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Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

Gisco is fighting desperately to keep me from leaping to my death. He has a hold of my right pants leg with his teeth.

Jack, I can’t hold you any longer.

The fabric frays and rips.

Nothing more restraining me.

The face of death beckons. A handsome old face. Gleaming, sharp teeth. Cold and merciless eyes.

Time to end the pain.

But the frigid air blasting my face has revived me enough to remember who I am and where I am headed. P.J. is in the Amazon and I have to find a way to save her. As inviting as death seems, I force myself back from the precipice, and fall, shivering, into the basket of the gondola.

26

26

Jack? Are you okay? I’ve been so worried . . .

How long was I out for?

Days, I think, Gisco responds. It’s hard to keep track of time up here.

I see what he means. We’re still sailing through dark clouds. It could be morning or night. Where are we?

I have no idea. According to this compass, we’ve been heading almost due south.

I peer over the side. For a moment I think I see the outlines of enormous soldiers marching in columns beneath the swirling black mist. Then they’re gone.

Did you see something?

I blink. No. Not now. But I did while I was asleep! It wasn’t really a dream—it was more like a vision. Gisco, we’ve got to do something!

What did you see, Jack?

P.J.’s in terrible danger. She was in a jungle prison. And this … awful creature was menacing her.

Sounds like you had a nightmare, complete with its own hobgoblin. Our imaginations really know how to scare us. I once ate a bad piece of cheese before bed, and dreamed a six-headed cat was chasing me around an exercise wheel …

No, Gisco, this was too vivid to be a dream. P.J. could see me and I could almost touch her. It wasn’t some figment of my imagination or some product of indigestion that was threatening her. It was detailed and real—a spider. A tarantula! But giant-size. What’s wrong?

Gisco suddenly looks very upset.

A tarantula? You’re positive?

Hairy, with eight legs and eight eyes. Doesn’t that sound to you like a tarantula? What is it, dog? A little arachnophobia?

You remember how Dargon was a chimera, a human with the genetic attributes of several different animals?

For a moment I recall Dargon clearly, as I saw him during our last battle on the lip of a volcano. The eyes of a raptor, the aquiline nose, the strength of a bull. A melting pot of nasty animal genes. Yeah, I assure Gisco, I’m not likely to forget that guy anytime soon.

His father also had his DNA monkeyed with. Or maybe I should say snaked and spidered with.