Lunar Colony (12 page)

Annie Perkins adjusted the propane burner and heard the familiar
whoosh
of flame as the hot-air balloon climbed higher into the sky. She tilted the outboard motor’s propeller (that was of her own special design, allowing her perfect control of the balloon), and the balloon picked up speed, moving swiftly through the air, surrounded by nothing but bright blue sky.

Annie checked the height gauge. She was 379 feet up in the sky, but she was as calm and relaxed as if she were lying poolside. Annie was comfortable by herself—she always had been. And that’s why she knew she’d go down in history as a legendary adventurer.

“Getting close, now,” Annie said aloud.

The small bay town of Bucky Cove was coming into focus. Treetops and the slanted crests
of houses and shops dotted the horizon. As the balloon floated closer, Annie could even make out the famous
MEWS FOUNDATION
sign atop Harold Mews’s mansion.

Harold Mews—Annie’s hero . . .

It was one week earlier that Annie had made the decision to travel to Bucky Cove and enter the contest. She had been washing dishes at Perkins Dine-In, the small restaurant her family owned. As usual, Annie was listening to WADV AM Radio—it was
The Adventure Hour with Illinois Johnson
. That day, Illinois had broadcast news that grabbed the attention of adventurers across the globe—news about Mr. Harold Mews’s million-dollar contest!

Annie could hardly believe her ears.
One million dollars!
Perkins Dine-In was in trouble, and Annie knew that if her family failed to pay back the loans, it wouldn’t be long before the bank took away the restaurant. One million dollars would be enough to save it!

Annie told her parents she planned to enter
the contest—but they were
not
having it. “You don’t even know what the contest will be!” her mother had exclaimed. “No one does! That Harold Mews is a reclusive nut!”

Annie had just smiled at that, because Annie knew more about Harold Mews then anyone! Since she had been old enough to lift a book, Annie had been reading about Mews’s exploits: his journeys deep into the Sahara, his treks across the Andes, his voyages to the North and South Poles.

All his expeditions had the same goal: the discovery of cryptids, strange creatures whose existence has been mentioned, suspected, talked about in hushed whispers—but never truly confirmed by science. Creatures such as Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, or the Atlantic Sea Serpent. Cryptids were Harold Mews’s obsession, and they had become Annie’s, too.

So, despite her parents’ protests, Annie packed her bags, prepared the hot-air balloon, and took to the skies.

She was getting close now, and she saw that she was not the only one drawn to the contest. She had a bird’s-eye view of the road leading into Bucky Cove; it was lined with hundreds of vehicles, all approaching the small town.

And it wasn’t just cars and trucks! All manner of adventurers in all manner of vehicles were drawn to the contest:

Another hot-air balloon, far in the distance.

A zeppelin, high above her.

An old biplane zooming past her, sputtering and coughing.

Below her, a man in a hang glider swooping and diving.

It would be quite the contest indeed. But Annie had a leg up. She had studied cryptids. She knew where to look and she knew—

Annie’s thoughts were interrupted by a high-pitched howl. Annie gripped the side of the basket and spun.

It was a jet! Futuristic and fast. And it was rocketing toward her . . .

“Oh, bananas!” Annie shrieked as she furiously adjusted the heat and jerked the propeller.

“C’mon, c’mon . . .” Annie said, eyeing the fast-approaching jet.

With a shrill shriek, the jet blasted past her. Annie caught a quick glimpse of the pilot: a bug-eyed woman with bright pink hair interrupted by a white lightning-bolt-shaped streak. Across the side of the jet were the words
GRIMLOCK GLIDER
. The
Grimlock Glider
—shiny and silver, with upturned wings and purple lines—looked like something out of
the old science-fiction magazines Annie loved to read.

“Watch it, ya flying jerk!” Annie shouted.

The jet left a hot trail in its wake, causing an updraft that rocked and tossed Annie’s balloon. Next came the downdraft, which forced the balloon toward the ground. Annie cranked the propane heater, but the air currents were too strong. The balloon was out of control and sinking fast.

Annie groaned as she desperately jerked the propeller back and forth.
This adventure is off to a fantastic start . . .

Annie peeked over the side of the basket. The ground beneath her was growing larger and larger as she spiraled down faster and faster . . .

Mere feet above the road and just seconds before crashing, Annie flung the propeller lever and the balloon swooped back up, catching a wind current.

Annie may have avoided becoming a splattered splotch on the road, but she wasn’t out of the woods yet—in fact, she was heading straight
into
the woods! The balloon was careening toward a small grouping of trees. She needed to get the balloon higher.

She spun the gear on the propane heater, giving it as much gas as it could handle.

Annie looked up.
Incoming tree!

There was a loud
CRACK!
and then a
WHOOSH!
as the basket clipped the treetops. A leaf with a big bug on it flew into Annie’s mouth and—
Yechh!—
she spit it out.

A long plastic banner was strung across the Main Street entrance to Bucky Cove. It read
HAROLD MEWS WELCOMES THE WORLD’S GREATEST ADVENTURERS!

With a
rip,
Annie tore right through the banner. The plastic wrapped around her face so that she couldn’t see.

“Bananas!” Annie exclaimed.

Thankfully, the wind ripped the banner away—just in time for Annie to see that she was on a collision course with a tall brick chimney poking out of the top of a cute old house.

“Double bananas!” she screamed. She threw the propeller lever again and sent the balloon swinging to the side. The basket scraped against the side of the house. A very round old woman with blue hair in white curlers stuck her fist out the window and called Annie all sorts of names.

“I’m really sorry!” Annie cried out as she swept past.

Annie and her balloon continued spinning and spiraling down Main Street. Annie deftly dodged awnings and trees and flagpoles and TV
antennas and satellite dishes and weather vanes and everything else.

Annie squeaked.
Higher! I need to get higher!

Then—oh no!—Annie spotted electrical lines up ahead, near the Mews mansion. Those would put a very quick, very shocking end to her adventure.

Lower, lower! I need to get lower!

Annie dropped the heat and threw open the vent, forcing the balloon to plummet downward. A rough landing was better than being barbecued!

The balloon slammed into the ground, and the basket crunched and scraped down the street, tossing Annie to the side. She quickly threw an armful of sandbags over the side. When they hit the ground, the whole contraption finally began to slow and then, at last, came to a stop.

Annie gulped in air and let out a huge sigh of relief. “Phew,” she said, wiping her brow. “I hope no one saw that!”

And then she looked around.

Oh . . .

Man . . .