Secrets and Shadows

by Bryan Chick

  Glancing at Ella and Richie, Noah said, “You see what she’s doing, right?”

  “Yep,” said Ella. She elbowed a chimp that had stepped on her toes and added, “I’m just afraid she’s making it look easy.”

  “We can do this,” Noah said. “It’s not like we haven’t done this kind of thing a million times. How often have we swung across the branches in Fort Scout?”

  With that, Noah took ten steps back and then dashed to the edge of the platform. Screaming, he lunged into the air, his right arm pushed forward, ready to lock grasps with the first ape.

  “I’m next,” said Ella. She brushed past Richie and walked several apes deep into the crowd. “There’s only one way across this place, so I better cowgirl up.” She charged forward, her ponytail whipping across her shoulders. Then she sailed toward the orangutan’s outstretched arm.

  Richie stepped cautiously to the edge of the platform. The orangutan in the tree stared at him. It tipped its head to one side, then the other, then grunted. It slammed a fist against its chest, opened its hands toward Richie, and rolled its fingertips on and off its palms, beckoning him.

  Richie glanced over his shoulders. “Me?” He inched forward and stopped. With his fingers cupped around his mouth, he called out, “You sure you got enough strength left?”

  The orangutan threw back its head and roared, exposing its crooked yellow teeth. Then, still reaching for Richie, it shook the limb it was hanging from, whipping the leafy twigs through the air.

  “Okay, okay . . .” Richie thought about it for a few seconds before he backed up at least twenty feet. “Here goes.”

  He broke into a run. At the end of the platform, he halted so suddenly that his glasses slipped to the tip of his nose and nearly fell off his face. With his toes pointed over the edge, he stared into the green abyss, his heart racing. The faraway plain was peppered with gorillas.

  A loud screech dazed his senses. He felt a tug at his jacket collar and glanced backward to find himself nose to nose with a chimp, whose cavernous mouth released a foul fog all over his glasses.

  “He-help!” Richie sputtered.

  Richie’s legs shot up behind him and his head dropped forward as he was suspended above the platform in the grasp of the chimpanzee. His arms dangled beneath his body.

  His world began to swing back and forth—the ape was rocking him, preparing to throw him toward the orangutan in the tree.

  “Uh . . . nice chimp!” Richie stammered. “Um . . . good chimp! Chimp no throw Richie over edge! Chimp no—”

  His words broke into an open scream as the ape hurled him forward.

  Up and outward he went, as if in slow motion. His vision grazed the faraway grass dotted with gorillas. Then he saw the orangutan arm stretched out to grab him. Richie reached forward and focused on the ape’s hand, which grew larger and larger until he could clearly see its fingers: long, hairy, thick, and powerful enough to crush bones. The ape’s hand was within inches of his own when something terrible happened. Richie stopped.

  For an instant, he hung in the air, motionless. Then he plummeted.

  As the world spun and whirled in front of him, something as coarse as sandpaper squeezed his wrist. Richie’s body jolted and his stomach dropped. The orangutan had leaped down and snagged him out of the air. Richie tried to holler his gratitude, but discovered he was too terrified to shape a single intelligible word. What came out instead was a strange guttural roar, not unlike one of the many ape sounds: “Geeaarrhhh-ahhh!”

  The orangutan pulled down its eyebrows at Richie. Then it hoisted him behind its body, winding up to pitch him back into the trees.

  Richie tried to scream “No!” but instead produced another half-ape sound: “Grrraahhhh!”

  The orangutan heaved its hairy arm around with a sweeping motion, like a bowler throwing a bowling ball. Then he released Richie, hurling him to the next ape.

  “Nneeeeeaaah!” Richie screamed.

  As he flew between the branches, he somehow managed to twist himself upside down, so the waiting chimp was forced to curl forward and grab his ankle. The ape swung around and pitched Richie into the air. Still upended, Richie had a headfirst view of the ground far below, which inspired him to utter real words instead of another meaningless sound: “Stop, you crazy apes!”

  But the apes didn’t stop, and Richie was airborne again. Still wrong side up, he sailed over a rope bridge covered with chimps. Excited by the sight of a flying boy, the apes jumped about and stomped their feet, rolling the planks in waves. As Richie’s ankle was grabbed again, his passing stare happened upon a chimp that was twirling a pair of tied-together shoes above its head. Richie had enough sense left to find this at first odd, and then wildly incredible. Because not only was the chimp holding shoes, it was holding Richie’s running shoes—the pair a gorilla had swiped off his feet when the scouts had first discovered the City of Species.

  “My shoes!” Richie spluttered.

  As he felt himself being let go again, he gave up trying to understand and turned to the crucial task at hand: not falling to his death. He continued to pass in and out of the hands of chimps and orangutans, twisting into strange new positions as he went. The apes were forced to grab his wrists, elbows, legs, and ankles. He crossed the sector at the same speed as the other scouts, but with far less grace. Ella might have called it “Richie style.”

  Chapter 5

  Four Mysterious Escorts

  Megan was the first to touch down. She did so with ease, landing on her hands and knees and rolling once. As she jumped to her feet, the surrounding chimps, orangutans, and gibbons lurched out of her way. Seconds later, Noah hit the platform and tumbled to a stop, frightening the nearby primates off their feet. Next came Ella, who landed upright and elected to run out her momentum rather than drop into a roll. The three scouts huddled near the center of the platform.

  “Wow!” said Ella as she fixed her crooked earmuffs. “You can’t do that on the playground. Anyone lose breakfast?”

  Megan beamed. “That totally, totally rocked!”

  Pointing into the trees, Noah said, “Look, guys—there’s Richie!”

  Richie was less than five apes from landing on the new platform. His body flailed in the air, looking boneless and limp. He soared backward, his rear end aimed at the ceiling. The chimp who’d tossed him had had to bury its fingers in the waistband of Richie’s pants before heaving him along.

  Ella shook her head. “Only Richie.”

  The three scouts broke into a fit of laughter, and the surrounding apes came alive with excitement. Near Megan, a white gibbon leaped onto the shoulders of a gorilla and pushed off backward, doing a complete flip.

  Richie flew in headfirst, hitting the wooden planks with a crash. His body rolled and spun, taking out the legs of gibbons and chimps before finally stopping at the feet of the scouts.

  Richie staggered to his feet and faced the others. His glasses were cocked sideways, and his cap looked ready to fall off. As pale as a snowman, he belched into his fist, then said, “That wasn’t so bad.”

  Noah wasn’t sure whether he was trying to convince himself or his friends.

  Her voice soft with unusual tenderness, Ella said, “You did it, Richie!” Then she reached up, straightened his glasses, and became her normal self again: “Now put your pieces back together so we can find Mr. Darby.”

  Richie fixed his cap. Then, with a pinch and a pull, he loosened the uncomfortable wedgie that an orangutan had given him. Together, the scouts turned and headed toward the velvet curtain. As they made their way, the apes jumped to either side, opening a path. Sitting in the trees, perched atop the huts, and straddling the monkey bars, all the apes in the sector had their attention fixed on the scouts.

  When they were only a few steps from the curtain, four bodies dropped out of the trees and landed in front of them with a quick succession of thumps, scattering apes. They were human, the first people the scouts had seen in the Secret Metr-APE-olis. Their landings le
ft them crouched in front of the scouts, their faces turned downward.

  All across the forest, the apes fell silent.

  One by one, the newcomers rose and raised their stares. They were teenagers, not much older than the scouts. And like the scouts, two of them were girls and two were boys.

  Noah and his friends said nothing, using their silence to communicate a message: they were not going to be the ones to speak first. That responsibility lay with the teenagers in front of them—the ones who had just blocked their passage into the City of Species.

  The boy standing directly in front of Noah had shocking green eyes, partly hidden behind strands of sloppy brown hair, which fell across his shoulders. He wore a brown leather jacket with vertical pleats on the front and back, and faded blue jeans that were shredded at the knees, exposing terrible scars that ran in all directions. His jacket was covered with zippers and gleaming steel buckles.

  Noah’s eyes shifted to the other boy. A scraggly beard dangled on his chin. A tight knit cap with a two-inch brim covered his forehead and the tips of his ears. It was pulled down so low in front that the boy had to tip his head back to see. His piercing, bright eyes contrasted with his ebony skin. He had broad, powerful shoulders and wore a pleated jacket, but his was black and had fewer buckles. His fingerless gloves had thick velcro straps. But what really caught Noah’s attention was the enormous canvas backpack on his shoulders. With wide, bulging pockets and numerous zippers, it had a military feel.

  Noah looked at one of the girls. She was beautiful. Her hair and her skin had a rich sheen. She had soft, knowing eyes and smooth hair that looped her ears and spilled down her back. Like the boys, she wore a jacket, but hers was soft blue with pinholes all over it, and like the boy with the backpack, she wore fingerless gloves.

  The other girl was pretty, but in a hardened way. She had olive skin and blond hair cut to different lengths: the back was clipped short; the top stood out in all directions; and her bangs, dyed red, fell messily across her forehead. Her clothes were entirely different from those of her companions. A sleeveless T-shirt clung to her body, and she didn’t wear a jacket. Purple leather boots stopped just short of her knees. Their thick soles reminded Noah of the platform boots he’d seen in old pictures—the kind that seemed possible to stomp out a campfire with. The girl continually chomped a wad of gum, blowing and bursting tiny bubbles.

  Each teenager had thin velvet strips stitched to different spots on their clothes. Uniquely shaped, they looked like accents. The ones with jackets had them on their collars, wrists, and shoulders. The ones with gloves had them on the backs of their hands. The girl with wild hair had squiggly strips on her boots.

  After a long, awkward silence, the boy with the long hair spoke. “Darby told us to meet you. Told us you’d need some help.”

  Hearing Mr. Darby referred to as “Darby” seemed strange and disrespectful. Noah didn’t like it.

  “Put your arms down and relax already,” the boy added. “It’s not like we’re here to bust you up.”

  Noah realized he was still guarding the scouts with his arms. “How do we know that?”

  “Because you’re not already busted up.” The kid lifted his chin toward Noah, a sort of greeting. “I’m Sam. You got a name?”

  Noah slowly lowered his arms and paused before answering. “Noah.”

  Sam swept back his long bangs. “This your crew?”

  Noah pointed to his friends, stating their names: “Megan, my sister. Ella. And Richie.”

  Sam jerked his thumb in the direction of his companions. “My friends,” he said. He put his hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “Tameron.” Pointing to the attractive girl, he said, “Over there’s Solana, and”—he motioned to the girl with the wild hair—“that’s Hannah.”

  Feeling awkward and not knowing why, Noah waved.

  “Now that everyone knows everyone,” Sam said, “let’s do this.”

  “What, exactly, is this?” Richie asked.

  “Darby wants us to take you to the Library of the Secret Society.” Sam started to walk off, stopped, then turned back to the scouts. “Look, let me get something out into the open. We’re not here to be your buds, and we’re sure not too thrilled with this thing Darby’s given us.”

  “What thing?” Noah said. “What are you talking about—walking us to the City of Species?”

  Tameron spoke up. He, too, seemed irritated. “Darby wants us to babysit you for the next year—like we don’t have anything better to do.”

  Sam and Solana nodded in agreement. Hannah popped her gum.

  “What are you—” Noah’s confusion pulled his thoughts up short. “The next year? Who said anything about the next year?”

  The apes on the platform watched the scene develop, nervously glancing over one another’s shoulders. In the trees, apes stared down over vines and limbs and bridges.

  “Didn’t Darby tell you?” Solana asked.

  Noah was about to say something when Ella stepped in front of him. All he could see of her was the back of her head—the bouncing ponytail and the pink globes of her furry earmuffs.

  “The only thing Mr. Darby’s told us is that someone was going to meet us here,” Ella said. “What’s wrong with you guys? Why are you treating us like we’ve done something wrong?”

  Tameron grunted. “Like you haven’t?”

  “What are you talking about?” Ella shot back.

  Tameron said, “We have sasquatches on the loose because of you.”

  Noah saw Megan look away in shame. If she had never made her way into the Secret Zoo, forcing a rescue by the Secret Society, the sasquatches never would have escaped into the City of Species from their barricaded sector. Megan had once told the scouts that she felt responsible for all the trouble they caused.

  “Whatever!” Ella said. “Maybe if you guys knew how to protect your borders, we wouldn’t have this problem right now! We did what it took to break Megan out! And we did it without the help of some people around here!” Ella glared at each of the teenagers. “It seems this place has its share of wimps!”

  “What?” Sam snapped.

  “Where were you when we went into the Dark Lands to rescue Megan? Huh?”

  “We were there,” Solana said.

  “How come I never saw—”

  Noah grabbed Ella’s elbow and pulled her back. “Everyone—knock it off! Mr. Darby asked us to come here, and Mr. Darby asked the four of you to meet us here. Let’s not forget that he’s the one in charge of this place.”

  Sam used his fingers to comb his bangs out of his eyes, saying, “Yep. And Darby gets what Darby wants. Nothing’s ever changed about that.”

  Noah was confused by this confrontation. The teenagers were all troubled by something the scouts were not going to find out about by standing on this platform, trading stares and insults.

  “C’mon, Action Scouts,” Sam said, drawing out their name to mock it. “Follow us. And try not to step on too many tails.”

  He turned away from the group, pulled back the velvet curtain, and led his companions over the threshold. The colorful curtain swayed behind them, its tassels dancing on the wooden planks.

  “Geez,” said Richie. “Not the happiest bunch in the lot.”

  “No,” said Noah. “Not at all.”

  “Forget about them,” Ella blurted as she stepped toward the curtain. “We’re here to talk to Mr. Darby, not to make friends.” Then she slipped through the magical exit.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Noah muttered as he reached for the curtain.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Megan asked.

  To avoid having to reply, Noah stepped into the City of Species, the heart of the Secret Zoo.

  Chapter 6

  Old Friends, Familiar City

  Noah stood beside Ella, and together they stared out at the City of Species. Though the scouts had been there only a couple weeks ago, seeing it now was like seeing it for the first time.

  The City o
f Species was part city, part forest. Each part seemed to need the other, and their bizarre marriage was breathtaking. Tall buildings were surrounded by trees whose limbs reached through their walls, splitting steel and piercing glass. Waterfalls fell from rooftops, splashing across balconies and limbs before spilling into fountains and streams, bursting into mist. Streetlights blinked beneath low-hanging branches, and ivy pinned signs to the sides of brick buildings. All types of animals passed down the winding streets. They crawled through intersections, slithered along sidewalks, hopped over hedges, and swept across the sky.

  To Noah’s right, a section of the street the size of a football field was missing. In its place was a body of water. Waves rolled across its surface and lapped the concrete shoreline. Powerful stone buildings dove into the depths. Through the lens of the water, the submerged floors appeared to sway. Clinging to the stone-faced buildings were crabs, lobsters, starfish, and barnacles of all shapes and sizes. Schools of exotic fish were swimming about— shimmering flashes of color—as were sharks, dolphins, seals, and turtles. Noah saw several humans swim by in green diving suits.

  At the street level, a narrow road crossed the water. Made of wood, it floated like a long dock. Elephants, giraffes, and countless smaller animals traversed it. The floating road supported their weight so easily that ripples barely formed in the water.

  “Awesome,” Noah muttered.

  A complicated mesh of tree limbs grew overhead. The leaves had turned color since the last time the scouts were here, autumn having reached the City of Species later than in the outside world. Leaves rained down, momentarily tattooing the backs of larger animals, and birds flew among the falling color.

  “How come the leaves are turning just now?” Noah asked.