by Peter Nelson
“Canada?” Abbie said, staring daggers at Bernard, who was beginning to get itchy. “You want us to go to Canada?”
“That’s right,” Bernard said. He began winking awkwardly. “You and your brother have been handpicked to come to the heart of the Pacific Northwest, where you will meet new and interesting individuals.” His winking grew spastic, and was beginning to look more like something that might require medical attention.
“Are you all right, Ranger Master Bernie?” Mrs. Grimsley said. “Can we get you a glass of water or something?”
“Uh, no, thank you, ma’am. I’m just not used to being in the big city. I think I just need to get some fresh air. If you don’t mind, I’ll wait downstairs. I’m parked right out front of your building, whenever you two are ready to go.”
Jordan and Abbie looked at each other. Even though they disagreed on practically everything, in this moment they were both thinking the same thing:
3
Jordan and Abbie each packed up their backpacks, thanked their mother and father for letting them attend the Forty-Seventh Annual International Badgeroobilee, and kissed them good-bye. They took the elevator down to the lobby, stepped out of their apartment building, and stopped. Bernard had parked the car directly in front of their building. On the sidewalk. The usual stream of people speedwalking along, talking on their cell phones and paying attention only to the space directly in front of them moved in mindless unison, hardly noticing the Florida Skunk Ape dressed in a Badger Ranger uniform sitting in a bright red convertible rent-a-car, waving madly—as if Jordan and Abbie wouldn’t have noticed him otherwise.
The car was sporty and small, and quite economical from the looks of it. Whether it was practical for an eight-foot, unlicensed nonhuman driver was a whole other question.
“I know what you’re thinking, guys,” Bernard said as Jordan and Abbie approached. “Red’s a bit flashy. But I didn’t expect to get such a sweet parking spot right in front of your building, and I was worried I’d have trouble finding it.”
“Nope,” Abbie said as she got in the back. “Not what I was thinking.”
Jordan hopped in the passenger seat and the two of them observed Bernard on the driver’s side of the tiny automobile. He could barely move the wheel, his big belly was so packed in against it. He turned the ignition and put on his turn signal.
The tiny red car jerked to a start, and a dozen or so pedestrians leaped out of the way. HONK-HONK! Bernard tooted the horn. The car jerked again as it lurched into traffic. BEEEEP! Six or seven taxis assaulted the little red car with their horns, weaving around it and yelling not-very-nice things. Bernard waved politely to them as he puttered down the busy avenue.
Once they were moving, Jordan and Abbie quickly got over their initial shock and began asking questions. They had a lot of them.
“Bernard, what is this all about?” Jordan asked.
He turned to them. “We’re in crisis mode, guys.” The little red car screeched across three lanes. Bernard yanked the wheel, jerking the car back. He stared straight ahead as he continued. “We really need your help. It’s Eldon. After helping Doris set up the Creature Keeper central command deep beneath the retirement house, he left it under her and my control, then headed down to Mexico to see if he could find whatever remained of Gusto. Him being blasted out of that volcano, we assumed he didn’t survive, but Eldon wanted to make sure there was no evidence of a cryptid lying around, and to get the Hydro-Hide back. He also mentioned something about your grandfather’s ring.”
Jordan felt a pang of anger as he remembered how the ring Eldon had given him, once belonging to his Grampa Grimsley, had been taken from him.
Bernard continued. “We’ve learned that he found only a scorched area where Gusto landed, but no Gusto. He did pick up some sort of tracks, and followed that trail south, into Central America. Nobody’s heard from him since.”
“I have,” Jordan said, looking through his bag. “I got a postcard from just south of there, in Brazil, a couple of weeks ago.” He pulled it out and handed it to Bernard.
Bernard’s stubbly, poorly shaved lip began trembling a bit as he read it. HONK! He nearly sideswiped a limousine, then handed the card back, returning his glassy eyes to the road. “Well, we know he made it that far,” he sniffled. “That’s something. But we still don’t know where he is now. I’m really worried about him.”
Eldon was technically Bernard’s Keeper, but it often seemed to Jordan like it was the other way around. This was not the first time Bernard had come to him with concerns over Eldon’s safety.
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Jordan said. “It’s probably just really remote down there. Hard to make contact. We’ll hear from him soon. It’ll be all right.”
“It’s not just that,” the Skunk Ape continued as he cut off a city bus to take an illegal left turn. “We need Eldon back to get the whole operation under control.”
“Why?” Abbie asked. “What’s happened?”
“We’re getting reports in from all over. Cryptids are getting spooked, and their Keepers are getting anxious.”
“Over what?” Jordan said.
“We sent out a number of emissaries from CKCC to deliver your electronic homing devices for the creatures. The emissaries were also instructed to quietly deliver some news to the Keepers—that there would be no more Fountain of Youth elixir.”
A second pang hit Jordan, this one more like a knot in his stomach. He’d almost gone a whole morning without recalling the horrible mistake he’d made that resulted in the destruction of the lifeblood that kept the Keepers young.
“Our messengers came back with varied reactions from the Keepers. Many were worried they wouldn’t be able to continue if they couldn’t stay young. And some were afraid their creatures wouldn’t accept them once they’d aged.”
“Didn’t the creatures know about the elixir?” Abbie asked.
“Not all of them, no. Not to be snooty, but there are different levels of sophistication among us cryptids. This is why some of us can speak, or master driving a car as I am right now, while others simply can’t. Depending on how evolved a cryptid is, he or she might be able to handle that information. But the more wild cryptids usually have a history that includes terrible experiences being hunted by men. For them it’s not only necessary for their Keepers to be young in order to keep their trust, it’s also crucial that the source of that youth be kept secret.”
“And now that’s all been ruined,” Jordan said. “By me.”
“Nothing’s ruined yet,” Bernard said. “For one thing, the Keepers don’t age overnight. It will happen slightly more rapidly than the natural process, as the elixir gets out of their systems and their bodies begin to naturally catch up to their biological age. But for now it’s barely noticeable.”
“You said the cryptids were spooked, too?” Abbie said.
“This is something we’re still trying to figure out. A few of our field members came back and reported that some cryptids were claiming to have been visited in the middle of the night. By a shadowy figure. Whispering to them as they slept.”
“Could it just be nightmares?” Jordan said.
“We thought that, too. Except each of them reported hearing the same thing.”
“What did it whisper to them?”
“Horrible stories, almost all tales of Gusto. How this powerful human was able to capture and nearly kill Nessie. The voice warned each of them that Gusto will come for them next—and that the Creature Keepers can no longer protect them.”
An eerie pall hung over the little red sports car as they approached the airport and pulled up to the curb. “It’s Gusto,” he said. “It has to be. He survived the accident, probably thanks to the Hydro-Hide, which he’s now using to swim around the world, visiting cryptids in the night and spreading rumors about himself.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Abbie said. “If he wanted to hurt them, he could just do it while they slept, instead of warning them about himse
lf,” Abbie said. “Why would he do that?”
“More important to the CKCC is how he would do that,” Bernard said. “He doesn’t know where these creatures are. No one but the cryptids themselves and those at the highest levels at CKCC has that information.”
“So this whole Canadian Badgeroobilee is just a cover,” Jordan said. “We’re actually flying down to Brazil to help find Eldon, right? Very sneaky, Ranger Master Bernie.”
“Uh, no,” he said. “Those tickets are real, and you’re on the next flight to Vancouver. It boards in thirty minutes. You’d better get moving.”
“You just finished explaining how you need us down in South America,” Jordan said. “But you’re sending us up to North America?”
“We have your tracking devices to keep tabs on the cryptids. The Keepers are far more unpredictable. Because they’re human.” He tossed Abbie’s bag to her. “When you land, you two will get to Harrison Lake, a few hours north of Vancouver. You’ll meet Hap Cooperdock. He’s Syd’s Keeper.”
“Syd. I know that name. . . .” Jordan suddenly remembered. “You mean Bigfoot!”
“I wouldn’t call him that when you meet him. He’s a little sensitive about it. If you need to get formal, go with Sasquatch.”
“We’re going to see Bigfoot,” Abbie repeated, letting that thought sink in.
“Yes,” Bernard continued. “But you’re also going to see Hap. He’s put in a request for a couple of interns to help deal with an increase in local traffic near Syd’s hideaway. Not an unheard-of request, but strange for him. He does things his own way. You’re officially going as interns, but we secretly want you to see that everything’s okay.”
“So you want us to be spies,” Abbie said. “Cool . . .”
“It’ll also be a good chance for you to see firsthand what a real Creature Keeper does. Even though he’s a bit of a loon, Hap’s one of the best. Think you can handle all that?”
Jordan was staring wide-eyed, with a goofy grin on his face. He’d hadn’t heard anything Bernard had said after the word Sasquatch.
4
The flight on Maple Leaf Airlines from the east coast of the United States to the west coast of Canada was about five and a half hours, but to Jordan it felt like an eternity. He couldn’t get over the fact that he was going to actually meet Bigfoot. Of all the cryptids that he’d studied, Bigfoot was by far Jordan’s favorite. He was obviously a mystery, but at the same time he was such a part of popular culture—like a superhero or a rock star. Meeting Bigfoot would be a moment to remember. So long as in that moment he remembered not to call him Bigfoot. Sasquatch? Mr. Squatch? The Squatchmeister? What? Stick with Syd. Syd would be fine.
His excitement was almost enough to make him forget the worry he now shared with Bernard over their friend Eldon. That would be the hardest part of this amazing adventure—sitting somewhere out in the woods observing Syd’s Creature Keeper, while wondering where Eldon might be, and hoping that he was okay.
“May I offer you some complimentary syrup?” A flight attendant smiled down at him from the aisle. She was pushing a maple syrup cart, filled with dozens of tiny little bottles, all different shades of brown.
“Oh, no thank you,” Jordan said. They both glanced at Abbie, who had a black eye mask pulled over her face. “She’s good, too, thanks.” The flight attendant smiled and moved on.
Jordan looked out the window and took a deep breath. He told himself that Eldon would be all right because there were good people who would find him. If there was one thing he’d learned from his horrible mistake last spring, it was that the Creature Keepers worked because they were a team. Every member of that team had a job to do. When each member did his or her job, everything worked out all right.
Jordan and his sister had been asked to do a very big, very exciting job. And Jordan was determined to do it perfectly. Starting with calling Bigfoot “Syd.”
Once they’d landed, Jordan and Abbie got off the plane and made their way through the Vancouver airport. They realized they had no idea who this Creature Keeper Hap Cooperdock was, what he looked like, or where to find him.
“I guess we stand around and wait for him to make contact.”
“Great. So the plan is to hang out in an airport in Canada, waiting for a kid named Hap Cooperdock to notice us.”
“Well, do you have a better plan?”
“Maybe ask them.”
She pointed out the window to the curb. Standing in perfect formation was a line of young Badger Rangers outside a large bus. At the end of the line, two rangers held a small banner: 47th Annual International Badgeroobilee or Bust! As Jordan and Abbie looked on, a Ranger Master stepped off the bus with a clipboard. He saluted the young group. They saluted back, and began filing on board.
“C’mon!” Jordan burst toward the airport exit. “That could be our ride!”
Abbie picked up her bag and slowly followed. “It better not be.”
Jordan ran up to the two rangers at the end of the line holding the banner. “Hey! Are either of you guys Hap Cooperdock, by any chance?”
They both saluted him, and waited. Jordan saluted back. “Badger Ranger Tommy and Badger Ranger Sinclair!” one of them chirped. “At your service, sir!”
“Are you here for the Badgeroobilee?” the other one asked. “It’s gonna be Badgeriffic!”
“Uh, well, that depends,” Jordan said. “Is there a Hap Cooperdock on that bus that you know of?”
“Not that I’m aware of, sir,” Badger Ranger Tommy said.
“Doesn’t ring a bell, sir,” Badger Ranger Sinclair added.
“‘Sir’? I’m maybe a year or two older than you guys, at the most.”
“We’re trained to treat fellow citizens with respect, sir,” Badger Ranger Tommy said.
“It’s the Badger Ranger way, sir,” Badger Ranger Sinclair added.
Jordan turned to Abbie. “Aw,” he said. “They’re like little mini Eldons.”
“This is my nightmare,” Abbie said. “No way am I getting on that bus with those miniaturized dorks.”
“Hang on, I’ve got an idea.” As Tommy and Sinclair got on the bus, Jordan confronted the Ranger Master, who was checking off a clipboard. Jordan leaned in to read his name tag.
“Ranger Master . . . MacInerney! Can I ask if there’s a Hap Cooperdock on board, or checked in at the Badgeroobilee, or anything?”
“Sure! And welcome to the Forty-Seventh Annual International Badgeroobilee!” Ranger Master MacInerney flipped through his clipboard. It reminded Jordan of his dad when he had a list of do-it-yourself fix-it items to get through.
“Uhhhhhh . . . nope! Sorry, but I’m afraid there’s no one by that name registered for this year’s Forty-Seventh Annual International Badgeroobilee!”
“Stop saying that,” Abbie said from the curb as she checked her phone.
“Sure thing!” Ranger Master MacInerney shouted back.
“Sorry,” Jordan said. “She’s a little grumpy because we just got off a long flight and our friend Hap Cooperdock was supposed to pick us up here and take us to Harrison Lake, and also she’s just generally like that all the time, so—”
“Harrison Lake? Say, that’s where we’re headed!”
“It is?”
“Sure! That’s the site of the Forty-Seventh Annual—” He stopped and glanced over at Abbie. “That’s where we’re going,” he whispered. “We’d be happy to give you a lift!”
“That would be great! Thanks!” Jordan rushed over to Abbie and grabbed his bag. “C’mon! I got us a ride! Grab your stuff!”
Abbie didn’t move. “I told you, I’m not getting on that bus. I’m allergic to dorks in khaki.”
“Abbie, we have to get on that bus!”
“No.”
“Yes!”
“You get on.”
“Maybe I will!”
“Fine.”
“FINE!”
Ranger Master MacInerney watched the two Grimsleys fighting. He slowly backed onto the
bus, slid into a seat, and gestured for the driver to go. Quickly.
“I’m not going to blow this mission,” Jordan said. “And that’s our only ride!”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Abbie said, looking up. “Oh, no. Too late.”
Jordan saw the Badger Bus pull away from the curb. “Wait!” He took a few steps, then stopped and stared across the street. Abbie stepped up to join him.
As the Badger Bus drove off, it revealed what was parked on the other side of it: a beat-up old orange Volkswagen microbus. Mounted atop the bus was a large, crudely made brown furry foot. A bedsheet duct-taped to the side of the VW had a spray-painted message: Shuttle to Harrison Lake—Cheap! Leaning against the bus was a skinny old guy wearing sandals, grubby shorts, a tie-dyed T-shirt, and shades. His head was mostly bald except for the sides, which were grown out and pulled back and tied in a gray ponytail. He held a sign that read, Jordan/Abbie.
Abbie picked up her bag. “I’m thinking maybe we go with that dude.”
5
After patting the both of them down and checking to make sure they weren’t wired with microphones, their strange driver steered the microbus onto the Trans-Canada Highway. Abbie and Jordan sat crammed together in the tiny front seat, sizing up the odd old dude behind the wheel. Ever since they’d gotten on the road, he’d been jittery.
“Uh, you all right, there, Mr. . . . uh—”
The man glanced at Jordan, then turned the radio up, LOUD. Then he whispered, “Cooperdock. Hap Cooperdock.” He winked, and turned down the radio.
Jordan and Abbie shared a glance. “Excuse me?” she said.
“Not to be rude,” Jordan said. “But you’re way too old to be Hap Cooperdo—”
“SHHH!” The old man cranked up the radio again. He glanced in his rearview mirror, then his side mirrors. “If that’s true, then I feel awful,” he whispered. “’Cause I been wearing the guy’s underwear for, like, eighty-six years.”