Escape from Ice Mountain Read online

  Chuck bowed, then turned to Donnie. “Is that tracking device still working?”

  Donnie pulled out his phone. “It’s coming through loud and clear.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Chuck.

  “Jet Flashfeet, a word before you depart,” said Professor Longtooth. He raised his long neck and whispered something in Jet’s ear. Jet listened carefully, then nodded and bowed before leaving with the others.

  * * *

  Through the night, the meerkats traveled on foot over the mountains, following the signal from Donnie’s phone.

  After several hours, they reached the top of a peak, where they could see the ocean stretching out before them. As dawn broke, the hot-air balloon was no more than a tiny speck just above the horizon.

  “It’s heading south,” said Chuck. “And there is only one thing in that direction. The Antarctic.”

  “Is that the one with penguins or polar bears? I can never remember,” asked Bruce.

  “Penguins. Polar bears live in the Arctic,” replied Chuck.

  “Shame. I’d like to meet a polar bear.”

  “This isn’t a visit to the zoo, Bruce!” Jet exclaimed. “The Ringmaster has kidnapped Grandmaster One-Eye!”

  “I wonder what he wants with him?” Donnie pondered.

  “Grandmaster One-Eye has a great knowledge of the ways of kung fu and he knows many secrets that would interest the Ringmaster,” Chuck pointed out.

  “I wish him luck trying to get any sense out of him,” said Donnie.

  “Donnie, you should show more respect for our master. Now, do you have anything that will enable us to follow them across the ocean?”

  “Nothing that would survive the journey,” replied Donnie. He pulled out his binoculars. “But there’s a city on the coast down there that I think must be Punta Arenas. That’s where most research trips set off for the Antarctic from, so with any luck, we’ll be able to find a boat heading south.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Jet.

  Donnie rolled his eyes. “Am I the only one who reads the guidebooks before going places?”

  Chuck and Jet looked embarrassed, but Bruce said, “I read a guidebook in that café at the airport.”

  “That was a menu,” sighed Donnie.

  “Oh. That explains why there was such a big section on food,” said Bruce.

  “Donnie, your dedication humbles us all,” said Chuck, bowing. “Now let us go and find transportation.”

  They hurried down to the city as fast as they could and made their way to the port.

  “How do we tell which boat is going to the Antarctic?” asked Jet.

  “We could ask those dogs,” said Bruce.

  Sitting by the side of a road were two huskies.

  “Excuse me, do you know of a ship going to the Antarctic?” asked Chuck.

  “All those ships will cross the ocean to the Antarctic at some point,” said the larger of the dogs, a sad look in his eyes.

  “Excellent, because we are looking to hitch a ride,” said Chuck.

  “Hitch a ride?” said the other dog. “They can’t hitch a ride, can they Harold? They’re not indigenous.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Bruce.

  “It means meerkats don’t live in the Antarctic,” Donnie explained.

  “Exactly,” snapped the second dog. “If we’re not allowed to go, then I can’t see why they should be allowed to.”

  “Come now, Hilda, there’s no need to take our frustrations out on strangers,” said Harold. “Don’t mind her. She gets a bit upset because we both come from a long line of Antarctic huskies, you see.”

  “That’s right,” said Hilda. “My parents, my grandparents, my great-grandparents, my great-great—”

  “I think they get the idea, my darling,” said Harold, patting her paw soothingly. “Anyway, the humans changed the rules some time ago. No more non-indigenous animal species are allowed into Antarctica, and that means no huskies.”

  “So your families were made to leave?” asked Jet.

  “Yes! I … I…” Hilda croaked, trying to speak as her eyes filled with tears.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Bruce asked.

  “She’s probably just feeling a bit husky,” Donnie replied. “D’ya get it? Feeling a bit husky?”

  “Donnie,” said Chuck sternly. “This is no time for jokes.” He turned to address the dogs. “Please, good huskies, our dear friend has been kidnapped and taken south. We must find transportation to Antarctica. Do you know which boat we can stow aboard?”

  Harold paused for a moment. “Just because we can’t go, it doesn’t mean we should stand in the way of your rescue mission. That boat down there is the next to leave for the South Pole.” He nodded in the direction of a large steel boat at the end of a nearby pier. “But you’d better get going. It’s about to set off.”

  “You have our deepest thanks,” said Chuck, bowing.

  The meerkats made it on board just in time, unnoticed by the crew as they scurried up a gangway and snuck inside one of the lifeboats on deck.

  “We’re a long way behind the balloon now,” said Donnie, checking Grandmaster One-Eye’s signal on his phone.

  “Then we will have the element of surprise on our side,” said Chuck. “The Ringmaster will not anticipate us following them at all.”

  “I hope Grandmaster’s OK,” said Bruce.

  “He’ll be fine,” said Jet. “He’s tougher than he looks. He told me he was once kidnapped by the Seven Samurai Snails and held in a location high in the Himalayas, and yet he still managed to escape and find his way home in time for tea.”

  “How did he manage that?” asked Bruce.

  Jet smirked. “Apparently they left a trail.”

  The journey across the ocean felt as if it lasted much longer than four days. Bruce was seasick the whole way, which was no fun for the others since they all had to remain in the lifeboat to avoid being spotted.

  “I’m bored,” moaned Jet. “Why can’t I have a run around on deck? Just for a minute? I’ll be so quick the researchers won’t even notice me—promise.”

  “Jet, like a mouse in a house full of cats, it is best to remain hidden,” replied Chuck.

  When the boat eventually arrived at the research base—a large orange building on stilts (and the only thing with any color for miles around)—the meerkats watched from the safety of the lifeboat as the researchers pulled sleds laden with equipment through a heavy snowstorm. Once everything had been unloaded, the researchers hurried inside the base to escape the freezing temperatures.

  “How far away is Grandmaster One-Eye, Donnie?” asked Chuck.

  Donnie checked his phone. “About twenty miles up the coast,” he replied.

  “Twenty miles!” exclaimed Jet. “How are we going to get that far without freezing our tails off?”

  “Yeah, if I’d known we were going somewhere this cold I’d have packed my thermal jumpsuit,” said Bruce.

  “A well-trained ninja should adapt to his surroundings like the chameleon adapts to his,” said Chuck. “We have no choice but to brave this weather on foot.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Donnie, pulling a screwdriver from his backpack. “You see that sled the researchers were using? Jet and Chuck, bring it over here. Bruce, you come with me.”

  Chuck and Jet climbed out of the lifeboat and dropped to the deck, then scampered down the gangway off the boat. It was snowing so heavily that their fur was instantly covered in a sheet of white. They scuttled over to the research base, grabbed the sled, and dragged it back.

  “This thing is heavy,” grumbled Jet.

  “The smallest ant can pull the largest rock so long as there is an end in— Watch out!” cried Chuck. He leaped forward and pushed Jet out of the way, as a lifeboat motor fell from above and landed precisely where Jet had been standing.

  “Sorry!” yelled Bruce. “Didn’t see you down there.”

  Donnie and Bruce joined the others, and Donnie hammere
d the motor to the back of the sled.

  “We must return these things when our mission is complete,” Chuck reminded him.

  “Right, we’re all set,” said Donnie. He looked up at the sky. “Good thing the snowstorm is letting up—that’ll make it easier to navigate. Everyone on board—I’ll steer.”

  The others climbed on to the sled and Donnie pulled the starter cable. The engine roared to life and the sled shot forward at an alarming speed.

  “This should help us catch up,” Donnie shouted over the noise of the engine. He checked his phone to make sure they were heading in the right direction.

  “We should approach more quietly—the Way of the Scorpion teaches us that a ninja must tread lightly and silently, as the insect on the surface of the water,” said Chuck.

  “What did you say?” yelled Donnie.

  “He said something about being nervous of the water,” cried Jet.

  “Who’s got a thermos of water?” asked Bruce.

  “Penguins!” Chuck yelled suddenly.

  “Penguins?” bellowed Donnie.

  “Penguins!” cried Jet.

  “Why do you all keep saying ‘penguins’?” asked Donnie.

  Suddenly he saw what all the fuss was about. Blocking their way were ten Emperor penguins standing to attention, a threatening look in their eyes. He cut the engine, but there was no way the sled was going to stop in time.

  “Get out of the way!” shouted Donnie.

  At the last minute, the penguins moved aside, revealing a sudden drop behind them.

  “Abandon sled!” yelled Chuck.

  The meerkats leaped from the speeding sled. It careened over the edge of the cliff and crashed down into the valley below.

  “That wasn’t our sled,” groaned Chuck. “We were just borrowing it.”

  “Oh, dear. Shouldn’t have driven it off that cliff then, should they, Mr. White?” smirked the largest penguin.

  The penguin next to him chuckled. “No, they shouldn’t have, Mr. Black.”

  “The question is, why are they here, Mr. Gray?” said Mr. Black.

  “They’re here to upset the natural equilibrium of our delicate ecosystem, thereby putting our survival at considerable risk, Mr. Black.”

  The other penguins turned to look at him.

  “They’re here to make trouble,” said Mr. Gray.

  The other penguins nodded vigorously and made a loud trumpeting noise in agreement.

  “We have no quarrel with you,” said Chuck. “We simply want to pass.”

  “Huddle, boys,” said Mr. Black.

  The penguins waddled in close and put their heads together. The meerkats could hear the low sound of their muttered conversation, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Why are we wasting our time with these birds?” asked Jet.

  “We are on their territory,” said Chuck. “We must show them respect.”

  “I’ll show them some Bruce Force in a minute,” muttered Bruce.

  The penguins finished their conversation and reformed the line. “After discussion with my colleagues,” said Mr. Black, “we have decided you might be seal spies and therefore you will not be allowed to pass.”

  “Seal spies?” exclaimed Jet. “Do we look like seals?”

  “I like seals,” said Bruce.

  “As we suspected,” said Mr. White. “Get them, boys.”

  “Bruce!” exclaimed Chuck. “That wasn’t especially helpful.”

  Bruce shrugged. “I just mean I saw some at a water park once. They were balancing balls on their noses. They were cool!”

  The penguins dived onto their bellies and slid along the icy ground toward the Clan with terrifying speed, their sharp beaks aimed right at them.

  Jet drew his nunchucks, Bruce raised his fists, and Donnie grabbed a smoke grenade in each hand.

  “Clan of the Scorpion, you may defend yourselves, but do not harm these penguins,” Chuck warned.

  “But they’re attacking us,” protested Jet, swinging his nunchucks.

  Chuck drew his sword. “Remember, we are the intruders here.”

  Jet jumped over one of the penguins and holstered his nunchucks. The others executed similar evasive moves, but the birds were swift to alter their course with a twitch of the tail, using their short wings to guide them.

  “How are we supposed to defend ourselves if we can’t fight?” asked Bruce.

  “By using your environment,” said Chuck.

  Three penguins zoomed toward him. Chuck stood as still as a statue, then, at the last moment, he jumped into the air and somersaulted out of the way. The penguins crashed into a mound of snow, bringing a small avalanche down on their heads.

  Chuck landed next to the other meerkats. “Do you get my drift?”

  The Clan of the Scorpion were now standing with their backs to each other, while the penguins surrounded them.

  “Please, stop—we mean you no harm!” shouted Chuck.

  “Oh, really? Well, maybe this will remind Colonel Ron that next time he sends his spies, he should remember who he’s dealing with,” said Mr. Black.

  “Yeah, a ten-strong unit of Emperor penguins dedicated to the protection and preservation of their natural environment!” said Mr. Gray.

  The other penguins looked at him.

  “He means we are the Tuxedo Ten,” said Mr. White.

  A loud trumpeting sounded the others’ agreement.

  “We don’t know who Colonel Ron is,” said Donnie.

  “That’s exactly what we’d expect you to say, isn’t it, boys?” said Mr. Black.

  The penguins edged forward menacingly.

  “What’s the plan?” asked Jet.

  “Leave this to me,” said Bruce, clenching his fists. “I’ve had one of my ideas.”

  “Don’t, Bruce!” cried Chuck.

  But it was too late. Bruce thumped the ground with both fists, sending shockwaves rippling across the snow. The next moment, a distant rumbling began, growing louder and louder.

  “Avalanche!” Jet cried, pointing to the wave of white rushing toward them, down a nearby slope. “Get out of here!”

  With incredible agility, all four meerkats leaped out of the way, but the penguins couldn’t avoid being buried in several tons of fresh snow.

  “Come on,” said Chuck, dusting himself off. “Our penguin pursuers will be free in no time. And we must not forget our goal—to rescue Grandmaster One-Eye!”

  There is a very good reason you don’t find meerkats in the Antarctic. They don’t like the cold. While their fur provides protection in the desert on a cold night, it isn’t designed for the harsh environment of the South Pole.

  “I’ve never been so c-c-cold in my l-l-life,” stammered Bruce.

  “Our suffering is nothing compared to what the Ringmaster is likely to be putting Grandmaster One-Eye through,” said Chuck. “We must make haste.”

  The Clan of the Scorpion climbed over hills and through valleys. The wind picked up, sending powdery snow into their faces. Eventually, the signal on Donnie’s phone led them to a cave entrance at the base of an icy mountain. Outside, the red and black balloon was tethered to the ground.

  “According to the signal, he’s inside the mountain,” said Donnie.

  “We must stay close to one another,” warned Chuck, as he led the way into the cave. “We may have the benefit of surprise on our side, but we have no idea what lies within the mountain, or what has happened to Grandmaster One-Eye.”

  A series of icy tunnels led deep into the belly of the mountain. Wherever the tunnels presented them with a choice of paths, they used the flashing red signal on Donnie’s phone to work out which way to go. They had just set off down a fairly narrow tunnel when they heard a rumbling sound.

  “Hungry, Bruce?” said Jet.

  “That wasn’t my stomach,” said Bruce.

  “No, it’s coming from above,” said Chuck.

  The sound grew louder. The ground began to shake. A large chunk of ice
fell from the ceiling.

  “The tunnel’s collapsing,” cried Donnie. “Move!”

  The meerkats dived and rolled out of the way, just in time to avoid being crushed. A thundering sound echoed off the walls and clouds of snow billowed through the tunnel. Donnie stood up and brushed himself off.

  “That was close,” he said.

  No one replied.

  “Guys?” He spun around. A wall of ice and snow blocked the tunnel. The others were nowhere to be seen. Donnie pulled out his phone and dialed Chuck’s number.

  “Donnie! Are you all right?” Chuck answered.

  “I’m fine. Is everyone else OK?”

  “Yes, but there is no way through to you. Jet just tried to make a hole using his Single-Claw Hole Punch and almost brought the rest of the tunnel down on top of us. The mountain is very unstable.”

  “And I think I know why,” said Donnie. “Hold on.” He pulled out a small drill and made a series of holes in the ground. Then he shone a flashlight into the holes.

  “What are you doing?” asked Chuck.

  “I’m analyzing the mountain. It’s not just icy because it’s cold. The whole thing is actually made of solid ice.”

  “So the whole mountain is about as stable as an ice-cream sundae on a skateboard,” Chuck replied. “We must proceed in haste. How can we get to you?”

  “Don’t worry about me. If you follow the tunnel you’re in, you’ll be heading toward Grandmaster One-Eye. I’ll find another way around,” Donnie assured him.

  “As fast as you can, please,” said Chuck. “I have a feeling this mountain is likely to be full of unpleasant surprises.”

  * * *

  Donnie continued on alone, following Grandmaster One-Eye’s signal. After a few wrong turns and dead ends he finally managed to head in the right direction, but his route had sent him a long way around. As he scurried down a twisty tunnel, he suddenly heard voices shouting.

  “One, two, one and two … Ready, aim … fire!”