Adventures in Xenia-Pterodactyl Island: Adventures In Xenia

By RL Hansen and R.L. Hansen

Four young boys stumble into a strange land where hungry dinosaurs roam free. They meet a young girl, Aquilia, and the adventure begins. Pterodactyls have stolen the jewel that drives her village power generator. Time is running out. If the generator power jewel is not replaced soon, the generator will self-destruct. To save her village from cerain doom, the unlikely quintet must venture across dangersous waters to an island controlled by the dinosaur hoards.

 

In the air, on land and in the sea, they must fight every step of the way to reach thier goal: retrieve the stolen power jewel and return it to the village before the unthinkable happens. At every turn, new dangers try to stop them while Aquilia's village is under constant attack from the relentless dinosaurs.

 

Each of them will be tested beyond thier limits. It's an insane mission destined to fail but they have no choice. The future of Xenia depends on five youngsters that must face the challenge and overcome every obstacle thrown thier way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RL Hansen
• Release date: May 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393225225

RL Hansen

R.L. Hansen is a retired electrical engineer, multi-instrumentalist musician, writer and high school teacher. R.L. enjoys a quiet lifestyle in the farmlands of NC with his wife of 43 years. An excellent musician, R.L. is fluent in many genres of music. When not teaching or writing, you can catch him singing, playing guitar, dobro, bass and mandolin on stage with his band around Charlotte and the greater Piedmont area of North Carolina.  Rick and his wife also spend several months out of the year traveling to different Bluegrass music festivals.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Ethan woke with a start and a gasp. Jackson, a 20-plus-pound Maine coon cat, lay curled in a half-fetal position atop Ethan’s chest, feet pointed to the ceiling. Jackson had twisted his neck at an impossible angle and drooled. A wet, raspy cat snore floated from his mouth. Ethan’s angry green eyes focused on Jackson. Get off me, he said, shoving the slumbering cat to the floor. Jackson hissed and rushed out of the bedroom. Jeez, no wonder I couldn’t breathe.

Ethan jumped out of bed. His excitement bubbled over, ready to burst from his young body. In a hurry to get dressed, he pulled an old T-shirt over his thin torso. Skinny legs dove into dirty jeans. It’s here. It’s here. It’s here, he said, chanting with anticipation. He had thought of little else since Memorial Day. He had dreamt of it and had worried it would never arrive.

It was the first day of summer vacation. He ran through the hall, tripping over a 3-foot-tall, stuffed T. rex dinosaur. Bursting into Ty’s room, he stomped the floor, shouting, It’s here. Get dressed. Come on.

Ready to roust Ty straight out of bed, Ethan rushed toward him, but Ty was already awake. Ty, like Ethan, was excited about the treehouse, the end of school and best of all, the official arrival of summer. Three years older than Ethan, Ty was beaming with excitement. His light brown hair, a mess from the night’s sleep, gave him a disheveled look. Ethan laughed upon seeing Ty.

Are you ready for summer? Ethan asked, as he jumped on the bed, laughing with uncontrolled glee. Ty grabbed a clean T-shirt and shorts, his hazel eyes sparkling with morning energy. Crinkling his nose, Ty said, You stink, change your clothes.

What? No way, these are only one day old, Ethan said, firing back as he sniffed his armpit.

They heard their mom calling, Boys, breakfast.

Giggling and laughing, they ran to the dining room where their mother, Hollie, stood fixing a cup of coffee. Orange juice, toast with jam, fresh mango slices with cottage cheese, and puffed wheat cereal beckoned from the table. As a special start-of-summer treat, two small glazed donuts sat glistening on the kitchen countertop. It was a breakfast befitting the first day of summer vacation. Like two starved animals they stuffed breakfast down, not tasting any of it.  Typical brothers, they then fought over the donuts. Ethan grabbed both and quickly stuffed the first one, whole, into his mouth.

Hey, that’s mine, Ty said, grabbing at the second donut, now smashed by both their hands. He looked at it disgustedly and threw the mash at Ethan, saying, Here, jerk. Keep it. Ethan laughed and scarfed up the crumbs, stuffing them into his mouth.

Come on, Ty said, the treehouse is ready, let’s go.

For three months, the two had filled every weekend and evening building a new treehouse. The ginormous, ancient tree in the backyard was the perfect setting. With help from their father and Ty’s long-time friend Dickerson, the treehouse had slowly taken shape. Their father, a master carpenter and electrician, tutored the boys in all aspects of carpentry and house wiring. Both boys took great pride in their newfound construction skills, and on the last day of school they completed the finishing touches. With the official arrival of summer, exciting new adventures awaited every day.

Mom, Ty said, we’re going to inaugurate the treehouse. Come help us. Ty grabbed a bottle of bubbly grape juice, shaking it vigorously. We’re gonna bust this grape juice bottle on the side of the treehouse.

Pulling Hollie by the hands, they made their way to the treehouse. Together, Ty and Ethan said, We declare this treehouse complete, and slammed the grape juice bottle against the treehouse side. The bottle burst into pieces, spraying everyone with cold, sticky juice. Laughter and life filled the new treehouse into the night.

ETHAN, LET’S GO. MOM wants us back in, it’s almost midnight, Ty said, walking back toward the house. A light flashed from behind, followed by a low rumble. Ty looked back at the treehouse and saw nothing...What was that? Lightning maybe? And thunder?

CHAPTER 2

Ty finished breakfast and groaned as he opened the back door. A thick, wet fog rolled through the yard. Large droplets filled the air, floating and shifting directions with each turn of the breeze. He stared at the treehouse with disappointment. A brief flash of light inside the structure drew his attention and low pitch sounds rumbled across the yard.

What the heck, Ty said, did the light bulbs just blow out? He walked to the living room, switched on the TV and tuned in the weather.

Today’s forecast is rain until late afternoon, the weathercaster said.

Ty moaned and wandered into the kitchen. Ethan sat, eating cereal and cake.

Ty moped. I’m going to play Mind-Cart, he said as he wandered into the playroom. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled overhead. Huge raindrops fell and pounded the ground, creating a loud crashing sound on the roof. Leaves and dirt flew into the air as the mini-water grenades exploded around them. Angry clouds ambled toward the horizon. As though a giant refrigerator had turned on, a chill settled in the air.

Outside, holding tight to the new treehouse, the tree stood tall. Flexing with the wind it soaked in every drop of rain that fell on its massive form. Another brief flash of light shot from the treehouse.

Startled, Ethan looked up, What the... what was that? he asked. Low rumbles seemed to be coming from around the treehouse. Was that thunder? What else could it be?

AS THE DAY WORE ON, both boys grew argumentative and bored. The two had changed video games several times and now sulked around the house, hurling insults at each other with growing hostility. Hollie had reached her breaking point and was ready to unleash her own torrent of verbal abuse at them when the doorbell rang.

Both boys rushed over and opened the front door. Half soaked, looking like a yard gnome, stood Dickerson Swindells. His dark, thick hair dripped rainwater onto his long-limbed, thin frame. Dickerson lived four blocks down the street.

Hi, can I come in? he asked, rainwater running down his face. Hopeful eyes stared out from behind a dripping baseball cap. Ty looked wryly at Dickerson’s soaked clothes.

You better take off those wet shoes and dry off or my mom’s gonna get mad at me for letting you mess up her floor.

Dickerson removed his rain-soaked shoes and cap, leaving them on the front porch as he stepped through the doorway. Ty handed him a bath towel.

Sorry I didn’t call first, Dickerson said, my mom and dad are out shopping and my phone was dead. I’m charging it now. I got bored so figured I’d come over.

Pretty bored, too, Ty said, we planned to put furniture in the treehouse but can’t because of the rain so we’re just hanging out playing video games.

I got a new map on my Mind-Cart account, wanna see it? Dickerson asked.

Yeah, let’s go.

OUTSIDE, THE WEATHER was clearing as the three boys started the Mind-Cart game. The sun hung low on the horizon as night steadily advanced. Orange-red rays of sunlight seeped in broken patches through the clouds rushing across the sky as if something dangerous was chasing them. The wind whipped leaves and occasional pieces of trash flew. The street looked and felt like a long-abandoned ghost town.

Hey, Ty said, we finished the treehouse yesterday, let’s check it out.

Dickerson stood. What? You finished it without me? I — we, worked really hard on that thing, man. He noticed Ty’s sheepish look.

Yeah, we were rushing to get it done yesterday, sorry, Ty said.

OK, but then I better get going. It’s getting dark out and my parents should be home soon. They jogged over to the treehouse.

Check it out, Ethan said.

Leaping two stair steps at a time, Ty unlocked and opened the door. The trio flew in, dripping and muddied from the short trek across the yard. Talking over each other, Ty and Ethan explained every detail of the treehouse. They had laid out a specific spot for each piece of furniture. The hammock, dining table and chairs, four rocking chairs, a small cabinet, a TV and the sleeping arrangements for overnight stays in the treehouse were perfectly arranged to maximize free space.

Man, Dickerson said, this is fantastic. Better than I imagined.

Ethan pointed to one corner excitedly. And the best part is this. On the floor, waiting for their cabinet and proper mounting-charging stand, sat six hand-held radios, a base station, and outdoor antenna.

Aw, cool. That is so cool, Dickerson said.

Yeah, Ethan said, we can talk up to one mile with these bad boys. He reached over, grabbed one of the hand-held radios, and handed it to Dickerson, Check it out.

Dickerson scrutinized the radio. Wow. A MURS radios. MURS – Multi-User Radio System. 151-Megahertz carrier wave, two watts maximum power output, noise-free FM modulation, and best of all, no license required.

Ethan looked confused. What’s a carrier wave?

Ignoring the question, Dickerson continued. And, you can have your antenna up to 60 feet in the air. Biggest problem with these guys is Mall-Mart — they use channels four and five so you lose those two channels unless you want to hear a bunch of Mall-Mart dudes yacking about shopping carts in the parking lot, Dickerson said and then laughed.

How do you know all that? Ethan asked.

Well, I’m totally into the whole wireless communications thing and electronic gizmos. I think I’ve read every book ever written on radios and radio transmissions.  Ethan stared at him. Dickerson held his hands out mimicking a gangster wise guy and gave Ethan a sidelong grin. It’s a hobby, he said with a faux New York accent.

Anyway, Dickerson said, I have to go. Mom’s probably looking for me for dinner.  This is just way too cool, man.

Ty looked at Dickerson. Come over tomorrow and help us get the furniture in.

Cool. Dickerson went out the door, leaped down the stairs, and ran toward home, whooping all the way.

AFTER WOLFING DOWN a skimpy breakfast, Ty and Ethan stepped out of the house. Cool night air lingered as the sun slid a quarter of its way into the sky. Oh, crud, Ethan said. Dickerson, followed by his younger brother, Cairo, stood at the door.

A thin, chafing, whiny voice chewed the air, Ethan. Ethan, Cairo said, Hi. I came to see the treehouse. Dickerson told me it’s done. Ethan cringed as he watched Cairo’s scraggly unkempt hair flitter across wide-open, pale eyes. A crooked smile dripped across Cairo’s chubby face.

Dickerson’s younger brother, Cairo Bently Finn Swindells, stared at Ethan. A doughy couch potato, Cairo immersed himself in video games and cartoon shows on TV. He sat for hours accompanied by a bag of potato chips and a soda. Replete with thick glasses and mismatched socks under his open-toed sandals, Cairo made the perfect poster child for a dorky little brother.

Ethan sighed and turned a half-circle. Scowling, both hands balled into fists, he squeezed them tight. He mumbled under his breath and then turned back and slumped over the safety rail. Head in his palms, he looked out toward the street and said, Hi, Cairooooooo.

For the next few weeks, the four boys lived in and around the treehouse. Several nights a week they had camp-outs and sleep-overs. During each of those nights, Ethan had glimpsed the flashes of light and heard the tree rumble. He was certain the others had as well, yet none talked about it. Each boy kept the secret buried deep in his own mind.

CHAPTER 3

The tree was ancient . One could see that straight away when looking at it. Huge by any standard, the entire family had once tried to stretch themselves around the trunk. Hands locked together, they lay out their arms, stretching as far as possible, and still could not complete the human chain around the tree’s trunk.

Like a wizened old bespectacled owl, even the tree’s bark had a primordial, forlorn look. Scars, wild knots, and knotholes marred the trunk as though it had been target practice for delinquent children armed with the usual weapons such as BB guns, bows and arrows, dull axes, pocketknives, hammers and small handsaws. A dozen hearts filled with the initials of long-gone lovers and bold cries of undying affection adorned its trunk. Lightning had struck the tree many times leaving long, jagged scars. Super-heated lifeblood had blown out of its skin in fantastic, mesmerizing explosions of color and light.

Nobody knew how old the tree was, but Ty knew trees could live thousands of years. He thought this one must be at least that old. The bristlecone pine, he knew, could live for 5,000 years. This was not a bristlecone pine or a redwood, which he knew had a lifespan of 2,000 years. Feeling a presence around the tree, he often said, It’s just a tree. A gnarly old tree.

BUT THIS WAS NO ORDINARY tree. This tree, standing in this spot, growing, living, and expanding for uncounted thousands of years, was a special tree indeed. Before constructing the family house, the building crew tried to remove the tree with chain saws, but the saws broke. Try as they did, the tree stood. They tried again with chains and bulldozers but failed. The tree fought like a world-class boxer, withstanding blow after blow. After three days they gave up and moved the house location to its current spot, leaving the tree to some other unlucky crew.

The building crews’ attempts at removing the tree accounted for many of the scars on its trunk. The tree bled heavily as the crew attacked, every drop of bleeding sap draining its energy and life reserves. How it hurt through those days and nights. Every breeze, every change from day to night, from night to day was painful. Every drop of rain flowing into its wounds caused the tree to bend with pain. Every bird landing on a branch caused the tree to