Prying the grate off, Kit dropped into the room, landing easily on his feet. Baloo also squished his bulk through the opening only to land on Buzz.

“Baloo?” came Buzz’s muffled voice. “Is that you?”

Baloo scrambled to his feet before assisting Buzz to his. “Yeah, Buzz. Bet ya didn’t expect an air raid.”

“Speaking of air, I just thought of a teensy flaw in my weather machine.”

“Weather machine?” Kit said, startled. He and Baloo, being inside the Iron Vulture’s air ducts, weren’t aware of the blizzard.

“Yes, the Portable Wind Velocitizer and Precipitation Producer or Charley for short.”

“Charley?” Baloo echoed, sharing a perplexed look with Kit.

“Have you ever tried to say Portable Wind Velocitizer and Precipitation Producer five times fast?” Buzz explained in his abstract way. “It makes my tongue tired. Charley is easier. Charley, Charley, Charley, Charley, Charley. See how easy it is?”

“What’s the flaw, Buzz?” Kit asked patiently.

“I forgot to install a shutoff switch.”

“Pretty big teensy flaw!” Baloo cried.

“Yes, isn’t it? The only way to shut it off is to tighten the valve on the canister of cold steam.”

Kit exclaimed, “Did you say cold steam?”

“So that’s what happened to Spiggy’s Frigid-Air,” Baloo said, stroking his chin.

Buzz continued, “Yes, it’s fueled by cold steam. But I never showed any of the pirates how to turn it off. They were only interested in how to turn it on.”

“Figures,” Baloo scoffed.

“We just wait ‘til it runs out of steam, right?” Kit guessed.

“Wrong, Kit. That’s the tricky thing. If it runs completely out of steam, the entire machine will either blow up, or the weather will become completely unpredictable.” Buzz tugged at his bow tie meditatively. “I’m not sure about that part.”

“Ya mean we could be blown sky high?”

“Yes, or we could experience snow one minute and a hurricane the next,” Buzz said, agitated. “What should we do?”

“Number one, get out of here,” Kit said, “so we can turn off that weather machine.”

“An’ ‘B’, we gotta find Becky.” Baloo slapped himself on the forehead. “Aw, but how can we be in two places at once?”

“We can if we split up,” Kit suggested.

Baloo looked a tad wary about that idea. “Kid, I think we should stick together.”

“But what if something happens to Miz Cunningham when we’re tackling Charley? Baloo, I used to be a pirate, remember?”

Buzz’s jaw, er...beak dropped at that information. Only Baloo, Rebecca, Molly, and the air pirates had known that.

“I can take care of myself,” the boy averred confidently, crossing his arms defiantly across his chest.

Baloo rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, ya can, Kid, but...”

“Look, Papa Bear, the longer we argue, the more danger Rebecca is in, not to mention everybody in Cape Suzette.”

Baloo sighed in resignation. “‘Kay, have it your way, L’il Britches. You an’ Buzz take care of Charley, an’ I’ll track down Becky. But we can’t do anythin’ from inside this cell.” He rattled the bars of the cell door. They were solid and the bars were too narrow for even Kit to pass through.

“The vent?” Kit suggested.

The vent that they had descended from was fifteen feet off the floor. Even if they stood on each other’s shoulders, something that they tried, they weren’t able to reach it. After falling in a discouraged heap, Buzz cried, “Ouch! This thing is poking me.” He drew out a small, odd-shaped object.

“What’s that?” Kit asked.

“My pocket-sized apple picker. It’s great for gardeners with limited storage space,” Buzz proclaimed proudly. With a push of a button, a white-gloved hand stretched out from a metal rod riddled with many joints.

“Buzz, that’s perfect!” Baloo exclaimed.

“Not exactly,” Buzz said, examining his invention with a critical eye. “I can’t figure out where to install the apple corer.”

“Naw, I mean perfect to escape.” Baloo took the apple picker from Buzz and threaded the hand/rod out between the bars of the cell. He carefully snagged the keys that were hanging on a nail across the hallway. Kit then stuck his slender arm through the bars and unlocked the door, using the keys.

“Handy little device,” Baloo chuckled, pushing the button for the rod to retract into the box. He tossed it up in the air once before returning it to the inventor.

Kit poked his head into the hallway cautiously. There was no one in sight. He gestured for them to follow him. “All clear. Let’s go.”

“Wait a sec, Kit.” Baloo knelt and placed his paws on Kit’s shoulders. “Remember that I need my navigator in one piece. Don’t go takin’ chances that don’t need ta be took.”

Kit nodded solemnly.

“And promise if somethin’ happens ta Becky an’ me, you get to the Duck an’ get Buzz out. No need for all of us bitin’ the dust.”

“I promise.” Kit knew that the situation must be extremely serious if Baloo wanted him to fly the Sea Duck, his baby. Eyes shining, Kit threw his arms around his Papa Bear’s neck; Baloo held the boy tightly for a few moments. “Good luck, Papa Bear,” Kit murmured, giving Baloo one last affectionate squeeze. With that, Kit and Buzz sped off down a corridor.

Baloo headed in the opposite direction. He wished that Kit had stuck with him. Because Kit had lived with the air pirates for a year before hooking up with Baloo, the boy knew the Iron Vulture like the back of his hand, knew all the good hiding places, was familiar with the labyrinths of air ducts. It was helpful knowledge in situations like this. Hearing footsteps approaching, Baloo screeched to a halt and shrunk against the wall, hiding as well as he could behind a pile of crates in the all-concealing shadows. Two figures went right past him: Rebecca hurried ahead of Don Karnage, held at sword-point.

“March faster, Ree-beck-ka. If my big-type fish won’t come out of hiding by himself, we will have to lure him out.”

“Where do ya s’pose he’s takin’ her?” Baloo wondered softly to himself. He followed at a discreet distance, keeping close to the walls.

Don Karnage was jittery (high-strung, that is), nervously flitting his eyes in all directions as he drove his captive into the cargo hold. “Cease!” he barked when they were in the middle of the vast, cavernous hangar. From behind, Karnage roughly grabbed Rebecca around the waist and held his saber to her throat, whispering hoarsely in her ear, “Bahloo will not be able to sneakity-sneak up on us here. No place to hide. If he wants you, my dear, he will have to come out into the open.”

“Baloo’s the big fish?” Rebecca whispered incredulously.

“Of course. Who else is bigger than that fat bear?” Karnage replied. “And when he comes to get you, I’ll keell him.” His shout, “Bahloo!” reverberated through the cavernous hangar, causing Rebecca to wince in pain and Baloo to jump. “I know you’re here somewhere, probably closer than I suspect, maybe. I have your plane, and as you can see, I also have a friend of yours, too. She would very much like to see you.”

Don Karnage’s eyes panned furtively around the hangar. There was no sign of Baloo, but some uncanny sixth sense told him that the pilot was somewhere nearby.

And he was. Baloo, hiding in a doorway on the far side of the hangar, weighed his options. If he openly confronted Karnage, the pirate had the upper hand. He had a weapon whereas Baloo had none. Also, Baloo knew that he couldn’t cross the cargo hold fast enough to prevent Karnage from killing Rebecca. Clearly, what he needed was to take Karnage by surprise. Baloo studied the cargo hold. High, high, high above his head was a beam that spanned the width of the hangar. It appeared to be his only choice. Snatching up three coils of rope, the big bear started up the stairway at a dead run.

End of part 2

Karnage’s Revenge
Part 3

Returning to Kit and Buzz

Bear and bird snuck into a room off the port bow. As a precaution, Kit shut the door and shot the bolt across. In this little room was a table. On the table was a grey suitcase-sized, metal box making a terrific racket. A high-pitched squeal that set one’s teeth on edge. The machine had two dials on the front and a rectangular window with ‘blizzard’ showing in red letters. On the backside, a fan spun around; it was a mere blur. A cadet-blue canister of Frigid-Air was hooked up to one end of the machine. On the opposing side of the machine from the Frigid-Air was a metal pipe, which ran from Charley out the window. From out of this small tube spewed fifty mile-per-hour winds and blowing snow.

“Wow!” Kit shouted over the noise, hands over his ears. “That thing’s worse than fingernails on a chalkboard!”

“Oh, that’s easy to fix.” Buzz extracted a screwdriver from his vest pocket and tightened a screw. Immediately, the noise subsided to a quiet whirring. “Kit, meet Charley.”

Skirting around the canisters of Frigid-Air, Kit’s eyes flitted over the weather machine in awe. “How can such a little thing like that create so much snow without any clouds?”

“Oh, that was a brilliant breakthrough. Mr. Khan was extremely pleased with my discovery that cold steam could be transformed into precipitation and wind using only a generator, a hair dryer, a fan, a few hairpins, and lots of duct tape.”

“This belongs to Shere Khan?” There was indeed an black, encircled ‘SK’ engraved on the top of the machine: Shere Khan’s official emblem.

“Charley was originally intended for a few well-paying customers so that they could ski whenever they wanted. But last week Don Karnage broke into my secret lab, stole Charley, and kidnaped me. I’m afraid Mr. Khan’s customers will be very, very angry with