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Lo and behold, it’s RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARC II: LEGEND OF THE FORBIDDEN BURIAL GROUNDS PART 2!

Enjoy, everyone! 😊 For those of you who missed the first installment, go to page one of this topic. 😉

@jessi-rae @daeus-lamb @j-a-penrose @supermonkey42 @karthmin @savannahgrace @maddiejay @catwing @brandon-miller @josiah @anne-of-lothlorien @wordsmith

A woman in a black cowboy hat, mask, pants, and boots burst in like she was ready to go to a funeral—or start one. She tucked a few strands of her flaming red hair into her hat and signaled to whoever was outside. A couple high-heeled boots clomped in, followed by the skipping of some not as high, high-heeled boots.

“Oh no! More girl writers!” Nebraska and Martin groaned.

“I think this place needs a little redecorating. What do you think, girls?” The woman in black leaned against the bar and scanned the room, then pulled out her gun and shot each balloon.

“I can’t bear to look!” Nebraska covered his face.

Martin patted his shoulder. “Don’t fret; they’re just full of hot air!”

“But that’s why I like them!” Nebraska moaned, wishing they could stop the shooting and be done with it rather than having to listen to the slow, high-pitched whistle of each dying balloon.

The woman in black banged the counter, making the bartender jump and drop a glass. “Okay, everyone, hand over your books.”

“And make it quick, will ya? We’re in a hurry.” The highest-heeled woman flung her dark, curly hair over her shoulder.

The bartender opened the register and dumped the novels into a bag.

“Who are they?” Grabber whispered.

Morrow leaned over, keeping her hand near her holster. “I rode with ’em once. That one in black be Hopeless. The curly-haired one be Inkless. And that young one there be Gracie the Kid.”

“Aren’t they the outlaws who staged the great word robbery last November?” Storm asked as Edna nervously twitched her tail. “Writers were scrambling around for weeks trying to hit their NaNoWriMo quota.”

“Yep, they’re the ones.” Morrow guzzled her root beer and wiped her mouth clean with her sleeve. “They know this territory like the back blurb of their books. They’ve been hiding from the law for years, and no one’s ever found their hideout.”

“I bet they know where the arc is.” Cinders crossed her arms.

The book robbers turned to them. “Your turn.”

Savannah gasped. “Oh my gracious! You can’t take my books! I’ll die, I’ll croak, I’ll suffocate, I’ll—”

“Have you finished spouting off all the synonyms for die?” Hopeless yanked Savannah’s coat open, spilling out a bunch of novels.

“And I haven’t even finished those yet.” Savannah sobbed into Morrow’s shoulder.

Storm hauled out a giant stack from her bag. “Here! Take these!”

Savannah gaped. “You’re giving them away?”

Storm shrugged, petting Edna. “Who cares? They were full of typos anyway.”

After gathering all the books in the joint, the book robbers turned to leave. Edna whispered something in Storm’s ear, then Storm addressed the robbers. “How would you like to help us find the negative arc?”

They stopped in their tracks. Hopeless peered at them. “What do you know about the negative arc?”

“I know it can make anyone who has it quite powerful. And we have the clue.” Storm pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.

Hopeless lunged for it, but Storm stuffed the clue in Edna’s mouth, and she ate it.

“What’d you do that for!” Hopeless glared at Storm.

“If you want to find the arc, you’ll have to bring us with you—otherwise no deal.” Storm put her hand on her hip while Edna stuck her tongue out at Hopeless.

Hopeless narrowed her eyes. “Alright then. Follow me.”

Nebraska slumped, following everyone out. “Do we have to go with them? It’s against my convictions to associate with people who don’t appreciate the value of a balloon.”

***

The book robbers led Storm, Nebraska, and all the others out of Snark Valley to an abandoned boarding house in the middle of the desert, which, to Martin’s disappointment, did not have any cake, moldy or otherwise.

“Welcome home, folks!” Inkless banged the door open for them. Three wranglers sat at a table playing poker.

“We got some new recruits,” Hopeless informed them, hanging up her hat.

The wranglers nodded a greeting to the newcomers.

“They call me Four-Ears.” A girl with mouse ears atop her hat extended her hand. “And he’s B. J.” She gestured to a boy in a karate suit.

“I’m Jessi James.” A girl with blonde hair and glasses smiled, then returned to playing.

Hopeless started up the stairs. “Take care of our guests, will ya?”

“You hungry?” Inkless lifted an eyebrow at them, then bellowed, “Hey, Posie! We’ve got company!”

A small lady in a multi-colored apron skipped out carrying the most delicious looking tray of goodies. “I just made a fresh batch of cookies!” She set the tray in front of them. Cinders reached for one, but Posie swiped the tray away and replaced it with a cake stand. “I also baked a double chocolate cake.”

Nebraska drooled, grabbing a plate. But Posie removed the cake before he got the chance to cut a piece. “Hey!” he yelled, knife in hand, as she disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later, she returned with some blueberry muffins, setting one in each of their hands.

“Finally!” Grabber opened her mouth, but the muffin disintegrated in her fingers.

“You don’t think I’d actually let you eat that, now would you?” Posie put her hands on her hips, right pleased with herself.

Inkless snorted. “She’s always doing that—you’ll get used to it.”

Someone pounded on the back door so hard it sounded like a writer banging their head on their desk after a day of not writing.

“Hey, let me in! I have to talk to my adviser!”

“Pennsylvania!” Storm gasped, recognizing the voice.

“Oh boy! Now I’m dead!” Nebraska scanned the area for someplace to hide while the others stampeded to the back door.

“Storm! I’m so glad I found you!” He panted. “You have to hurry—the Indians are on the war path, and they’re headed straight for here!”

TO BE CONTINUED…