Lunar Colony (13 page)

Annie had landed
right smack dab in the middle
of the massive crowd of fortune seekers that had gathered at the gates of the Mews mansion in anticipation of the contest announcement.

Everyone stared at Annie: gruff men and stern women, all with wide, judging eyes that said, “
Some adventurer you are! Be gone, young one!”

Annie felt her face turn bright red. She waved her hand and smiled meekly. “Um, hi guys. I’m—

ah—I’m here for the contest?”

Thankfully, Annie’s embarrassment was short-lived. The gate to the Mews mansion was opening! A hush fell over the crowd.

Is this him? Am I going to see him? Am I finally going to meet my hero?

A figure stepped out from behind the mansion gate. Annie frowned. No, it was not Mews. It was a man with the strict appearance of a butler. The
man unrolled a single scroll of paper and loudly hammered it into the mansion’s wooden gate.

The huge crowd continued to gather at the gate, all of them clambering to see what the butler had posted. Annie, smaller than all of them, was able to sneak her way through the crowd.

She saw the scroll nailed to the gate. As she read the words, her face lit up.

Annie grinned. She was right! It
was
a cryptid hunt. More than that, it was a
race!

Murmurs of excitement spread through the thick throng of adventurers. Annie heard the words on their tongues.

“Contest!”

“Cryptid!”

“Race!”

Finally, one of the adventurers called out, “What are we waiting for?! The contest has begun!”

They were off!

Hundreds of adventurers leaped into action, setting off in hopes of finding proof of a cryptid, departing in balloons and boats and helicopters and gyrocopters and big cars and small cars and off-road vehicles and on-road vehicles—everything imaginable!

Annie had hoped to meet Mr. Mews, to talk with him about their mutual love of and belief in the strange creatures classified as cryptids. But to meet him she’d need to win the contest. Annie grinned.
No problemo!

Annie cranked up the heat, and the balloon lifted into the air. Beneath her, she saw that some other contestants’ journeys had already ended:

A bright red hang glider was lodged in a
tree, and its pilot was hanging upside down by a shoelace.

A hot-air balloon not unlike Annie’s had landed on a roof and was deflating fast. The owner of the house was out front, swatting at it with a rake.

A woman stood on the side of the road, hands on her hips, looking at her motorcycle as clouds of smoke billowed out of it.

Annie wondered if the same villain—the
woman behind the control stick of the
Grimlock Glider
—had knocked these rivals out of the contest. Annie ignored the thought.
No time to feel sorry for the competition, I’ve got a contest to win!

Soon, Annie was soaring past the sandy beaches of Bucky Cove and out over the sea. She inhaled the rich aroma of the Atlantic Ocean and smiled. The adventure had begun.

Annie was heading east to Scotland, in hopes of getting a glimpse—and a photograph—of the most legendary cryptid of them all: the Loch Ness Monster.

Seagulls flapped and squawked, confused at the small girl in the big balloon taking up their airspace. One doofy-looking gull landed on the balloon’s ledge.

“Hey there,” Annie said to the doofy seagull, smiling. “You coming for the ride?”

The seagull squawked.

“You sure?” Annie asked, laughing to herself. “You’re more than welcome to join me!”

The seagull’s head cocked to the side, and it looked down to the ocean below. In a flash it
flapped its wings and soared away.

“Guess not.” Annie shrugged.

A moment later, Annie saw the reason for the gull’s sudden departure: There was a speedboat drifting in the water below. It was purple and black with sharp silver lines. Its markings looked to be of the same design as the ones on the jet that had sent Annie spiraling out of control.

Annie floated closer and closer. She saw the words
GRIMLOCK GUNNER
in bright white on the side—beside them, an image of a woman with bug eyes with pink and white hair.

Bananas! It is her!

Annie watched as the cockpit shifted and slid back, revealing the same woman who had piloted the jet.

“Hello there, girl,” the pink-haired woman shouted up to Annie.

Annie scowled and shouted back, “I’m glad to see you down on the water. You shouldn’t be allowed in the sky—you nearly killed me!”

The woman laughed—a high-pitched cackle, like a hyena’s. “Only nearly? Then I failed.”

Annie scowled.
Stupid pink-haired jerk.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” the pink-haired woman continued, “but that million dollars is mine.”

“Well,
I’m
sorry to be the one to tell
you
,” Annie shouted back, “but you’re in a boat, and I’m up in the sky. So there isn’t a whole lot you can do to stop me!”

The pink-haired woman smiled a thin, wicked grin. She leaned forward and pressed a button on the boat’s control panel. Suddenly, the back of the boat began to transform. A metal section slid back, there was a mechanical hum, and something began to rise from inside the boat.

It looked an awful lot like a cannon.

“Blast!” Annie exclaimed.

“Sorry to burst your balloon, but I suspect your first adventure will be your last,” the woman said, reaching down. She was reaching for something . . . pressing something . . .

Uh-oh.