Thelonius and Celeste ducked down behind the stoves as a pair of Nazi soldiers thundered through the kitchen. The instant they were gone, Thelonius popped up to rummage through the kitchen drawers. He softly hooted in delight when he found a tray of silverware, and he immediately tamped a pouch of black powder into his blunderbuss and crammed a handful of forks in after it.

“What are you doing?” Celeste demanded. “They’re going to be back any minute, and you’re stealing silverware?”

“I am not pilfering, madam. I am preparing a mighty weapon which will strike supernatural terror into our enemy’s hearts, just as it did before.”

“You fire that thing again inside this zeppelin and you could blow us all up, you know.”

Ignoring her, Thelonius jammed in a cloth plug to seal the blunderbuss charge, and his weapon was then fully ready for action.

As he scooped more silverware into his pocket for later use, he noticed a set of dials. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he gave one a twist. Nothing happened. He gave the others a twist, but he still noticed no effect. Then he saw that a red light blazed within a small chamber beneath the knob. When he opened the door to the small chamber, heat washed over his face. He could see no open flames, only two red bars glowing like miniature suns.

“Amazing,” Thelonius’s brows furrowed in concentration. “The Na-Tzee tribe must worship fire, and this must be a religious altar.”

“It’s an oven,” Celeste commented dryly.

Thelonius nodded. “I will remember that in your primitive language, the word ‘oven’ is synonymous with ‘altar.’ But there is no more time for this. What we need is a distraction…”

A devious idea struck the chimp-man’s brain, and his domed lips pulled back into a smile. Swiftly, he took out one of the gourds in which he carried his blasting powder. He popped it inside the oven and closed the door.

“What was that?” Celeste eyed the oven suspiciously. “Is this how you gorillas cook supper?”

“A distraction, my dear monkey-woman,” Thelonius grabbed her wrist and led her at a run out the door. The gourd would insulate the powder for a short time, but soon the heat of the oven would cause it to explode. Fire, shrapnel, noise—it would make an entirely satisfying distraction.

“By the way,” Thelonius asked as they dashed through the hallway. “Earlier you said I shouldn’t fire my blunderbuss inside this zeppelin. Why was that?”

“Well, because it’s a blimp,” Celeste said as if he would know what that meant. “It floats because it’s filled with an explosive gas, for crying out loud. If there’s a leak somewhere and you make so much as a spark—BOOM! The whole stinkin’ place could burn to a cinder and fall right outa the sky.”

Thelonius peered back over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, where his gunpowder-packed gourd was currently roasting in an oven.

“Oh dear,” he allowed.

Thelonius tried to keep his hands steady on his blunderbuss as he stared down the Nazis. Humans, he realized, looked a bit more like chimpanzees than he would have cared to admit, which would make shooting them in cold blood feel too much like murder. He prayed that these primitive savages would have the sense to recognize his superior weapon and back down.

No such luck.

They chattered rapidly at him in their strange, fricative-laden language and then one of them suddenly lunged at Thelonius’s throat with his knife. Now it wasn’t a question of murder, it was a question of self defense, and his finger seemed ready to pull the trigger of its own accord.

With a boom and a cloud of grey smoke, a pattern of tiny black holes opened up across the soldier’s chest and the wall behind him. The other soldier, evidently unaware that Thelonius’s weapon held only one charge, turned and ran down the hall, shouting for his peers.

“You shot a gun inside a zeppelin?” The female hollered at him. “What kind of crazy monkey are you?”

“I am no monkey, madam, I am a chimpanzee,” Thelonius decided to be forgiving because the poor thing was no doubt frightened by the loud bang and flash of his highly advanced weapon. Still, manners must be considered. “A thank-you might be in order, as I just saved you from your enemies. My name is Thelonius, and you, if I may be so bold, are named Celeste?”

The female’s eyes widened in amazement.

“Professor Limefellow informed me of your name,” he explained in hopes that she wouldn’t be too in awe of his more highly evolved mind. Humans, he had observed, were notoriously superstitious creatures and he didn’t want any of them to start worshipping him as some kind of god.

Boot-falls and angry voices echoed down the hallway.

“We gotta scram,” Celeste said as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into a run. In his opinion, this was a most impertinent and un-ladylike action, but it seemed best to follow her nonetheless.

Their aimless dash took them into the ship’s mess hall, where they took cover behind a row of ovens. Their pursuers sounded like they were everywhere behind them, but Thelonius needed a moment to catch his breath. Celeste seemed none the worse for their short sprint, by which Thelonius surmised that her long human legs were better adapted for running than his. Perhaps human beings were not inferior to chimp-kind in every way.

“What was your plan, monkey man?” Celeste whispered to him.

“Your kind more closely resembles monkeys than mine,” Thelonius bridled. “To answer your question: I gained access to this vessel by climbing the tether. Unless you can climb down a few hundred feet of swaying rope, we will need to find another route.”

Although this military zeppelin was much larger than the luxury airship she once took from Hollywood to New York, Celeste was beginning to discover that it lacked all of the amenities of its civilian counterpart. The interior hallways were lit by naked bulbs instead of elegant electrical lamps. The deck was bare metal instead of plush carpet. The chairs were hard and rigid instead of soft and cushioned. The worst thing, aside from the pervading smell of oil and iron, was the color scheme, which couldn’t even be called a color scheme because everything was gray. The walls were battleship gray, the floors were gunmetal gray, and the uniforms were storm-cloud gray. The only thing that wasn’t gray was the commandant, who wore all black from his leather hat down to his polished boots.

“Why are you here?” von Wartenburg demanded. He spoke in English, his words showing almost no accent and even less emotion.

“I’m here because your goons grabbed me in the jungle and, listen, none of this is our fault. It was those monsters out in the jungle that killed your men when all we wanted was—”

“Silence,” von Wartenburg barked.

“But it wasn’t our fault! That bigger monster that came after me didn’t like my screaming. Also, there was a bear. Did I mention the bear?”

“SILENCE.” This time von Wartenburg spoke in that strange language of his, the one that he had used on Celeste in the cargo bay to force her to drop her knife. Just like before, she understood it perfectly even though she had never heard the word until that moment. Also like before, she was powerless to resist the command. She tried to protest, but when she opened her mouth she could not make even a squeak.

“I had hoped that your physical beauty indicated superior breeding,” von Wartenburg said with all the emotion of a doctor discussing birth defect statistics. “But now I see that you lack the intelligence of a common sow.”

While she worked her jaw in mute frustration, he pushed back from the desk and strode to the window, a small porthole that overlooked the ancient city below. Grabbing a desktop microphone, he spoke commands that were echoed across the jungle through the zeppelin’s PA system. When he was satisfied that his soldiers below were carrying out his orders, he set down the microphone and strode to a decorative glass case containing a selection of German-made pistols.

Celeste strained against the invisible strings that seemed to bind her larynx. “Aa…,” she managed. “Aaaa…”

It was hardly louder than the squeak of a mouse, but it made von Wartenburg’s eyes widen a fraction of an inch. With such an impassive face, he might have made a great poker player, but Celeste had studied human expression for too many years to miss the clue. It told her that von Wartenburg was surprised she was able to get out any sound at all. Although she had uttered nothing more than a syllable, it proved that she could resist his sorcery and defy his will.

This is an ongoing story about a lost world of hungry dinosaurs, sinister villains, and non-stop action. If you’re new to Hollow Earth Expedition, I suggest starting at the beginning.

The other soldier backed off, raising his palms to show submission. Her hostage made a timid attempt to break free, but Celeste held the steel point against the soldier’s Adam’s apple and felt his body go rigid in fear.

“Okay, now what?” She asked herself, knowing that they didn’t understand English and trying to keep the tremor in her voice to a minimum. “Let me think. Let me think—okay, I got it. You,” she laid the flat of the blade against soldier’s throat and pulled him backwards, closer to the exit hatch. “You must know how to fly that plane out there. You’re going to buzz us out to safety. And then—then we’ll trade you for Jack. A prisoner exchange. That should work. After that, I can get in the drilling machine and just go home—”

She stopped when she saw a figure looming in the doorway behind the other soldier. This new person was silhouetted against the hallway behind him, but Celeste could see that he was over six feet tall, with a sweeping black coat and an officer’s cap.

The second soldier turned to the figure in the doorway. “C-commandant…” He stammered in surprise and terror. Celeste shrank backwards, instinctively afraid. This must surely be von Wartenburg, the man who struck supernatural fear into the hearts of the slaves throughout the city below—not to mention his own troops.

Von Wartenburg backhanded the soldier nearest him as casually as one might swat at a fly. The smaller man crumpled to the metal deck, holding the side of his bruised face with a quivering and unsteady hand. Like a well-trained dog, he would not rise until his master gave him permission.

The commandant took a single step forward into the cargo bay, his heavy boot producing a resounding thud on the deck. Light from the portholes now illuminated his face, allowing Celeste to see that his grey eyes looked to be made of steel while his square jaw might have been cut from stone for all the emotion it displayed. A thin fencing scar ran down his right cheek, so old now it was hardly visible. He seemed to be a man in his forties, but with an athletic physique that served to amplify the menace of his black uniform.

“Drop the knife,” he said in cold, precise English.

Celeste tightened her fingers around the pommel and pressed the tip deeper into her prisoner’s neck. She knew perfectly well that without that knife and without that hostage, she would have nothing between her and von Wartenburg.

“RELINQUISH,” von Wartenburg said again. This time, he didn’t speak in English, and it wasn’t German, either. Celeste wasn’t sure what language it was, and yet she understood the meaning deeply, intuitively, the way a person understands fear and love without words because they come from a place deeper than words can take root.

With all her might, Celeste gripped the knife, clinging to it as if it were her own life. But when von Wartenburg spoke that one resounding word, her fingers uncurled and the blade clattered to the deck.

Don’t miss any of the pulse pounding action! Get all the episodes of this story delivered to your inbox each month by subscribing to my free ezine!

Hollow Earth Expedition was created by Jeff Combos and is property of Exile Game Studio. For more Hollow Earth Expedition action, check out ExileGames.com

This is an ongoing story about a lost world of hungry dinosaurs, sinister villains, and non-stop action. If you’re new to Hollow Earth Expedition, I suggest starting at the beginning.

In what had begun as nothing more than a game to gain Celeste’s attention, the two young zeppelin stewards swiftly escalated their fight until they came to open blows and shouted insults. In the cramped confines of the cargo bay, this became a danger to them all, and Celeste had to maneuver to avoid being smashed by stray elbows and missed kicks.

Maybe they’ll knock each other cold, Celeste dared to hope. Then I’d be able to sneak out of here and… and what? She wasn’t sure—if she lowered herself down on the platform that had delivered her to the zeppelin, she be back at the command outpost, surrounded by angry Nazis. She might take the short catwalk that led to the scout plane attached to the belly of the zeppelin, but she couldn’t fly it. Unless she convinced one of these two lugs to pilot the plane for her, she was stuck no matter what the outcome of their scuffle.

Before she could decide what to do, the dark-haired soldier grabbed the red-haired one by the lapels of his uniform and flung him back towards the far wall, right where Celeste happened to be standing. She had only a split second to get out of the way, and when she attempted to twist out of the way she found her escape path blocked by a rack of food canisters.

The poorly-aimed soldier smashed into her, his back to her chest, crushing her against a stack of wooden casks that smelled like sauerkraut. The collision knocked the breath out of both of them, but, miraculously, she was the first to recover.

Her hand dropped to his belt, found his knife, and drew it forth. The soldier attempted to pull away but she pressed into his back, bringing the tip of his blade to the soft skin of his throat.

“From now on,” she declared, “no one typecasts me as the slave-girl. Got it?”

Don’t miss any of the pulse pounding action! Get all the episodes of this story delivered to your inbox each month by subscribing to my free ezine!

Hollow Earth Expedition was created by Jeff Combos and is property of Exile Game Studio. For more Hollow Earth Expedition action, check out ExileGames.com

This is an ongoing story about a lost world of hungry dinosaurs, sinister villains, and non-stop action. If you’re new to Hollow Earth Expedition, I suggest starting at the beginning.

Two strapping young soldiers awaited her inside the zeppelin cargo bay. One was a squat, dark-haired fellow who hauled in the cargo platform upon which she rode. The other soldier, a fresh-faced lad with a distinct reddish tinge to his close-cropped hair, graciously offered a hand as if he were asking for a dance at a royal ball.

Now this is more like it, Celeste thought. Down below, none of the Nazis had offered her anything other than harsh glares. Perhaps these young men were more courteous due to better parenting. Or, she mused, perhaps they were less bullying simply because they lacked the machineguns. The only weapons she saw here were the military daggers strapped to their hips—Celeste knew from her stint as Kidnap Victim #3 in Reggie Spark’s disastrous flop Charge of the Lighter-Than-Air Brigade that firearms aboard a zeppelin would be safely stowed in a locked armory. The thought was comforting.

Celeste gratefully accepted the red-haired soldier’s help down onto the relatively stable deck plate. Evidently, this didn’t please the dark-haired zeppelin-steward, who scowled at his partner while offering Celeste a cigarette.

“Thank you, but I don’t smoke,” she said, looking at the limp cigarette in his outstretched hand. It was slightly bent and looked like it might have been caught out during a rainstorm.

She had hoped the courteousness of her refusal would be understood across the language barrier, but the soldier’s scowl only deepened. Too late, she realized that cigarettes would certainly be rationed among the soldiers and probably prized more highly than a week’s pay.

The red-haired soldier beamed triumphantly and then produced a small, paper-wrapped parcel. The moment he unwrapped it, a heavenly aroma of sugar, buttery richness suffused the air.

“Chocolate…” Celeste whispered, her soul momentarily transported by the mere fragrance of it.

With a wink, the soldier unsheathed his knife to cut off a small chunk. When he handed it to Celeste, her mouth watered and her stomach growled, and she realized that she hadn’t eaten in hours, or maybe a day (who could tell in this land of eternal daylight?). Even so, she dared take no more than a mouse-nibble for fear that it would not last. She rolled the tiny bite around with her tongue, coating every inch of her mouth, and closed her eyes so that she might fold her entire being around the taste.

When she opened her eyes, she saw that the red-headed soldier was smiling proudly but the other soldier was glaring with undisguised rage. When they turned to lead her out of the hold, the second soldier jostled the first, knocking him off course with his shoulder. It might have been an accident, but the red-headed soldier knew better, and he retaliated with a more blatant shove.

Without another word, the two were suddenly locked in a standing wrestling match, each trying to drive the other into the metal bulkhead.

Celeste wanted to pry them apart and scold them for fighting over her. Then she remembered that they were Nazis.

“Oh, please, don’t fight over little ol’ me,” she said with absolutely no conviction. Then she bit off another nugget of chocolate and settled in to watch the show.

Don’t miss any of the pulse pounding action! Get all the episodes of this story delivered to your inbox each month by subscribing to my free ezine!

Hollow Earth Expedition was created by Jeff Combos and is property of Exile Game Studio. For more Hollow Earth Expedition action, check out ExileGames.com

This is an ongoing story about a lost world of hungry dinosaurs, sinister villains, and non-stop action. If you’re new to Hollow Earth Expedition, I suggest starting at the beginning.

The shove from the lantern-jawed lieutenant almost made Celeste fall to the ground. It was hard enough walking in her new, oversized boots without Nazi bullies pushing her around. They were not forgiving about what had happened out in the jungle, even though she kept telling them it wasn’t her fault: the one soldier had been stabbed by a spear before she even got to the scene, and the other had been eaten by a dinosaur. Yet nothing she said made a difference: the Nazis just weren’t interested in being open-minded.

At least they had offered her one kindness: a change of clothing. When she had arrived in the command post, the lieutenant had shoved a bundled-up gray uniform into her arms and pointed to a bush which was to serve as her dressing room. The uniform proved to be too tight in the hips and the chest and too baggy everywhere else, but it was better than her red dress, which had been torn, muddied, and chewed-on to the point of near-indecency. Celeste had also been glad to find that the uniform had been carefully stripped of all badges, insignias, and swastikas. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t give her a mirror to examine herself in the outfit, so all she could do was tie her hair back with a strip of her tattered red dress and hope for the best. Under these circumstances, “Stunning” or “beautiful” were certainly out of the question, but maybe she could hope for “tomboy-cute.” Then she remembered how the soldiers in camp had greeted her with hungry stares, and she buttoned the uniform shirt up to the very top.

They wouldn’t tell her where they took Jack or what they were planning to do with him, but she gathered that she was being sent up to the zeppelin to see someone named Commandant von Wartenburg. For some reason, all the soldiers spoke that name in a hushed whisper, and it made her feel like she had been typecast yet again in the role of damsel in distress.

With the zeppelin floating high above the city, the only way up or down was a small metal platform rigged up to a winch by fifty foot cables. At gunpoint, she climbed on and gripped the ropes until her knuckles turned white. As it ascended, the platform swung sickeningly back and forth in the slightest breeze, which made her grip the ropes even tighter, until the whiteness spread from her knuckles all the way out to her wrists.

At first she closed her eyes, but that made the sea-sickness worse, so she kept them fixed on the looming black blimp above her. It was a huge vehicle, built rugged for military use. From the scaffolding encircling its rounded sides protruded several propeller engines, now silent. A thick chain anchored the tip of its pointy nose to the peak of a tall, ornately carved obelisk projecting up from the city. A compact biplane hung from the underside of the zeppelin like a baby bat clinging to its mother’s belly. The zeppelin’s carriage was flat, angular, and black with visible rivets and small windows that could be quickly shuttered with armored flaps. This section contained all the equipment and troop quarters and yet made up only a small proportion of the overall vehicle.

As Celeste was pulled into the cargo bay, she felt as though she were being swallowed by a gargantuan beast—a feeling which had become distressingly familiar.

Don’t miss any of the pulse pounding action! Get all the episodes of this story delivered to your inbox each month by subscribing to my free ezine!

Hollow Earth Expedition was created by Jeff Combos and is property of Exile Game Studio. For more Hollow Earth Expedition action, check out ExileGames.com

This is an ongoing story about a lost world of hungry dinosaurs, sinister villains, and non-stop action. If you’re new to Hollow Earth Expedition, I suggest starting at the beginning.

Jack and Celeste dashed deep into the jungle where the tyrannosaur’s pursuit was slowed by the massive trees. Even so, their head start soon dwindled to a few yards, then a few feet, and all the while the dinosaur’s booming footfalls shook the ground under their feet.

With no warning, the forest floor dropped away into a wide, vine-choked canyon. Jack skidded to a halt and thrust out his arm to keep Celeste, arms pinwheeling in search of balance, from plummeting down the thirty foot drop.

“It’s too far to jump,” she gasped. “What do we do?”

“Hold on,” Jack said, pulling her close with one hand while scooping up a thick vine with the other. He launched the two of them backwards over the ledge and watched as the tyrannosaur’s maw rushing down at them. They disappeared below the lip of the cliff just as the terrible jaws slammed closed onto the open air just above their heads.

Feet braced against the canyon wall, Jack strained to grip the vine while repelling downward. The beast dipped its head over the cliff edge and chomped at them twice. Finally, it roared down at them, but for all its noise and power it had no means to climb such a steep slope.

“We’re alive!” Celeste squealed when they reached the bottom of the ravine. She threw her arms around Jack’s neck to show her appreciation.

“Let’s not get unprofessional, here,” he said, pushing her away gently. “We’ve still got a job to do, and that means staying alive.”

With his compass still malfunctioning, Jack made his best guess as to which direction would bring them back to the drilling machine. The two set off along the stream that trickled through the canyon floor.

“Where are we, anyway?” Celeste said as they pushed through a dense cluster of foliage. “I mean, this whole region is positively crackers. I’ve never seen animals like that, not even in nature films. I’ve never seen people like that either.”

Jack broke off a branch to clear their way through the thicket. The truth was, he didn’t know where they were, either—he had travelled to the four corners of the globe, but this land and its inhabitants were like no place he had ever seen. On the other hand, it ran against his upbringing to admit that he was lost, especially to a woman.

Before Jack could figure out what to tell the actress, a clanking of a rifle bolt stopped them in their tracks. Twenty feet up the canyon trail, the two surviving Nazi soldiers stepped out from behind a curve in the cliff wall and called for surrender. These soldiers were a little worse for wear, but they had their rifles, which was more than Jack could say for himself.

“What now?” Celeste whispered.

“Put your hands in the air, Princess,” Jack held his own above his head. “Looks like we’re about to become prisoners of the Reich.”

Don’t miss any of the pulse pounding action! Get all the episodes of this story delivered to your inbox each month by subscribing to my free ezine!

Hollow Earth Expedition was created by Jeff Combos and is property of Exile Game Studio. For more Hollow Earth Expedition action, check out ExileGames.com

This is an ongoing story about a lost world of hungry dinosaurs, sinister villains, and non-stop action. If you’re new to Hollow Earth Expedition, I suggest starting at the beginning.

The rifle bucked into Jack’s shoulder and his field of vision was momentarily obscured by a cloud of white smoke. The charging dinosaur tipped forward as it hurtled towards him, its mouth opening as it approached the ground. With a thrill of victory, Jack thought he had hit the mark.

Then he saw the tyrannosaurs black eyes fixed on him and he realized that the huge mouth wasn’t heading for the ground because the creature was dead—it was heading for the ground because that’s where Jack stood, and Jack was about to become the next meal.

Not for the first time that day, Jack scolded himself for being a fool. One little bullet finding the beast’s brain inside the vault of rock-hard bone? Laughable. And now the rugged explorer would be inside the monster’s gullet before he could chamber another round.

It was Celeste who shoved Jack out of the way. The massive jaws slammed closed with enough force to pop his ears from the change in air pressure, but the actress had narrowly rescued Jack from his fate. He stumbled backwards and watched as the tyrannosaur stooped down for another try. He also saw the Nazi soldier seize Celeste by the wrist and attempt to haul her back towards the broken cages.

When Celeste screamed, it was a true ear-splitter. Jack wasn’t sure he had ever heard such a noise, but then the tyrannosaur abandoned its pursuit of Jack, wheeled towards the actress, and let out a roar that seemed to shake the jungle to its roots. Jack clapped his hands to his ears and saw that Celeste and the Nazi were doing the same, but it hardly mattered. They were caught in a flood of sound. It pounded into their ears, it rattled their bones, it liquefied their stomachs. A gust of carrion-scented breath pursued the roar, whipping Jack’s hair away from his forehead and forcing him to step backwards.

The tyrannosaur refilled its mighty lungs and then lunged for its prey. Now it was Jack’s turn to save Celeste’s life. He slammed himself bodily against her, lifting her off her feet to get her clear of the monster’s teeth. The Nazi was not so lucky: the tyrannosaur slammed its mouth around him and lifted its head up to swallow. Where the soldier had stood a moment before, now only a pair of bloody boots remained—one on its side, the other gently rocking in place.

Jack grabbed Celeste by the hand and pulled her into a run.

“No screaming!” Jack yelled to her. “I think that thing hates your screaming!”

The two dashed away into the underbrush, where Jack had hoped they might escape the notice of the tyrannosaur.

No such luck.

As they passed under a break in the canopy, a beam of sunlight struck Celeste’s red, sparkly dress and the monster’s head came around as surely as if they had been waving their arms to get its attention. Once again, the chase was on.

Don’t miss any of the pulse pounding action! Get all the episodes of this story delivered to your inbox each month by subscribing to my free ezine!

Hollow Earth Expedition was created by Jeff Combos and is property of Exile Game Studio. For more Hollow Earth Expedition action, check out ExileGames.com

This is an ongoing story about a lost world of hungry dinosaurs, sinister villains, and non-stop action. If you’re new to Hollow Earth Expedition, I suggest starting at the beginning.

Jack Steele peered down the barrel of his rifle at the three Nazi soldiers, each of whom peered down their own barrels back at him. The prisoners in the cages and even the giant who had been pulling the train of carts looked on in tense silence. All things considered, Jack was ready to admit that this hadn’t been one of his best plans.

A series of crashes and booms echoed out from the jungle. Jack might have assumed that it was a stream of boulders crashing down a rocky slope, but the noise was too rhythmic. Footsteps, Jack thought. Gigantic, running footsteps. And whatever was making the noise was almost on top of them.

Without lowering his rifle, Jack glanced up just as Celeste dashed out of the underbrush right towards him. Her face was flushed, her red dress was torn, and she was kicking up her heels as if the devil himself were on her tail.

“Celeste!” Jack shouted. Still keeping his finger on the trigger with onehand, he grabbed her arm with his other to stop her flight. “Celeste! What’s going on?”

She seemed too panicked to recognize him. “Big!” she cried frantically. “Big! Teeth! Big!”

It was only an instant before Jack got a look at what she meant. The ravenous king of the prehistoric jungle, the Tyrannosaurus rex, ripped through the foliage with the force of a run-away train. As it barreled down on them, its massive head glanced off a palm tree. The tree cracked and sagged over as if bowing before its king, but the tyrannosaur was not to be slowed.

The Nazi soldiers fired their rifles at the charging beast, but the shots resulted in nothing more than insignificant red specks on the wide landscape of its leathery skin. The tyrannosaur ignored the pitiful firearms but charged in to deliver it a violent kick to the train of wheeled cages, no doubt mistaking it for an animal. The cages and their screaming occupants flew thirty feet and crashed in a jumbled of broken wooden bars and scattered people.

The shaggy-bearded giant who had been pulling the wagons was pinned upside down, kicking his feet uselessly in the air while still anchored to his yoke by heavy chains. The prisoners who had not been too badly injured in the crash bolted from their captivity like frightened rabbits. Suddenly, the jungle floor teemed with running, wailing people, and the commotion set the tyrannosaur into a feeding frenzy.

“Let’s get out of here!” Celeste shouted as she pulled at Jack’s sleeve.

Jack didn’t budge. While everyone around him screamed and fled from the rampaging tyrannosaur, Jack stood his ground and took aim. He was no big game hunter, but he knew that the best way to stop a charging elephant was to aim right between its eyes, so he fixed his sights on the midpoint of the creature’s bumpy brow. He willed his breath to slow down and his hands to stay steady. Only then did he squeeze the trigger.

Don’t miss any of the pulse pounding action! Get all the episodes of this story delivered to your inbox each month by subscribing to my free ezine!

Hollow Earth Expedition was created by Jeff Combos and is property of Exile Game Studio. For more Hollow Earth Expedition action, check out ExileGames.com