Frying Pan and Fire
Annabelle felt her heart pounding within her like a drum. She gazed into the barrel of the rifle and held her breath. Even in her days as captive of the Chiricahua, she had never faced danger like this. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her breathing, then offered up a brief prayer and squeezed Jericho’s hand—icy cold—and dropped it.
Simon O’Rourke shook his head. “What a pity, to lose such bravery and such loveliness,” he said sadly. “But no one lives forever. Goodbye, Miss Somerset.”
Annabelle tried, but she could not help it; she squeezed her eyes shut tight. She could not bear to see her own death racing towards her. She held her breath.
She heard an odd clunk, solid, as if a rock had fallen onto a log, followed by a clatter.
Wait a minute! That was not the sound of a rifle.
She opened her eyes.
The Irishman was crumpled in a heap on the ground.
Jericho dashed forward and seized his rifle, yanked his revolver from its holster.
“What in God’s name happened?” asked Nathanial, his voice cracking in fear.
A tall figure, its face seamed with scars, one eye swollen shut, its mouth open to display dozens of pointed teeth, stepped inside.
“Thymon!” shouted Annabelle, flinging herself into his arms.
The lizard-man patted Annabelle hesitantly on her back as, laughing and crying at the same time, she hugged him.
“I say, Thymon old chap, how lovely to see you,” she heard Jericho burbling behind her.
Then the lizard-man pushed her gently away. She looked up into his battered face.
“I knew you would not desert us,” she whispered, smiling up at him. She put a hesitant finger on a huge lump beside his eye. “Though I cannot imagine how you found us.”
“When Thymon came back from sstream, he sssaw the bad one loading you all in floating bird.” The lizard-man shook his head sadly. “You all look sick or ready for cook pot, so Thymon ran to help. The bad one hit me with his little fire stick.” He touched his swollen head. “Thymon sleep, but just for a little. Saw direction little floating bird went, so followed through jungle.”
Nathanial stepped forward and held out his hand. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your loyalty.”
Annabelle turned and glared at Nathanial. “See,” she said, “I told you so. I told you dear Thymon would never betray us. Oh ye of little faith!” Then she turned back to the lizard-man. “What now?” she asked briskly.
“You follow Thymon. We need weaponsss. I have gathered some. And there is a big, a very big, floating bird coming.”
“The Aeronaut, huzzah!” shouted Jericho.
“No,” Thymon shook his head. “Very much bigger.”
“It is the zeppelin, then, the one this bounder mentioned,” said Nathanial. “The one bringing the reporter.”
“And we can’t simply leave,” Jericho said stoutly. “Why, even if our bodies aren’t here for corroboration, O’Rourke and his people have left dead lizard-men about and littered the place with British gear. He’s set the stage beautifully, and we don’t dare allow his plan to come to fruition.”
“Oh, Lord,” said Annabelle as her heart sank within her. “Out of the frying pan, into the fire.”
“Weaponsss,” hissed Thymon. “Come!”