Read Online We Are Not Eaten by Yaks by C. Alexander London - Free Book Online
Authors: C. Alexander London
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said anxiously. âThings donât go well, remember?â
âThe heroes survive the fall, donât they?â
âYeah, but they end up eating bugs. I hate eating bugs.â
âDonât think about that now. We just need to tie this to the raft somehow,â he said. âAnd get in it quickly.â
They found bungee cords and started attaching the patchwork parachute to the raft as fast as they could. Their parents had made them take a survival class every Saturday during kindergarten and they still knew their knots pretty well. Dr. Rasmali-Greenberg had been their teacher. For every knot they learned, he let them watch a half hour of cartoons. Much to his surprise, they learned over a hundred knots and reclaimed their Saturday mornings for Ducks Incorporated and Flappy the Parrot Prince . They were excellent students when they had the right motivation.
As they tied, they heard a loud clank and the floor started to shift.
âUh-oh,â Oliver said.
âTheyâre opening the hatch,â Celia shouted. Daylight began to slice into the dim space and their ears popped. The air roared around them.
âOuch!â they both shouted. Oliver grabbed his fatherâs feet and Celia grabbed his arms and they tossed him into the raft. He hit his head on the floor when they did it.
âSorry, Dad,â Oliver said, but his father didnât react at all. Celia put on their backpack and then they jumped into the raft themselves and kept working at the knots on their parachute.
âI hope this holds together,â Celia said. The raft started to slide toward the opening at the back of the plane. They saw the clouds far below them.
âHang on to Dad!â Celia yelled. Oliver grabbed his father by the foot with one hand and held on to the handles of the raft with the other. He sat down on the parachute theyâd made so that it wouldnât open up right away. At the speed they were going, the wind would tear it to shreds. He would let it out once theyâd fallen a bit. He knew that much from action movies. If heâd had the Discovery Channel, he probably could have made something better, he thought, but it was too late to worry about that now. If they survived, theyâd get cable.
Well, if they survived and avoided the Poison Witches and found the Lost Tablets of Alexandria in the land of Shangri-La and won the bet with Sir Edmund. Put like that, it seemed impossible.
Oliver closed his eyes to quiet his thoughts, and felt a rush as the raft with three-fourths of the Navel family slid through the opening and fell out of the airplane.
He heard his sisterâs high-pitched scream, which was strange, because he opened his eyes and saw that her mouth wasnât open. Then he realized it was his scream and they were falling through the sky.
9
WE SEE A SHUSHING
ON AN ICY PEAK high in the mountains of Tibet, a group of men sat in a circle of thrones beneath a giant statue of a ferocious creature with a dozen arms and a dozen snarling heads. Some of the men wore the yellow and maroon robes of Buddhist monks, others were in the black robes of priests and some wore business suits. There was even a man in blue jeans and a T-shirt, with a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Candles flickered in front of the giant statue, casting strange shadows on the walls.
The men watched the floor in the center of their circle, where a man stood in a trance. He wore the sparkling robes and giant banners of the protector-spirit, the warrior-god, Dorjee Drakden. When the spirit entered the manâs body, he rose taller in his shoes, his chest puffed and his voice grew loud and deep.
âWho calls me?â he bellowed. Bells at the top of his helmet jingled. He held a shining sword, and his eyes, wide and full of fury, darted around the circle of men. He saw the powerful monks of the Yellow Hat sect sitting on the floor behind him, each frozen in meditation, yet alert to his
âThe heroes survive the fall, donât they?â
âYeah, but they end up eating bugs. I hate eating bugs.â
âDonât think about that now. We just need to tie this to the raft somehow,â he said. âAnd get in it quickly.â
They found bungee cords and started attaching the patchwork parachute to the raft as fast as they could. Their parents had made them take a survival class every Saturday during kindergarten and they still knew their knots pretty well. Dr. Rasmali-Greenberg had been their teacher. For every knot they learned, he let them watch a half hour of cartoons. Much to his surprise, they learned over a hundred knots and reclaimed their Saturday mornings for Ducks Incorporated and Flappy the Parrot Prince . They were excellent students when they had the right motivation.
As they tied, they heard a loud clank and the floor started to shift.
âUh-oh,â Oliver said.
âTheyâre opening the hatch,â Celia shouted. Daylight began to slice into the dim space and their ears popped. The air roared around them.
âOuch!â they both shouted. Oliver grabbed his fatherâs feet and Celia grabbed his arms and they tossed him into the raft. He hit his head on the floor when they did it.
âSorry, Dad,â Oliver said, but his father didnât react at all. Celia put on their backpack and then they jumped into the raft themselves and kept working at the knots on their parachute.
âI hope this holds together,â Celia said. The raft started to slide toward the opening at the back of the plane. They saw the clouds far below them.
âHang on to Dad!â Celia yelled. Oliver grabbed his father by the foot with one hand and held on to the handles of the raft with the other. He sat down on the parachute theyâd made so that it wouldnât open up right away. At the speed they were going, the wind would tear it to shreds. He would let it out once theyâd fallen a bit. He knew that much from action movies. If heâd had the Discovery Channel, he probably could have made something better, he thought, but it was too late to worry about that now. If they survived, theyâd get cable.
Well, if they survived and avoided the Poison Witches and found the Lost Tablets of Alexandria in the land of Shangri-La and won the bet with Sir Edmund. Put like that, it seemed impossible.
Oliver closed his eyes to quiet his thoughts, and felt a rush as the raft with three-fourths of the Navel family slid through the opening and fell out of the airplane.
He heard his sisterâs high-pitched scream, which was strange, because he opened his eyes and saw that her mouth wasnât open. Then he realized it was his scream and they were falling through the sky.
9
WE SEE A SHUSHING
ON AN ICY PEAK high in the mountains of Tibet, a group of men sat in a circle of thrones beneath a giant statue of a ferocious creature with a dozen arms and a dozen snarling heads. Some of the men wore the yellow and maroon robes of Buddhist monks, others were in the black robes of priests and some wore business suits. There was even a man in blue jeans and a T-shirt, with a baseball cap pulled low over his face. Candles flickered in front of the giant statue, casting strange shadows on the walls.
The men watched the floor in the center of their circle, where a man stood in a trance. He wore the sparkling robes and giant banners of the protector-spirit, the warrior-god, Dorjee Drakden. When the spirit entered the manâs body, he rose taller in his shoes, his chest puffed and his voice grew loud and deep.
âWho calls me?â he bellowed. Bells at the top of his helmet jingled. He held a shining sword, and his eyes, wide and full of fury, darted around the circle of men. He saw the powerful monks of the Yellow Hat sect sitting on the floor behind him, each frozen in meditation, yet alert to his
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