Danger Guys and the Golden Lizard
Tony Abbott
Danger Guys
and the Golden Lizard
Tony Abbott
illustrated by Joanne Scribner
For my brother, Rick,
an original danger guy
and one of the immortals
—T.A.
ONE
It was a dark night. No moon. No stars.
A soft breeze swept across the rooftop of the three-story building.
Crunch-crunch! The sound of footsteps running up hard behind me. I whirled around.
It was my best friend, Zeek Pilinsky, dodging skylights and exhaust pipes.
“We’ll never make it,” I whispered.
“Forty-five seconds, Noodle. We’ll make it.”
Zeek flashed me a big grin and punched his thumb up in the air. Then he trotted across the roof.
I love when he does that with his thumb.
But I still didn’t think we’d make it.
I followed him to a low wall at the edge of the roof and peeked over the side. “Three floors. It sure seems a lot higher when you look down.”
“Hey, getting down is easy. The tricky part is getting over there.” Zeek nodded toward the rooftop of the far building. It was at least fifty feet away.
“Impossible.”
Zeek laughed. “Sure it is. For everybody else in the world. But we’re Danger Guys, and we happen to have one of these.” Zeek held up a long thin rope with a claw tied to the end of it.
He’s right. We are Danger Guys, a couple of buddies who get into some major danger stuff. And right then, we were smack in the middle of another dangerous mission.
Zeek hurled the claw into the air toward the other building.
Fwing! It hooked tight over the edge of the roof.
What an amazing arm!
Yeah, that’s Zeek. Great at baseball, great at football, great at basketball. The star of Mayville.
He tied the end of the rope to a metal hook on our roof. Then he dug into his pocket and took out a couple of pulleys. The kind you hold on to.
“You first, Noodle. Over the side.” He handed me a pulley.
I looked again to the far roof. “I don’t know.”
“It was your plan, Noodle.”
He was right. It was my plan. I’m the plan man, the guy who thinks of all the ideas.
I’d even written this one down.
I whipped out a crinkled piece of brown grocery bag paper, unfolded it, and stared at the dotted lines and Xs. “I gotta rethink this.”
“Give me that!” Zeek grabbed the paper and shoved it in his pocket. “It’ll work. Let’s go.”
He was right. With his muscles and my ideas, of course the plan will work. We’re a great team. We do everything. We’ve done everything.
Well, not exactly everything. I imagined the long fall we would take if this plan did not work. We’ve never been broken into a thousand pieces.
“Twenty-eight seconds, pal.”
“Okay, okay.” I set the pulley thing on the rope and grabbed the sides with both hands. Just as I was about to leap off—
Errrkkk! A shiny black limo pulled up fast and screeched to a stop below. Six men in black suits tumbled out onto the sidewalk.
“Wait a second,” I whispered. “Who are—”
Umph! Zeek gave me a shove.
Zwirr! I slid down the rope to the far building.
Wump! I kicked against the wall when I hit it. Zeek slid down right after me.
A second later we were lowering ourselves down the wall, from window to window, like spider kids.
“This one,” I said, nodding at the window in front of me. “It’s in here. It has to be.”
“If it isn’t,” whispered Zeek, “we’re toast!”
I pushed lightly. The window opened.
We hopped down into the room. Zeek pulled out two pen-sized flashlights and tossed me one.
We darted across the room to where I thought we would find what we were looking for.
I searched. “It’s not here! We’re dead!”
Then I heard a rustle. My flashlight beam caught Zeek in the face. He was grinning, holding a sheet of paper covered with writing.
I smiled, too. “Bingo!”
Moments later we were out the window, on the ground, and scrambling across the grass to the main building.
“Spotlight!” Zeek hissed, pointing to a bright white glow flooding our path.
I froze and looked around. “Drainpipe!” I whispered. Zeek nodded.
We did a Double N-Double Z zigzag run to the far wall of the main building. It was one of Zeek’s famous football moves. It always worked.
In a flash, we were shinnying up the drainpipe.
We were quiet. We were fast. We were good. Noodle and Zeek, masters of the smooth move.
Up to the rooftop, through the skylight, into the building, and down to the floor. We were in a long dark hallway of the central building.
Zeek tapped my arm and nodded at a small gray door. “That’s it, but what about alarms?”
I checked my watch and shuddered. “Four seconds!” I said. “We’ll just have to risk it.”
We tore down the hallway. Zeek, the incredible sports star, took huge leaps. He reached the door first, grabbed the handle, and pulled hard.
It creaked.
“One second!” he cried.
I dived into the darkness.
RRRRIIIIIINNNGG!
Lights went on all around us. We were completely surrounded.
“Noodle Newton and Zeek Pilinsky!” echoed a deep voice.
That’s when the whole place exploded.
TWO
The whole place exploded, all right.
In applause.
Zeek and I leaped out onto the stage in the Mayville School auditorium. Mr. Strunk, our teacher, jumped aside as we skidded over to the microphone.
Zeek handed me the piece of paper with writing on it. The paper we’d forgotten in our classroom and retrieved on our mission.
I flashed a smile to the crowded room and began to read. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And teachers too, of course!”
“Ahem,” coughed Mr. Strunk. Everybody laughed.
“As part of the Mayville School Evening Learning Series,” I read, “it is our pleasure to introduce to you a world-famous husband-and-wife exploring team.”
“Since we first met them fighting underground treasure thieves,” Zeek added, “and then helped them battle sunken ship raiders, we’ve sure learned a lot about archaeology and other cool adventure stuff.”
“Yeah,” I went on. “Mr. and Mrs. Emerson are a couple of our favorite people. Because, well, they saved our lives about a gazillion times!”
More laughter from the audience.
“Please welcome the Emersons!”
The two adventurers walked onstage. Mrs. Emerson was really pretty, even if her hair was all bunched up in back like a teacher’s. But you’d never think she was a teacher. Teachers don’t wear exploring gear!
Mr. Emerson had a short beard and wore a really cool wide-brimmed sun hat. He looked like he had stepped right out of a safari movie. He gave a nod to Zeek and me. We smiled back.
“Thank you, and good evening,” Mrs. E. said.
Zeek and I walked to the side of the stage. I waved to my mom and dad sitting in the front row. Zeek’s parents and his sister, Emily, were right next to them. They all grinned back at us, but their smiles were weird. Really big, with all their teeth showing.
Mr. Emerson began. “This evening we’d like to tell you a little about our next expedition, to the tiny country of Maribo, deep in the jungles of Central America.”
“Cool!” whispered Zeek. “If only we could—”<
br />
But I was hardly listening. At that moment, the back doors of the auditorium opened, and six men in black suits stepped in. The same men from the limo outside.
Four of them were as big as pro football players. One was small and skinny with a really thin mustache. It looked like his lip was dirty.
The last guy was short and very pudgy. His hair was all slicked back, and he wore a shiny ring on each fat finger.
Every time he pointed, the other men went right where he pointed. He had a mean face. I didn’t like the look of him.
“They must go to another school,” Zeek said.
“Good one,” I said. “Let’s check them out.” I started up a side aisle to the back of the auditorium.
Zeek went with me.
“Tomorrow,” Mrs. Emerson was saying, “we go in search of the Golden Lizard of Maribo!”
Zeek and I got halfway up the aisle, but the pudgy-fingered suit guy suddenly pointed toward the back door, and the men filed out and disappeared.
“Ha! Scared of us,” whispered Zeek.
That’s when I heard it.
“… and what will make our search for the mysterious Golden Lizard even more exciting,” Mr. Emerson said, “is that we’ll be joined by a couple of junior explorers. Their parents have already said they can come with us.”
I froze. I looked over at my mom. She was smiling weird at me again.
“A couple of very active young adventurers,” Mrs. Emerson added.
“Z-z-z-zeek?” I said. He didn’t answer. His mouth was hanging open like it does when Mr. Strunk hands him back a test with an A on it.
“A couple of … Danger Guys!”
A roar went up in the auditorium. Cheers exploded off the walls. People were jumping up and down.
And that was just Zeek and me!
The next thing we knew, we were dressed from head to foot in official Danger Guy gear. Hats, supply belts, packs, canteens. The works.
It was eight in the morning, and we were at the airport with our families, piles of luggage, and the Emersons.
In fact, both Zeek’s parents and mine were taking a pleasure cruise at the same time as our big expedition. Our parents are almost as good friends as Zeek and me.
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Emerson was telling our parents, “the boys will be waiting for you safe and sound.”
“And with lots of exciting stories to tell you, I’m sure,” Mrs. Emerson added.
Zeek’s mom turned to us. “We’ll see you boys in three days, when our ship docks at the Maribo coast.”
“That’s right,” my mom added. “And don’t worry about us, we’ll be having plenty of excitement, too.”
Zeek’s sister, Emily, stepped over, reading from a brochure. “Three decks, tons of movies, games, and all the desserts you can eat!”
My mom laughed. So did Mrs. Pilinsky.
I turned to Zeek. “Do you see that? No tears or anything. We’re taking an expedition into unknown jungles in search of the supermysterious Golden Lizard, and our families are laughing.”
“Pretty sad, isn’t it?” Zeek said, shaking his head. “We probably won’t make it out alive.”
“Have fun!” my mom said.
“It’s a jungle of death!” I said. She just smiled.
“She’s trying to hide her fear,” I said to Zeek.
After we waved good-bye to our folks, Mr. and Mrs. Emerson told us about the Golden Lizard.
“Not very much is known about it,” Mr. E. said. “It could be something the size of a trinket, or it could be a huge statue. There are plenty of legends about the Lizard, though. It’s supposed to have some kind of magic power.”
“Cool!” Zeek said, nudging my arm. “Maybe it holds the secret of life, or something.”
Mrs. Emerson handed Zeek and me our tickets. Then she held out a wrinkled brown sheet of paper. “A few months ago, we discovered an old map showing the way to the Golden Lizard.”
“Wow!” cried Zeek, unfolding the crinkly paper. It showed mountains and rivers and jungles. A dotted line wound across the map.
I couldn’t believe it. “Zeek, this is it,” I said. “The expedition of a lifetime.”
Mr. E. reached over, unsnapped a pocket on Zeek’s jacket, and tucked the brown paper inside. “Take good care of this. Just in case.”
I turned to Zeek. He stared back at me. “Just in case what? You mean, this might really be dangerous?” I asked.
Mrs. Emerson looked around at the people in the airport. “There are some who would stop at nothing to find the Golden Lizard.”
“Flight 119 for Maribo,” a voice called out over the airport loudspeaker. “Your plane will board in thirty minutes.”
“That’s us,” said Zeek, snapping up his jacket pocket. “Let’s hit the trail.”
“Why don’t you kids order some breakfast first,” said Mr. Emerson, pointing to a little snack bar down the hall. “Mrs. Emerson and I will make sure our supplies are stowed on the plane. We’ll be back in five minutes.”
I nodded and headed over to the snack bar. I couldn’t believe it. I read the name on the outside. “The Waffle Shack. I love it!”
I live for waffles. They’re my absolute favorite food.
Zeek tapped me on the shoulder. “Try to control yourself, Nood. I’m going to check out the comic books at the newsstand. Order me a hotdog.”
“A hotdog?” I gasped, holding my hand over my mouth. “It’s eight in the morning!”
“Hey, I live dangerously.” He grinned. “Remember about the mustard, okay?”
I remembered, but I pretended not to. “Double squirt of Gold Spice, right?”
“Very funny, Noodle,” he said. “You know a single drop of that stuff makes my tongue go numb. It’s yellow poison!” He walked over to the newsstand.
I bought a king-sized waffle for myself, a plain hotdog for Zeek, and sat down at one of the tables. For a joke, I moved a big squeezable jar of Gold Spice mustard right next to the hotdog.
Then I slowly poured syrup on my waffle.
N.
I always pour the syrup on in the shape of a giant N. For Noodle, of course.
I was just putting the finishing touches on it when everything happened at once.
The Emersons stepped into the Waffle Shack just as six guys in oily black suits appeared.
The same guys from the night before!
Within seconds they closed in on the Emersons and had them completely surrounded!
THREE
“Hey!” I shouted, jumping up from my seat.
The six guys whirled around and stared straight at me. The short one with pudgy fingers who pointed a lot walked over. Slowly.
Uh-oh.
Mr. Emerson gave me a quick frown and shook his head slightly.
It was a sign. I understood right away. I wasn’t supposed to let these guys know I was with the Emersons. I faked it. “Hey!” I shouted again.
“Hey, what?” the finger guy said.
“Hey, this waffle is tasty! Try one!”
“I ain’t hungry!” he snarled.
“Oh, okay,” I said. I sat back down.
“Crazy kid,” Fingers mumbled. He turned back to Mr. Emerson.
Whew! That was close. Luckily, he didn’t remember me from the night before. But, at just that moment, Zeek walked into the Waffle Shack, saw the Emersons, and started to call out to them.
“Boy, that Golden Liz—”
Oh, no! I had to act fast. I grabbed the first thing I could find.
It was the squeezable jar of Gold Spice.
Fllluuuurrrrrrppppp!
A thick stream of yellowy brown mustard shot through the air in a perfect arc and splatted on Zeek’s lip.
“Boy, that golden mustard!” I shouted. “Wow, but it’s tasty!”
The pudgy-fingers guy turned to me. “Again with the tasty?”
Zeek stopped and looked at me. He licked his lips. A look of horror came over his face. “Nooobble? I zed no busstudd!”
“Da Bemberbuns!” cried Zeek. “Wuz sappen wiz da Bemberbuns!”
“Those guys,” I whispered, “are the same ones from school last night. They heard the Emersons talking about the Golden Lizard. Now they want it for themselves!”
Zeek nodded, rubbing his lips. “An da mabb.”
“Right, the map. But they don’t know that we have it.”
“Im my bogget,” Zeek mumbled, patting his jacket.
Mrs. E. flashed a look back at us.
“I think she wants us to follow,” I said. “But we’d better stay out of sight. We’re no good if they catch us!”
“Awight. Less go!”
We trotted down the main hall of the airport, dodging in and out of doorways. Hopping over luggage. Hiding behind tourists.
The men made a sudden left down a corridor and took the Emersons with them.
I glanced at a sign on the wall. “Our flight is this way, too. Once we see where they’re going, we can alert airport security.”
“Securikee. No problumm.”
I looked at Zeek. “Hey, I actually understood you that time.”
Zeek kept rubbing his lips. “Ish coming back.”
We peeked down the hall and watched the men disappear through a door.
We crept up and opened it.
Warm air blasted us in the face. We were outside the terminal. And right there on the pavement was a sleek black minijet. Its engines were revving up.
Two of the black-suit guys were pushing the Emersons up the stairs into the jet!
“Holy cow, Zeek! They’re being kidnapped!”
Fingers was shouting above the noise of the engines. I heard only a word, but it was enough.
“Maribo,” he said.
Then, before we could do a thing, Fingers jumped in, and the jet started to move. In seconds it was roaring down the runway and into the air.
“The Emersons are in big trouble, Zeekie. We’ve got to follow that minijet.”
“And just how are we going to do that—flap our arms really fast?”
I made a face. “Our plane is here somewhere. Maybe we can beat them to Maribo.”
We ran over to a small hangar on the runway. A mechanic was just coming out.
