Here are the eight latest pages (not entirely proofed):
Maddie is overwhelmed with the sense of déjà vu, seeing the room now from almost exactly the same view she had seen through the lamp. The room is dark, save from light from the windows overlooking the lobby, illuminating the giant skeleton just outside. The first difference she notices is that the various crates that had led her the museum in the first place are now gone. She watches the dog sniffing through clumps of straw like material scattered across the floor.
“Well, he’s not here. What do we do now? Ask the whale?”
She ignores the comment, passing the spotlight around the room. “I don’t know. Just keep looking. Maybe we’ll find a clue.”
“Jesus Maddie. We’re not detectives. What are we supposed to do, take prints?”
“Just be quiet and look!” She says louder than she should. She moves away from him, directing the light over the large desk, finding more strands of the material spread atop it. She scans inside the desk drawers, discovering files and letters, and in one drawer a large ornate knife, like something from one of the displays, and just behind it a gun. Her gasp of surprise draws Mustard from the tall stuffed bear he had found in one corner of the room.
He eyes her discovery with curiosity. “Why does a guy working in a museum need a gun? He think something in here is going to come alive and attack him?”
Maddie looks up at him with concern but no answer. She swings the lamp around the to the built-in filing cabinets on the wall behind them while Mustard fusses with things on the desk.
“Can’t you just leave that stuff alone?”, she asks him, feeling like she is talking to a child.
A light clicks on behind her making her jump. Mustard’s hand is on the desk light, his other hand holding an ornately carved box he had picked up off the desk.
“Turn off the light Mustard!” She rushes to the lamp to switch it off before someone sees the light. He grabs her hand. “Wait, look at this.” He is turning the box around, to see all sides.
“So what? It’s a box.” But then she notices something about it, and Mustard pulls her hand holding the lamp closer, rotating it in the light of the desk lamp.
“It’s the same,” he says and she notices it too. The box has carved into it symbols similar to those etched in the lamp. Mustard flicks off the lamp and shakes the box, rattling something softly inside. “Shine your light into it Maddie.”
She turns the lamp around, focusing the peephole into the top of the box and sees set neatly inside, in individually shaped, velvet-lined sections, variously shaped pieces of glass, and small metal components like tiny clock parts. Mustard reaches through the opening and pulls out a round, delicately faceted piece of glass.
“That’s funny. What do you suppose this stuff is?”
As he turns the glass in his hand, Madde turns the lamp around and rotates out the piece of glass that has showed her the room. “It’s almost the same. Do you think it belongs to the lamp?”
Mustard hold the glass to it, closely examining both. “Or another one like it.” He points to the other panels surrounding the casing. “Do these other panels open up like this one?”
Maddie shrugs, “I don’t know. They might. I haven’t tried any others.”
“Well, why not?” He sounds almost perturbed.
“Because I’ve been busy,” she says defensively, wishing he didn’t always have to be such a jerk.
He reaches for the lamp. “Well, give it here then. Let me figure out how the rest of it works.”
She yanks the lamp away from him, clutching it protectively to her chest. “No! It’s my lamp. The man gave it to me, so I’ll use it how I like. Go get your own lamp, Mustard!” She steps away from him, back to the wall of filing cabinets.
“You’re being such a little kid Maddie.”
“You are!” she shouts back, now no longer every trying to keep her voice down.
He mutters something under his breath and just tosses the piece of glass on top of the box and sits in the chair at the desk like it was his office.
Argus brushes up against her, showing his support. She pets him, then washes the light across the cabinets again not expecting to find anything, but to keep herself looking busy so she doesn’t have to interact with Mustard. Argus barks at the same moment she sees the opening in the wall before her, not cabinets full of papers, but a hidden room, filled with things on shelves and mounted to the walls. At almost exactly the same time, the room goes white and Mustard shouts, “What are you doing Maddie?”
She checks the lamp, “I’m not doing anything—“ And then she sees the two guards at the open door, one with his hand on the light switch, the other holding a black stick.
“Freeze right there you two!”
Mustard turns to Maddie, as startled as she is. “Run!” he suddenly yells, leaping from the seat and hurtling the box towards the guards already rushing towards them. “I’ll hold them off. Go now!!” Mustard is throwing everything he can get his hands on, ripping things from the shelves. Argus is pushing her backwards even as she tries to move forward, next thing she knows she is falling backwards through the fake wall, through the dark room. One of the guard’s rushes for her opening, his face aghast, but as he is almost upon her, she falls backwards over the dog, sending the light downwards, closing the wall in front of her, opening the floor beneath her, and next thing she knows she and the dog are free falling through the lobby.
Branches are whipping her, tangling her arms and legs and she crashes through into the soft planter of ferns below. She hears the dog crashing next to her, then feels him tugging at her the minute he’s back on his feet. She looks around dazed, her chest and back aching, almost unable to breath. Lights start flicking on all around her and the museum comes to life. She hears more footfalls and people shouting. The she looks at her hands and finds them empty. Frantic, she starts feeling around her, in the splayed dirt, flattened ferns and broken palm fronds. “Argus! Find the lamp!”
The dog sniffs through the foliage as desperately as her, and she hopes, prays the lamp didn’t break from the fall. She sees something shiny reflecting in the dirt—sparkling in the bright lights like broken glass. She scoops it up in her hand realizing it is only cellophane, then continues her search.
She hears guards rapidly approaching and dives back into the foliage, scurrying under the thick cover of plants that had not been flattened by her impact. She falls against Argus, already tucked there hidden from view and holds as still as she can, not even breathing as two more guards rush past, shouting into their walking talkies about intruders upstairs. Mustard!
She peers up through the crisscrossing jungle canopy, seeing from her vantage the neat hole she made through branches on her quick trip down, and there just above, she sees the windows to the upstairs room now brightly lit, and at least one guard peering down through the window.
How is she going to save Mustard now? And how can she even save him without the lamp? Then almost the second she thought it, she sees it, the lantern dangling from one of the braches high above her. “Argus, there it is,” she points high above, the dog seeing it too. She tries shaking the tree, but it is too big, too sturdy to be moved. The only way she can get to it is by climbing, but there’s no way she can climb it without being caught. Argus looks at her and as though understanding her situation, licks her quickly on the nose and bolts out the large planter. She tries to call him back, but he is already barking, working up the loudest ruckus he can. She hears the guards returns, then ducks back under the plants as they chase Argus as he runs, barking noisily down the hall. The sounds fade away, and in the returning silence, she breaks out of her cover and leaps up on the tree trunk, wrapping her arms around it and shimming herself up with her feet.
Argus’s barking rises and falls as he runs wild through the museum, the shouting of guards in hot pursuit, but it is only so long before the come back to the lobby or the catch him. She pulls herself up as quickly as she can, the pointy bark jabbing into her arms, legs and chest. She hurts, but she can’t stop. She has just a few more feet to go when the main doors open and three more people stroll in the building, not guards, but men, two of whom she recognizes instantly as the kidnappers.
She freezes from her perch in the tree, high enough it sways slightly with her weight. Again, she is holding still, holding her breath, watching the men pass below, hoping none of them look up. They hear the distant ruckus and rush ahead and the second they disappear from view Maddie is climbing faster, reaching out as far as she can. She drags on the branch the lantern still hangs from and mercifully the lamp slides right into her hand.
She slides painfully down the tree, feeling her clothes snag and her skin scrape. Cuts she can deal with later. First she has to help the others. The second her feet hit soil she bounds from the planter onto the hard tile lobby floor.
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