the refreshment table, Kit gobbled down the stale chocolate chip cookie. As he wiped the crumbs from his sweater, he noticed Gibber enter the cave and whisper something into Don Karnage’s ear.

Karnage nodded at Gibber, then shouted, “The party is over! Everyone, go away!”

“But it isn’t midnight yet, Captain,” Hal pointed out.

“WhenIsay it’s midnight, it’s midnight! Go!” To emphasize his point, he drew his pistol and shot at the ceiling, causing them to be showered with rocks.

Grumbling amongst themselves, the pirates filed out of the room. Kit, however, flattened himself to the stalagmite he was hiding behind and listened with all his might.

When it appeared that only Karnage and Gibber remained, the captain said, “Now, tell me all the little, minuet detailings that Khan’s chatty pilots spilled all over the radio and into your listening ear.”

Kit, knowing that his whole future depended on this, strained to hear what Gibber was muttering into the captain’s eager ear.

“Tomorrow from the power plant in NoSmokey Mountains to Cape Suzette for more testings?”

With a nod, Gibber murmured briefly.

“Starting from the mountains at 3 PM? Good,” Karnage said with a business-like air. “We will steal it then.”

Gibber muttered something else into the pirate captain’s ear.

“Who cares about the rest of the cargo?” Karnage said impatiently. “It is expandable.”

Just then, Kit accidentally kicked a pebble. The unlucky pebble skidded across the rocky floor, bouncing off other rocks and stalagmites like a ball inside a pinball machine, making a noisy, echoing racket in the large, silent cavern.

Don Karnage was immediately on his feet. “What’s that? Who’s there? Show your miserable self, or I will show my sword to you!” Swift as summer lightning, he drew his sword from his scabbard, prompting Gibber to jump out of the way. The pirate captain pivoted to the north, to the east, to the south, then to the west, scanning the remotest recesses of the cave. Spying the edge of Kit’s red bandana peeking out from behind the stalagmite, he said in a triumphant, sing-song voice, “I am seeing you! Whoever you are, I will slice you and dice you into a million fragments for listening to Karnage’s secrets!”

Kit’s heart pounded in sync with Karnage’s boots, which were coming closer...

Closer...

Kit silently cursed himself for getting stuck in a corner with no exit. His mind raced to conjure up a plausible excuse for being there. Suddenly, he looked down and, seeing something, bent down to scoop it up.

“Got you, boy!” Karnage swooped down on Kit and picked him up by the scruff of the neck. “Now...” the pirate captain snarled, his razor-sharp teeth mere inches from the boy’s face. “What have you to say for your pipping-squeak self?”

“Get your own cockroach!” Kit retorted.

“C-cockroach?” Karnage sputtered in surprise.

“Cockroach. For the races.” The boy opened his hand to reveal a cockroach munching on a cookie crumb. He held it close to Karnage’s face.

Repulsed, Karnage dropped the boy. When Kit hit the ground with a ‘thump’, the roach fell from his hand.

“Ew, ew, ew! Nasty creepy-crawly!” The pirate captain skewered the insect with the tip of his sword.

Kit scrambled to his feet and was about to make a break for it when Karnage caught him by his scarf. He threw the boy to the ground and wagged his finger at him. “Ah-ah-ah. I’m not through dealing with you yet.” He raised his sword high above his head, a murderous gleam in his eyes.

Trembling in terror, Kit huddled on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, determined not to cry out in pain.

Just when he had thought he had drawn his last breath, there were several loud, screaming whistles, followed by cave-shaking booms!

Kit opened his eyes just in time to see Gibber and Karnage being chased, yelling and screaming, around the room by a blazing rocket. Thankful for Mad Dog and Dumptruck’s stupidity, he lost no time in making his escape.

Riversidle
New Year’s Eve

Rebecca, clad in a nightgown and robe, was lounging on the living room couch. Beside her, the radio was playing softly.

“...Dirk Cluck bringing you the New Year’s Eve party from Cape Suzette. The main square is packed as the clock approaches midnight...”

But she really wasn’t interested in anything Dirk Cluck was saying. All she could think about was the failing business she had learned about earlier today. Air cargo sounded so adventurous and romantic. Her thoughts were consumed with the places she would go and the things she would do, not to mention all the money she would make.

While Rebecca’s thoughts were fixated on a fitting, yet memorable name for an air cargo business, Molly padded down the stairs and into the living room with Lucy in tow. Through a yawn, the little girl said, “Is it next year yet?”

“No, and you should be in bed, young lady.”

“But me and Lucy wanna see next year. Pleeeeease?”

“Oh, all right,” Rebecca said reluctantly, wondering how Molly always managed to get around her. “But just until midnight, then straight back to bed.”

“Yay!” Molly hopped up on the couch beside her mother and snuggled up next to her.

Rebecca wrapped her arms around the little girl and kissed the top of her head. “A lot of good things are going to happen for us in 1937. I may have found us an air cargo business today.”

“You mean, one with a plane?” Molly asked excitedly.

Rebecca nodded. “With a plane. It’s in Cape Suzette.”

“Where’s Cape Suzette?”

“It’s about an hour’s drive from here, near the ocean. We’ll have to pack up all our stuff and move there.”

“When?”

“As soon as the bank forecloses on the loan. The current owner is six months behind on his payments.”

“When will that be?”

Rebecca smiled at the note of impatience in her daughter’s voice. “The man at the bank said that he was giving Baloo, that’s the current owner, until the end of next week, and if he doesn’t pay, we’re going to buy it and make lots of money shipping cargo all over the world.”

“Baloo’s a funny name,” Molly remarked.

Rebecca gave her a fond smile. “It is unusual, but the bank said he’s a terrific pilot.”

“A pilot?” Molly exclaimed. “Think he’ll take me on plane rides? Think he’ll teach me and Lucy how to fly?” She ‘flew’ her doll through the air, making engine noises.

“Maybe, honey,” Rebecca said with a twinge of anxiety. For the first time she wondered what kind of a man she would be exposing her young, impressionable daughter to. She had a vague idea that pilots were irresponsible, free spirits who needed a lot of discipline. It was obvious that this one especially needed discipline, because he certainly didn’t know how to run a business.

As Molly continued to play airplane with Lucy, Rebecca’s gaze turned to the window behind the back of the couch. She smiled. Their future seemed as bright as the stars that shone in the sky.

Louie’s
New Year’s Eve

To the southwest, the same stars were twinkling over Louie’s Place. It was nearly midnight, but the party had just begun to be in full swing. Music blaring from the nightclub could have been heard from miles away. Simian waiters balancing trays of frothy fruit drinks swung on ropes above the crowded dance floor where the most energetic dancer was Baloo.

When the jazzy tune ended, Baloo headed over to bar, panting a little.

Behind the bar, Louie was mixing up a fruity drink, his long arms and legs seeming to be everywhere at once. “Hey, check out that chick by the stage, cuz. I know who I wanna be kissin’ when the clock strikes twelve.”

Baloo, catching a glimpse of the young, raven-haired vixen, grinned as he plumped down on a barstool. “Roger that. Some party, huh?”

“Not bad for a night’s work,” Louie replied, taking a couple of shaboozies from a customer and stuffing them into his overflowing cash register till.

“Work.” Baloo cringed as if the word offended him. “As my ol’ daddy used to say: work is fine for killin’ time, but it’s a shaky way to make a livin’.”

Louie chuckled. “Yeah, but for us who didn’t inherit a ka-jillion shaboozies and who like three squares a day and a roof over our heads, work is theonly way to make a livin’.”

Grumpily, Baloo muttered under his breath, “Work ain’t my definition of livin’.”

Baloo’s expression grew thoughtful as he absently stared at the crowd. This was as far away from work as he could possibly get. Therefore, he should have been ecstatically happy. He loved to party, loved dancing, loved to mingle with others, and especially loved flirting with pretty girls, but tonight he wasn’t in the mood. In fact, he was a little bored. All the faces seemed the same. Even the music seemed old. Or maybe it was him that was getting old. For the first time in his life, he considered leaving a party early. He felt as if he needed to spend time with a friend who had never let him down, who never made him feel old, who never made him feel lonely, namely the Sea Duck. Flying always cheered him up by providing a way to escape the troubles of the world.

“Earth to Baloo.” Louie blew a noisemaker in Baloo’s face, startling the

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