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Tin Man played the light across their bush. Riley held her breath, and the light moved on. The Humvee and transport slowly drove another hundred feet down the road before Tin Man said something into a walkie-talkie and the convoy abruptly stopped. Tin Man hopped off the Humvee, opened the rear passenger door, and dragged Spiro out of the vehicle and onto the road.
Spiro was babbling, and when he passed in front of the transport headlights Riley could see that he was shaking. He stumbled and fell to his knees, but Tin Man yanked him to his feet and shoved him toward the woods. Spiro resisted, and Tin Man hit him hard on the side of his face. Spiro sobbed once and went silent. They disappeared into the woods, and Emerson moved out from under cover.
“Stay here,” he said to Riley.
Riley grabbed Emerson by his shirtsleeve. “Telling me to ‘stay here’ implies that you’re not.”
“They’re going to kill him,” Emerson said. “I have to try to do something.”
The sound of a brief struggle carried out of the woods. There was a SPLOOSH, and then bloodcurdling screaming. Tin Man reappeared, got back into the Humvee, and the convoy disappeared down the road.
Emerson and Riley ran down the Jeep trail, toward the screaming. By the time they turned into the woods, the screams had turned into whimpers. The smell of rotten eggs hung heavy in the air. Directly in front of them, lit by moonlight, was a large, nasty-looking, steaming, bubbling mud pot.
“Spiro,” Emerson shouted. “Where are you?”
A mud-covered hand lifted in response. It was Spiro, lying half in and half out of the boiling, sulfuric mud hole. He was covered with the scorching brown sludge, making him almost indistinguishable from the surrounding dirt.
Emerson knelt beside him. “Hang on. We’re going to get you out.”
Spiro looked up and blinked. His skin was sloughing off his face, and his blood was mingling with the mud. “Emerson Knight and Riley Moon? Why are you here?”
“I told my friend I would find his island,” Emerson said. “I have to know what happened.”
“Mauna Kea,” Spiro said.
“What’s at Mauna Kea?” Riley asked. “What will we find there?”
Spiro closed his eyes and blew out his final breath of air. “Armageddon.”
—
It was two in the morning by the time Emerson and Riley got back to the gatehouse. The two guards were still half naked and handcuffed to the woodstove. Vernon and Wayan Bagus still looked ridiculous in their ill-fitting uniforms and were playing cards.
Vernon looked up. “Boy, am I glad to see you. Little Buddy cheats something fierce.”
“I win only through my superior skills,” Wayan Bagus said. “Vernon cannot concentrate.”
They walked outside so they could talk without the guards hearing.
“Did the Humvee and military transport come through here a couple hours ago?” Emerson asked.
Vernon nodded. “Yup. Didn’t even stop to say howdy-do. Little Buddy and I just stayed in the hut. What’d you two find out? Did you bring me back a cheeseburger?”
“For starters, we’re wanted fugitives,” Riley said. “That’s the good news. The bad news is that the insane director of the National Park Service is tapping into the earth’s core to gather materials for making some sort of super-weapon.”
“I’ll just blow this whole thing wide open on the blog,” Vernon said. “It’ll get sorted out lickety-split once it’s all over the Internet.”
“I guess I forgot to mention the hostages,” Riley said.
“There is a hostage?” Wayan Bagus asked.
“Try a million. Tin Man’s going to blow up Yellowstone if we say even a word to anybody about it.”
“I don’t see where that’s a problem,” Vernon said. “We evacuate all the people, and all’s left to blow up are the stupid Bigfoots and stink-hole mud pots. I say good riddance.”
“The park is a national treasure,” Riley said.
“Treasure shmeasure,” Vernon said.
