by Bryan Chick
Noah could see far across the City of Species—its buildings, trees, and streets. It seemed to be waiting for him. The distant animals looked like toy figures spread across a toy city.
Panic swept over him. The gateway was hundreds of feet high. How would he get safely down? Just as he had this thought—a thought he should have had all along— the otters released him and veered off, narrowly avoiding the wall.
A second before Noah struck the gateway, he threw his arms up to shield his face. He wasn’t afraid of the curtain—he was afraid of the fall that waited just beyond it. As Noah soared into the incredible heights above the City of Species, he screamed.
Chapter 22
Above the City of Species
Noah’s arms flailed as he tried to grab onto something. A thousand feet beneath him, the city streets waited. Everything took on a dreamlike quality. He suddenly wondered if this entire adventure was just a product of his restless mind. From Marlo’s first tap-tap-tapping visit at Noah’s window to the march across the Dark Lands to Mr. Darby’s invitation for the scouts to join the Secret Society to Noah’s current freefall from a water tower as high as the clouds—all of it now seemed a part of a long, vivid dream.
Something thwacked against his head and jolted his thoughts. His body touched down into something wet.
He glanced around. He was lying on his stomach in a narrow stream of water, like those in the granite channels of the Secret Wotter Park. But out here the water was simply streaming through the air. Totally bewildered, Noah peered back over his shoulder. He saw the velvet curtain, which was draped across an opening in the massive glass wall. Water gushed along the edges of the curtain and shot into the air, but instead of dropping, it simply hovered there, a rushing river suspended in space.
As Noah continued to stare behind him, something crawled up his back. He was nose to nose with an otter. The animal was stretched out, riding Noah like a sled. Apparently it hadn’t let go of him inside the Wotter Tower. The otter shot Noah a worried look and then peered in both directions, brushing its stiff whiskers across Noah’s cheek.
Just as Noah was about to crash into the building across from the Wotter Tower, the right side of his body swept upward, and he veered in a new direction. He soared beside the wall, his body horizontal again. Around him, the rushing water bubbled and churned.
Noah realized that he was on a glass slide. To make certain, he stroked his hand along the invisible wall, which arched up and over his head. The slide was fully enclosed—a glass tunnel in the air. He peered into the depths of the city and spotted the slide’s trail of bubbling water spiraling down.
The slide turned sharply left again, sweeping Noah and the water along. Noah had completed a full turn and was now headed back to the Wotter Tower. The velvet curtain, already fifty feet above him, burst open, releasing a pack of otters and a gush of water. The animals wrestled and rolled over one another. For them, being a thousand feet above the city was ordinary stuff.
As Noah came within ten feet of the Wotter Tower, the slide veered sharply to the right. Again Noah rose up the smooth curve. Water splashed all around as the slide straightened to run directly beside the wall. Noah saw his image reflected in the glass. Lying on his stomach with his arms stretched out in front of him, he looked like a flying superhero wearing an otter for a cape.
The slide passed the Wotter Tower, then flew by a building framed with trees. It curved around columns and balconies, and arched over roofs and branches, sometimes so suddenly that Noah’s stomach dropped inside him. He began to make out the details of the animals below: the spots on giraffes, the slashes across zebras, the ears on elephants.
Noah veered sharply right and began to cross the street. He punched into the thick foliage of a tree and his world exploded with color and movement. Leaves were escaping the summer-long clutches of their branches, piling on the slide’s roof and spilling over its sides. They partially covered the glass, revealing its full shape—a perfect spiral, about six feet wide.
The slide pushed through the far side of the tree, and Noah saw that he and the otter were less than three hundred feet from the ground. The not-so-distant animals continued to rise into focus. Noah saw tails wagging, manes blowing, and feathers swaying. He saw two teenagers on a bull, a woman on a tiger, and a group of kids in a huge basket strapped to an elephant. Across the city, he spotted the Library of the Secret Society and its massive staircase.
The slide went on and on. As it neared the ground, its slope began to decrease. At ten feet high, it had completely leveled out, like the final stretch of a playground slide. Noah and the otter began to slow as they glided beside the heads of taller animals. Just ahead, their ride came to an end at a large fountain in the middle of a busy intersection. Water spilled over the fountain’s chest-high walls into a trench along its perimeter.
Noah and the otter dropped through the air and splashed down. Once they’d slowed to a stop, the otter pushed off Noah’s back, and Noah stood up. He staggered to the edge of the fountain, threw his arms over the wall, and collapsed. The otter swam up and waggled onto the ledge. It stood on its hindquarters in the steady overflow of water and gazed at Noah.
“Enjoy the ride?” Noah asked.
The otter tipped its head to one side, as if contemplating its answer. Then it sniffed the air toward Noah, the point of its snout wriggling.
Hannah was standing nearby, dripping water onto the street. Near her, two ornate marble benches faced each other. On one sat Ella and Megan, both soaking wet. On the other sat two adults, both perfectly dry. One adult had a gleaming bald head, the other a long gray ponytail. Tank and Mr. Darby.
With a grunt, Noah heaved his body over the fountain wall. He landed in a watery trench and splashed across it, frightening a group of pelicans into the air. He staggered to the benches, his wet, spongy shoes leaving puddle footprints in the street. The otter chased after him, its paws leaving watery prints as well. Noah stared at his sister, whose wet pigtails clung to her head.
Megan said, “Tell me—was that cool, or what?”
“Right now, I’m leaning toward what.”
Noah dropped onto the bench beside Tank, who was bellowing with laughter.
“C’mon!” Megan protested. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t totally cool!”
Noah kept quiet. He kicked off his shoes, pouring water onto the street. Then he leaned forward, his elbows against his knees. Directly in front of him sat Ella. She’d taken off her shoes, too, and was wringing out her socks. Noah had a sudden bird’s-eye view of her bare feet. He was shocked to see that her toenails were painted pink.
“You paint your toenails? Since when?”
Ella twisted her wet sock, grimacing with the effort. “We just came down a waterslide the size of the Empire State Building, and you want to talk about my toes?” She studied Noah’s face and saw that he was serious. She shook out her sock and said, “I don’t know. A few months ago, I guess.”
Noah looked over at Tank, who was still staring at him with a broad smile.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” said Tank. He held a triumphant fist out to Noah. “Give me one of these!”
Noah simply stared at the massive ball of Tank’s fist. Each knuckle was the size of a walnut and marred with a web of scars, as if Tank had spent a lifetime punching holes in glass.
“Huh?” Noah mumbled.
Tank wriggled his fist in the air. “One of these. C’mon, now. . . .”
When Noah directed his confusion to Mr. Darby, the old man said, “Mr. Pangbourne would like you to raise your fist and touch it to his. It’s a variation of the conventional handshake, and I believe it demonstrates a heightened level of respect or admiration toward another person.” Mr. Darby glanced at Tank and asked, “Is this assessment correct, Mr. Pangbourne?”
“As always, Mr. D.”
Noah thought about this for a second and then lightly punched his small fist against Tank’s huge one. The gesture felt a little a
wkward, but exciting at the same time. Tank threw back his head and laughed again. Noah realized for the first time since sitting next to the big man that a thick bandage covered the far side of his face.
“Tank—your face—”
“What about it?” Tank said with a wink. “You noticing for the first time it’s not so pretty?”
Noah opened his mouth, but no words formed.
“The bandages?” Tank said. “Yeah, that sasquatch got me pretty good. I took enough stitches to sew a pair of pants, but I’ll live.”
Mr. Darby pointed upward and said, “Here comes our last scout now—not so courageously, I’m afraid.”
Noah stared overhead. Barreling toward them in the glass slide was Richie, scarcely visible in a knot of more than a dozen otters. He was hurtling forward with his knees pressed to his chest and his rear end aimed at the sky. His screams echoed out of the tunnel and over the fountain.
With no emotion or surprise in her voice, Ella said, “Here comes Richie,” and continued to wring out her socks.
Chapter 23
The Ocean in the Sky
Richie and the otters splashed down in the fountain, scattering birds into the air. Gasping, he staggered over to the fountain wall and threw himself against the ledge. The otters swam in all directions, their eyes bulging with fear. Before they fled the area, a few nipped angrily at Richie. He labored over the wall and stood there, swaying and dripping.
“What happened?” Noah said. “There were so many otters—what did you do?”
“I’m not sure,” said Richie at last. His glasses hung sideways on his face, perched closer to his ear than his nose.
“The curtain . . . the otters . . . I just . . . I just sort of blacked out.”
Mr. Darby and Tank threw back their heads and laughed.
Richie walked over and took a seat beside Ella. Realizing that his glasses were crooked, he fumbled to correct them. “This place is going to kill me, I swear.”
“It was a slide,” said Megan. “We figured those out in kindergarten, remember?”
“Hmmm . . .” Richie muttered. “I don’t seem to remember the ones that rose through the stratosphere.”
“Nicely done,” Mr. Darby said. “All of you.” He leaned toward the scouts and became serious. “I came to check on your progress and to let you know that we are still on the hunt for the sasquatches since the attack on Tank. We have, in fact, stepped up our efforts. We’ve been scouring the sectors day and night.”
“Have you found anything?”
Mr. Darby shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“What will happen if you don’t find them?” Ella asked.
“Impossible to know,” Mr. Darby answered. “For now, keep focused on your task—developing as Crossers. Leave the sasquatches to our concern. You can take comfort in knowing our strongest forces are on the case.”
“Strongest forces?” Noah asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Darby said. “The animals and . . .” His voice trailed out and he briefly shifted his stare to Tank. “And others.”
“What do you—”
The old man stood, clapped his hands together sharply, and said, “Now, then! Mr. Pangbourne, I do believe we have other business to attend to.”
Tank rose from his seat. “That’s a fact, Mr. D.”
Megan protested. “But we just got here. . . .”
“And you have only thirty minutes to get out of here.” Mr. Darby tipped his head to the scouts. “Ta-ta, my young scouts. I leave you in the quite competent care of Hannah.” The two men walked into the street, quickly disappearing into the hordes of animals.
Noah’s gaze shifted to the otter who had ridden his back and was now sitting on the bench beside him. The otter stared up and twitched his whiskers.
“You still here?” Noah asked.
The otter blinked twice.
To the scouts, Hannah said, “Okay, let’s go. You heard Darby—we’ve got to get you back.”
The scouts squeezed into their wet shoes and followed Hannah into the street.
“Ugh,” Ella said as she pulled the cling out of her wet zoo shirt. “I can’t wait to be dry again.”
“Get used to it,” Hannah said. “It goes with the territory. You’ll be back in dry clothes soon enough.”
The otter ambled beside Noah, swinging his head from side to side, taking in the teeming city. Noah asked Hannah, “Any chance you know the name of this one?”
“That’s Louie,” Hannah said. “He has a way of making trouble.”
Noah stared down at the otter. “Hey, Louie.”
Again returning Noah’s gaze, the otter snorted and shook the water from his hindquarters.
Hannah and the scouts merged into the busy crowd on the street, finding a spot between a family of grizzly bears and a bunch of emus. One of the emus pecked at Richie’s pom-pom as if it were a snack, prompting him to escape to a new spot beside Hannah. Noah stared overhead and tried to locate the waterslide. Though he couldn’t see the glass, he saw a slender stream of water rushing through the shower of autumn leaves.
A quick stroll returned them to the Wotter Tower. The scouts followed Hannah into the shadowy space beneath the enormous tank, where streets ran, animals roamed, and fountains spouted. More than two hundred feet above him, the bottom of the tank bulged out like an overturned dome. The massive reach of the water made it seem as though an ocean had emptied into the sky. Movements in the water caused shimmering beams of sunlight to fall across everything.
“Hannah,” said Noah, “all this water—where does it go?”
“All over the City of Species—pools, fountains, slides, streams.”
“Where does it come from?”
“Mostly the water exhibits in the Clarksville Zoo. The rest . . . well . . . we sort of borrow it from the plumbing on the Outside.”
The scouts chuckled at the idea. The Secret Zoo, despite its magic and power, got some of its water through ordinary plumbing.
Hannah led them to one of the many marble columns that supported the tank. At its base, a velvet curtain hung over an open doorway—a gateway back to the Secret Wotter Park. Hannah pushed through the curtain and led the scouts into a small, damp-smelling room. Louie trampled across their feet, settled into a spot, and made a strange otter sound, a cross between a squeak and a grunt.
Hannah’s voice rose in the darkness. “Brace yourselves.”
As the curtain settled back into place, the entire room jolted upward. The scouts were in some type of elevator, and in the hollow darkness of the marble column it had begun to climb. Noah felt the elevator’s speed in his shaky feet.
In seconds, a bright light filled the room as they emerged from the marble column into the circular tank.
The elevator, made of glass, was rising along the inside curve of the tower wall, pushing through the water. One side had a view onto the City of Species, while the other sides looked into the Wotter Tower. Noah stared down through the bubbly trail of the elevator’s wake and saw the streets miniaturizing again.
Noah realized a wall of water stretched across the place where the curtain once hung. Somehow the water wasn’t spilling in.
Hannah said, “Go ahead. Touch it.”
Noah stepped forward. The water made no sound as droplets splashed against him. He raised his arm and punctured the water with a finger. He felt its rush against his skin. He spread his fingers and pushed his arm forward, allowing his hand to be devoured. Then he swiveled his wrist, investigating the sensation of the pressure.
Hannah said, “The curtain that normally hangs there leaves traces of its magic. Our scientists found a way to use that magic to keep the water back.”
As Noah pulled out his hand, the water closed around his fingertips. He stepped away to allow Megan and Ella a turn, and joined Richie in staring into the City of Species. Rooftops spread out around them: glass domes, bamboo thatch, and gabled sheets of steel. Freestanding columns rose into the heights. Birds of all sizes and s
pecies sailed through the crowded sky. A sprawling mesh of branches formed elevated streets for mobs of arboreal animals to cross.
Noah noticed six vertical tracks between the tower wall and the elevator. Gears spun across them. This was what was lifting the elevator.
As they soared into the upper part of the tower, the water filled with otters. They swam in all directions, rolling and somersaulting and playfully biting one another. At least fifty otters spotted the elevator and rushed over to race it. They swam upward, exposing their white bellies and leaving V-shaped ripples in their wake.
Louie charged to the open wall and dove out to join his friends.
Ella said, “I vote that next time we skip the slide and take the elevator.”
“It’s a one-way ride,” Hannah said. “Bottom to top, one stop. Unless you can time it just right on its way back down.”
They suddenly broke through the surface of the water, and a tangle of tree limbs came into view. As the elevator followed the curve of the wall, it began to pull back into one of the Wotter Park’s mountainsides. From their vantage point, the rocky walls seemed to be extending in front of them. The walls soon closed on themselves somewhere in front of the elevator, and the world around the scouts turned pitch-black.
“Oh nice,” Richie said as the elevator continued to stream upward. “Glad this isn’t freaky or anything.”
The elevator stopped with a jolt. The scouts couldn’t see a thing.
“Reach forward,” Hannah said.
Noah did. A velvet curtain was settled across the open wall of the elevator again.
“Now follow me.”
Noah felt Hannah brush by as she slipped through the curtain.
Megan said, “Time to go home,” and went next.
Ella followed. Then Richie, though not without complaint. Noah was the last to go—the last to leave the Secret Zoo behind.
Chapter 24