by Roland Smith
“No kidding,” Marty said, looking up at the ceiling, which had several large square chutes sticking out of it. On the floor below the chutes were laundry carts the size of Volkswagen Beetles. The carts were marked by area: Keepers, Maintenance, Science, Concession, etc. A series of conveyor belts filled one wall and were marked like the carts so the laundry workers could send the cleaning back to where it belonged.
“Luther probably needs a good cleaning,” Dylan said. “But I doubt they dumped him in here.”
Marty smiled. “You know what this is?”
“Uh … yeah. It’s where Ark laundry is done.”
Marty pointed up at the chutes. “It’s also our passage to every level beneath the Ark.” He walked over to the cart marked Dr. Noah Blackwood. “And above the Ark.”
“We’ll need a tall ladder,” Dylan said. The chutes were at least a dozen feet from the floor. “Must be a honeycomb of conveyor belts in the structure’s guts to get the stuff to this one room.”
“Exactly. We’ll finish searching this level, then come back here and do a little belly-crawling through the guts.”
• • •
Luther was still doing some belly-crawling of his own, and he was getting pretty sick of it. His cell phone was at 8 percent, which meant he’d have light, as pitiful as it was, for about five more minutes. Not that there was anything to see in the maze of dust-choking ductwork. He thought he might be on the level above the lab where he escaped, but he couldn’t be certain. He might be a level below for all he knew. He’d passed several vents that opened into dark rooms, but the vents were secured from the room-side and he had been unable to get them open because of the awkward angle he was in. What he needed was a vent where he could use his feet to kick it open. So far he hadn’t come across one. He was using his nose more than he was using his eyes or touch. He wasn’t sure if Marty had seen Butch snatch him, and even if he had, he was certain the dragonspy hadn’t followed him below. Marty didn’t know where he was.
But he’s going to try to find me. He’s not leaving the Ark until he does, because that’s what I would do if he’d been snatched.
He felt that his best chance of finding Marty, or having Marty find him, was to bump into him. They had come to the Ark to find Grace and the hatchlings. If Marty found Grace, their next stop would be the hatchlings. Luther had made a few wrong turns in the vents and lost the sharp scent of the stinky dinos. He slithered backward until his nostrils had reacquired the stench.
• • •
Marty and Dylan were headed out of the laundry when they were stopped in their tracks by a loud mechanical squeak.
“It’s just incoming laundry,” Dylan said.
“Which means someone is in the Ark tossing their soiled underpants,” Marty said, moving back into the middle of the room. “Let’s find out who it is.”
They cocked their heads back, staring up at the chutes as the hidden conveyors churned. Something large dropped from the chute over Blackwood’s cart. They hurried over to see what it was.
“It’s a blanket,” Dylan said.
“Watch out!” Marty shouted.
Dylan wasn’t quick enough. A pillow hit him in the head. He jerked backward.
Marty laughed.
“Yeah, real funny,” Dylan said. “It could have been heavy.”
Four more pillows plopped down in quick succession, followed by a thick comforter, another blanket, a silk top sheet, a silk bottom sheet, and a mattress pad. Marty leaned over the edge of the cart for a closer look. He dug out one of the pillows and saw the case was monogrammed with the initials N.B.
“Watch out!” Dylan shouted.
Marty turned his head to look at Dylan. “Ha. Like I’m falling for tha —” Something heavy slammed into his back and flipped him into the cart. He struggled to untangle himself from the blankets, and pillows, and …
“What are you doing here?” Grace shouted, then threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.
“I think you might have broken my back,” Marty said. “But I am pretty happy to see you, too.”
Grace let him go and wiped her tears away. She wasn’t sure what she was happier about: seeing him safe and in one piece, or surviving the horrifying plunge from the third floor of the mansion.
“How’d you get here?” he asked.
“Down Blackwood’s clothes hamper.”
“Scary,” someone said.
Grace turned her head to the strange voice. She had been so focused on Marty she hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t alone.
“It was.” Grace looked at him. “Who are you?”
“Dylan Hickock. You must be Grace.”
“Duh du jour,” Grace said.
Marty smiled and helped her out of the cart. “Sorry to cut the homecoming short, but they snatched Luther.”
“I know.”
“What do you mean you know? Do you know where he is?”
Grace told them about what she had found in Noah’s lair.
“The guy sounds really twisted,” Dylan said.
“Have they let this chupa … whatever you call it … loose on Luther yet?” Marty asked.
“Chupacabra,” Grace said.
“Goat sucker,” Dylan said. “It’s a cryptid.”
“Are you with the cryptid crew?” Grace asked.
“My mom and dad, mostly my dad, are the new caretakers on Cryptos Island. I just hooked up with Marty and Luther today.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, and turned her attention back to Marty. “I don’t think the chupacabra is a cryptid. I think Blackwood manufactured it in his genetics lab. I uploaded a bunch of Noah’s private files to you. Didn’t you get my emails?”
“No. I’ve been kind of busy, and there’s no cell or Internet reception down here.”
“Blackwood probably jammed the signal so you couldn’t call out. Does anyone know you’re here?”
Marty shook his head.
“What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that someone ought to get you out of here.”
“I was perfectly fine,” Grace said, even though that wasn’t exactly true.
“Okay, then,” Marty said. “We’ll just grab Luther and be on our way. Nice talking to you, cuz.”
“Maybe I wasn’t perfectly fine,” Grace admitted.
Marty grinned.
“How’d you two get down here?” Grace asked.
“The same elevator Butch used to take Luther below,” Marty said. “We snuck in after he got out of it and rode it down.”
“Speaking of Butch,” Dylan said. “We’ve been in here for a long time. You should probably check the dragonspy.”
“Good idea.” Marty fished the Gizmo out of his pocket and turned it on. His eyes went wide. “Actually, that was a great idea! Butch is coming. Blackwood’s with him.”
“What are the chances of him checking in here?” Grace asked.
“About a hundred percent. He’s pulling on door handles as he’s walking down the corridor. The laundry door’s unlocked. He’s about ten doors down. Eight now.”
“Can’t we just lock the door from the inside?” Dylan asked.
“Not without a key card,” Grace said, tempted to try the four she had around her neck, but there wasn’t time. “We need to turn off the lights and hide. Right now.”
“I’ll get the lights,” Marty said, and ran toward the door.
“Use the laundry cart,” Grace told Dylan. “You’re bigger than me. There’s plenty of bedding to hide under. I’ll jump in one of the dryers.”
The lights went out a second before she reached it. She climbed under the dry towels. Marty, using his Gizmo to find his way across the room, walked directly to her dryer. “This one’s taken,” she whispered.
“Scoot over. It’s the only one that has clothes in it.”
She made room for him. He crawled in and closed the circular glass door behind him. The room beyond the glass was pitch-dark.
“I’m glad you c
ame here for me,” she whispered.
“No sweat,” Marty said. “Now all we have to do is grab Luther and get out of here.”
“And the hatchlings,” Grace said. “Noah is planning on taking them to Paris in the morning. If he gets them out of the country, we may never get them back.”
“Yeah, okay. And the hatchlings, if we can manage it.”
“And the three panda cubs,” Grace added.
“What panda cubs?”
“They’re adorable. And Noah is going to stuff one of them if we don’t take them with us.”
“If Noah catches us, we’ll be the ones getting stuffed.”
“They’re small. We can each carry one.”
“I don’t have anything against adorable panda cubs,” Marty said, “but it’s going to be hard enough to get the hatchlings out of here. And if the hatchlings get their maws on the pandas, they’ll stuff themselves with them.”
Grace hadn’t thought of that. It was a disturbing image. So was the crack of light on the other side of the room as the door opened. Butch was the first in. He switched the lights on. Noah followed. They were talking, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying through the dryer door. Noah was definitely not whistling, humming, or singing now. He looked agitated and angry. He stood in the center of the room, peering up at the ceiling as if he were listening for something while Butch searched around. If she had jumped down the hamper five minutes later, she would have landed right in their laps. Butch walked over and looked into a couple of laundry carts, but not the one Dylan was hiding in, luckily. He peeked into a couple of dryers and a washing machine, then shrugged and said something to Noah, who nodded and started for the door. Butch followed him. He switched the light off on his way out, plunging the room into darkness again.
“Wow,” Marty said. “That could have gone a different way.” He took the Gizmo out of his pocket and switched it on. They both looked at the screen. Noah and Butch were walking down the hallway side by side, shaking doorknobs like security guards.
“What’s Butch carrying in his hand?” Grace asked.
Marty zoomed in on it.
“It looks like a remote control,” Marty said. “Like they use for flying those RC helicopters.”
“What do you suppose that’s for?” Grace asked.
Marty shook his head. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” He continued following them down the corridor. “What I don’t understand is why they aren’t opening the doors. If Luther’s in the vents, he could be in any one of those rooms.”
“Because you have to have a key card to get into and out of the rooms,” Grace said. “It’s one of the ways Noah keeps track of everyone. I saw some data on his office computer.”
“What else did you see up there?” Marty asked.
“I’ll tell you everything once we’re safely out of the Ark,” Grace said, opening the dryer door. “I can say this, though. Noah Blackwood is going to have a very bad day tomorrow.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Marty said. He walked over and switched on the light.
Dylan popped his head out of the cart.
“What were they talking about?” Grace asked.
“Blackwood was complaining about the laundry staff leaving the door unlocked, saying that he was going to fire all of them in the morning. I guess it wasn’t the first time they’ve done it. Then he said that Luther was like any other escaped animal. The first priority was containment. The second priority was to catch him. The third priority was to kill him if he posed a threat.”
“So we’re still on containment,” Grace said.
“Yeah,” Marty said. “And we’re the ones who are contained. They locked the door on us.”
“Where are they?” Dylan asked.
“Getting into the elevator.”
“Follow them,” Grace said.
Marty shook his head. “No can do. They’ll see the dragon-spy. I’m going to have to let them go.”
Butch stepped out of the elevator on Level Three behind Noah Blackwood. His right wrist ached from rattling every right-hand door handle on every level while Blackwood rattled the left handles. He thought it was a ridiculous precaution until they discovered three unlocked doors. So Dr. Blackwood had been right, again, which shouldn’t have surprised him because Dr. Blackwood was always right, even when he wasn’t.
They walked down the corridor, rounded a corner, and saw Yvonne Zloblinavech in the distance, standing outside the secret genetics lab. Butch wasn’t happy to see her, but he was happy to see her outside the lab rather than inside. If she had been inside, it would have meant that Blackwood had upgraded her key card. No one was allowed inside the secret genetics lab without Blackwood or Dr. Strand, including Butch. Yvonne had made a meteoric rise into Blackwood’s inner circle since she had been hired two years earlier. It used to be just him, Blackwood, and Mr. Zwilling. Now there appeared to be four people in the inner circle.
“Is Dr. Strand inside?” Butch asked.
Blackwood shook his head. “I told him to stay in his apartment and not to leave for any reason whatsoever. The fewer people who know about this the better. Yvonne and I are taking the hatchlings and Grace to the Paris Ark in the morning. I’ll need you to stay here and tie up any loose ends.”
Butch did not like the sound of this. The “loose ends” thing was fine. He had been tying up Blackwood’s loose ends most of his life. What he didn’t like was that Yvonne was joining Blackwood in Paris.
“Has Mr. Zwilling been apprised of the situation?”
“Of course he has!” Blackwood said.
What Butch really wanted to know is if Yvonne knew about Zwilling, but he knew better than to ask. There were times when he thought that Blackwood regretted telling him about Zwilling.
When they reached her, Yvonne gave them a dazzling smile, which was yet another thing Butch didn’t like about her. Day or night, regardless of what she’d been through the previous twenty-four hours, she always looked like she had just stepped out of a spa appointment. Blackwood returned her smile with a dazzler of his own. Butch narrowed his eyes and frowned. He handed her the remote control, glad to be rid of it.
“How are the hatchlings?” Blackwood asked.
“Sleeping like babies.”
“Perfect,” Blackwood said. “This shouldn’t take that long.”
“The timing couldn’t be better, either,” Yvonne said, beaming. “It’s exactly what we needed to test the training I’ve done with him the past several days.”
Blackwood beamed back at her. Butch turned away so they couldn’t see his humongous eyeball roll.
Blackwood slid his card through the lock. The door popped open with a slight hiss. The genetics lab was hermetically sealed, as were most of the other labs beneath the Ark.
“Ladies first,” Blackwood said, waving Yvonne through.
Behind their backs, Butch shook his head in disgust, and thought he might be sick as he followed them into the vestibule and waited for the first door to seal and the second door to hiss open. On the other side of the lock was the most sophisticated genetics laboratory in the world, according to its creator, Dr. Strand, or Dr. Geekenstein, as Butch called him when Noah Blackwood wasn’t around.
Before his alleged death six years ago, Dr. Strand was thought to have been the greatest geneticist in the world. He had gotten into some kind of trouble and Blackwood had gotten him out of it by making him disappear in a tragic accident, changing his appearance with plastic surgery, and resurrecting him under the name Dr. Strand. Normally Strand worked in another of Blackwood’s secret genetics labs out of the country, but he had been brought to the Seattle Ark to run the Chupacabra trials, which were just about complete. Since coming to the Ark, Strand hadn’t seen the light of day, and he was going a little stir-crazy confined to his lab on the third level and his small apartment on the fourth. Noah, Butch, and Yvonne were the only people who knew he was there. His laboratory was filled with millions of dollars’ worth of equipment, the
names of which Butch could not even pronounce, invented by Strand and patented by Blackwood.
Somehow the machines were capable of creating living creatures like Nine.
Butch had spent most of his life among animals. He didn’t love animals. He didn’t even like animals very much. But he was very comfortable around animals. Except for the freaks of nature pieced together by Dr. Geekenstein.
There had been nine versions of the chupacabra based on field research Butch had done over a two-year period in Puerto Rico, Mexico, and the southwestern U.S. He had interviewed hundreds of people, examined every photograph, footprint, scat, and bone. He had even captured a couple of live chupacabras, both of which turned out to be coyotes with severe cases of sarcoptic mange. After his exhaustive, and exhausting, investigation, he was convinced that El Chupacabra was an urban myth, not a true cryptid.
When he broke the news to Blackwood, he was afraid his boss would blow a gasket, but just the opposite had happened. Instead of being angry, Blackwood had been delighted. He had rubbed his manicured hands together in glee and said, “This gives us a chance to invent our own goat sucker. A beast much more terrifying than the myth, and therefore more commercial. We’ll make millions.”
They were scheduled to release Nine into the wild within the month. They had picked the small town of Glen Rose, Texas, as ground zero. The plan was to let Nine wreak havoc for six days, then have Noah step in on the seventh day and capture it alive just in time for that week’s Wildlife First episode.
Save the day and put it on display, Butch thought. A philosophy that had made Noah one of the richest men in the world.
His new scheme, Release and Catch, was bound to make him even richer.
Noah slid his card through the lock leading to the animal room at the back of Strand’s lab. They filed into another airlock and waited for the second door to open.
“Has Nine even been out of this room?” Butch asked.
“Twice in the last three nights,” Yvonne said. “The trial runs went perfectly.”
This was news to Butch … bad news. Noah hadn’t told him anything about the trial runs. He was usually in on everything Noah did.