In Fear of the Spear Read online

  Praise for The Imagination Station® books

  The jaguar was so cool. I love this book; well, I love them all. I asked my daddy about baptism, and now I want to get baptized because I have already asked Jesus in my heart.

  —Kinley, age 6, Colorado Springs, Colorado

  I really enjoy traveling through time and going on adventures in the Imagination Station. I can’t wait to see where they go in the next book!”

  —Chance, age 8, Congerville, Illinois

  As an MK who grew up in Ecuador (and attended the Nate Saint Memorial School), I have been deeply influenced by the story and people reflected in this book. In Fear of the Spear draws from a powerful, true story of forgiveness. The book combines adventure, intrigue, suspense, tragedy, and joy in a way that will capture and inspire the hearts of young readers.

  —Mary L., mom and editor, Wheaton, Illinois

  Excellent series, inspiring and encouraging for young readers who are building their faith.

  —Terri F., children’s author and mom, Nineveh, Indiana

  My normally reluctant reader devoured [Voyage with the Vikings] and nearly completed two books in one evening. I have never seen him this excited to read!

  —Chandra H., happy mom, League City, Texas

  Lessons on faith and history—all wrapped up in one exciting edge-of-your-seat adventure! Imagination Station scores another home run for young readers.

  —Nancy S., children’s author, Chino, California

  The [Imagination Station] books are really awesome. I hope they write a thousand more! I’m totally gonna read these to my son when I’m a dad. I want to read these books a thousand, million infinity times!

  —Hamish, age 6, Colorado Springs, Colorado

  In Fear of the Spear

  © 2016 Focus on the Family

  ISBN: 978-1-58997-804-1

  A Focus on the Family book published by Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188.

  Focus on the Family and Adventures in Odyssey, and the accompanying logos and designs, are federally registered trademarks, and The Imagination Station is a federally registered trademark of Focus on the Family, 8605 Explorer Drive, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.

  TYNDALE and Tyndale’s quill logo are registered trademarks of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.

  Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Reader’s Version®, NIrV®. Copyright © 1995, 1996, 1998 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of Focus on the Family.

  This is a work of fiction. The scenes in chapter 6 are loosely based on real events. The characters Kimo, Rachel Saint, and Steve Saint are historical people; however, all their dialogue and scenes are drawn from the author’s imagination.

  Cover design by Michael Heath | Magnus Creative

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data for this title is available at http://www.loc.gov.

  ISBN 978-1-4964-0569-2 (ePub); ISBN 978-1-62405-555-3 (Kindle); ISBN 978-1-62405-553-9 (Apple)

  Build: 2015-12-03 16:27:35

  To LKW, BDE, and PEM for believing in me.

  —MKH

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: The Jaguar

  Chapter 2: The Workshop

  Chapter 3: Dr. Silva

  Chapter 4: Aucas

  Chapter 5: Eugene’s Adventure

  Chapter 6: The Yellow Plane

  Chapter 7: Nemo

  Chapter 8: The White Plane

  Chapter 9: The Cockroach

  Chapter 10: Escape

  Chapter 11: The Hollow Tree

  Chapter 12: Crocodile

  Chapter 13: Gaba

  Chapter 14: Reunions

  Chapter 15: The Showdown

  Chapter 16: Palm Beach

  Chapter 17: The Train Whistle

  Appendix

  Questions about In Fear of the Spear

  Prologue

  Doomsday in Pompeii began with Patrick sitting alone in the Imagination Station. Lightning struck Whit’s End. The electricity zapped the machine’s computer. However, the Imagination Station still took Patrick on an adventure, but it gave him the wrong gifts: a saddlebag, bandanas, and a sheriff’s badge.

  But Beth and Eugene didn’t know where Patrick had gone. Beth found some of Whit’s notes about volcanoes and Mount Vesuvius. Eugene figured out that the Imagination Station had sent Patrick to Pompeii.

  Eugene and Beth realized that Patrick could be killed if the volcano erupted. They knew they had to save him. But how?

  In the workshop, Beth uncovered an older version of the Imagination Station. It looked like a car. Eugene programmed it so that she could find Patrick.

  Beth arrived in ancient Pompeii in time to save Patrick from the lava. Then both Imagination Stations appeared.

  Beth ran to the helicopter-like machine that had been struck by lightning. She sat down and then pushed the red button.

  Patrick rushed to the car-like one.

  From Doomsday in Pompeii . . .

  The old Imagination Station felt like riding in a car. It had wild colors spinning on the windshield. Patrick felt as if the machine slowed to a stop.

  Mr. Whittaker’s workshop slowly appeared in front of Patrick.

  “What a ride!” he said as he climbed out.

  Suddenly Eugene was at his side. “Patrick!” he said. “Thank God you’re safe!”

  “That was close,” Patrick said.

  “Where’s Beth?” Eugene asked.

  “She’s in the other Imagination Station,” Patrick replied.

  They raced to the other machine. It sat very still and dark.

  “Oh no,” Eugene said.

  Patrick pushed the button to open the door. Nothing happened.

  “What’s wrong? Where’s Beth?” Patrick asked.

  Eugene groaned and said, “I don’t know.”

  The Jaguar

  Beth stepped out of the Imagination Station.

  She knew one thing right away. She wasn’t at Whit’s End.

  Thick, lush bushes surrounded her. She heard a bird whistle from somewhere above.

  She looked in the direction of the sound. Tall trees seemed to stretch to heaven. They blocked most of the sunshine. Their thick trunks were covered in vines.

  She moved a few yards into a small clearing.

  “Patrick!” she called. “Patrick! Are you here?”

  She listened carefully for an answer. She strained her ears. But all she heard was a lovely mixture of bug, bird, and jungle sounds.

  Water was flowing somewhere close by. Hoots and clicks and buzzing filled her ears. And monkeys chattered. Or was it something else?

  She looked back at the Imagination Station. It was still there.

  “That’s strange,” she whispered. “Usually it disappears right away.”

  Beth suddenly felt cold. The dark shadows of the trees felt spooky. The air was thick with moisture and lingered in her lungs. A large mosquito landed on her hand.

  “Take that!” she said, slapping the insect away.

  In response, she heard leaves rustling behind her. She turned.

  Was that a face in the bushes? She blinked and looked again. The face was gone.

  Grrr. A soft but menacing growl sent chills up her neck.

  Beth turned and saw a jaguar.

  Its fur was golden brown with black splotches. The huge cat perched in the V of a tree trunk. Its long tail flicked quickly.

  Beth thought that it must have ju
st jumped into the tree.

  “Nice kitty kitty,” Beth said, cooing. “I hope you’ve eaten a tasty snack or two today.”

  The cat growled again. Its golden eyes were the color of a glowing jack-o’-lantern.

  Beth had only one hope for safety. But that meant turning her back on the big cat.

  She took a deep breath. Then she pushed through the bushes. She lunged toward the Imagination Station. She stretched out an arm to touch the door.

  But instantly the machine faded. Her hand felt nothing.

  She gasped and stared into the vast jungle.

  The Workshop

  “To the computer!” Eugene cried. He moved quickly to the desk with the laptop. “I’ll check the coordinates of the original Imagination Station.”

  Patrick followed and looked over Eugene’s shoulder.

  Eugene was working hard. He was punching keys and opening and closing websites.

  Once in a while, lightning would strike. A kaboom would shake the building. And then the lights would flicker. The storm reminded Patrick of how all the trouble started.

  “Is she at the World Cup?” Patrick asked. “That’s where I was supposed to be. But then the Imagination Station got zapped and it broke.”

  “I appreciate the suggestion,” Eugene said. “But I took it upon myself to erase that trip before Beth left.”

  “How about the one before that?” Patrick asked.

  Eugene shook his head. He said, “Indeed, I deleted all the adventures. I feared the lightning strike had corrupted them. Both of you should have come back here. It’s the default for both Imagination Stations.”

  “Default?” Patrick asked.

  Eugene stopped typing. He rubbed his forehead. “It was the backup plan,” he said softly. “Beth should be here. That’s what I programmed.”

  Patrick put a hand on his shoulder. “You haven’t lost her,” Patrick said. “She’s just gone somewhere else. Mr. Whittaker will know where she is.”

  “No doubt he would,” Eugene said. “But he’s not answering.” He pushed a cell phone across the desk.

  Patrick picked it up. He opened the phone screen. There were thirty-seven calls to Whit’s cell phone in the last ten minutes.

  “What about Connie?” Patrick asked. “She always knows where Mr. Whittaker is. Or at least it seems like it. Maybe she can tell us.”

  Eugene’s voice trailed off. “Miss Kendall?”

  “Sure,” Patrick said. “Maybe Mr. Whittaker told her where he was going.”

  Patrick slid the phone back to Eugene.

  “It’s worth a try,” Eugene said.

  Beth turned around.

  The jungle cat had leaped into the air. Its front legs were outstretched. She could see its white belly.

  Beth’s heart stopped. Her throat closed with panic. She couldn’t even shout for help.

  Suddenly a shot rang out.

  Bam!

  The cat twisted in midair. It let out a screech at the same time. Ya-rarh!

  Then another shot. Bam!

  The beast landed a few feet from Beth. Then it sprang into the bushes.

  Beth leaned against a tree. She took a few deep breaths, closing her eyes.

  God, she prayed, thanks for saving my life.

  Eugene called Connie Kendall using the computer and a microphone. He turned on the speakers.

  R-r-ring. R-r-ring.

  Connie answered on the third ring.

  “Hey, Eugene,” Connie said.

  “Greetings, Miss Kendall,” Eugene said. “We’re in a rather desperate situation. Do you know the whereabouts of Mr. Whittaker?”

  “This is about Whit?” Connie asked. “You want to know where he is?”

  “Yes, please!” Eugene said.

  “I have no idea,” she said.

  Patrick’s hopes fell. He had been sure Connie would have answers.

  Connie went on, “He was all secretive last time I saw him. I knew he was leaving the state, but that’s it.”

  “So he didn’t give you any contact information? A phone number, perhaps?” Eugene asked.

  “He hasn’t even sent a text,” Connie said. “He’s probably off somewhere fishing. He may have turned off his phone. He wouldn’t want the phone to scare the bait or anything.”

  “You mean scare the fish,” Eugene said. “Have a wonderful afternoon.”

  “Wait a minute!” Connie said. “What’s the desperate situation you’re in? Can I help?”

  “It’s too complicated to explain right now,” Eugene said.

  Patrick decided to cut in. He leaned closer to the microphone.

  “Where did Mr. Whittaker go on his last trip in the Imagination Station?” he asked. His voice was a bit shaky.

  “Hi Patrick,” Connie said. “Your voice sounds funny. This is Patrick, right?”

  Patrick cleared his throat. “Ummm . . . yeah,” he said. “Hi.”

  “Whit went to measure the temperature of molten lava,” Connie said.

  Eugene took over. “Do you remember anything about his trips before the lava?”

  “Not really,” Connie said. “He said he was programming adventures just for him. He said they were too dangerous for me, at least while he was testing.”

  Eugene suddenly sat upright. “Too dangerous for you?” he said. Then he softly added, “Beth, what have we done to you?”

  Patrick sucked in his breath.

  Connie sighed. “All I know is that he bought a new laptop. That was a week ago,” she said. “He said something about meeting a great saint. Oh, and something about a quarter.”

  “Which saint, Miss Kendall?” Eugene asked. “Could you possibly be precise?”

  “Sorry,” Connie said. “There are dozens of them, aren’t there?”

  Eugene sighed.

  Patrick asked, “What was the quarter about?”

  “Yikes,” Connie said, “my roof is leaking! I’ve got to get a bucket. I’m sorry I don’t know any more. Can I let you guys go?”

  “Yes,” Eugene said. “We’ll attempt—”

  Patrick heard a click. The call was over.

  Dr. Silva

  Beth saw a man step through the bushes a few seconds later.

  He stared at Beth through large-rimmed glasses.

  Beth stared back.

  The man was wearing clothes that were sort of normal. They appeared to be American. But they were out of date.

  She looked at her own outfit. Her clothes were like his: khaki pants and long-sleeved, white cotton shirts. Each of them wore a vest.

  But there was one main difference. The man held a rifle.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Beth said. “I thought for sure the jaguar was going to attack me.”

  The man raised a finger to his lips. Beth knew he wanted her to be quiet.

  She nodded and watched him silently.

  He squatted and looked at the paw prints the large cat had made. Then he studied the leaves on the nearby bushes. He crawled a few feet into the bushes. Then he came back and brushed off his pants.

  “Did the bullets hit the jaguar?” he whispered.

  Beth leaned in close to him. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It jerked in midair and screeched.”

  “There’s only a little blood,” he said quietly.

  Beth felt relieved that the cat was only nicked. She had been afraid of the jaguar. But she didn’t want it hurt.

  “I’m Beth,” she said in hushed tones.

  He looked at Beth and gave a faint smile. “I’m Dr. Silva,” he said.

  Beth smiled back.

  “Are you a hunter?” she whispered.

  “Sort of,” he said softly. “I’m a botanist. I hunt for rare plants. Who’s Patrick? I heard you shouting his name.”

  “My cousin,” Beth said.

  “We need to find him and go,” he whispered. “This place is dangerous. Your shouts and the rifle shots were loud. The noises must have alerted the Aucas.”

  “Aucas?” Beth
asked.

  Dr. Silva’s eyes grew large as if in wonder.

  “You must know about them,” Dr. Silva said. “I think they’re savages. They killed dozens of Shell Oil workers a few years ago.”

  Beth shook her head.

  She heard a mosquito buzz her ear. A monkey swung through the trees above them. Colorful birds hopped from branch to branch.

  She saw movement in the bushes. Had the jaguar come back? she wondered.

  Dr. Silva said, “Hurry! Let’s go!” He spread the bushes with his rifle. He rushed headlong into the jungle where the Imagination Station had been. Then suddenly he fell facedown.

  His rifle slipped out of his hands. It landed several feet away from him.

  Beth noticed an odd-looking white bag at Dr. Silva’s feet. She decided he must have tripped. She heard a noise and looked up.

  “Ummm, do Aucas carry long spears?” she asked. She wanted to make sure before she panicked.

  Dr. Silva moaned. “Yes,” he said. “They can throw them hard and on target.” He pushed himself to his knees.

  “And long blowguns?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Dr. Silva said. “They hunt small animals with poison darts. The blowguns shoot more than a hundred feet away.” He was squatting now.

  “I think you should look up,” Beth said.

  “Why?” Dr. Silva asked.

  “Aucas,” Beth whispered. “Complete with spears and blowguns. And they don’t wear much clothes.”

  Dr. Silva stood. He looked up at the men surrounding them. He moaned again. “Savages kill on sight,” he said. “We’re done for.”

  Aucas

  Eugene was typing quickly into the computer. “Here’s a list of great saints,” he said. “We’ll just have to find one who lived in a dangerous place.”

  “Didn’t most of the saints live in boring old churches?” Patrick asked. He was standing behind Eugene. “I thought all they did was pray.”