 Harper Children's Audio presents Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow by James Rawlins, performed by Pedro Pascal. Copyright 2009 by James Rawlins, production copyright 2009 by Harper Collins Publishers. Grave Robbers The man fled down the steep slope of the jungle mountain. His boots slipped in the muck of wet leaves and slick mud. Clinging branches and snagging thorns sought to catch him, but he ripped straight through them. Must not stop. As he reached a sharp switchback in the trail, he fought to keep from tumbling headlong over the cliff that bordered the path. He swung an arm out to catch his balance and skidded in the mud around the turn. His other hand clutched the paper-wrapped parcel to his chest. Despite the near fall, he sped faster. He glanced back over his shoulder. Fires still raged atop the mountain summit. The natives called the place Montaña de Huesos, the mountain of bones. It was a cursed place, shunned by all. The peak rose from the dark emerald jungles of the Yucatan Peninsula, where Mexico bordered its southern neighbor of Belize. Swamps and deep pitfalls challenged all who dared approach it, while mosquitoes and biting flies plagued anything that moved. Thick forests and vines crusted over the mountain in an impenetrable mass, hiding its true heart from prying eyes. The peak overlooked a lake where crocodiles floated like broken logs. From its forest canopy, gray monkeys with white faces stared down, strangely silent, like small ghosts of old men. Elsewhere, shadowy jaguars prowled its deepest glades. When it rained, which was often, waterfalls and cataracts flowed down the mountain sides like molten silver. It was a sight to behold, but a rare one. Few people had ever said eyes on the giant mountain, even fewer had ever walked at slopes, and only one man knew its secret. He had learned the truth. The mountain of bones was no mountain. Clutching his package, the man hurried down the dark jungle path. The ghostly monkeys barked softly at his limping passage as if encouraging him to run faster. The stub of a broken arrow stuck out of his thigh. Fiery agony lanced through his leg with every other step, but he had to keep going. The hunters were closing tightly around him. His name was Henry Bethel, Doctor Henry Bethel, Professor of Archaeology at Oxford University. He and his dearest colleagues, Penelope and Richard Ransom, had spent the last three months of the rainy season excavating the top of the mountain of bones. They had uncovered a tremendous cache of pristine artifacts, a silver Jaguar mask, a crown of jade and opal, small carvings of onyx and malachite, a twisted golden snake with two heads and many other priceless objects from the classic period of the Mayan civilization. They had found the items in a stone tomb atop the mountain. Even as he fled now, Henry remembered Penelope Ransom being lowered on a rope into the tomb for the first time. Her flashlight's glow had illuminated the subterranean crypt and the giant sarcophagus it held inside. Atop the coffin's carved limestone lid, the most magnificent artifact rested. A two-foot-tall gold pyramid, topped by a chunk of jade, carved into a curled snake with outstretched wings, like a dragon. The sculpture depicted a creature out of legend. Kukul Khan, the feather-dragon god of the Maya. The tomb was the discovery of a lifetime, and word had quickly spread. Drawn by the rumors of gold and treasure, the bandits had attacked two hours ago as the sun sank under...