by Bryan Chick
The construction noises they’d heard outside—hammers whacking, saws cutting, compressors pumping—were louder now, yet there was no sign of any work being done. Megan pointed to one of the many trees that grew inside the building. A speaker was mounted in its branches. Usually, it played soft music.
“Look,” she said. “The noises—they’re a recording.”
As the scouts stared at the speaker, a quiet voice spoke behind them. “Boo.”
The scouts jumped and spun around. Tameron stood there, his arms crossed, his cap pulled over his eyes.
Tameron shook his head. “Man, if you guys want to make it as Crossers, you got to stop being so jumpy.”
“Real funny,” said Richie. “I hope you brought four pairs of clean underwear along with that little joke of yours.”
Smirking, Tameron turned and walked off, saying, “C’mon—follow me.”
As they trailed Tameron, the scouts glanced around. The open space of the building was full of trees, plants, streams, and fountains. The unique characteristic of the exhibit was its enormous nets—they were everywhere, covering everything. They lay across treetops and rocks and misty waterfalls. They dangled like curtains from the glass ceiling to the grassy floor. Because the holes in the nets were big enough to pitch baseballs through, the butterflies didn’t risk getting caught. The nets weren’t functional; they were decorative, creating a feeling that everything in the exhibit had been captured in huge nets.
Hundreds of butterflies flitted about, their wings blinking open and closed. They darted in erratic paths, perched on flowering shrubs, and rested on leaves. Their vibrant color spotted everything, as if a storm of paint-filled raindrops had just blown through the building.
Walking behind Tameron, Noah had a good look at the military-style backpack slung over his shoulders. The bottom of the long green canvas pack hung below Tameron’s waist. Zippers ran across it in all directions, and it was so full that it seemed ready to burst. Bulging pockets covered the entire bag.
Noah nudged Richie and pointed to the pack, whispering, “What do you make of that?”
Richie shrugged and held out his arms. “Nothing.”
“Don’t you find it a bit weird that he carries that thing around? What the heck could he have in it? It’s big enough to fit you!”
Richie considered this, then shrugged a second time.
Tameron led them across a narrow wooden bridge to a clearing where a large whiteboard sat on an easel. Four folding chairs faced the easel, arranged in a semicircle. Slipping his backpack off his shoulders, Tameron stepped up to the whiteboard, grabbed a marker in one hand, and shot off its cap with a flick of his thumb.
“Class in session,” he announced. “Find a chair.”
The scouts dropped into the seats.
“I want you guys to listen up, because I hate repeating myself. When I have to repeat myself, it means I’m wasting time. And I don’t have time to waste.”
Richie raised a stiff arm.
Tameron peered at Richie from the shadow of his hat brim. Frowning, he mumbled, “How in the . . .” He stopped himself, forfeiting one remark in favor of a new one. “How could you possibly have a question already?”
Richie wiggled his fingers. “Mr. Tameron—”
Tameron sighed. “Kid, Tameron’s my name.”
Confused, Richie asked, “You want me to call you Kid Tameron?”
Tameron planted his hands on his hips. “Kid, what’s my name?”
“Tameron.”
“Then why would I want you to call me Kid Tameron? Do I call you Kid Richie?”
“No.” Somewhere above his head, Richie opened a space for his thoughts and stared into it. “But that would be kind of cool, I think.”
Tameron took a step toward Richie and said flatly, “Call me Tameron. Not Mr. Tameron. Not Kid Tameron. Nothing but Tameron, okay? You think you got that?”
Richie nodded.
In silence, the two stared at each other, each waiting for something.
“Kid,” said Tameron.
“Yeah?”
“What’s your question?”
“Uhhh . . .” Richie thought for a minute. He steered his gaze toward the tall glass roof. Finally, he said, “Ummm . . . I . . . I guess I forgot. Sorry.”
Tameron shook his head and turned to the other scouts. “Darby’s always bragging about how this kid’s so smart!”
“He has his moments,” said Ella. “The rest . . . well, we kind of think his brain needs to nap between his big Einstein-like thoughts.”
“Whatever, man.” Tameron paced in front of the whiteboard. “Listen, let’s get back to this. We got a lot to cover. Today we’re going to start out with the real basic stuff. We’re going to talk about what you need to do to cross quickly, effectively, and”—he dragged out the last word for emphasis—“quiietlyy.
“Rule One for a Crosser: Never get spotted. Never. You get caught crossing, and you just might take the ‘secret’ out of the Secret Zoo, and that can’t happen. Am I clear on this?”
The scouts nodded.
“Good. Richie, what’s our first rule?”
Richie smiled. “Not to call you Kid Tameron.”
When Tameron didn’t return the smile, Richie added, “It’s a joke.”
Tameron still refused to smile.
Richie coughed nervously into his fist. “How come no one ever gets my jokes?”
“Richie?” Tameron repeated.
“Yeah?”
“What’s the first rule?”
Very softly, Richie answered, “Don’t get spotted crossing.”
Tameron nodded once and turned back to the board. With his marker, he scribbled THE GROTTOES.
“Grottoes,” he said. “Who knows what this word means?”
Noah, Megan, and Ella turned to Richie, who already had his hand in the air. His fingers wagged as if they were typing on a floating keyboard.
“Go ahead, kid.”
“Grottoes are caves or caverns.”
“That’s right,” said Tameron. “Beneath the Clarksville Zoo is an area we call the Grottoes. They’re special cave-like tunnels. I don’t want you guys anywhere near them.”
“Why?” Noah asked.
“Too dangerous. You could get hurt, lost, or worse. The Grottoes are complicated. Only our best Crossers are able to navigate them.”
“Will we ever get to see them?” Megan asked.
“Depends. Become some of our best Crossers, then, yeah.”
“Where do they go?” Noah asked.
“We’re not even going to talk about them.”
“Why not!” Noah said. His own irritation surprised him. “How are we supposed to learn—”
Tameron shook his head. “Nuh-uh, kid. The Grottoes are off-limits. When you think of the Grottoes, just think of some place your butt shouldn’t be.”
“Like a public toilet seat?” Richie said. He scanned the crowd for a response to his joke, found none, and slumped his shoulders.
Tameron continued, “For now, we’re going to concentrate on exhibits that have direct paths into the Secret Zoo. Single tunnels. Crossers call them ‘straight drops.’ Like the ones Daisy led you to in Metr-APE-olis.”
A butterfly touched down on Noah’s shoulder. It was covered in bright blue swirly patterns. It softly stroked its wings, fanning Noah’s cheeks. A second butterfly settled on the same shoulder, then a third and a fourth. Glancing at the other scouts, Noah realized that butterflies were landing on them as well. One had perched on Ella’s fingertip. She lifted it slowly until it was right in front of her eyes.
“Too cool!” she said. Another butterfly touched down on her lap. “Butterflies rock!”
“Uhhh . . . do these things carry disease?” Richie asked nervously. “Like bird flu or anything?” He leaned over the side of his chair, avoiding an enormous butterfly that wanted to land on his chest.
“Tameron?” Ella asked as she studied the butterfly perched on her fingertip. �
�Why do the animals do this? Land on people and stuff.”
“No one knows for sure. A lot of people think maybe it’s their way of saying hello. Or maybe it’s the same reason a dog lies across your feet—who knows.”
“The animals all love Mr. Darby,” Ella added.
“That’s no lie. Darby’s their fav. It’s always been that way, and I don’t see any reason it’ll change.”
Tameron allowed the scouts a few seconds to appreciate the butterflies. Then he steered the conversation back.
“Anyway, let me say it again. No Grottoes. Stay to the straight drops to the sectors.”
“How many sectors are there?” Megan asked.
“Hundreds.”
“And they all connect to the Clarksville Zoo?”
“Yep. They’re sectioned off by velvet curtains.”
Ella asked, “Why do they look so much like the exhibits they connect to, only really super big?”
“When Bhanu and his brothers first created the sectors, the sectors took on the characteristics of the exhibits they connected to. It was just the way the magic worked.”
“Like the Secret Forest of Flight,” said Ella, “or the Secret Metr-APE-olis. They look a lot like the normal exhibits—only they’re massive!”
“Exactly,” said Tameron. “Think of each exhibit as having a giant twin. The twins are the sectors. Make sense?”
The scouts nodded.
“Good Crossers can get across any sector to the City of Species in less than ten minutes.”
“That’s got to be humanly impossible!” said Richie.
“Maybe,” answered Tameron. “But you’re forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“With the help of the animals, Crossers aren’t bound to being human.”
For the next two hours, Tameron briefed the scouts on the basics of crossing. He steered all talk away from the Grottoes and focused on the straight drops into the Secret Zoo. Tameron told the four friends that the connecting points to the sectors were called “sector gateways,” or just “gateways.” He said that the gateways were protected by two lines of defense—one line of humans and one of animals. Each line brought its own advantages, and the lines worked best when they worked together.
Noah’s stare occasionally shifted to Tameron’s backpack. It lay several feet away from the whiteboard, all bulk and weight and canvas. Noah saw the velvet patches along it and remembered what Solana had told them about the bookcases with the same patches. They adjust, she had said. Did that mean the backpack would adjust? If so, how?
Tameron went on to list the exhibits that had direct connections to the Secret Zoo—straight drops. As he spoke, he scribbled notes and pictures on the whiteboard. All throughout the lecture, butterflies drifted down from the trees like bright autumn leaves, landing on the scouts’ shoulders, arms, backs, and legs. They’d perch, rest their wings for a bit, and flutter back to their normal butterfly business.
The first day’s crosstraining was drawing to a close. At the end, as Tameron was wiping the whiteboard clean, a sudden noise alarmed them. Footfalls.
Tameron and the scouts jerked their heads up and listened. The sound was coming from somewhere behind the trees.
“What’s that?” Richie gasped.
“I don’t know,” Tameron answered.
Noah’s heart lurched. The footfalls grew louder. The unknown something was charging straight toward them.
Chapter 14
The Unknown Something
Tameron surprised Noah by dropping the eraser that he’d been holding and stepping in front of the scouts. He faced the sound and spread his arms out to his sides, shielding Noah and his friends. Despite whatever low regard Tameron might have had for the scouts, he was prepared to defend them.
Over his shoulder, Tameron said, “Don’t move!”
The scouts didn’t.
Tameron did a strange thing then. He reached down, snatched up his immense backpack, and slung it over his shoulders. He fixed the long pack firmly in place.
The rustle of leaves drew closer and closer. Butterflies were everywhere now, fluttering wildly throughout the glassy heights of the exhibit.
Noah’s eyes swelled with disbelief as he realized that Tameron’s backpack was moving. Inside it, something shifted and rolled from one side to the other. It was as if something in the backpack had come alive.
Just then, the trees and shrubs in front of them parted, and an enormous man jumped over the rail into the clearing. Struggling for breath, he leaned forward and pressed his hands against his knees. Sunlight beamed off his bald head.
“Tank!” Tameron gasped. “What’s happening? What’s—”
The big man stopped him with a raised hand. “Trouble . . .” he panted. “We had . . . trouble . . . in one of the sectors. . . .”
Tank’s left eye was swollen shut, and blood was coming from a long cut on the side of his head. Noah ducked under Tameron’s outstretched arm and stood in front of his friend.
“You’re hurt!” Noah exclaimed.
Tank raised his hand as he had done with Tameron a moment before, stopping Noah.
Noah noticed that the trees behind Tank were still trembling, startling the butterflies off their branches. Before he had time to wonder what else was headed their way, a line of white tigers came leaping over the rail, one of them crashing over the whiteboard. Within seconds, there were eight white tigers roaming inside the clearing. They paced around Tank, fangs exposed, heads rolling from side to side, tails snapping like whips. They were clearly on Tank’s side, ready to protect him from the danger that had the big man in such a fright.
“I don’t—” Richie stammered. “How did—”
“They crossed!” said Ella.
Noah nodded. Somewhere in the exhibit was a gateway to the Secret Zoo. Was it a straight drop? Or did it lead to the Grottoes—whatever they were. Noah glanced through the trees but saw nothing unusual.
Tank leaned on Tameron’s shoulder, battling to catch his breath. After some time, he forced himself to stand straight.
“A sasquatch,” said Tank, “we spotted one . . . in Koala Kastle. We lost sight of it . . . then we found it again. It attacked . . . got away.”
Noah realized that Tank’s injury had come from the razorlike claw of a sasquatch. He was reminded of the sasquatch that had tried to drown him only weeks before. With perfect clarity he recalled the cold water, the strength of the sasquatch’s grip, the hatred in the beast’s yellow eyes.
Growling, the tigers continued to pace around Tank.
“Tameron,” Tank went on, “we need you back. We need to regroup and call . . . call our strongest forces. We’ve got to hunt it down.”
“The other Descenders,” said Tameron, “do they know?”
Unable to speak, Tank nodded. He leaned on his knees and stared at the ground, grimacing in pain. The white tigers continued to circle him, growling and shifting their weight. Then he turned to Tameron so quickly that a few dots of blood speckled the white fur of a passing tiger. “We’ve got to go,” he managed to say. Then he and the tigers jumped the railing and vanished into the trees.
Tameron faced the scouts. His eyes were glassy and vacant, focused on an empty spot between Richie and Megan. It was as if his eyes had lost their purpose—as if fear had stripped him of his sight. Tameron was afraid, deathly afraid. Noah wondered how bad a sign that was. Without a word, the Descender turned and sprinted down the path Tank and the tigers had taken.
The scouts simply stood in silence, watching the branches settle. This was their first day of crosstraining, and already they were in the thick of things—the thick of something they could only begin to comprehend.
“Let’s get out of here,” Ella said.
“Totally,” Richie agreed.
The scouts headed out. As they left the clearing, Noah studied the path that Tank and Tameron had followed. He couldn’t see much, but he noticed the faint paw prints that the tigers had left i
n the dirt.
Paw prints that could be easily followed.
Chapter 15
The Grottoes
“Megan!” Noah called out as he stood by the front door. “I’m going over to Richie’s! I’ll be back by supper!”
From somewhere inside the Nowicki house came Megan’s response: “We just got home from school!” It was Wednesday, the day after the incredible incident at Butterfly Nets.
“Yeah . . . so?”
A pause, then Megan’s voice. “Whatever. See you later.”
Noah tore out the front door and grabbed his bicycle from the garage. At the street, he turned in the opposite direction. He had no intention of visiting his friend—he was headed for Butterfly Nets for a better look at the Secret Zoo passage that Tank and Tameron had taken. His parents wouldn’t be getting home from work for more than an hour, so he had enough time to do this.
He sped down the street, swerving past kids who were still walking home from school. He turned onto the sidewalk beside Walkers Boulevard and soon pulled into the parking lot of the Clarksville Zoo. He left his bike and headed inside, waving his zoo membership card like a badge to the attendant at the booth.
He hurried across the zoo and slipped into Butterfly Nets, which was no longer “closed for construction.” He walked beside the waterfalls and trees, and beneath the gabled glass roof. Butterflies darted all around. He smiled at an elderly couple, then crossed the narrow bridge to the clearing where Tameron had held crosstraining.
He stood at the railing along the edge of the open space and peered through the trees until he spotted the tigers’ faint paw prints. The markings faded away toward the back of a tall rock formation. Noah moved around for a better angle to see behind the rock, but couldn’t find one.
He could think of only one way to get a full look.
Noah glanced over both shoulders. The elderly couple had wandered off and now had their backs to him. He took a deep breath and considered his next move.
“Don’t do this,” he told himself. “Just go home.”
After glancing around a second time, he closed out his thoughts, then slipped through the horizontal bars. He hunkered low and stepped softly forward, twisting his body to avoid branches.