Chapter 1 of Indiana Jones and the Mystery of the Jaguar

Posted by Goodsport from adsl-216-102-199-185.dsl.snfc21.pacbell.net on June 23, 2000 at 02:40:48:

Chapter 1

    "Indy, I agree with you, it is valuable, but I don't see how it could be connected with the Great Sphinx!" Brody sighed, stroking the jewel-studded silver statue of a jaguar. He stood in the middle of a circle of glass showcases. Each case held one or many of the artifacts Indy had discovered and contributed to his museum.

    Indiana sighed and slowly drew the idol away from Marcus's hands. "It's not the statue that's connected, it's where I found it!" he said, slowly placing the grizzly figured in it's glass case and activating the protection system.

    Brody stood admiring the artifact for a moment then turned to Indy and sighed, "Indy, if I remember correctly the last time you visited the Sphinx, you came home so full of holes, that it took you two months to recover. Now for your safety and the safety of the rest of the living world, don't bother the Sphinx again." He smiled slightly and moved out of the circle walking towards the front desk, "Besides, I think your father has a little business he wants to finish with you."

    Indy raised an eyebrow and followed Marcus with a curious look on his face. "Oh? And what business would that be?" he asked palming a breath mint from a basket, setting on a showcase.

    "You'll find out soon, Indy. He's arriving tonight at the airport and asked me to pick him up. I was wondering if you would mind coming with me?" Marcus smiled shuffling through some rather old looking scrolls. Carefully he chose one and opened it pretending to be completely engrossed in what was written on it.

    Indy chuckled and shook his head, Marcus's attempt at subtlety hadn't worked. "Sure, I'd be privileged to go with you," he obliged, "but on one condition."

    Marcus looked at him questioningly and as he stuffed the scrolls in his vest and grabbed another wrapped object.

    "Let me drive!"

* * * * *

    They arrived at the Newark International Airport at 9   00 P.M. to find that flight 101 had been delayed an hour, and wouldn't arrive until at least 10   30, if not later.

    Remembering that they had passed a small restaurant and bar on there way to the terminal, Marcus suggested that they have dinner and a few drinks while they waited. Indy agreed, having not eaten since that morning. The two strolled to the small building, nestled comfortably between two apartment buildings, in the heart of the city.

    The restaurant was shabby looking and the paint was peeling from a large sign on the front that read, "Bimbo's Barbecue and Bar".

    A rather squirly waitress on roller skates, greeted Indy with a smile as he walked in and took off his hat. Indy smiled back and turned to speak to Marcus, but he wasn't there. Turning around Indy went back outside the pub and glanced around for Brody. The street on both sides was empty.

    Indy frowned. Donning his hat he took a couple of steps out onto the street, and fell to the bottom of a cold wet pit.

    The puddle he had landed in would've served more as a river then a puddle. As he stood, Indy looked upward at the circle of light spilling into the semi-dark tunnel and concluded that he had mindlessly fallen into an open manhole.

    "Just the type of thing Brody would do!" he told himself laughingly. Suddenly he smiled. That was in fact exactly the type of thing Brody would do.

    He laughed and shook his head, reaching for the metal ladder that usually led up to the surface. Unfortunately for Indy, there was none. Growling under his breath, Indy surveyed the wall, where the ladder would have been. Sure enough, the braces that held the ladder had been broken away and four jagged gouges in the wall remained.

    Reaching a hand into the first gouge, Indy found that it was just big enough for him to get his fingers in. Indy was about to test his weight on it when he realized that even if he could get a hand hold system going he would still have to manage getting to the top, and the last hole was at least six feet from the street level.

    Indy shivered in the cold and looked around in the muck for a brick, or a metal rod. Something he might be able to use to make more handholds. His search revealed nothing but a dead rat.

    He thought about yelling up and for a moment he called upward. But nothing happened, no one came.

    Letting his hand drop, Indiana wished for a moment that he had thought to bring his whip, but then again this was supposed to be a simple trip to the airport.

    As he stared up at the ring of light he had just fallen from Indy began to feel foolish about his predicament. How could he have been so stupid as to fall into a sewer? Of course if the open manhole had been roped off, or maybe covered when no workmen were around it wouldn't have happened. Indy considered this and stood in the darkening tunnel for a moment. He realized soon enough though that he should be moving off to find another exit.

    Turning around Indy shifted his feet in the knee-high sewage that ran like a river through the underground tunnel. He didn't like the idea of it, but he would have to muscle through this muck until he found another man hole cover, and he would have to hurry about it. The light was growing dim from above and he would have little time to get out and find Brody before his father arrived.

    Beginning to regret coming with Brody on this trip, Indy started east through the sewage system trying to see where he was going in the dim tunnel. It was all a mess of brick walls followed by brick walls, with a few corners mixed in. As he walked, he began to wonder if Brody had indeed fallen into this same hole. What if he had by some miracle, survived the hidden disaster, or maybe had fallen into another. What would he have done?

    Smiling Indy thought, "probably, he would've wandered off and gotten lost in this managere!" But he realized that if he wasn't careful he himself might also lose his way.

    Taking a few more careful steps in the muck, Indy felt around for a solid surface to step on. Finding what he thought was stone, he let his foot sink into the mud. Suddenly he was sinking with it, and with in a few seconds his head was below water.

    His mind raced, his heart pounded and he struggled to get above water, but the more he struggled the deeper he sank.

    Was this quicksand, he wondered, or had the bottomless gunk formed a sandpit of its own. He couldn't tell. For what seemed like an eternity he struggled to reach the top, but never made it more than a few inches.

    Indy was running out of air. He had to think. Fast. But the lack of oxygen to his brain was dwindling his thinking power.

    This is it. He thought. I'm going to die. Not on some huge, highly dangerous, historical escapade but in the sewers of my own hometown. He closed his eyes against the pain in his lungs and let his mind drift. He began to see his life run its course before him.

    His father, his mother. Even the dog he chose his nickname from.

    He thought back to all the times he would spend in front of the television after school instead of doing his homework. He wondered why that had come to mind in a situation like this though. But as his thoughts trailed he thought of an episode of Mother Nature Gone Wild. Indy recalled hearing that if you had become entrapped in quicksand you should stop struggling and you'd float to the top.

    As these thoughts registered he stirred his tired body back together.

    Gathering himself as best he could Indy put his starved mind to work. Muscle by muscle he relaxed, allowing his natural buoyancy to take over. Slowly the tightening grip of the muck loosened and a moment later he reached the surface. Gasping desperately for breath and clutching at the brick walls on either side of him, but he was still alive. He let out a rejoiceful whoop, which ended up being a whisper of a cough.

    Dragging himself onto a small out-cropping ledge, Indy lounged against the wall for a long while catching his breath.

    "That was close!" he said finally, his voice a raspy grating sound. He looked down at his stinking, damp clothing and shook his head in disgust. He would have to change before he even thought of getting his father.

    Suddenly he became aware of the ledge he was on and began to get an idea. Glancing for a moment down the curving tunnel, Indy was pleased to find that the ledge lead all the way to a nearby shaft of light. An exit perhaps. Great, then he wouldn't have to walk through this muck any longer.

    Balancing on his slippery perch Indy carefully made his way towards the light, taking careful steps on the mossy bank. As he approached the light however he found that it was a lamp. Set into a niche in the wall, the modern electrical light cast shadows on the wall, but lead to no exit.

    The passage that followed was brighter then the others, having electric lights installed in the stone and Indy guessed that this one must lead to the local sewage system.

    Well that was the next best thing, he decided and carefully moved around the sharp corner, onto the wider ledge of the lighted passage.

    As the path twisted around cisterns and vats of bubbling liquid Indy began to feel sick at the thought of all that went into his drinking water. The huge holes were more then disgusting. The liquid stunk, more then anything all he wanted was to find a way out instead of what was in his drinking water.

    Finally the path came to an end. A solid wall stood before him, with pipes sticking out of it and running downward and outward from it. It almost looked like a jungle gym, but Indy knew that it wouldn't be that easy. Gazing up to the ceiling he found that the pipes went up close to a fire escape ladder which went up to a door near the ceiling. A good fifty feet from the ground.

    Spitting on to his palms Indy rubbed them together then took a deep breath. Grasping the first pipe he yelped as the red hot surface scarred his hand. Yanking his hand away Indy frantically blew on it.

    As the pain subsided Indy considered his new obstacle then bent down and started to tear strips of cloth from his pant legs. With his pants soon reduced to shorts Indy wrapped both hands in the cloth and tried again, grabbing the first pipe and quickly moving up as the heat went through the cloth.

    He was making good time he decided, he was half way up and everything had gone well, except for the curious warmth of his feet. Glancing down Indy made the mistake of leaning back away form the wall and nearly fell. Were it not for his sleeve getting caught on a small outcropping hook, he would have fallen.

    Grabbing at the pipes frantically Indy swayed for a moment then jerked himself back against the wall. After a moment he was able to catch his breath and he quickly scaled the last few feet to the metal ladder and platform above.

    Standing for a moment on the metal flat, Indy checked his hands and winced at the burn scars the appeared as he took off the cloth. He wondered how hot those pipes had been to be able to burn through three or four layers of cloth, and, as he found when he checked his boots, melt rubber. Almost all of the protective rubber on his boot soles was melted to cinders.

    Shaking his head Indy put his hand on the knob of the door and turned the handle. It didn't budge. The door was locked. Frantically Indy twisted the knob back and forth trying to get it to work. Again he got no result. Angrily, he stepped back and kicked at the door base. The door shook violently on unsteady hinges.

    Grinning Indy stepped back till his back touched the railing on the platform then raced forward and shouldered the door, bringing the flimsy wood down, with a resounding crash. Slowly Indy stood up and glanced around at the empty, unused sewage tunnel that stood before him.

    Rubbing his shoulder Indy walked a couple of feet to find a man hole cover and ladder conveniently placed in a darkened alley. The cover was slightly covered by some object, but Indy was sure he could move it.

    Wincing at the pain in his palms Indy made his way up the ladder, then slowly shoved the hatch out of it's resting place and stood up in the middle of an alleyway. The night was a cool one and the air was reasonably better then the stench in the sewer. Taking a deep breath Indy smiled. He started to take a step forward when he nearly tripped over something.

    A body lay to the right of the cover, it's position having been shifted when Indy had emerged from the sewer. The only sound was Indy's heavy breathing and a rat, scurrying over the coat of the body.

    Indy glanced at the body curiously, worried for a second at the thought, and nearly heaved. The body was Marcus.

    Indy slowly knelt down beside him and brushed the dirt from Brody's badly beaten face. After a moment Indy couldn't bear to look at him and turned, heaving his lunch into the empty manhole. After a moment he collected himself and turned back to face his old friend.

    Slowly he knelt down beside him, brushing some dirt off of his coat lapel, then holding his breath Indy felt for a pulse.

    There was none.

    Angrily, Indy tore open his jacket, ripping the brown buttons off in the process and scattering some of Marcus's belongings. Then tipping Brody's head back, Indy pinched his nose and pressed his lips against Marcus's breathing three quick breaths into his chest. Then he moved to his chest and clamped his hands together to make a cup. One, two, three, four. Four compressions. Five breaths. Four more compressions. He checked for a pulse.

    It was weak, but there. Indy breathed a sigh of relief and stood. Watching Brody's features to see if he would hold on to his lungs long enough to get help.

    For a moment Indy thought that he had stopped breathing again and he nearly pounded Brody's chest, when he saw it rise and fall ever so slowly.

    Standing Indy slowly sat the unconscious man up, then watched him again to make sure he was still breathing. Once he was satisfied, Indy positioned himself behind Brody and grabbed him under the armpits, grimacing at his ungainly weight.

    Dragging him out of the alley into the late evening lamp light Indy looked down the almost deserted street and tried to hail a taxi, but each one that came by either stopped for a second then took off once they saw Brody, or simply didn't stop at all.

    Finally he gave up on that idea and, getting a better hold on Marcus, Indy began walking eastward down the street, carrying the heavy weight in a fireman's hold.

    He didn't know how far he had walked exactly. All he knew was that he had to keep Marcus alive, and make it to the next block without dropping him. No matter how tired he got.

    "Keep it up, Indy! Keep it up!" he urged stopping at a street corner.

    Finally the large EMERGENCY ENTRANCE sign of the district hospital loomed ahead and Indy broke into a swaggering run.

    Every head turned as he burst in through the wooden double doors. His clothes were still drenched and reeked of sewage. He had cuts and bruises all over him and his face was a wreck of fatigue and muck. Had anyone been brave enough to try he might have even tasted like he had been in a sewage system. For a long minute no one moved; then a tall blonde nurse, Indy guessed to be about 27 or so, cleared her throat and shoved a gurney towards Indy.

    Indy gladly lay Brody on the rolling bed, but as soon as the weight was gone, so was his will to stay awake. Finding the closest seat, the floor, Indy lay down and fell asleep before the young nurse could tell him not to.

*************************

Dawn, we are anxiously awaiting your Chapter 2! :)

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