Homer’s leg began to tremble. “Slide the remote over here.”
Madame put the remote on the ground, then kicked it toward him. It slid right up against Homer’s foot. He reached down and his gaze left Madame for only a second. That’s when something barreled into him.
Splash!
Homer’s mouth filled with murky water. He fought his way to the surface and took a big breath. Mr. Twaddle stood at the pool’s edge, a smile on his face. He’d dropped the sword, but he’d managed to catch the reptile book as it had flown through the air.
“Get the girl!” Madame yelled.
The boat’s engine hummed to life, its propeller churned the water. Lorelei untied the line. Homer took a big breath and started to swim toward the boat. But just as he did, Mr. Twaddle broke into a run.
“I’ve got an idea, Homer,” Lorelei cried. Mr. Twaddle reached out and grabbed the boat’s railing, but he couldn’t hold on because Lorelei thrust the throttle into drive. With Dog howling from the stern, Lorelei took the steering wheel and the boat sped into the tunnel and disappeared.
“Lorelei!” Homer yelled.
33
A Gentleman’s Agreement
She had an idea? Homer thought as he treaded water, his thick coat weighing him down. Of course she had an idea. Her idea was, I’m going to get out of here while I can!
There was no time to think about Lorelei. Homer expected, at any moment, to feel searing pain as Edith’s jaws ripped off his legs. He pumped his arms and started toward the tunnel.
If the other kids in Milkydale had asked Homer to go swimming with them in Frog Egg Pond, even just one time, he might have learned how to swim. But they never asked and so he taught himself, right there and then, how to dog paddle. If you’ve ever dog-paddled, then you know that it doesn’t get you anywhere quickly. With his hands cupped and his feet kicking furiously, the tunnel’s entrance seemed miles away. Waves splashed against his face as the boat’s motor faded. Lorelei had made her escape. And she’d managed to steal Dog yet again.
“What are you doing? Let go!”
Homer glanced over his shoulder. Mr. Twaddle and Madame were fighting over the reptile book. Ajitabh’s sword lay forgotten at the edge of the pool.
“After all the dirty work I’ve done for you, I’ve got a right to the treasure map,” Mr. Twaddle said.
“You’ve no right to the map. You’re nothing. I’m a scientist and the daughter of Wilma von Weiner. You’re just a stupid legal secretary.” Madame kicked Mr. Twaddle in the shin and he kicked her right back.
As long as they kept fighting, there was a chance that Homer could escape. His arms burned as he paddled, his lungs felt like they might burst. Murky water splashed into his mouth. He coughed, struggling to find strength as the tunnel’s entrance drew closer. Edith was somewhere in the pool. Would she bite off his feet? Would she swallow him before he got to the tunnel?
“Urrrr.”
Dog paddled out of the darkness, his ears floating at the water’s surface like fallen leaves. Homer couldn’t believe it. He must have jumped out of the boat. “Dog,” he called, swallowing a mouthful of slimy water. Dog’s short tail wagged happily, sticking out of the water like a weird fish fin. They dog-paddled toward one another and as soon as Homer was close enough, he reached out to pat Dog’s head. Dog, however, didn’t stop for a greeting. He paddled right past, his eyes focused on something.
“GRRRR!”
Homer spun around. A ripple formed at the pool’s edge, then moved toward them at a steady pace. “GRRRR!” Dog doubled his speed, heading right toward the ripple.
“DOG!” Homer cried, reaching out to grab his tail, but it slipped from his hand. “NO! COME BACK!”
Mr. Twaddle and Madame, each clutching an end of the reptile book, spun around like crazy ballroom dancers. “Let go, you ugly shrew.”
“Over my dead body, you bald buffoon.” They pushed and pulled, spun and wobbled, their eyes bulging with greed.
Dog kept swimming. Worried tears stung Homer’s eyes. Dog was trying to protect him, but he’d surely get killed in the process. “DOG!” Homer screamed, his voice breaking with emotion. “Please come back.”
Suddenly, Dog’s ears twitched. He stopped swimming. Homer also froze as a large green head emerged from the water, followed by a long, green neck. Narrow eyes glared hungrily at Dog.
Dog pulled back his lips and showed his teeth. “GRRRR!” The mutant tortoise opened its mouth, wider and wider. Homer realized he was staring at the very creature that had eaten his uncle. Instinct told him to turn back around and swim toward the tunnel like an Olympian, but instead he swam straight for Dog. If he could just reach Dog’s tail, he could pull him away. At that moment it didn’t matter that Dog could smell treasure. Homer couldn’t bear to lose him. He had to get to him before… before…
And that’s when a roar filled the air. The red speedboat shot out from the tunnel at full speed, Lorelei at the wheel. The boat cut between Dog and the tortoise. Lorelei turned the wheel sharply, sending a huge wave into the lair. The force of the wave toppled Mr. Twaddle and Madame. The tortoise disappeared as Lorelei turned the boat again.
“Homer,” she called. “Hurry. Get in.”
Madame and Mr. Twaddle, still holding onto the book, struggled to their feet. Water covered the lair’s floor and dripped from Madame’s hair. “Let go!” Madame shrieked. And with a violent tug, she slipped in the water and fell against the cobra tank. The tank slid off its stand and shattered on the floor. Mr. Twaddle stumbled backward. He tottered at the pool’s edge but then caught his balance.
“It’s mine,” he said when he realized that he was the only one holding on to the book.
Madame crawled away from the cobra’s tank, glass shards falling from her skirt. Her high heels had floated away. “Give. Me. That.”
Homer watched in agony as Mr. Twaddle held the book in the air. His uncle had died because of the map that was hidden inside. And now the bad guys had it.
“Homer, get in the boat!” Lorelei yelled.
“It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine,” Mr. Twaddle gleefully chanted, dancing a little jig.
Homer knew he had to let the map go. His life, Lorelei’s life, and Dog’s life were all that mattered. They needed to get into the boat and make their escape. He grabbed Dog’s tail. “Come on.”
“Noooo!” Madame cried. She stumbled forward, reaching for the sword, but Mr. Twaddle’s dancing foot accidentally kicked the sword right into the pool, where it sank.
At that moment, Edith the mutant tortoise reemerged. In one perfect, graceful move, she snagged Mr. Twaddle with her enormous mouth, then pulled him and the reptile book into the murky depths.
The lair fell silent.
Homer, treading water, began to tremble all over. Dog stuck his nose against Homer’s neck. “Urrrr.”
Madame began to sob, her head swinging from side to side. “She ate my map. My beautiful map. My beautiful treasure.”
The speedboat idled nearby. Lorelei flipped a little ladder over the side, then reached out her hand. “Come on.”
Homer followed Dog to the ladder, then gave his rump a shove. Once Dog was on board, Homer pulled himself into the boat, tumbling onto the floor. Daisy the rat squealed as he landed on her tail. Dog shook water from his fur. Lorelei tried to help Homer to his feet but he recoiled.
“You only came back because you wanted Dog,” he said bitterly.
“No, that’s not true. I needed to get up some speed so I could make that wave.” She tried to take his arm, but he yanked it away.
“You!” Madame cried from the pool’s edge. “You brats have ruined everything. Well, you’ll never stop me. I’m destined to become the greatest treasure hunter the world has ever seen.” She was so busy yelling at them, she didn’t notice the cobra sliding toward her foot. “I’ll get you both. If I have to spend the rest of my life tracking you down, I’ll find you and—”
“Watch out,” Homer cried.
Madame screamed as the cobra sank its fangs into her heel. She crumbled to the floor.
“She’ll die,” Homer said.
“So?” Lorelei grabbed the boat’s steering wheel. “She killed your uncle. She tried to kill us.”
“We can’t just leave her here.”
Lorelei groaned and rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but… fine.” She pushed the throttle forward and drove to the pool’s edge. Homer tied the boat to the mooring post. Fortunately, the cobra had slithered over to the vending machines. Homer grabbed the remote control from a pile of glass. “She weighs a ton,” Lorelei complained as they lifted an unconscious Madame into the boat. “Too bad the map got eaten.”
Homer couldn’t make sense of all the emotions that surged through his body. What he did know was that he didn’t want to talk to Lorelei—not about the treasure map, not about anything. He untied the boat. “We’ve got to get her to a hospital.”
The boat’s running lights illuminated the tunnel as they sped through. When a wall came into view, Lorelei slowed the boat. Homer pushed a bunch of the remote’s buttons, except the one marked SELF-DESTRUCT, until the wall opened. Then they drove out of the tunnel and emerged at a forested edge of City Lake.
Homer told Lorelei to drive to the nearest beach where they carried Madame off the boat and laid her in the grass. With her eyes closed and her face slack, she didn’t look so evil. But Homer knew better. He called 911 from one of the park’s payphones. He and Lorelei waited until the sirens neared, then they jumped back in the boat and drove to the center of the lake. Lorelei shut off the motor and running lights. Floating in the darkness, they sat quietly, watching as the paramedics put Madame into an ambulance and drove off.
Homer pulled Dog close. “I wonder if she’ll be all right.”
“Well, even if she survives that snakebite, she’ll get thrown in jail for stealing gems from the Cave of Brilliance,” Lorelei said.
“How will the police know that Madame stole the gems?”
Lorelei flared her nostrils. “I’ll snitch on her. There are a bunch of receipts in the lair from this guy who made all the fake gemstones to replace the real ones she stole. I figure it’s the least I can do. Just my way of thanking her for trying to get rid of me.” She petted Daisy, who lay curled on her lap.
Homer’s curiosity outweighed his anger. “Why would you work for someone like that?”
Lorelei turned away and looked out over the lake. “I had nothing, Homer. You don’t know what that’s like. Mr. Twaddle found me in the library one day. I was hanging out in there ’cause I had nowhere else to go. I was reading The Odyssey and I told him that I liked adventure stories. He introduced me to Madame. She gave me clothes, she gave me spending money, she said I was going to be rich. She told me to pretend to be your friend and to get as much information as I could.” She hung her head. “I wasn’t pretending to like you, Homer. You’re the best person I’ve ever known.”
Homer didn’t say anything. She was telling him what he wanted to hear, wasn’t she? That’s what she did to survive.
She turned back. “I’m telling the truth. I’d like to be your friend again.” She reached under Daisy and pulled out a compass. “It’s yours. The one Daisy stole. She’s a pretty good thief. She managed to get it back when Madame wasn’t looking.” She handed the Galileo Compass to Homer.
Homer looked it over to make sure it was his. “Why didn’t you keep it?”
“You need to rebuild that library, right? I know you were hoping that the coin would be worth a lot of money so you could sell it to a museum. But I don’t know where Madame put that coin. So you could sell the compass instead.”
Homer hated the idea of parting with his compass. “I guess you’re right.”
They sat in silence for a while. Once again, Homer found himself wide awake in the middle of the night. Distant skyscrapers twinkled beneath a spring moon. The creepy park trees cast gnarled shadows on the water. Dog stuck his nose in Homer’s wet jacket sleeve. Homer, soaked from head to foot from his plunge in the lair’s pool, started shivering. When Lorelei reached out to pet Dog, Homer broke the silence.
“Is that why you gave me the compass? Because you want Dog? Well, you can’t have him,” he said, wrapping his arms around Dog’s fat middle. “Don’t try to take him. I won’t let you.”
“I know.” Lorelei draped her arm across the boat’s railing. She sighed. “I won’t try to take him. I shouldn’t have done that. I just didn’t want to be poor, ever again.”
For the first time since meeting her, she seemed like every other kid, not the self-sufficient, carefree girl he’d met on the street. Maybe it wasn’t so great living in a warehouse. Maybe it wasn’t so great being on your own, with no one to cook for you, or help you study for spelling tests, or tuck you in at night. “What are you going to do now?”
“Well…” She tapped her feet. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I have an idea.”
“What?”
“I know about Dog’s secret. And you know about the lair. Why don’t you come and live there with me? With Twaddle dead and Madame in jail, no one will know. We don’t need Rumpold Smeller’s map. There are lots of other treasures out there. Whatever we find we can keep and we’ll be the richest treasure hunters in the world.”
“I don’t want to be that kind of treasure hunter,” Homer said. “I’m going to donate all my treasures.”
“Oh. That’s too bad.” She stroked Daisy’s tail. “Then I suggest we make a gentleman’s agreement. If I promise to never tell anyone about Dog, will you promise to never tell anyone about the lair?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m going to live there. I could move right in. Who’s gonna stop me? Madame will be dead or she’ll be in jail. But I can only live there as long as no one else knows.” She smiled. “With all that equipment, I’ll have a jump-start on my treasure-hunting career. And with Dog, you’ll have a jump-start on your treasure-hunting career. So whadda you say?” She held out her hand. “Shall we keep each other’s secret?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Homer. I came back for you, didn’t I?”
“I think you came back because you ran into that wall and you didn’t have the remote so you couldn’t get out.”
The corners of Lorelei’s lips turned up slightly. “That’s not true. But I guess you’ll never really know, will you?”
“If you ever try to take Dog, I’ll tell the world about the lair,” Homer said.
“And if you ever tell the world about the lair, I’ll take Dog.”
Homer reached out his hand. “You keep my secret, I’ll keep yours.” They looked into each other’s eyes as they shook—a firm, serious shake that was tenderized by understanding.
Homer told Lorelei to drop him off at the tortoise beach, since that was the only part of the lake he was familiar with, and he figured he could find his way from there. She pulled up to the muddy bank and he and Dog climbed out. Lorelei leaned over the boat’s railing. “Maybe we’ll meet on the treasure trail someday. I couldn’t ask for a more worthy opponent, Homer W. Pudding.” Daisy climbed onto Lorelei’s shoulder. “Hey, next time you come to The City, look us up. You know where to find us.”
A wave crashed onto the bank as the boat sped away, but before she was out of earshot Lorelei yelled, “I’ll send your uncle’s stuff to your farm.”
“Don’t forget to send me the coin if you find it!” Homer yelled back. But the boat had disappeared into the dark. Homer looked down at Dog. “I sure hope Mrs. Peepgrass doesn’t ask me to write a report on my field trip.” Dog twisted his long body and chewed an itchy spot on his hind leg. Chilly air crept through Homer’s wet jacket and he started shivering again. “Let’s go find Ajitabh and Zelda.”
“Grrrr.”
Homer whipped around. Dog’s entire body went stiff as he looked at the lake. Oh no. What was happening now?
Homer and Dog backed out of the
mud and up a grassy slope as Edith, the giant mutant tortoise, slowly crawled out of the lake and collapsed. She closed her eyes and moaned the moan of someone with a horrible stomachache. Her legs splayed, her chin resting in the mud, she burped. Homer grimaced. She burped again.
Then, she vomited up a book.
34
The Shape of a Hero
The moment the reptile book landed in the mud, Dog started sniffing the ground. Before Homer could stop him, he ran down the slope. Edith, eyes closed and breathing heavy, paid no attention as Dog snatched the slime-covered book and carried it back to Homer. Homer wiped the cover on the grass, then read the title: Rare Reptiles I Caught and Stuffed.
The map!
He looked around. Lorelei was long gone and no one else seemed to be in the park. He sat in the grass, a comfortable distance from Edith, and balanced the book on his knees. Dog leaned on Homer and watched as Homer opened the book.
Fortunately, the book hadn’t been inside the tortoise long enough for her stomach acid to eat through the cover. Page one looked normal, just a bunch of writing and a black-and-white photo of a Cross-eyed Devil Frog. Page two looked normal. Page three, four, five… “Look,” Homer whispered. Dog cocked his head. Homer pointed to the upper right corner of page six. The photo’s title read: PYGMY COCKTAIL LIZARD. But someone had pasted a piece of map over the lizard’s photo, cut so that it fit perfectly. The little rectangle contained the map’s legend and the mapmaker’s initials: R. S. A shiver darted up Homer’s spine. Just as he had guessed. His uncle had cut Rumpold Smeller’s map into smaller sections and had hidden them throughout the book.
He ran his hand over Rumpold Smeller’s initials. How many people had searched for this map? How many had dreamed of finding the long lost treasure? How many had lost their lives because of it? Mr. Twaddle. Uncle Drake. Rumpold himself. How many others? This was not a toy or a daydream. Possessing the map was dangerous but at least it was Homer who possessed it, rather than someone who would use it for personal gain.