baloo stammered, toppling off the horse that he and Kit shared.

“Aye. There ‘tis,” Dunder said, pointing with his gauntlet as Kit nimbly hopped down and helped Baloo to his feet.

The threesome stood in front of the Dragon’s Den and gazed into the large, black, gaping mouth of the cave. A steady stream of smoke issued from within and swirled into oblivion into the sky.

“Still wishest that I hadst armor to offer you brave sorcerers,” Dunder said hesitantly.

Feeling anything but brave, Baloo said, “Forget it, Dundee. It’ll make it easier for us to skedaddle without that extra baggage. Come to think of it, I’ll just stay out here an’ keep watch.”

“But we have to help the good knight,” Kit reminded him.

“Goodnight is right. One puff from that overgrown lizard an’ we’re dust.”

Kit gave Baloo a reproving look. “Don’t be such a baby.”

Dunder lit the three torches that he had brought and gave one each to Baloo and Kit. “Art thou ready?”

“Knights first,” Baloo said with a nervous chuckle. “We sorcerers don’t wanna hog the fire...uh, spotlight.”

Dunder unsheathed his sword, then entered the cave with Baloo and Kit right behind.

“Couldn’t ya go on a safer quest, say, takin’ on a fish?” Baloo said, his trembling voice echoing throughout the cave. “I’ve met up with some pretty mean catfish in my day.”

As they slowly, cautiously traveled deeper and deeper into the cave, Kit secretly thought that if there was a dragon living there, he’d chosen a poor home. The young navigator wasn’t particularly impressed by the dripping walls or the cold, damp floor. By torchlight, the spooky shadows of overhanging stalactites looked like fangs.

Just then, a loud roar reverberated through the cave accompanied by a slight earthquake. A sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling as well as a small rock that bounced off Dunder’s helmet.

“I don’t feel too goodly,” Dunder said, slightly dazed.

“That’s it. I am leavin’!” Baloo exclaimed, heading back towards the entrance.

Before Baloo could get far, Kit caught him by the hem of his shirt. “Dunder’s counting on us, remember?”

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t hear that!”

“Sure, but I don’t believe in dragons. They’re myths, legends, fairytales.”

“No fairytale made that noise!” Once again, Baloo attempted to bolt, but Kit’s hold on his shirt held him back.

“Come on, Papa Bear.” Taking Baloo by the hand, Kit dragged the petrified pilot along behind the Dunder, who was clanking in his armor.

After approximately a half hour of trekking deeper and deeper into the cave, there was another, louder roar followed by a second, more powerful earthquake that caused the dragon hunters to lose their balance and tumble to the ground. Mingled with a rumbling so loud that they could even feel it throughout their bodies was a loud cracking and popping noise. It was growing louder by the second.

First, a few small pebbles started to rain down on them. Then, larger rocks mercilessly pelted them.

“The cave is cavin’ in! Run!” Baloo bellowed as the torches were snuffed out, leaving them in total darkness.

Kit scrambled to his feet. Ignoring the sharp pains that the falling rocks inflicted, he blindly stumbled through the downpour of rubble with only his strong navigational instincts to guide him towards the entrance. Behind him, he could hear Baloo’s yelps of pain and the hail-like sound of pebbles striking Dunder’s armor.

When the rocky downpour ceased, Kit stopped running. Every inch of his bruised and lacerated body ached. Tasting blood, he swiped a hand across his mouth and peered into the all-encompassing darkness.

“Papa Bear? Dunder?” he panted. His voice seemed to echo forever.

When he received no answer, fear crept into Kit’s heart. “Papa Bear?” he called louder.

He waited for what seemed like hours, then relief flooded over him when he heard Baloo groan, “Oh, man! This dragon hunt is gettin’ ta be a real drag.”

“Where are you?” Kit asked frantically, his eyes straining to see through the darkness. Because of the cave’s echo, he wasn’t sure what direction his father’s voice had come from.

“Here, this might shed some light on the subject,” Baloo said, striking a match and lighting his torch.

Overjoyed, Kit carefully picked his way across the mounds of sharp, jagged rocks. When he reached Baloo, he threw himself into his arms for a hug. “Where’s Dunder?”

“Helpeth! Helpeth!” came the knight’s faint mew.

“This way,” Baloo said, taking off in one direction.

“No,this way,” Kit said.

For a few minutes, father and son searched through the rocks for any sign of the knight.

“There!” Kit cried, glimpsing shiny object protruding out from under of a pile of rocks.

“That’s one way to get rocked to sleep. Start diggin’, partner,” Baloo said, rolling a boulder to one side.

After a few minutes, the knight was unearthed.

“Are you okay?” Kit asked, pushing up the visor of Dunder’s helmet. By the flickering torchlight, he thought that Dunder’s eyes had a dizzy look.

“Aye,” Dunder murmured dazedly. “Mightest I sleep a little more, Mother? The chickens can waiteth for their breakfast.”

“He’s fine,” Baloo chuckled, knocking against the knight’s helmet. “Packed snugger’n a sardine in a tin can.”

“Yeah, but I’m afraid Dunder’s quest isn’t fine,” Kit said quietly. “Look at that.”

Where the cave’s ample tunnel had been, there was now a wall of rock stretching from the floor to the ceiling.

Despairingly, Dunder said, “How willith I get to the dragon now?” He imploringly turned towards Baloo and Kit. “Thou art sorcerers. Canst thou make yon wall disappear?”

“‘Fraid our magic ain’t that strong, Dundee,” Baloo said with a sad shake of his head.

“It’s not completely blocked. Look!” Kit pointed upwards, near the top of the wall, to where a shaft of light streamed through from the next chamber.

“Aw, even if we could climb up there, we couldn’t fit through that dinky hole.”

“I might,” Kit said thoughtfully.

“Are you kiddin’ me, kid?” Baloo said incredulously. “Do you wanna give me more grey hair?”

“But Dunder needs to slay the dragon to be a knight,” Kit said earnestly, “and we promised that we’d help him.”

Baloo scoffed, “We got shanghaied into searchin’ for that dragon.”

With his arms crossed resolutely, Kit said, “We still promised, and my father always told me to keep my promises.”

Baloo muttered under his breath, “Musta picked up that stubborn streak from Becky.” With a reluctant sigh, he said, “Okay, son, but if you see even one toenail of that dragon, you vamoose back here, got it?”

Kit nodded and Baloo lifted him to his shoulders.

Kit grabbed hold of the rock wall and nimbly climbed hand over hand the rest of the way up to the opening. He then peered through the hole. At the end of the tunnel, which was approximately ten feet long, was a warm, orange glow as of fire.

“See anything?” Baloo called anxiously.

“Not yet. I’m going in.” After giving a thumbs-up to Baloo and Dunder below, Kit hoisted himself into the tunnel. There was barely enough room for him to squeeze in. Grunting with exertion, he crawled along on his belly, pushing himself along with his knees and elbows. As he advanced, the light at end of tunnel grew brighter.

“C’mon,” he murmured to himself as he blinked dirt out of his eyes. “Just a little farther...”

Then, when he was but two feet away from the end, he heard a low rumbling. A moment later, the tunnel began to shake and dirt rained down on him, causing him to cough and choke. Afraid of being buried alive, Kit redoubled his speed.

Finally, his hands felt air. He wriggled his shoulders free, and, kneeling on the tunnel, his fingers blindly groped among the rocks on the outer surface of the wall for a handhold. Finding one, he swung himself out of the tunnel and clung to the wall for dear life.

But with rocks pelting him from overhead and the wall shaking beneath him, he couldn’t hang on long.

“Aah!” Kit yelled as he slid down the wall, an avalanche of rocks tumbling down with him. He landed on floor with his shirt torn and the wind knocked out of him.

Almost as soon as he hit the ground, the earthquake stopped. When the battered boy finally looked up, he saw that the tunnel that he had climbed through had collapsed. In the opposite direction, beyond a large mound of recently-fallen rocks came the hazy, orange light.

He was trapped with the dragon.

End of part 5

No Time Like the Present
part 6

The Dragon’s Den

Great. Just great, Kit thought, not daring to even whisper out loud for fear the of alerting the dragon to his presence. It’ll take me days to dig through that, if I can dig through it without bringing the whole wall down on me. He pounded his fist against the solid, rocky barrier dividing him from Baloo and Dunder in frustration. Maybe there’s another way out of here, he thought. His eyes wandered to the other side of the cave, towards the source of the hazy orange light. He gulped. Past the dragon...

Loathe as he was to enter that deadly chamber, the stifling hot cavern was filling up with smoke. If he didn’t get out of there soon, he’d suffocate.

Eyes stinging from the smoke, he cautiously crept towards the mound of rocks half-blocking the entrance to the next chamber...and the dragon. Every tentative, crunching footfall seemed to echo forever. As he drew closer, Kit’s legs started to tremble and his heart began to thump so loudly that he was sure that the dragon could hear it.

Rooooooooaaaaaaaar!

The earth shook violently, knocking Kit off his feet.

I guess it can hear me. Swell, he thought, coughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

Kit sat there for a while, thinking. He didn’t know if he could handle going head-to-head with a fire-breathing dragon that was obviously angry at him for trespassing.

Using his time travel watch briefly crossed his mind. He could definitely use it to escape.

But it was too risky. Because he didn’t know how the watch worked, he could wind up someplace worse.

Though it can’t be much worse than being stuck with a dragon, he thought wryly. He pulled out his watch and looked at it for a moment. Then, with a shake of his head, he returned it to his pocket. I can’t just leave Baloo here.

Gritting his teeth in determination, Kit crawled towards the mound of rocks at the entrance to the next chamber. When he reached the base, he looked up at it, and, with a weary sigh, started to climb, forcing himself to swallow his yelps of pain whenever the jagged rocks gouged his tender, bruised skin.

At long last, he reached the top. With perspiration oozing from every pore, he slowly raised his head for a half-fearful, half-curious peek into the smoky room.

What he saw made him gasp in astonishment.

Through the thick orangish haze, his eyes could barely discern the outline of something shiny that seemed to stretch from one side of the chamber to the other, presumably the dragon’s scaly back. Just as he leaned forward to get a closer look, there was a sudden spurt of fire.

Rooooaaaaaaaar!

Startled, Kit lost his balance and toppled off the wall. He had just shakily pushed himself up off the ground and was trying to gather what was left of his courage when he heard...

“Shoot! Burnt to a crisp again!”

What?Kit thought in astonishment as he wiped his brow with his sleeve. The dragon can talk?

He eagerly listened for more.

“They just don’t make metal like they will.”

There’s something familiar about that voice, Kit thought, his mind racing to place it. But I’m not going to find out by just sitting here. Taking a deep, hitching breath, he quickly climbed up and over the mound of rocks.

Upon reaching the dragon’s chamber, Kit crouched at the base of the wall for a few moments. He blinked furiously, his eyes watering from the smoke.

Then, he spotted something moving towards him. Instinctively, he froze. Every muscle in his body was tense, prepared to either fight or flee.

His vision was partially obstructed by tears and grimy sweat as he watched the oddly-shaped shadowy figure glide closer and closer.

What is it? The dragon’s tail? Foot? Head? What is it?

Suddenly, Kit breathed an enormous sigh of relief and leapt to his feet. “Buzz?”

“Did someone say my name?” the inventor, who had just emerged from the smoke, wondered calmly. He was awkwardly toting an armful of firewood.

“What are you doing here?” Kit asked. He picked up a piece of wood that Buzz had dropped and fell into step beside the short-legged, googly-eyed inventor.

“Trying to fix my time travel watch,” Buzz said matter-of-factly as if he wasn’t the least surprised to see Kit. “It broke when I accidentally landed on it.”

“No. I meant what are you doing in Hammalot?”

“Oh, that,” Buzz said, smiling. “Ever since I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to visit Hammalot. Knights in shining armor bravely riding to battle on noble steeds, mighty sword fights, jousting matches, slaying dragons...”

Kit had to jump back as Buzz jabbed at an imaginary dragon with a stick. He peered through the smoke thoughtfully. “By the way, where isthe dragon?”

“Dragon?” Buzz yelped, dropping the firewood.

“Yeah, the dragon causing all the earthquakes and fire and smoke and stuff.”

“That’s just my welding machine. Come see. It’s really neat-looking.” He pointed eagerly to a large, odd-looking contraption.

“I’ll say...” Kit said, awed.

Up close, he could now see that the shiny thing that he thought was the dragon’s scaly back was actually a long piece of metal tubing that looked suspiciously like the arms and legs from a suit of armor spliced together end to end. The skinnier end was capped with a gauntlet. The opposite end was stuck into a hole in the wall above a huge fire blazing in a natural recess. On the floor, in front of the ‘fireplace’, was a pair of gigantic bellows.

“I’ll show you how it works,” Buzz said excitedly. He was giddy as a schoolboy for a chance to share his contraption. “The bellows pump the fire up into that metal tubing. When I’m ready to weld, I pull the cap off the gauntlet’s forefinger here,” he demonstrated by pulling off the cap; “and a concentrated flame comes out, allowing me to weld this metal together.” To himself, he added, “At least it should. Works in theory, but not in practice. Maybe if I...Hmm...” He shook his head. “No, no, no. That would never work.”

“Uh, Buzz?” Kit interjected. “Why don’t we just use my watch?”

But Buzz, intent on tossing firewood into the fire, didn’t hear him. “It’ll be easier with you here. You can work the bellows while I man the torch.”

Realizing that it was useless to argue, Kit shrugged. “Okay."

Buzz wrapped strips of his cut-up lab coat around his hands to protect them from the heat of the metal. Then Kit helped him to don the helmet and cuirass, otherwise known as the breastplate and backplate, from the suit of armor. The armor, which hung from his skinny shoulders to his ankles, weighted him down so that he could barely stand up. The tip of his beak comically protruded out of one of the slots in the visor. He then picked up the gauntlet and, in a tinny voice, told Kit to start pumping.

Kit stood between the bellows and, putting his hands on the handles, started to squeeze them up and down alternately. First, the right one. Then, the left one. Right. Left. Right. Left. With each concentrated puff of air, the fire grew in intensity. Sweat rolled down Kit’s face and his arms grew weary, but he continued to pump steadily.

Smoke billowed from the fireplace as well as the seams of the makeshift welding machine. The cave started to shake from the pressure building up within the metal tubing. A steadily-growing roar filled Kit’s ears.

“Cover your eyes!” Buzz shouted over the din.

Kit squeezed his eyes shut just before Buzz pulled the cap off the gauntlet, allowing an uncontrolled stream of fire to shoot out.

When the earthquake and roar subsided, Kit ventured to open his eyes. He peered through the smoke in Buzz’s direction.

“Another failed experiment,” Buzz’s tinny voice said glumly. The charred ashes slipped through his fingers. “I’ll be stuck in the Dark Ages forever without electricity, running water, and worst of all, no Uranium 238. I’ll have to wait until the Renaissance to even read a book...”

“What if we used my watch?” Kit suggested. When he pulled the helmet from the inventor’s head, the visor caught on his beak, causing it to vibrate like a diving board.

“What watch?” Buzz said, shedding the rest of the armor.

“The watch you fixed for me.” Kit retrieved his pocket watch from underneath his sweater.

“My spare!” Buzz cried gleefully. “Now we can get back to Cape Suzette and tell Mr. Khan that his invention works.”

“Why would Shere Khan want a time travel watch?”

“To correct any business mistakes he made in the past and get further ahead in the future.”

Sarcastically, Kit said, “I should have known.”

“Let’s go,” Buzz said, taking the watch from Kit.

“No!” Kit snatched the watch back. “We can’t leave Baloo and the Sea Duck here.”

Buzz looked around. “Where? I can’t see them through this smoke,” he said, coughing a little.

Kit shook his head, marveling at the fact that although Buzz was a genius when it came to inventing, he was a little slow on the uptake when it came to ordinary common sense. “They’re not here in this room, but they’re in the cave, on the other side of the wall. The ceiling came down during one of the earthquakes, and now we can’t get out that way.”

Philosophically, Buzz said, “Then we’ll go the other way.”

“Buzz, you know I’m not a sorcerer,” Kit exclaimed. “I can’t ‘magic’ us outside.”

“I was planning on using the door, but if you know some magic...” Buzz said, his googly eyes shining with excitement.

“Never mind. Let’s just go,” Kit muttered.

They exited the cave using the ‘back door’ and climbed over the top of the hill, to the other entrance.

Meanwhile, Baloo and Dunder were trying to quickly, but carefully, dig through the rock wall separating them from Kit.

“See anything yet?” Baloo asked for the hundredth time.

“Aye,” Dunder replied, using his sword to chip at the rock.

Hope sprung to Baloo’s face. He stopped tugging at a small boulder to say, “Really?”

“I see rocks, rocks, and more rocks.”

Exasperated, Baloo muttered, “That ain’t what I meant.” He returned to wiggling the rock. “If anything happens to my boy, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Just then, Kit strolled up behind them, smirking. “Find anything?” His grin grew wider as he watched his father frantically working.

“Naw, Kit. We’re lookin’ for...Kit!” Wheeling around, Baloo’s eyes moved from Kit to the wall, then back to Kit. The flabbergasted big bear caught his son up in a hug, stammering, “Wha...who...where...how...?”

“Thou made it past the dragon?” Dunder looked impressed. “Indeed, thou art a great sorcerer.”

“Not exactly,” Kit said with a smile. “Here’s the dragon.” He gestured to Buzz, who was standing behind him.

“The dragon has disguised itself as that? Truly, it is a crafty beast.” The knight drew his sword and, after nervously clearing his throat, said as forcefully as he could, “Prepare to meet thy doom, dragon.”

“Eek!” Buzz cried, backpedaling. “I’m not a dragon! At least I don’t think I am.”

To prevent the knight from skewering his friend, Kit said hastily, “Buzz isn’t a dragon. He’s an inventor.”

“Inventor?” Dunder pronounced the strange word uncertainly. He sheathed his sword. “Is that akin to a dragon?”

“Nothin’ like a dragon, Dundee,” Baloo chuckled. “Buzz makes doohickies, thingamabobs...stuff like that.”

“Doohickies?” Dunder said, scratching his helmet with his forefinger. “Methinks I am confuseth.”

“We’ll show you.” As they made their way to the back door and the ‘dragon’s lair’, Kit briefly filled Baloo and Dunder in on Buzz’s welding machine.

A short while later, they stood before the machine as Buzz proudly showed them how it functioned.

“Verily, it is a marvelous doohickey.” Dunder then added dejectedly, “But howeth will I explaineth to Sir Spigot and everyone that the dragon was a hoaxeth?”

Baloo snapped his fingers. “Here’s what ya tell ‘em...”

Hammalot Castle

When the dragon hunters returned to Hammalot, they were surprised to see a line of serfs toting crates into the castle much like ants carrying bread crumbs.

“Hey! That’s my cargo!” Baloo exclaimed. He roughly pushed past the serfs as well as the man guarding the door and stormed into the throne room. He marched over to Spigot, who was directing the placement of the crates, and demanded, “What the heck are ya doin’ with my cargo, Spiggy?”

The diminutive knight proclaimed exultantly, “I, Sir Spigot, at risk to lifeth and limbeth, single-handedly fetched that liniment from the belly of the great yellow dragon and brought it to Hammalot for the benefit of the royal highnesses.”

Clangwent an empty tube of liniment as it bounced off Sir Spigot’s armor.

“Thank ye kindly for thy token of affection, O Gracious Queen,” Sir Spigot said, bowing deeply.

The queen grunted and emptied another tube into her liniment-ringed mouth.

The court jester strummed his lute while he leaned against the king’s throne. He was singing to the tune of Greensleeves: “Oh, liniment be tasty and liniment be keen. The goodly liniment will turn thy mouth green...”

The king, seeing Dunder, Kit, and Buzz standing in the doorway, roughly pushed the jester aside and asked languidly, “Didst thou slayeth the dragon that liveth in the Dragon’s Den, Knight-in-Training Dunder?”

All eyes were on Dunder as he removed his helmet and timidly approached the king and queen. He glanced at Baloo, who nodded in response, before mumbling, “Aye, sire. The great beast is silenced forever.”

Proudly, Sir Spigot said, “I taught him everything he knowest.”

Under his breath, Baloo muttered, “Bet that was a shorteth lesson.”

One of the knights sitting around the Sound Table shouted, “All hail, Sir Dunder! The bestest dragon slayer in Hammalot!”

“Hippeth hooray!” the knights chorused. “Hippeth hooray! Hippeth hooray!”

Sir Spigot, who had crawled on top of the mound of cargo crates, cried in an injured tone, “But I thoughtest that I wast the best dragon slayer in Hammalot.” A wistful, faraway look came into his eyes. “I remembereth the first dragon I slayeth...”

Everyone, save Dunder and Buzz, groaned.

Baloo tiptoed over to Kit and Buzz and whispered, “That’s our cue to skedaddle.”

Kit nodded and started to sidle towards the exit.

Baloo snatched up Buzz, who was glued to the spot, enthralled by every word Sir Spigot spoke.

Buzz was the only one who was interested. The Hammalot citizens’ eyes were fast glazing over as Sir Spigot recounted his favorite tale.

“The battle wast fierce, but I wast fiercer! Again and again the beast breathed its fiery breath at me, but I wast too quicketh...” He broke off when he noticed Baloo, Kit, and Buzz moving towards the door. “The sorcerers are escaping! All their magic will be losteth!”

“Speakin’ of quicketh!” Baloo exclaimed. He tucked Buzz under his arm like a football and broke into a run with Kit on his heels.

“Knights of Hammalot, after them! To arms! Raise the drawbridge!” When he tried to draw his sword, Sir Spigot lost his balance and fell off the crates. “Dunder-her-her...!”

Dunder hurried to pick him up. “I cometh, Sir Spigot.”

Baloo, Kit, and Buzz sped from the castle and through the village, towards the drawbridge that was slowly closing. They scrambled up the squeaking drawbridge to the edge. Below them, the muddy moat was shrinking. Approaching them were knights with drawn swords. Archers on the castle walls fired arrows at them. In another minute, the drawbridge would be completely closed and they would be trapped in Hammalot.

“Authentic knights with authentic swords,” Buzz exclaimed, peeking around Baloo’s arm. “How exciting!”

“Yeah, I’m one big goosebump of excitement,” Baloo said dryly. He looked at Kit. “Pull chocks?”

Giving a thumbs-up, Kit replied, “Pull chocks.”

“Aaah!” they yelled as they splashed into the moat.

A second later, a dripping Baloo pulled himself up on the opposite shore. “We’re safe now.”

Just then, the drawbridge lowered and arrows flew around them.

“Oops, spoke too soon,” Baloo muttered. He yanked Kit and Buzz out of moat, scooped up Buzz and put him under his arm, and took off towards the woods with the knights and archers right on their tails.

As they sped along the wooded path, Baloo puffed, “Them knights can sure move fast packin’ that aluminum sidin’. Sure we’re headed towards the Duck, partner?”

Grinning, Kit panted, “Trust me.”

“You’re the navigator,” Baloo replied.

At the bottom of the hill, the trees thinned out. Through the branches, they could catch glimpses of yellow.

“There’s the Sea Duck,” Kit proclaimed as he lightly vaulted over a log.

Baloo ducked as an arrow flew overhead. “Man, these guys don’t give up!”

Buzz called to the knights, “If you adjusted your arc fifteen degrees, your accuracy would improve!”

“Don’t give ‘em any pointers, Buzz.” Baloo opened the cockpit door, tossed Buzz and Kit inside, then scrambled in.

There were high-pitched pings and dull thunks as arrows and lances hit the fuselage.

Buzz, with his beak pressed to the window, watched excitedly as the knights surrounded the seaplane and started hacking at the ‘yellow dragon’ with their swords. “Isn’t this wonderful? History in action.”

“Takin’ off is the only action I’m worried about,” Baloo muttered under his breath as he flipped switches as fast as he could. He winced at the sound of the swords beating ‘his baby’.

“I sure hope that ice storm didn’t do any damage,” Kit said uneasily.

Much to the flight crew’s relief, the engines roared to life. Frightened by the noise and the sudden gust of wind that the propellers created, the knights scattered into the forest.

“Ha-ha! That’s the way ta clear a room,” Baloo said triumphantly. He taxied the seaplane around and took off, the fuselage scraping the tops of the trees slightly.

When they were in the air, Kit sat back in his seat, relieved. “So long, Hammalot. I don’t want to see it again except in history books.”

Baloo said, “Speakin’ of history, let’s make time tracks, Buzz.”

Giving his pocket watch to Buzz, Kit asked, “How do you work this thing anyway?”

“Oh, it’s simple.” The inventor then launched into a highly technical explanation.

“Easy for you to say,” Baloo chuckled, with a shake of his head. “Just get us home.”

“June 16, 1938,” Kit clarified.

Buzz set the watch hands. Before he pressed in the knob, he said, “Here we go.”

“Here we go,” Kit muttered to himself. He crossed his fingers and shut his eyes.

With a plane-shaking boom and a bright flash, they were transported to a time and place where it was twilight. A faint stain of fast-fading pinks and oranges were in the west. In the clear, starry eastern sky hung a crescent moon.

Kit peered out the window. He was glad to see that there was no signs of a prehistoric jungle, futuristic city, ice age, or medieval forest. He whispered, “Did we make it? Are we back at the right time?”

“What is the right time?” Buzz said wonderingly. “The right time is different times for different people. All a matter of how you look at things...”

“Looks like Cape Suzette up ahead,” Baloo said nonchalantly, belying his anxiety. “We’re gonna find out in a jiffy.”

Kit nodded. His stomach was clenched in a nervous knot as he watched the familiar dark outline of the cliffs surrounding the city grow closer.

A few minutes later, the seaplane splashed down for a landing in the harbor and taxied up to the dock in front of Higher for Hire.

Kit didn’t know whether he wanted to get out of the plane. It lookedlike Higher for Hire, but what if it was the Higher for Hire of the past or the future? He didn’t know if he could stand the disappointment.

Then, he saw a shaft of light spill from the building as the warehouse door opened. The boy held his breath with the terrible suspense.

To his immense relief, Rebecca and Molly - looking like they had when they left two days previously - hurried down the dock to greet them.

Baloo opened the cockpit door, exclaiming, “Ah, it’s good to be back!”

“Where have you been?” Rebecca said frantically, rushing over to hug him. She then hugged Kit and critically looked her menfolk over. “I’ve been worried sick. Are you all right?”

Before Baloo, Kit, or Buzz had a chance to say anything, Rebecca continued, “Why didn’t you deliver the liniment? Why didn’t you answer the radio? I’ve been trying to reach you since the hospital in Lumbago called to say that their liniment hadn’t arrived, and no one had seen you, not even Louie. It was like you’d disappeared...” Her voice trailed off when she noticed the lances and arrows protruding from the seaplane’s exterior. “Why in the world does the Sea Duck look like a pincushion?”

Baloo rubbed the back of his neck. “Ya see, Becky, we tried to make it to Lumbago on time, but...”

“But?” Rebecca said, crossing her arms.

“We were sorta stuck in Hammalot.”

“Hammalot?Hammalot! You expect me to believe that fairy story? That’s the lamest excuse you’ve ever...” Her sentence was curtailed by Baloo’s kiss.

When they pulled apart, Rebecca looked a little dizzy. “Don’t...don’t try to get around me,” she mumbled, leaning against her husband with a blissful sigh.

“Man, I missed you, Beckers,” Baloo whispered, enfolding her in his arms.

“Hammalot isn’t a fairy story,” Buzz said, turning the hands of the pocket watch. “In fact, I’ll take you there right now.”

“No!” Kit shouted. Taking Molly by the hand, he dragged her up the dock, away from Buzz. Baloo did likewise with Rebecca.

The von Bruinwalds looked on in amazement as Buzz disappeared into thin air, accompanied by a flash of light and a sonic boom.

“Baloo...” Rebecca said haltingly. “Would you mind explaining...what...just...happened?”

Baloo winked at Kit. “Believe me, honey, it’d take too much time. Oh, an’ we gotta get Kit a new pocket watch.”

Rebecca nodded dumbly, her eyes still fixed on the spot where Buzz had been.

Baloo wrapped an arm around his wife’s slim waist, kissed the top of her head, and gently led her up the dock.

“Why do you smell like smoke?” Rebecca said suspiciously. “Did you go to a barbeque?”

“Sorta. Kit an’ me were almost the roastees.”

“Baloo!” Rebecca gasped, aghast.

To calm her anxiety, he added, “They weren’t gonna eat us, honey, but they did have strange tastes. Speaking of tastes, what’s cookin’, good lookin’? I’m starvin’.”

Kit smiled as he watched his parents enter Higher for Hire’s office/living room through the warehouse, thinking that if he had been a sorcerer and could make anything he wanted, this was the kind of place and these were the people that he’d conjure up. He looked down when he felt Molly slip her small hand into his.

“Kit, did you really see Hammalot with knights and dragons and everything?”

He grinned down at her. “Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it later, little sis.” His gaze moved from Higher for Hire to the Sea Duck, then past the seaplane, across the dark harbor to the twinkling lights of Cape Suzette. He smiled to himself, reveling in the normal sights and sounds of home. “Right now, I’m just glad to be here.”

“Me, too. It’s more fun when you’re around.” She tapped him, then took off, shouting over her shoulder, “Tag! You’re it!”

“Not for long!” Kit replied, chasing after her.

A few minutes later, Baloo hollered from the door. “Kit! Molly! Supper’s ready. Stop draggin’ your feet.” When Molly tried to slip past him, he scooped her up and tossed her in the air, prompting the little girl to squeal joyfully.

Kit joined them, panting, “‘Dragging your feet?’ Don’t remind me about dragons.”

“Did you meet a dragon, Daddy?” Molly asked eagerly.

Baloo nodded solemnly, though his eyes twinkled. “Sure did, Cupcake.”

“For really?” she asked, fixing her skeptical gaze on him.

“For really. Story time’ll come after chow time.” He kissed Molly’s cheek, then put her down. “Why don’t ya go help your mama set the table?”

After Molly had hurried into the kitchen, Baloo gently laid a hand on Kit’s shoulder and smiled down at him. “What say we join the rest of the von Bruinwalds, son?”

Kit admitted, “It’s gonna take a while for me to get used to ‘von Bruinwald’.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. You will.” He couldn’t resist adding, “Just gotta give it some time.”

“Oh, Papa Bear...” Kit groaned.

Chuckling, Baloo playfully tousled Kit’s hair. “What say we sorcerers make that grub magically disappear?”

“Now,that’s my kind of magic,” Kit laughed as they headed to the kitchen.

The End