Crown Quest: A Beatles Adventure

Chapter Six

    "I'm so tired!" George groaned.

    "Stop complaining," John snapped. "I have a no-complaining policy, so start that again and I'll — "

    "Ew, I've got dirt under my fingernails!" Paul cried, looking at his nails in horror.

    "What did I just say?" John said through gritted teeth.

    "You said that you were perfectly okay with hearing us belly-ache," Ringo said. "By the way, my socks are wet."

    "So?"

    "So my feet are going to be like raisins."

    "They already are raisins!"

    Olivia suddenly stopped. "Do you guys hear that?"

    "Hear what?" George asked, looking overly bored. John couldn't blame him. George and Paul still couldn't fly all too well yet, so they were still on foot, and following Mark's trail was easier on the ground. And they hadn't seen any scenery other than trees, trees, and more trees.

    Linda craned her head. "Someone's calling for help."

    "Help!" John crowed sarcastically. "I need somebody!"

    "That sounds like a song," Paul said, looking at him with interest.

    "No," John said, shaking his head. "It sounds like a cry for help."

    Ringo nodded. "Definitely a cry for help."

    "Will you stop joking?" Olivia scolded. "Someone is in danger!"

    "How do we know that?" John said, lifting a single shoulder. "They could just be . . . I don't know what they could be doing, but I don't want any more people in my entourage."

    "Oh, so we're a burden to you?" Linda said.

    "I didn't say that . . . "

    "You said that," Olivia said, crossing her arms.

    "Can we stop fighting?" George said, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Just shut up and listen!"

    John clamped his mouth shut and listened intently. At first, he didn't hear anything but the sounds of birds twittering to each other from the trees above and the sound of a soft breeze rustling through the leaves. Then he heard it. It sounded like a woman screaming as if her life depended on it, and it might have.

    "Oh, yeah, someone's in some deep trouble," Paul said. "Find, Martha!"

    Martha yipped and took off like a shot, her fur bouncing as they ran. They chased after her, John almost colliding into several trees because he couldn't see worth a squat. It turns out he forgot his glasses back at the village. Not that he wore them anyway.

    Martha tackled someone and started aggressively tugging at the collar of his shirt, growls erupting from her throat. There was a young woman on the ground, scooting herself away from the scene, eyes wide with fear. John stopped in his tracks.

    "Cynthia?" he said in disbelief.

    She looked at him, her mascara smudged and running down her cheeks. "John!" she cried and stood up, rushing to him. Before he knew what was happening, she threw her arms around his neck and started sobbing into his shoulder. He didn't know what to do, so he just awkwardly patted her on the back, feeling like a buffoon.

    Paul snagged ahold of Martha's collar and pulled her off the man, whose eyes were fading from their black color. John blinked, not being able to believe what he was seeing.