Читать книгу Night of the Dragons - Michael Anthony Steele - Страница 8

CHAPTER 1

Nick Daley’s sneakers slapped the granite floor as he sprinted down the wide corridor. His echoing footsteps were swallowed by the sounds of his pursuers—stomping boots, creaking leather armor, and rattling scabbards. Panting, the young boy chanced a look over his shoulder; the warriors were gaining. He turned back and poured on the speed.

The enemy wasn’t only behind him. Nick barely dodged an attack from the right. He ducked under flailing arms and grabbing hands. Clutching his cargo to his side, Nick slowed as another attacker launched from the left. Nick pushed off the ground and leaped over the now-horizontal adversary.

Nick allowed himself a smile. The end of the hallway was only a few yards away. He was almost there! He was going to make it!

That was when the twelve-foot-tall woolly mammoth stepped into his path.

The enormous beast lumbered in from an adjacent hall. She trumpeted loudly and wrenched her head around. Nick skidded to a halt as long ivory tusks whizzed by his face. Turning back, Nick saw that his pursuers were almost upon him. The boy ducked under the beast and scrambled between the mammoth’s tree-trunk legs. As his pursuers crouched to follow, the woolly mammoth swatted them away with her long trunk. The warriors tumbled across the floor.

Once on the other side of the beast, Nick sprang from his crouch and dashed to the end of the hallway. When he reached the intersection, he raised his cargo high over his head and then slammed it to the floor. The football bounced erratically as a whistle blew nearby. Nick smiled as Theodore Roosevelt, twenty-sixth president of the United States, raised his arms high into the air, signaling a touchdown. The former president blew the whistle once more.

“Bully!” roared Teddy Roosevelt as he slapped the boy on the back. “Well played, Nicholas.”

“Thanks, Mr. President,” Nick replied.

Just then, Nick’s pursuers gathered around him.

“Hoota, milla-woota!” shouted Attila the Hun. The angry warrior pointed at Teddy, then up to the woolly mammoth. “Winga saaaaaaaaa-ma noto!”

The other four Hun warriors stood with their arms crossed and angry expressions on their faces.

Teddy shook his head. “It was a fair play. At least according to our improvised hallway rules.” He patted the mammoth’s large haunch. “You should’ve chosen Lily for your team this time.”

Lily raised her trunk and trumpeted.

Attila snatched the football from the floor and loomed over Nick. The leader of the Huns glared down at the boy as he shoved the ball toward him. “Neema tanga da mitoo foota wo-halla,” he growled in the long-dead language.

Nick took the ball but held his breath in anticipation. He had no idea what the angry warrior had just said.

“Attila thinks the game would be more challenging if one had to transport a real pig,” Teddy translated. “Instead of a mere pigskin-covered ball.”

The Hun sneered a little longer before bellowing laughter. He tousled the boy’s short brown hair. Relieved, Nick let out his held breath. However, before he could catch another, Attila playfully slapped him on the back—hard. Coughing and doubling over, Nick waved a hand at the Huns as they marched away.

As Nick gasped for air, Teddy put on his hat and long riding gloves. His tan Rough Riders uniform was once again complete. “You know, when I was president, I insisted new rules and regulations be created to make football safer,” said the former president. “Of course, I didn’t have Hun warriors in mind back in 1905.” His iconic toothy grin spread across his face. “Or woolly mammoths, for that matter.”

There was only one place in the world where a former president of the United States could referee a football game played by ancient conquerors and a long-extinct land mammal. It was the same place where an active Mayan civilization sat next to a diorama of ancient Rome—each having inhabitants less than four inches tall. It was the same place where a bronze statue of Christopher Columbus could casually stroll past a giant replica of a stone head from Easter Island—a head that consistently pestered anyone and everyone for chewing gum. There was only one place in the whole world where these kinds of things happened every night. That place was the Museum of Natural History in New York City.

Nick and Teddy headed for the stairways leading from the second floor to the main hall. Like the rest of the museum, the giant foyer was three stories high. Tall columns surrounded and supported the cavernous room. Two sets of marble staircases at the back of the hall led to the second floor. Separate stairs in the back of the second level led to the third. Both second and third floors had railed walkways where visitors could overlook the lobby below. Various other rooms and corridors branched off these walkways. The museum was very big and full of activity.

In the main hall, various historical figures mingled and walked through a zoo of wild animals. A zebra and gazelle trotted past Sacajawea, the Shoshone Indian scout who worked with American explorers Lewis and Clark. She was holding a conversation with two Vikings. Sacajawea wore a beaded buckskin skirt; the Vikings wore heavy furs and held battle-axes. Sacajawea glanced up and waved at Teddy and Nick. Then she and the Vikings sidestepped as a tyrannosaurus rex skeleton lumbered by. Rexy was chasing one of his own fossilized rib bones across the floor. The bone was being dragged by a string connected to a toy dune buggy. Riding in the car’s passenger seat was Octavius, a tiny Roman soldier figurine from the diorama room. A miniature cowboy named Jedediah drove the toy car.

As Teddy and Nick descended the stairs, the car skidded to a stop in front of them. “Look out there, partners,” warned Jed. “Big bony stampede coming through!”

The car’s tiny tires peeled out as it accelerated and drove away. Rexy tromped by, snapping at the bone with his tooth-filled mouth. Both Teddy and Nick ducked as his bony tail whipped overhead.

At the main information desk, the museum’s night guard talked with a real Egyptian pharaoh. The pharaoh, Ahkmenrah, dressed in his shimmering tunic and robes, was the reason all of this was possible. Inside his chamber in the Egyptian wing was a magical gold tablet—the Tablet of Ahkmenrah. It was this tablet that allowed all of the museum’s occupants to come to life every night.

The night guard, dressed in his gray uniform, was the reason why Nick Daley was able to experience the magic of the museum. The night guard was Larry Daley, Nick’s father.

After his parents’ divorce, Nick’s father bounced from job to job, never taking anything too seriously. It was only after getting the night guard job at the museum that Larry finally took charge of his life. He soon left the museum to become the CEO of his own company. However, after many of the exhibits were transferred to the Smithsonian museum in Washington, D.C., Larry set off to rescue them. It was during that adventure that he realized he was happiest as a night guard in the museum. Nick was happiest there, too. He enjoyed hanging out with his dad at the museum. And he had grown quite attached to all the historical figures.

Nick and Teddy approached Nick’s father and the pharaoh.

“Of course you’re welcome to get on the Internet in McPhee’s office,” his dad told the pharaoh. “Just don’t tell the Neanderthals. They’ve barely mastered fire so I think pop-up ads will really freak them out.”

Larry noticed Nick and Teddy. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Hey! So, how was the big game?”

“I won,” said Nick with a smile. “Again.”

“And the Huns didn’t chop the ball in half this time,” added Teddy.

“That’s my boy.” Larry beamed.

“Well, dawn approaches,” Teddy announced. He gave a nod to each of them. “Nicholas, Ahkmenrah, Lawrence.” The former president strode over to his display stand. There, his horse—named Texas—pawed at the floor with one hoof.

“So, Nick, how have you enjoyed your first day of summer vacation?” asked Ahkmenrah.

“My first day was great,” Nick replied. “But my first night was better.”

“Yeah, Nick is going to have to adjust his sleep schedule,” said Larry. “If he’s going to come to work with me every night this summer.”

Ahkmenrah sighed. “Ah, the young can adapt so quickly,” he said. “If I were but a few thousand years younger …”

Nick laughed. Even though the pharaoh was thousands of years old, he looked several years younger than Nick’s father.

Larry checked his watch. “We’re getting close to sunrise,” he told Ahkmenrah. “Will you help me get everyone headed back to their spots?”

“You’d better move them quickly,” Teddy advised. The former president sat on his horse, high atop his display pedestal. He aimed his large binoculars toward the front doors and windows. “We’re about to have company.”

Larry, Nick, and Ahkmenrah dashed to the revolving door and peered through the glass. In the predawn light, they saw a taxicab pull to a stop in front of the museum. A short, heavyset man stepped out. He wore a gray overcoat over a brown suit with a matching bow tie. It was Dr. McPhee, the museum director.

Dr. McPhee knew everything about the museum. He knew all the historical facts about every statue, display, and figure. He knew absolutely everything about each exhibit … except for the small fact that those exhibits came to life at night. Nick swallowed hard. Now the director was going to find out just how special his museum really was.