Creature Keepers and the Swindled Soil-Soles

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Creature Keepers and the Swindled Soil-Soles Page 11

by Peter Nelson


  “Tell him to keep it down under there!” Doris yelled, fiddling with the Heli-Jet’s control panel. “I’m trying to talk to Ed!” She turned back to the radio microphone in her hand as the Heli-Jet rocked and swayed.

  Ed’s voice crackled over the airwaves. “Roger that loud and clear, Denmother! You want us to send the recon crew to your current coordinates! One problem—they’re not here! Bernard and Mac headed out in the sub with Nessie! Kriss came in with direct orders from Eldon for the team to hightail it down to Brazil to pick him up!”

  “Eldon?” Doris said. “Did you say Eldon?”

  “Ten-four! The sub’s on their way to rendezvous with him and Jordan now.”

  “Well, I’ll be. The little Grimsley did it. I never doubted him.”

  “They’re bringing the two of them back, plus Izzy!”

  “That’s all great news, Ed! Listen, please send word to the sub crew to come straight here! The situation is worse than we thought. As soon as they get Eldon and the others, have them get their butts up to Harrison Lake! Nessie will know an underwater route. Gusto’s here, and he’s planning something dreadful!”

  “I’m on it, Denmother! You can count on me! Help is on the way!”

  “Thanks, Ed. Tell you what. You can use my coffee mug it you want.”

  “Thank you, Doris. You stay safe, now, okay?”

  KA-CHUNK! The Heli-Jet shifted, causing Doris to drop the radio.

  “The controls just went dead,” Syd said. “This thing is flying itself! Just when I was getting the hang of it, too!”

  “Gusto must have engaged some sort of autopilot system,” Doris said.

  “Denmother!” Ed’s voice crackled from the radio. “Are you all right? Come in!” FRZZZZT! The radio crackled. Gusto’s cold, calm voice replaced Ed’s frantic rambling.

  “Attention, whomever was idiotic enough to commandeer the private property of Gusto Industries. You are being brought back, by way of remote control. I have the Grimsley girl, so don’t try anything stupid. Just sit back and enjoy the view. It will likely be your last. Thank you.” FRZZZZT!

  Doris and Syd looked at each other, then ran to the cargo area of the Heli-Jet and slid open the door. They’d made it a little ways up Mount Breakenridge, but were now being flown back. The tops of the trees swished by just below them.

  Doris tore open a few of the MADE IN BRAZIL–marked boxes, hoping for some parachutes. She pulled out a pair of Mapinguari footie pajamas and held them up. “What in tarnation?” She dropped them and stepped over to Syd, standing in the open doorway. “Okay, plan B! You have to jump! You can’t go back, who knows what he’ll do to you!”

  “No,” Syd said. “I don’t care if you’re in charge, here, Doris. There’s no way I’m jumping off this chopper without yoooOOOOOooooo . . . !”

  Doris shoved Syd out of the Heli-Jet. She peered over the side and watched as he bounced off a couple of trees, then grabbed at their branches to stop himself. He looked up at her angrily from a large sequoia.

  Doris slid the door closed with a THUD. “Dang right I’m in charge, here.”

  On the ground, the crowd of BuckHeads and Squatch freaks had grown, watching Gusto up on the porch-stage. He had the tiny remote in his hand and was remotely piloting the Heli-Jet.

  One of Gusto’s Brazilian minions pointed to the sky. “Here comes your hellychopper, boss.” he said in a Portuguese accent.

  Buck stood near Abbie, who nervously watched as the Heli-Jet descended. Gusto directed the Heli-Jet over the crowd in front of the RV. He clomped down the wooden steps of the porch-stage as the spectators moved back to make room for the landing. Buck and Abbie followed, keeping their eyes on the hovering craft. It was level and centered in the landing space, about a hundred feet off the ground. Gusto grinned devilishly at the others, then suddenly jerked the controller. The Heli-Jet veered violently, hung directly over Buck’s RV, and then—CRASH!—dropped down on top of it, crunching its runners into the sides of the large camper truck.

  “No!” Abbie screamed.

  “NO!” Buck screamed even louder.

  The crowd cheered at the spectacle of the metal crunching metal, like fans at a demolition derby. Buck looked at Gusto with tears in his eyes. Gusto was smiling. Abbie stared up at the Heli-Jet’s doorway, hoping that Doris and Syd were all right.

  “What the heckfire did you do that for?” Buck said. “You ruined my RV!”

  “I improved it,” Gusto said, “It’s now a hybrid.” He reached for Buck’s microphone lying on the stage. “I also saved you the trouble of packing. Get your Buckaroo Crew together. You depart in two minutes.”

  Confused and disoriented, Buck stumbled back up the stairs.

  “There he goes, folks!” Gusto turned and addressed the crowd with the microphone. “Star of the brand-new show Buck Wilde: Creature-Catcher!”

  As the crowd’s applause grew louder and more energetic, Buck waved and flashed a smile, falling into character for his fans. Gusto continued to sell it. “And to celebrate tomorrow’s big premiere, the newest attraction here at Harrison Lake will be opening at noon tomorrow! Come on down to the pier and bring the kiddies! Be the first to enter BUCK WILDE’S WILDE ISLE! We’ll have food, fun, and lots of merchandise for sale leading up to showtime, when Buck and his fearless Buckaroo Crew will venture into the heart of the dark Amazon jungle to track, hunt, catch, and capture the vicious, freakish, one-eyed, belly-mouthed MAPINGUARI!”

  He nodded to his Brazilian AV minions, who controlled a laptop just offstage. The jumbo screens next to the trashed RV blinked to life, showing an artist’s renditions of a savage-looking Izzy. The crowd let out a symphony of oohs and aahs.

  “Now let’s all wish Buck and his Buckaroo Crew the best of luck as they head out on their journey into the darkest jungles of South America! Let the countdown begin! TEN! NINE! EIGHT! SEVEN! . . .”

  Buck looked around, confused and surprised at everything that was happening so suddenly. Gusto’s Brazilian minions finished bolting the Heli-Jet’s runners to the top of the RV as his Buckaroo Crew scurried aboard.

  Abbie noticed Doris being pulled out of the Heli-Jet on the RV roof, and was relieved to see her doing her best to fight back. She went to run to her, but Gusto grabbed hold of Abbie as he continued counting.

  “SIX! FIVE! FOUR! . . .” The crowd was all chanting along now. Buck looked back from the stage-porch as Gusto stood on the ground holding the remote control.

  “Wait! You’re not coming with us?” Buck yelled.

  “Of course not,” Gusto yelled back. “This is your show!”

  “THREE! TWO! ONE! . . .”

  “You just make sure those cameras are running,” Gusto yelled. “We don’t want to miss a moment as you CATCH! THAT! CREATURE!” Gusto hit the controller. The Heli-Jet lifted the RV off the ground, tearing it away from its attached stage-porch. Buck stumbled on the crumbling wooden structure, until his Buckaroo Crew pulled him inside. They all waved and tossed Izzy merchandise down to the crowd as they lifted up over the trees. Gusto hit another button. The jets blasted blue flame, torching a few treetops, and rocketing them out over Harrison Lake, toward the south.

  There was a half second of silence, then: “YEEEAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

  Over the cheering crowd, Gusto grabbed Abbie’s and Doris’s arms tightly. “Shall we, ladies?” He smiled at them as he stomp-marched them through the well-wishing crowd, off toward the docks down by Harrison Lake. As they made their way out through the camping area, Abbie saw a mob of fans practically throwing money at two men behind a booth. Guy and Andre were frantically selling homemade T-shirts. They were old Sasquatch prints, with a twist—as Andre took people’s money, Guy used a thick Magic Marker to draw a single eye in the center of Bigfoot’s head and a gaping mouth over his belly.

  And one was selling them faster than the other could change them.

  23

  Izzy squatted by the fire, dipped his long claw into a paste he was preparing, and tasted it with his
gaping belly-mouth. He grunted, added some mashed-up leaves, and tasted it again. Across the fire, Jordan and Eldon sat watching him, holding empty bowls made from wood bark.

  “Remember,” Eldon said. “Whatever he serves us, you’ve gotta act like it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever eaten. We want to win his trust, and not upset him. Izzy’s very touchy about his cooking. If he sees we appreciate his food, it’ll go a long way in winning him over.”

  “Okay,” Jordan said, repeating this along with his earlier instructions. “So avoid direct eye contact, let you do the talking, and eat his food. I so got this.”

  “The talking one should be easiest. Izzy doesn’t speak English. His Keeper, Silvana, taught him her indigenous Amazon Arawakan language. It’s all he knows.”

  “And let me guess . . .” Jordan looked down at Eldon’s Badger Badge sash. “You got one, don’t you?”

  “As a matter of fact . . .” Eldon located a Badger Badge on the sea of round patches sewn on to his sash that proved Jordan right. “I do. Basic Arawakan.”

  “Basic? You’re not getting lazy on me, are you, Pecone?” Jordan said. He couldn’t help but grin. It was good to see his friend more like his old self again.

  “GRUNT!” They looked up. Izzy stood over them, his massive eye glaring down in the firelight, holding out a crude serving bowl. PLOP! The Mapinguari slapped down a heaping helping of thick, lumpy paste in each of their bowls.

  “Mm-mm!” Jordan exclaimed excitedly. “Hey! Can I just say, this looks so good! I mean, wowzers! Yummy-town, here we come, toot-toot!”

  Both Izzy and Eldon stared at him. Izzy’s massive eye blinked, and he emitted a low growl. Eldon leaned over to Jordan. “Don’t oversell it,” he whispered. “The Mapinguari really doesn’t appreciate phonies.”

  Izzy grunted again, then began speaking in a strange, rapid-fire burst of syllables. Jordan smiled at the beautifully exotic language and wasn’t surprised when Eldon began responding just as rapidly to the Mapinguari.

  “He says since you’re so excited about his cooking, you should be the first to try it,” Eldon said.

  Jordan stared down at the clumpy paste on his plate. He thought he saw something move in the goo, and hoped it was just the shadow from the fire playing tricks on his eyes. He scooped some up with two fingers, and shivered. Nope, he thought. There’s something alive, squirming around in my dinner.

  Another grunt from Izzy followed by a sharp elbow from Eldon forced Jordan to shove his fingers into his mouth. He immediately recognized the sensation. The squirming substance in his mouth was, sadly, something he’d had before. “Hey, grubs,” he said through a mouthful of the wiggly glop. “All right. My favorite.”

  Izzy squinted at him, watching Jordan closely. Eldon leaned over to him again. “He’s waiting for you to finish your bite.”

  Jordan shut his eyes, once again fighting every instinct he had to spit out the writhing goo in his mouth. He bit down. On a grub. Yet again.

  The popping sound was horrible, but not as horrible as the juicy, oily burst he felt hit the back of his throat. He swallowed it, paste and all, then weakly forced a smile and gave a thumbs-up. “Hope I’m not overselling it,” he muttered, trying not to gag.

  Izzy sat back and smiled a little. Eldon whispered, “Nice job. He liked that!” Izzy looked to Eldon. The Badger Ranger smiled and shook his head, then made a rubbing gesture over his belly, and offered a quick series of explanatory syllables. Izzy nodded in understanding and took his plate away.

  “Hey! What was that?” Jordan said.

  “I told him I was still feeling under the weather,” Eldon said. “Now stop talking to me and finish. He’ll be upset if you don’t clean your plate!”

  Later, the three of them sat silently by the fire. Eldon was looking much healthier, Jordan was looking like he might be sick, and Izzy was looking up at the stars.

  “He wasn’t this quiet when I first got here,” Eldon said softly to Jordan. “He was scared, and defensive. It’s taken me a lot of time to slowly earn back his trust.”

  Without looking away from the night sky, Izzy spoke in his native Arawakan.

  “What did he say?” Jordan asked.

  “He said I still have a long way to go. . . . Well, I’ll be a mermaid’s mother!” Eldon said. “He understood me! You understand English, don’t you?”

  Izzy’s belly smiled a bit. He looked at them as he chirped something in Arawakan.

  “He says he can understand it, but he can’t speak it,” Eldon said. “His Keeper conversed with him in Arawakan, but would read him bedtime stories in English.”

  Jordan leaned forward. “Izzy, it sounds like your Keeper took very good care of you. What happened? Why did you send her away?”

  Izzy looked back up at the stars for a long while. He took a deep breath, and began speaking in his strange language.

  “The shadow voice made me do it,” Eldon quietly translated. “It came like a very bad dream, in that moment between being awake and being asleep. But I knew it was real. I could feel its breath, and hear its words. It whispered to me tales of a human. A powerful, horrible human. A human who kidnapped a great cryptid of the sea, and stole her skin, just to make himself a jacket.”

  “That was Nessie,” Jordan whispered. “He’s talking about Areck Gusto.”

  Izzy’s eye suddenly glared at Jordan. It was wide with fear as Eldon continued translating for him. “The shadow told me how this man stole one of the largest, strongest, most powerful and protected cryptids on earth, right out from under the nose of the Creature Keepers. It said if this Gusto could do this, what protection could my Keeper give me from him? It planted horrible thoughts in my head. As my Creature Keeper slept, the shadow would whisper that it wasn’t just Gusto, that all humans would eventually grow older, grow to hurt all the cryptids. I was becoming more and more frightened. I had to get rid of my Keeper.”

  “What . . . what did you do?” Jordan said.

  The Mapinguari continued in his indigenous language. Eldon gasped, then translated for Jordan. “I scared her away. I growled at her. I acted crazy, out of control. I made her think I was going to hurt her. I had to get her to run for her life, in order to save it.”

  “And after she left,” Jordan said. “Did the shadow come back?”

  Izzy nodded. “It told me I had done good,” Eldon translated. “The shadow told me how the Creature Keepers had lied to me, how they tricked me. The shadow spoke of a dark magic, some potion given secretly to my Keeper, that allowed her to fool me. It taught me that no humans could be trusted, least of all the Creature Keepers. That they were the greatest liars of all.”

  Izzy looked up from the fire. He stared at Jordan and Eldon. They stared back, unsure what to say. Finally, in strained English, Izzy growled a question on his own.

  “Is . . . it . . . true?”

  Eldon glanced at Jordan. He thought for a moment. “Izzy,” he began. “The one who lied to you, the one who tricked you, was this shadow—whatever it was. You need to know something about us Creature Keepers—”

  “Wait,” Jordan said, stopping him. “Eldon, I can’t let you do this. It’s my fault that the elixir was discovered. If anyone’s going to tell Izzy the truth and take the blame, it should be me.”

  “Jordan, that’s really not necessary—please, let me talk to him.”

  “Izzy, listen to me,” Jordan said. “Yes. It’s true. There was an elixir. And it made old men young. But now it’s gone, and it’s gone because I was reckless, and—”

  “GRRRR!” Izzy stood up angrily. He burst out a rapid-fire stream of syllables between growls and grunts.

  “What’s he saying?” Jordan said. “Is he saying we’re cool?”

  “GRRRRRRROAAARR!” Sparks exploded into the air as Izzy kicked the fire.

  “Does it look like we’re cool?” Eldon yelled. The two of them were on their feet.

  “He’s telling us to get out of here! He’s calling us liars! Devils! He thinks we’re
here to hurt him, to capture him and take his coat!”

  “No!” Jordan said. “Izzy, let me explain! We’re not even men! We’re kids! But there are lots of older humans who don’t mean you any harm! Let us take you to them! You’ll see! If you’ll just come with us, you’ll see!”

  “GRRRROOOOAAAAARR!”

  “Jordan!” Eldon shouted. “I really must insist you shut up now!”

  “Look out!” Jordan tackled Eldon out of the way just as Izzy slashed at them with his large claws. SWISH! They both looked up at the tree trunk they’d been standing in front of. Its bark was stripped clean off.

  KA-CHUNK! They rolled on the ground as Izzy’s claw came down, sinking deep into the gnarled roots on the jungle floor.

  “C’mon!” Jordan yelled. “I think we’d better get out of here!” As Izzy struggled to pull his claws out of the ground, Jordan leaped over the fire. He grabbed his backpack, then ran back. He grabbed Eldon, and the two of them ran into the jungle, leaping over brush and ducking under branches.

  As they ran blindly through the dark, they could hear growling and yelling, as well as the snapping and slicing of branches closing in on them. They cut left, then right, not knowing where they were or in what direction they were headed. Suddenly, the ground beneath fell away. They tumbled down an overgrown ravine, sliding and rolling until they settled at the bottom. They lay there, listening only to their own breathing, and Izzy’s distant growls echoing across the Amazon.

  They’d lost the Mapinguari. In more ways than one.

  24

  The waters of Harrison Lake were calm and still, reflecting the silvery glow of the moon hanging low in the sky. It was getting close to dawn, but there was a lot of activity down by the dock and out on the water. Gusto’s minions were working hard to transport and set up the Buck Wilde mini theme park on nearby Echo Island.

 

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