The Johannesburg airport… the next morning.

  The Johannesburg airport was too packed for eleven in the morning. Lots of people in smocks and other delightful African wears dragged their suitcases through the sweltering heat and into the air conditioned room to grab their tickets.

  Two stray dogs hid in the shade of the airport dustbins, watching the doves show off in the bright sky. A security guard was having serious trouble trying to conduct the cars and people in an orderly manner.

  After half an hour’s waiting in a long queue to get to the security checkpoint, Lucy, Seli, Leo and James were standing in front of their plane, saying their last words of farewell to Uncle Michel, Jones and Nemo. James hugged Jones as the latter had been pecked by Lucy.

  “Keep our little secret, bro,” He said as he patted his cousin on the back.

  “No problem. Until our next dangerous and fun adventure that you seem to be attracted to?”

  James laughed and broke the hug. “You know it.”

  He fist bumped Nemo, who was looking quite pale but definitely infinitely better. The cells in his body must’ve gotten rid of the rest of Singar’s cronies and repaired the Right Lung. Hopefully, they now realized that the Lungs were as important as the Heart and Brain. Well, one of them anyway, since James had read only last night that a human could live without one Lung, though he wouldn’t be as fit and energetic as a human with two lungs since not a lot of oxygen will be burnt to release energy. Still, the two Lungs were equally important and worth guarding.

  James seemed to have developed a peculiar interest in science, especially medicine and fields relating to the cells and organs in the body. He appeared to be attracted to the huge science books in his uncle’s office that he previously considered boring and unworthy to read. That trip to the Inside was really paying off. Maybe it meant better grades in science this term in school.

  Uncle Michel pulled James aside as he pulled back from a hug with Lucy.

  He looked on edge and nervous, as he’d become ever since James and the others had escaped from the Inside. On several occasions yester night, James caught him staring at his and the other’s Transformats as if they had insulted his mother. He always looked as if he wanted to say something, only to shut his mouth and growl silently or groan, just as he had done just that morning, when Lucy had served them with a peculiar West-African food that was made of round white balls and a slimy green stew. Apparently, it was called ‘Banku and the stew, okra sauce.’ Never mind the name, it had tasted excellent.

  Anyway, it seemed as though Uncle Michel was hiding something. It had to do with the Transformat and James. He knew something about it, but how could James ask him.

  James remembered what Singar had said on the last night in the Inside. He had mentioned something about the Winters owning an evil organization that had actually created the virus and ditched him in the Inside.

  Suddenly, James did not trust his Uncle, or his mother. Where they hiding something evil, and if so, what? How could he find out? He realized, if all this was true, he was in the middle of a dangerous evil family scheme that he would find really hard to escape. What was he talking about, Singar was an expert deceiver. He just wanted to get into James’ head. Right?...

  “James,” begun Uncle Michel. “As you’re going, I want you to know I love you, and I’ll always be there for you, anytime you need me. But you should focus on your studies. Become the man you want to become.

  “I don’t want you to worry yourself and certainly not worry your mother. Don’t get into any fights or suspicious situations. Steer clear out of trouble. And don’t go into any one of your risky adventures any more. Got it?”

  What was he talking about, James thought. He had never been involved in any fights. Okay there was that one time that James had punched the school bully, Thompson, in the face, but nobody heard of that, surely. No. Uncle Michel was talking about something else. He was probably being eaten by guilt of this evil Winter organization he owned.

  There we go again, James thought. He really needed to wipe that suggestion from his mind. But he could not wipe the image of Nemo clutching his spanner that morning. He looked as though he had expected an intruder to infiltrate their house all along.

  “But,” James protested, but Uncle Michel shushed him. “Promise.” He said firmly.

  James groaned but said, “I promise.”

  Uncle Michel clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go, the others have gone. But be in touch frequently. And James, er, nothing is your fault. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

  James naturally was going to ask what that meant, but Michel shushed him away.

  Defeated, he climbed aboard the airplane small flight of stairs, thinking rapidly.

  Whatever the Transformat was, wherever it had come from, it was not meant to be used as a toy by a teenage boy. It was destined for great things, and the wearer was in for the ride. Things would change from now on, James knew.

  He was in the middle of something wicked, quietly rolling its way towards him. He and his friends had entered a new world of trouble and misery, and war.

  The Transformat glowed and heated.

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