Chapter 1
The Congo, 1923
Johnny Thunder had to run. There was no other option. Thousands of monkeys were pouring out of the temple windows and walls as he fled for his life. Of course, the reason was because he had taken the prized Jewel of Monkara, guarded by the monkeys of the kongo for centuries. But he was Johnny Thunder, he wouldn’t break a sweat in this instance.
The primates leaped and scowled as they jumped into the trees to try and cut Johnny off. He ran down the stone platform as far as he could. He had to come to a stop when he noticed a canyon in his way, due to the puttering of rocks that sparked from his running becoming silent from the fall. He stopped himself abruptly over the cliff, his arms slightly twirling, and he caught his cocked hat. His neck twisted back quickly as the monkeys were now on his tail.
He spotted a vine, and made a daring leap toward it. He experienced a slight tug and burn as he fell down the vine, but it did not matter to him. He had to quickly get back down to the jungle floor. He carefully tucked the jewel in his pack, and descended the vine while breaking a sweat.
The monkeys leaped down after him. As Johnny timed his quick descent, the monkeys were twice as fast. Johnny looked below, seeing the jungle floor was not much farther down, and decided to leap off the vine. Thwick! His hands went sliding down the vine, and then a STOMP! Onto the ground meant a safer fall. He then dashed into the deeper brush, where he mistakenly tripped over a vine.
He positioned his hands in front of him to break his fall. In doing this, the Jewel of Monkara fell out of his pack. It rolled before him, touching the lizard-skinned boots of a peculiar man staring down at him. The man, muscular with a goatee, and wearing glasses, a top hat, a fine Edwardian jacket, jodhpur pants, and wearing boots made of reptile skin, picked up the jewel. He then positioned his pistol in the air and shot it thrice. The monkeys fled from the loud noise. Johnny raised his head to see the face of the man in front of him.
“Slyboots,” Johnny muttered.
Slyboots smirked. “Very sorry to steal your ‘thunder’, Mr. Thunder. Hahoho! Very much thank you for finding his jewel for me.”
He took a handkerchief and began to wipe it off. “The Baron will very much appreciate this.”
Johnny Thunder got up, reaching for his pistol, but Slyboots pointed his gun at Thunder’s forehead.
“That would be unwise, Mr. Thunder. Besides… my men are standing by. If you killed me, you would not leave the jungle with the gem.”
Johnny scoffed. “You were always a cheat, Slyboots.”
“Please Johnny,” Slyboots responded. “You were the one who cheated me first. You joined this expedition, lied about who you were, calling yourself ‘Sam Grant’, and then left me and the men here to fend off against the feral monkeys.”
“I wouldn’t have joined this expedition if I knew you were heading it,” Johnny said with a spit. “I don’t work with criminals like you.”
“That is your weakness, Johnny,” Slyboots said as he tucked the jewel into his pocket. “You think treasure hunting is all about the glory, and the preservation of history. Hoho!”
Slyboots took away his gun and clapped his boots together. “Myself? I like to believe in a thing called ‘finders keepers’. Now, come men, let this fool rot in the jungle here. We have what we came for.”
Slyboots and his men jumped into vehicles, still pointing their guns at Johnny. Slyboots gave a salute to Johnny. Johnny breathed heavily in resentment as the conniving group drove off, leaving him in the midst of the jungle.
~~
Of course, Johnny was not inexperienced with the wilderness. He was, after all, an explorer. In fact, before his life of exploring, he served as a scout in the Australian regiments for the British army during the Great War. He also had spent a few years afterwards in South Africa as an officer for the colonial government, where he was in contact with his uncle, Dr. Charles Kilroy. Kilroy was the very reason Johnny became interested in archeology in the first place, and was a man he looked up to.
So Johnny was not out of his element in the jungle. Almost out of instinct, he grabbed the machete from his pack, and took out a compass to make his way west, where he knew the nearest airport was. It was long and arduous, having to cut through the brush, and take a few nights to make camp and ration his food. Evidently, he would find a crew upon a nearby river out of sheer luck, and rode their boat to make it to the nearest airport.
When Johnny arrived in the airport, he was starved and rather sickly, much to the concern of his friend, Harry Cane.
“What happened out there?” Cane asked. “Where is the rest of the crew?”
Johnny began to speak while eating a can of beans, through a mutter. “They were working for Slyboots. They went east of here. I’m sorry. They took your car.”
“Doesn’t matter to me, friend,” Cane gave Johnny his canteen. “I’m just glad you’re alive. I can always replace it. What I cannot replace is you! Perhaps you would be better in the care of your uncle.”
“I do not know if I can go back to him,” Johnny said in a breath. “He would be heartbroken that I lost the jewel.”
“Nonsense!” Harry Cane replied. “And if he is, he can get over it! But I doubt Charlie would like to lose his dear nephew over a silly jewel. Now come on, we’re gonna get you home.”
~~
A Few Days later, in the African Savanna.
Through a scope, a mustached man wearing a pith helmet was tracking an elephant and its child. In his right hand was upon the trigger of a rifle, while the gun itself was held up by a claw where the left hand was held. Slowly, the man tracked the elephant. Yet he was startled as someone grasped his shoulder, and blasted the gun. The bullet ripped through the air with a terrible crack, hitting the elephant as the child fled. It died rather quickly from the shot, as it was toward the head.
“Hmph,” the man muttered. “You should be glad I made my shot, despite your interference.”
The man stood up, placing his rifle to the side. His face was scarred on the left cheek, and complimented by a monocle over his right eye and a long handlebar mustache. He was wearing a desert military uniform from the Great War, also with jodhpur pants, and clean military boots.
Slyboots rubbed his hands as he presented himself toward the villainous baron. “I apologize for interfering with your hunt, Mr. Sinister, but I have what you desire.”
Slyboots pulled out the gorgeous blue jewel of Monkara from his pocket. Samuel Sinister, the vile hunter, raised a cocked brow in admiration of the jewel. With his good hand he carefully grabbed the jewel, and held it closely to his monocle.
“You did well, Sylvester,” Samuel Sinister said with glee. “Two prizes in one day. A fine trophy… and the famed Jewel of Monkara.”
“For a price, Sinister,” Slyboots asked.
“Firstly, you refer to me as Baron,” Sinister responded, “and secondly, you shall have your reward, when I am done with my hunt. Come with me. We need to collect the carcass.”
Sylvester nodded. “Apologies, Baron. And of course.”
The two approached the elephant carcass. “I do enjoy collecting trophies of ivory from these great beasts. They go well along my fossils, and much of my fine art, Mr. Boots. But what I enjoy more is precious jewels.”
“And I enjoy money,” Sylvester Boots responded.
“Gold, I enjoy,” the baron noted. “But none of this paper they are calling money. The masses, in their peasant ways, cannot tell a difference. It is an insult to nobility like me to call such things money. What truly has value is what is rare… Ivory, gold, silver… precious jewels.”
He begins to take out his tools to remove the elephant tusk. “There is one jewel, however, I have long desired in my collection, Sylvester.”
“What is that, the Hope Diamond?” Sylvester responded.
“Not at all,” The baron corrected. “No, there is another rumored ruby in Egypt I learned about when I first came out here on my vacation from my estate. Something the Egyptian government has tried to keep a secret. The Re-Gou ruby. Many of the locals in Egypt and Ethiopia talk about the tomb of a Pharoah Hotep as if it’s the next Tut’s tomb. I plan to go on an expedition to find it soon.”
“Well, I hope that Johnny Thunder hasn’t heard about it,” Slyboots responded.
Baron Sam Sinister stopped. “Thunder? Why do you mention him?”
“He was very close to taking the Jewel of Monkara,” Slyboots replied.
Baron Sam Sinister’s hook dug deeply into the elephant carcass. “Thunder… You didn’t kill him?”
“He was no threat to me, Baron. I had him surrounded.”
The Baron scowled. “Idiot! You should have shot him. He… He and I go very far back… he is the reason I lost my hand.”
The Baron presented his hook to Slyboots, and continued. “In an incident in Tunisia, I attempted to take the golden sword of a Umayyad Caliph, and nearly got away. Thunder, however, had arrived in the old decrypted fort when I had. We had a duel of swords, and it was there he cut off my left hand to disable me. Ever since then, I have continued to run into him, and he has been a thorn in my side!”
“Well, dear Baron,” Sylvester said in a low tone. “This is finally one victory over Johnny Thunder. Perhaps we shall find another?”
~~
The ride to South Africa was not an easy one for Johnny. He was still very ill when Harry Cane brought him to Capetown via blimp. He rested a few days in a hotel, until he finally became well enough to visit the home of his uncle, Charles Kilroy. Kilroy was off for the summer from his days of teaching university, and so was delighted to see his nephew.
“Johnny my boy!” Kilroy exclaimed as Johnny came through his front door. “It has been so long.”
Johnny rested on the couch, his face still rather pale. “I am sorry, Unc. I lost the jewel. To that crook, Slyboots.”
Kilroy, a man in his 60s who wore glasses and rather nice attire, with a mutton chop mustache, did slightly frown at the news. However, he patted Johnny on the back. Sitting next to him, he cleaned his glasses.
“Old Sylvester, huh?” he said. “Well my boy, I have a chance to put you back in better spirits. It is unfortunate the Jewel of Monkara will not be part of our collection, but I have found, perhaps, the source of a greater treasure. Come with me to the table!”
The two come to a table, where Dr. Kilroy began to take out books and notes. “There has been much talk on the discovery of Tut’s tomb. However, there is little talk about the tomb of Pharaoh Hotep!”
Johnny brushed his hair back, still feeling ill from his expedition. “Hotep?”
“Oh yes. An interregnum pharoah between the Fourth and Fifth Dynasties. The ancient historian Manetho attested the reign of Hotep, but so many of my colleagues believe him to be largely fictional, for he was said to have built a pyramid in expediency for himself thanks to the power of a great ruby, given to him by the god Ra. However, my colleagues believe this to be merely a legend.”
“Sounds like one,” Johnny replied. “So why do you believe it?”
“Well,” Charles responded, “I received a clue as of late.”
He pulls out a strange block with hieroglyphics, no larger than a baseball. “In my digs, I found this hieroglyph. It is associated with a great builder named Ogel, the attested steward of Hotep. He claims he had built part of a palace for Hotep. In the center, as you can see, is this carved quartz jewel. Now, let me show you something.”
Charles left the table, holding the block, and opened the curtains of his windows. Then, he held the block toward the window. The block then acted like a projector, showing an image on the wall, in hieroglyphs, of a Pharaoh of ebony skin commanding workers to build as he held up a jewel in the air. Johnny cocked an eyebrow in amusement of his image.
“Interesting toy you got there, unc,” Johnny said, twirling his mustache.
Kilroy began to translate with a hint of excitement in his tone. “West of the Nile, in the deep desert, I built my kingdom by the hands of Re-Gou. A kingdom of rubies and jewels, blessed by the great god Ra. The first mark of my kingdom is one of sapphire, by the palace of Ogel, that you shall…”
Kilroy stopped, and placed the block down. “That is where the inscription ended. I am impressed how much has been preserved, but the desert has gotten to it. That is why, dear Johnny, I am in great need of your help.”
Johnny crossed his arms, sitting back down. “You know I always have an appetite for dangerous adventures, Uncle Charles. Besides… I need to get one over on Slyboots.”
Kilroy trembled, as if in deep joy. “Oh Johnny! Yes! This will be the expedition of a lifetime! Eat up, get well, and we shall be on this quest soon enough. The university has already, admittedly begrudgingly, given me the grant money for whenever I did an expedition. So we shall be compensated for this, oh yes.”
Johnny Thunder lowered his brows and asked, “Does anyone else know of this supposed stone you have?”
Kilroy nodded. “Well. Recently, a man named Baron Von Barron visited the university and requested to see it. He had a look, as you had.”
This comment, of course, gave Johnny some pause. “We do not have time to wait, then!”
“Wait Johnny, you know who that is?” Kilroy asked.
“A treasure hunter like myself, but he is only concerned in enriching himself,” Johnny said. “He calls himself by his royal name, Baron von Barron, but his real name is Sam Sinister. He tried to steal the Golden Sword of Umayyad when I was in French Tunisia. If he knows about this treasure, no doubt he plans to steal it for himself.”
“Oh dear!” Dr. Kilroy exclaimed. “I believe you are right. I cannot have such a tomb raided by such a dastardly foe. I am sorry I ever showed him this jewel. Now he may have a head start.”
“Which means we need to leave,” Thunder stated. “Pack your things, Unc. We’re going to Egypt.”