Chapter One
Peru
1936
The dense, lush rain forests of the eastern slopes of the Andes were nothing but green. It was the perfect atmosphere for one particular American archaeologist known to many as Indiana Frog, whose green, fuzzy skin was half-obscured by the short brown leather jacket, flapped holster, and fedora that he wore.
Behind him were two Spanish Peruvian pigs named Satipo and Barranca, and bringing up the rear were five human Yagua Indians. They acted as porters and were wrangling two heavily packed llamas. The Indians were obviously becoming increasingly nervous, speaking to each other in their native language. The American frog, referred to his friends as “Indy,” glanced back at them.
“Dey’re talkin’ about dat Curse again!” Barranca exclaimed in irritation. He turned and yelled at the Indians in their language, his anger giving an indication of his own fears.
The party continued following the trail, seeing their destination in the distance: the 2,000-year-old Temple of the Gonzonian Warriors, standing beyond a thick stand of trees. The sight struck them all, so much that three of the Indians turned and ran, dropping their packs as they went. Barranca yelled at the fleeing Indians and pulled his pistol out. He started to raise his arm to aim but Indy restrained it.
“I said I didn’t want any violence while on this expedition.” He told him. “Let them go if they want to go.”
Barranca looked evilly at Indy’s hand upon him, and Indy released him, smiling in a friendly way. As he walked away from the pig, Satipo approached him, witnessing the entire confrontation. “Dis American is coward! Has no sense of control!”
“Sí.” Satipo said. “But he promises us big fortune. Can’t pass that.” He got the two remaining Indians moving behind Indy.
Continuing down the trail, the party fanned out to fight their way through the entwined trees that guarded the temple. Indy stopped for a minute to extract a short, native dart from a tree and examined the point gingerly before dropping it.
Satipo and Barranca watched nearby with even greater nervousness. “The Hovitos are near.” Satipo said, before reaching down and picking up the dart, gently licking the point. “De poison is still fresh…dree days. Dey’re following us, I tell you.”
“If dey knew we were here, dey would have killed us already.” Barranca said, and despite his calm words, he was sweating profusely and his eyes were darting. The two Indians behind them were jabbering away, near hysteria. He told them in their language to “shut up.”
In the undergrowth, there was a slithering movement. One of the Indians drew aside a branch and was faced with a horrific stone sculpture of a Gonzonian demon—believed by archaeologists like Indy to be the warlord known as Exod. He let out a horrendous scream that caught the attention of his companion, and together the both of them flew away from the scene.
Indy, Satipo, and Barranca all turned to face the dark and awesome Temple. Vegetation curled from every crevice, over each elaborate fresco. The entrance—round, open, and black—had been designed to look like open jaws.
“Gonzo was right about this whole place.” Indy said. “I have to remember to thank him with his share of the profit.”
“Dis Gonzo,” Satipo said, “He is friend of yours.”
“Yes. He’s a competitor.” Indy said. “And he’s good…
very good.”
Barranca was near the peak of his nervousness. “Senor, no one has ever come out of dere alive.”
Indy simply ignored the nervous pig, as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a tightly rolled piece of parchment. They all kneeled as Indy spread out the parchment—on it was one-half of a crude floor plan of the Temple. He fixed them with an expectant stare, and Satipo produced a similar but folded piece of the parchment and laid it next to Indy’s half. Regarding it for a moment, Indy then stood and walked toward the Temple. The eyes of Barranca were shining as they darted between the floor plan and Satipo.
Then Barranca was suddenly at his feet, quietly drawing his pistol. He raised it toward Indy as Satipo realized with alarm what he was doing. But it was too late to stop him, as Indy’s head turned and saw Barranca. The frog’s next move was amazing, graceful, and fast, yet totally unhurried.
His right hand slid up under the back of his leather jacket and emerged grasping the handle of a neatly curled bullwhip. With the same fluid move that brought Indy’s body around to face the Peruvian pig, the whip uncoiled to its full ten-foot length and flashed out. The fall of the whip wrapped itself around Barranca’s hand and pistol; he couldn’t drop the gun now if he tried.
“Sorry about this.” The frog said, before he gave the whip a short pull and caused Barranca’s arm to jerk down, involuntarily discharging the gun into the dirt. Needless to say, Barranca was amazed. He felt some slack in the whip and immediately dropped his gun in order to free himself, choosing to retreat from the battle rather than put up another fight.
As Barranca departed, Satipo looked towards Indy, shocked and frightened. “I knew nothing, senor! He was loco! Please!”
Indy looked at him long and carefully. “Just stay close…partner.” His eyes then swept the surrounding woods. “Let’s go.”
Moments later, the two walked up the slightly inclined, tubular passage from the main entrance, with Satipo carrying a lit torch. The inside was wet and dark, hanging with plant life and stalactites. Their echoing footsteps overpowered the sounds of loud dripping, whistling air drafts, and scampering claws.
Indy led them into a twisting hallway, Satipo’s torch barely lighting his way from behind. They reached an arch in the hall, leading into a small chamber that was brightly lit by a shaft of sunlight from high above. Indy suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked it over.
“What is wrong? Are you lost?” Satipo asked him.
“Nope,” Indy replied. “Just curious.” He picked up a stick and threw it through the shaft of light. Giant spikes sprang together from the sides of the chamber with a ferocious
clang. And impaled on the spikes were the skeletal remains of a hook-nosed character in explorer-type garb. “Gonzo…you couldn’t just wait, could you?” Indy sadly reached out and took hold of the skeletal remains. As the spikes slowly retracted, he pulled it free and seated it gently on the floor.
Indy stepped sideways into the chamber, his back pressed against the very points of retracted spikes. He moved along the edge of the light beam and stepped clear on the other side. Satipo grimaced and began sweating his way through. The both of them later came down stone stairs to a tight landing. Framing the entry was a strung network of dead vines, each hooked into the wall and narrowing the opening even more.
“Let me see your torch.” Indy asked of Satipo, who graciously handed it over to him. The frog lowered the torch to the floor of the landing, which was carpeted with human skeletons, one on top of another and all squashed as flat as a cardboard. Satipo gasped in shock, while Indy tried to maintain his composure. “I guess I can at least thank goodness that it’s not eggshells.”
After walking over the skeletons, the two figures ended up in a high, straight hallway that was fifty feet long. The door at the end was flooded with sunlight.
“Let us hurry. Dere is nothing ta fear here.” Satipo impatiently said, and he began walking, until his foot came down and through the floor. As Satipo began to inch forward, Indy grabbed him by the belt and pulled him back. They both looked down at the “floor,” before Indy swung his whip across it. Fifteen feet of it cut open beneath the lash, falling away to reveal a black pit as wide as the hall. Satipo breathed a sigh of relief. “Many danks, senor.”
Indy looked up at the high roof of the hall and swung his whip around a support beam, and then he swung across the pit to the other side. From there he swung the whip back to Satipo, who threw the torch over to him and swung across himself. Indy wedged the whip handle into the wall and left it strung to the beam for a quick retreat.
Shortly they reached a large, domed room, with ten evenly spaced skylights sending their shafts of sunlight down to a uniquely tiled floor: white and black tiles laid out in a lovely, intricate pattern. The frog and the pig looked across the wide room at the altar. There, in a supreme hallowed spot, was a tiny-jeweled figurine that resembled the late Gonzo the Great—Indy’s real objective.
“I would assume dere is nothing here, no?” Satipo asked.
“Wrong again.” Indy said, before taking one of the two old torches from the holders by the door. He knelt down and used the torch to reach out and tap a white tile. There was a whizzing sound and a tiny dart stuck in the torch.
Satipo looked around to see where it had come from, and his eyes stopped at a recessed hole in the wall nearby. “Dangers are everywhere! Dere is no way we can get past dis obstacle, senor.”
“Ha, ha!” Indy exclaimed. “You underestimate my abilities as a frog, Satipo. This is mere child’s play for me.” He then suddenly hopped across the tiled floor, soaring at least seven feet across the air, and landed near the altar with marvelous ease. Satipo watched, wide-eyed and mystified.
Indy looked back at Satipo and smiled, before gazing at the idol in front of him, which was both weird and beautiful in appearance. It rested on a pedestal of polished stone. From Indy’s jacket, he took out a small bag and began filling it with dirt from around the altar. When he had created a weight that he thought approximated the weight of the idol, he bounced it a couple of times in his palm in concentration.
The careful frog waited for a few moments before he replaced the idol with the bag. His move had happened so fast that he barely even caught himself, as the idol was now in his hands and the bag was on the pedestal. For a long moment it just sat there, and then the polished stone beneath the bag dropped five inches.
“Not good.” Indy uttered, as some huge mysterious mechanism rumbled into action deep within the Temple. “Not good at all!” He spun and retreated from the altar. He was such in a hurry to get away that he had completely forgot to hop over the tiled floor and ended up dodging several darts as they flew out from the wall. The eyes of Satipo widened in terror, as he immediately ran from the room.
Everything had begun to rumble and shake in response to the mysterious mechanism. In the other room, Satipo swung across the pit and made it just as the whip came undone from the beam, leaving Indy without an escape. Satipo was extremely nervous at that point, regarding the whip for a moment and then turning back to face Indy, as he ran up to the far side.
“Satipo! Give me the whip!” He yelled.
“First throw me de idol!” Satipo shouted back.
Indy hesitated. “How can I trust you with it?”
“You have no other choice, senor!” Satipo said. “Throw me de idol, and I’ll throw you de whip.” Indy tossed the idol across the pit to Satipo, who then stuffed it in the front pocket of his jacket, gave Indy a look, and then dropped the whip to the floor. “Adios, amigo!”
“Oh, no you don’t!” Indy exclaimed, just as the frog leaped across the pit, higher than he leaped over the tiled floor. He landed right near Satipo, grabbed him by the shoulder, and twisted his body around. As soon as the pig was face to face with the frog, he swung his fist towards his face and gave one fierce and heavy punch that knocked the frog back towards the pit.
Indy fell, but was able to grab the edge before he completely dropped down the side. While Satipo retreated, the frog wildly crawled with his fingers at the edge, stopping his descent. With just the tips of his fingers, he began pulling himself up. At the vine-shrouded landing, Indy sailed through sideways and rolled to a stop at the bottom of the steps, with his whip grasped in his hand. As he raised his body, he heard the giant spikes of the Chamber of Light activate and then the abrupt, sickening sound of Satipo screaming.
The frog ran up the steps and slid to a halt as soon as he reached the Chamber of Light, where the spikes had snared Satipo’s clothes. He could barely even move, as his arms were over his head and legs were at a split position. As soon as he noticed Indy come into the chamber, he sheepishly smiled and said, “Senor! I…I was only, how would you say, pushing your leg! I did not mean ta betray you.”
Indy grinned as he edged into the chamber with his back to the shaft of light. Just as he was face to face with the paralyzed Peruvian pig, he removed the idol from his pocket and moved quickly out the other side. “Adios, Satipo!” he said as he departed.
“SENOR! CURSE YOU! CURSE YOU FOR LEAVING ME HERE FOR DEAD!” Satipo screamed.
When Indy shot out into the hallway outside the Chamber of Light that led straight for the exit, he realized how the rumbling was becoming very loud. He suddenly realized why, as soon as he turned around and spotted a huge boulder rolling straight at him. As the frog began running for dear life, he could barely hear Satipo mocking him from within the Chamber of Light.
“Silly frog! You go
splat now! Ha, ha, ha!”
The huge boulder obliterated everything before it, sending the stalactites shooting ahead like missiles. Indy dashed for the light of the exit and was almost immediately crushed by the boulder, until he successfully dove right out. The boulder slammed to a perfect fit at the entrance, sealing the Temple.
After the near-fatal incident, Indy took a moment to rest on the ground and gasp for air. Soon a shadow fell across him and he looked up, seeing three figures looming over him. Two were human Hovito warriors in full battle paint and loincloths, carrying long blowguns. But the woman in the center drew Indy’s attention. A tall, impressive Caucasian woman with black hair and dressed in a long, red trenchcoat and red fedora.
“Hello, Dr. Frog.” She said.
“Carmen Sandiego.” Indy uttered her name like a curse.
Back beyond Carmen and her two escorts were thirty more Hovito warriors, hovering at the edge of the trees. “I’m sorry that I have to do this to you again. But you had chosen the wrong friends this time. And that must cost you.” Carmen extended her hand, and Indy looked at it for a long time before producing the idol and handing it over to Carmen. “The gun, too, Indy.”
“C’mon. You know I don’t carry one anymore.” Indy remarked. “I can’t stand violence. And neither can you—otherwise you would’ve killed me already.”
Carmen smiled at him. “Oh, yes. That’s right. Never mind then.”
Indy shook his head, feeling totally embarrassed. “You know, it’s too bad the Hovitos don’t know you the way I do, Carmen.”
“Yes, it
is too bad.” Carmen said. “But you could warn them…if only you spoke their language.” With that, Carmen turned and held the idol high for all the Hovitos to see, speaking in their native tongue. All of the warriors prostrated themselves upon the ground, holding their heads down. Taking advantage of this distraction, Indy was immediately up and running toward the edge of the clearing. Carmen gave a command to the Hovitos, and they were all instantly on their feet and chasing after the amphibious archaeologist.
Meanwhile, nearby at a river, a plane sat in the water beneath a green cliff. Sitting on the wing was Indy’s trustworthy pilot and half brother, Fozzie Bear. He was fishing with a makeshift pole, even though in his subconscious he knew that it would be much easier if he used his hands.
“Ma says it’s better not getting my hands wet.”
Suddenly, Fozzie heard the voice of his brother from the distance. “Fozzie! The engine!” The bear looked around, until he spotted Indy breaking out of some distant brush and running along the path at the top of the cliff. “Fozzie, start the engine! Get it going!”
The bear indicated his fishing pole. “But I was…”
“NOW!” The frog screamed.
Fozzie reluctantly threw his fishing pole away—he could’ve sworn he had a bite—and hopped into the plane, firing up its engines. Meanwhile, Indy reached a spot on the cliff above the plane, glanced back, and then jumped into the river. Coming up, he swam to the moving plane, walked across the wing, and fell into the passenger compartment.
As the plane had risen from the surface of the water and soared high into the sky, Indy relaxed and rested across the seat, with a big smile on his face. His hand dropped to the floor of the cabin and suddenly he jumped. On the floor of the cabin was a huge boa constrictor.
“THERE’S A BIG SNAKE IN THE PLANE, FOZZIE!”
Fozzie looked over Indy’s shoulder and noticed, smiling. “Well, whaddya know! There is!”
“I’m throwing him off!”
“Oh, don’t do that. He’s not bothering anybody.”
“He’s bothering
me! I hate snakes, Fozzie! I
hate ‘em!”
“Now there’s a joke: a reptile scared of a reptile.”
“I’m an amphibian, Fozzie!”
The frog continued to fidget around in the passenger seat, as the plane continued soaring over the air, straight towards the setting sun.
“Player, freeze frame.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the large screen at the ACME Detective Agency in San Francisco was an almost cinematic display—Fozzie Bear’s amphibious plane soaring over the jungles of Peru. However, the current atmosphere highly contrasted with the one on the screen. It was high-techer, filled with several computers and monitors that displayed different images of Indiana Frog. Some had him looking as young as the age of three, while others had him much, much older (approximately the age of sixty-five).
Standing in the center of this room were two youths. One was tall girl with short red hair, green eyes, and wearing a short leather jacket over a white undershirt and khaki cargo pants with dark green combat boots. And the other was a boy who was slightly younger and short with blonde hair, blue eyes, and wearing a green military jacket over an orange t-shirt and blue jeans with white high tops.
“That was the last one, Zack.” The girl told the boy, sounding a bit angry. “She ripped him off on one of the finest expeditions he’d ever gone on. She has no respect for the legends whatsoever!”
“Ivy, relax.” Zack remarked. “Indiana Frog was never much a legend to begin with. I mean, look at the guy. His brother is a bear for cryin’ out loud. Doesn’t that sound the least bit disturbing to you?”
Ivy suddenly grabbed Zack by the collar and roughly pulled him in closer to her angry face. “That is
not the issue here, Zack! Carmen has pilfered from the world’s greatest archaeologist for the
last time!” She let go of her little brother and paced around the room with much haste. “Museums everywhere are shutting down all because of this. Carmen is robbing from them, without even staying within her own timeframe.”
“Okay. So she’s stealing from Frog in the past and turning him into less of a legend here in 1994.” Zack stated. “She’s already committed at least fifty crimes, Ivy, and left no clues behind for us to follow with. It’s starting to becoming a hopeless cause.”
She was about to make another retort, until an energetic—if not electronic—voice blared out from all of the speakers in the room. Suddenly the virtual face of the C.H.I.E.F. (Computerized Holographic Imaging Educational Facilitator) appeared on the large screen in front of Zack and Ivy, replacing the image from 1930s Peru. Although just a disembodied head with pale skin, purple-shaded glasses, and stylish villain-colored hair on a computer screen, the Chief was nonetheless still the head of ACME and updated his two best detectives as often as he could.
“All right! All right! All right! Listen up, gumshoes!” He exclaimed. “Just received word from Scooter and Bean Bunny that Carmen has yet to achieve all of Indiana Frog’s uncovered artifacts. She still hasn’t obtained the Ark of the Covenant, the lost Sankara Stones, the Holy Grail, and the Crystal Skulls.”
“Those are some pretty big ones.” Zack said. “It’ll take a lot more than just Indians for her to get those.”
“Apparently she has been turning to some big guns, Zack, because sources say that she’s turning to criminals from different time periods to enlist in her help to find these final artifacts!” The Chief informed. “Scooter and Bean say she’s in San Francisco, meeting with a group known as ‘The Dark Hand’, right now!”
Ivy grinned confidently. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re right next door. Eh, Chief?”
“Wrong-o, Ive-o!” The Chief said. “We’re talking about San Francisco in the year 2003! Which means you two are gonna have to utilize the majestic powers of your handy-dandy Chronoskimmer and hightail it over there, before it’s too late!”
At the mentioning of the ACME time-traveling device, Zack instantly pulled it out from the left pocket of his jacket. It was a small, squared device with many buttons and a small screen that displayed the months, days, and years in an LED display. Sticking out from its top was an antenna, although neither Zack nor Ivy knew what it was for.
“When time is on your side, Chief, nothing’s ever too late.” Zack said, entering the timeline into the Chronoskimmer.
“We’ll be sure to bring back some thugs for ya, Chief.” Ivy promised.
Just as soon as Zack had completely entered the time into the device, there was a strange multi-colored flash of light that surrounded the entire room. And before the Chief knew it, his two finest detectives had vanished from the room, heading from 1994 San Francisco to 2003 San Francisco.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
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