Temple Run Book Two Run for Your Life: Doom Lagoon Read online

  “You’re a hero!” Barry Bones slaps you on the back. Somehow you manage to keep hold of the mask. In the hotel lobby, you tell him all about how Scarlett behaved at the temple.

  Barry just nods, like you’re confirming his suspicions. “She’s really slippery, that Scarlett,” he says. “Now, what about you?”

  You look at the mask in your hands. It feels like it’s staring back at you. Judging you.

  “This deserves to be in a museum,” you say reluctantly, handing Barry the mask. “That’s the safest place.”

  Barry grins. “Like I said, bud. You’re a hero.”

  You call your parents to tell them the good news. You’ll fly home tomorrow. Retelling your adventures, you get the feeling they don’t quite believe you. You can’t blame them. It’s been an incredible couple of days.

  Months later, you take some friends to see the mask in the museum. It looks stunning in its new glass case. There’s a little plaque with your name on it, explaining that you donated it. You tell your friends all about the wild expedition when you rescued the mask from an ancient temple. None of them believes you.

  Ah well. Even if nobody else believes you, you know what you’ve done. But then you start thinking. What didn’t you do? What other adventures might have been waiting for you if you’d made a few different choices?

  RUN AGAIN?

  Seeing you beside him, Silva speeds up. The spray from his tires stings your eyes and you cough up dirty water. That’s it. You’re not letting him get away from you now.

  You rev the dinghy’s engine as hard as you can. It starts spluttering thick black smoke. Silva swerves toward another islet, but you manage to keep on his tail. Faster. Faster.

  Too fast! The engine overheats and bursts into flames. You jump back, startled, and lose control of the dinghy.

  The vessel swerves out of control and crashes into a tree.

  Oops! Who left that there?

  RUN AGAIN?

  OR JUST GO BACK?

  You and Guy follow the monkey farther inland. It swings nimbly from treetop to treetop, but always stays in view. When you fall into a gator hole and Guy spends a minute explaining its features before pulling you free, the monkey waits in the nearest tree for you to catch up.

  “Maybe it’s a friendly monkey,” you suggest. “Aren’t there stories of dolphins helping castaways back safely to land?”

  “You can’t trust a dolphin,” Guy says. “I’d rather swim with sharks any day. Hey, did you watch that episode of Whatever It Takes where I punched a tiger shark?”

  You follow the monkey into a thick clump of mangroves. Pushing quickly between the scaly trunks, you stumble into another clearing. The ground here is trodden and hard. A grove of trees encircles you like a high, curving wall. Eyes stare out from every tree. You can hear the chattering of high-pitched monkey voices.

  Guy looks around at them with interest. “This is unusual behavior for monkeys,” he says. “It’s almost like they’ve got us surrounded.”

  You have to agree. “This place looks like an arena,” you whisper.

  That’s the last clever thought you have. The monkeys swoop down from overhead, knocking you and Guy to the ground.

  You’ve been so busy wondering what monkeys drink, you haven’t given any thought to what they eat. Here’s a clue: they eat anything careless enough to follow them home. Is that a bit hard to swallow? Let’s hope you make a leathery meal!

  RUN AGAIN?

  OR JUST GO BACK?

  You drop the bucket and right away you can feel yourself lift in the mud. Soon your feet are coming away easily from the soggy bottom of the swamp. You splash through the water and make it back to shore with all your limbs intact. The gator lurking behind you seems to lose interest. Maybe it sees Guy standing above you, clapping his hands together, ready for a wrestle. Even a gator knows not to mess with Guy Dangerous.

  “So much for the easy option,” Guy says, helping you up onto your feet. “Let’s get hiking. I’ve got a killer thirst coming on.”

  Head to this page.

  Using rocks from the water’s edge, you help to smash open the log, exposing the waxy combs of the hive within. Bees swarm all around you. You wince, waiting for the first sting.

  “Wake up,” Guy says. “We’re still alive and kicking. Mason bees only sting if you squash them.”

  He tears big chunks of honeycomb from the hive and hands them over to you. Honey oozes warm and sticky between your fingers. Your stomach gurgles with delight.

  Pulling a lunch box from his backpack, Guy also collects three frogs he finds beneath the log. You hear them thumping around inside the box the whole walk back to camp.

  “You’ve never eaten roast frog?” Guy says, astonished. “You haven’t lived!”

  “What does it taste like?” you ask.

  “It tastes like frog. A bit like Mexican Walking Fish, maybe. But mainly, it tastes like frog.”

  You fall asleep with a full stomach to the sound of light rain pattering on the tent canvas.

  When Guy wakes you at first light, the rain has become a flood. The waters of the swamp have risen up into the tent. Your socks are floating around beside your air mattress. You’ve been awake ten seconds and you’re already cold and damp.

  Not that this matters to Guy, who throws open the tent flap. “Treasure awaits!” he declares. “This is when things get really exciting.”

  Run to this page.

  With a lot of effort, you push open the door. The stone grinds and shivers on its massive hinge. Cool air rushes out to greet you. It’s been a long time since anyone walked these floors.

  So far, so good. You can make out some hieroglyphs on the wall. Engraved pictures of people, er, dying horribly. Seems this temple was once used for all kinds of cruel and violent acts.

  “Those ancient people really were nasty to each other,” you mutter to yourself.

  As it turns out, those ancient people were pretty nasty to strangers, too. As you step forward, a paving stone shifts beneath your feet. A large circular blade swings out from the wall, slashing at you. This is no time to lose your head!

  You’re too stunned to duck. All you can do is close your eyes …

  Nothing happens.

  The blade has jammed! The ancient mechanism must be rusty. You can measure the distance from its razor edge to your nose with the tip of one finger.

  “Missed by that much,” you say, wiping sweat from your forehead. Carefully, you squeeze around the edge of the blade.

  But in doing so, you trigger another trap. The floor opens and you tumble into a concealed pit of—soft cushions? Oh. No, these aren’t cushions. You’ve fallen into a teeming mess of huge, angry black ants—and they haven’t eaten in a long time.

  Ants, you think as they start to feast on your juicy skin. Why did it have to be ants?!

  RUN AGAIN?

  As you stand there, looking for another way down the mountain, the demon monkey picks up a large stone and throws it at you.

  “Hey!” you shout, diving for the dirt.

  The boulder thuds into the ground beside your head. As you struggle to your feet, the demon monkey throws another. This one grazes your shoulder, spinning you around. “Oof!”

  You wait to be clobbered by the next one. Lucky for you, the demon monkey has run out of rubble. Looking for another stone, it jumps up onto the ruins of the temple and hurries across to the back wall.

  OK, so the demon monkey is the biggest you’ve ever seen. That doesn’t mean it’s the smartest. It pulls at the largest stone in the wall and is still pulling when the river bursts through the wall. The demon monkey goes flying.

  No longer diverted by the temple’s rear wall, the river thunders through the ruins, heading straight for you.

  You don’t even bother trying to run. Within seconds, you’re smacked by a solid wall of water. Somehow you manage to keep hold of the mask and grab onto a fallen tree. The river washes over you, roaring down the overgrown path and doing
its best to take you with it.

  To try pulling yourself out of the river, go to this page.

  To let yourself get carried away, go to this page.

  You grab the ladder just as the floor collapses beneath you. Guy runs on down the other corridor. You can hear him cheering as he vaults another fallen girder.

  “See you up on deck!” he says.

  You start climbing the ladder and immediately discover that the rungs are solid, but the wall behind them isn’t. A few bolts pull away like bad teeth and the ladder swings free, clobbering you between the eyes. The floor collapses beneath you and you tumble down into the dark belly of the wreck.

  You’re unconscious before you hit the water. Someone should report this safety violation!

  RUN AGAIN?

  OR JUST GO BACK?

  You chase Guy up and down sloping corridors. Ducking, weaving, and sliding. He’s soon kicking in a door marked Cargo Hold.

  The door crashes from its rotten hinges, opening into a huge chamber. The air in here tastes like pond water.

  Guy checks his watch. “Five minutes,” he says. “Give or take.”

  In the center of the hold are two massive piles of suitcases and crates, each wrapped in a rope net. The nets look thick. How long will it take to cut through them?

  You hurry toward them but Guy grabs your shoulder. “Hear that?”

  The ship creaks and groans, like it’s trying to warn you about something. Beneath all that groaning, there’s something else. A faint rattle, like rice in a plastic cup.

  “What is it?” you ask.

  “That’s a rattlesnake.” Guy whistles. “Deadly. Diamondback, from the sound of it. If one of those sinks its teeth in, you’ve got a quarter of an hour to get help.”

  “Snake?!” you say. “I hate snakes!”

  The rattle echoes around the shadowy hull, making it impossible to tell exactly where the snake is.

  Guy presses forward into the center of the room. You follow gingerly, checking your step. Both nets contain battered cases plastered with stamps from exotic destinations. On the left, these cases are piled atop boxes marked for New York. On the right, the luggage sits on crates of coffee beans destined for Florida. Searching either pile will take two pairs of hands.

  “Which one do you want to try first?” Guy says urgently.

  To look for the mask in the Florida pile, race to this page.

  To go through the New York stack, dash over to this page.

  You close your eyes and duck down into the cart. You hear the whirr of the wheel, feel the rush of the wind, and hope you’ve timed this right.

  You haven’t. Whoops!

  The wheel’s sharp spokes slice you into pieces that will, at least, be easy to send home. You’ll definitely save on postage!

  RUN AGAIN?

  OR JUST GO BACK?

  At last, you reach the roof. You see now that the mountain rises higher than the temple. The river starts somewhere near the very top. Once, it probably washed straight down the mountain. Whoever built the temple erected a large stone wall to deflect it down the rock face instead, as a waterfall.

  You cup your eyes against the glaring sun and peer up, looking for the river’s source. Is that some kind of cave, farther up the mountain? You can see a rocky ledge, piled with … are those bones? You think about those demon monkey legends again.

  You climb to the highest point of the roof. There is a large round hole set into it, through which the sun is directed into the temple in a clear, brilliant stream.

  You peer down, casting your shadow across a broad stone floor that is engraved with circular patterns. In the center is a simple stone altar. And on the altar, at the exact point where the sun touches down—can it be? A golden mask!

  You’ve found it!

  You’re so excited that it takes you several moments to realize that it’s a huge drop down to the altar. You might be able to swing down through the hole and climb across the ceiling, but one false move and you’re temple pizza.

  To swing down through the hole, turn to this page.

  To climb down the mountain and use the front door instead, head to this page.

  You run and slide along steep, sloping corridors. Around you, panels flap loose from walls and ceilings bulge. You hop and skip up sagging staircases, your legs splashing through the rising water. Twice the floor gives way, but each time you leap and keep running.

  Finally, you reach the top deck. Again, the ship rocks. You cling to a railing, thinking this is it. This time, the wreck really is going to collapse into the swamp.

  When nothing happens, you look around for a way down to the muddy banks.

  It’s raining too heavily to see more than a few feet ahead of yourself. There’s no chance of zip-lining down into the swamp. You can barely see any trees.

  Looking around for a way out, you notice an ancient lifeboat hanging from a girder overhead. You call out to Guy. “Can we use that?”

  “Yeah!” he says, delighted. “Drop down into the swamp, you think?”

  The fact that Guy seems so enthusiastic gives you second thoughts.

  You crawl up to the portside of the ship and peer down at the swamp. The water is coming up so fast that you won’t have time to lower yourself down with the pulley. It’s a drop of at least ten yards.

  To take the lifeboat, anyway, go to this page.

  If you’d rather head back into the wreck and find a way out through a hole in the side, run to this page.

  You and Barry land, sprawling on the rocky ground. Your cart rockets into the spinning wheel.

  A crossbow bolt thuds into the ground beside you. This is no time for lying around. In the moonlight, you can see another opening in the rock face. You point it out to Barry. “We can take shelter there!” you say as he drags himself up.

  Ziiiiip! Another bolt flies by your right ear.

  “Let’s go!” Barry huffs.

  You dash to the opening and collapse against the cave wall, out of breath. You shine your flashlight deeper inside. It’s a dead end. Turns out this is just a hollow in the rock face, but it does contain a dozen cases of dynamite. This must be where the miners stored their explosives.

  Looking back outside, you can still see crossbow bolts sticking out of the ground like stubby saplings.

  “Hey, can you hear that?” whispers Barry.

  The demon monkey men are chanting, but after a moment you can hear something else, too. Is that water? You shine your flashlight across the rock face at the back of the cave. Sure enough, water is streaming down from a gap in the ceiling. You can see a narrow chasm up there, leading through to a tunnel above.

  Barry peers up. “It’s too narrow for me, but you might just squeeze through.”

  Might? You don’t like the sound of that.

  Barry sees you looking worried. “Hey, no sweat. Maybe we can widen the gap and both get through. I’ll just grab some of that dynamite.”

  Dynamite sounds cool. To move on with a bang, dash to this page.

  To go it alone, head to this page.

  “Lucky I got you away from there, buddy. That boat was bad news.”

  Barry Bones is driving you back to the island’s only town. Spray from the swamp flares in the headlights of his buggy.

  You ask him what he means by bad news.

  “Your friend Scarlett isn’t who she says she is. She doesn’t work for a museum. She’s a spy!”

  Huh. That seems kind of exciting. “Who is she spying for?” you ask.

  “That’s what I’m trying to work out. All I know is, it’s some big-shot corporation. We’re talking serious money. Word is, they want that mask for its special properties.”

  “What special properties?”

  Barry gives you a weird look. “Let’s just say people get a bit … strange around it.”

  You’re full of questions, but there’s only one you care about. “Do you really know where the mask is?”

  “You bet I do. The mask was on that b
oat of yours, but thieves beat you to it a long time ago.”

  Your heart sinks. That wreck has been there for decades. Never mind demon monkeys, thieves have had time enough to find it, strip its treasures, and send them anywhere on the planet. For all you know, the mask is hanging on some private collector’s wall on the other side of the world.

  Barry seems to read your mind. “Cheer up. My info tells me the robbers didn’t get far. They stashed the mask in a nearby mine. I’m not going down there solo. You still want to come with me?”

  You glance back. You’re sad about missing the wreck but can’t help feeling this cop is telling the truth. “I’m with you,” you say.

  The mine is set into a flat-topped hill. The path to the entrance is so overgrown that you and Barry have to leave the buggy halfway up the slope and hack your way through.

  To your left, a pulley system takes cartons of coal away down the hill—or did, before the mine was abandoned. At your feet, rusty rail tracks lead into darkness, through a narrow entrance framed by wooden rafters.

  You switch on your pocket flashlight. The dark mine seems to swallow up its light. The middle of the night probably isn’t the best time to be exploring somewhere like this. And wait—did those bushes over there just rustle? Is someone watching you?

  You have a really bad feeling about this.

  Barry is getting impatient. “You coming or not?”

  Some strange gravity is pulling you away from the entrance. Maybe it’s that curse Silva spoke about. Entering the mine feels like walking into a haunted house.

  But hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? You’ve come this far …