Riddles and Danger

by Bryan Chick

  Mr. Darby chuckled. “They certainly are unusual creatures! And to think . . . we post hundreds in your trees at night. And no one suspects a thing!”

  Megan said, “It’s still so hard to believe. All these tunnels around our houses . . . And animals in our trees!”

  A tarsier suddenly moved out along a branch just above the scouts’ heads. It crawled like a squirrel, its long fingers clinging to the bark. It stopped about fifteen feet from the table and fixed its wild, bug-eyed stare directly at Richie. Blizzard craned his neck toward the strange animal and sniffed its scent out of the air.

  “Uh-oh,” Ella said with a smile. “Did Richie find a new friend?”

  Richie, who’d just dropped a fresh load of peanuts into his mouth, tensed in his chair and nervously watched the tarsier. “Why is he looking at me like that?” he mumbled through his full mouth. “And why does he look ready to pounce?”

  “Relax, Richie,” Ella said with a chuckle. “Why are you always so worried? It’s not like that thing can—”

  The tarsier sprang off the branch, leaving it trembling. It soared fifteen feet through the air and touched down on Richie’s head. Biting and pulling, it attacked the pom-pom on his cap. Richie screamed and sprayed bits of peanuts everywhere, dotting Tank’s and Mr. Darby’s jackets. On the tabletop, P-Dog panicked as well. He ran in circles and then dove toward the ground, but not before claiming a shelled peanut in his mouth for a later snack.

  “GET IT OFF!” Richie screamed.

  The tarsier jerked its head in all directions, its sharp teeth buried in the tuft of threads. It kicked its hind legs against Richie’s head as it tried to uproot the pom-pom.

  Marlo sprang off Noah’s shoulder, flew at the tarsier, and pecked its furry behind with his sharp beak. The tarsier dove back to the branch, then disappeared into the trees. Richie, white as the polar bear beside him, fell back into his chair and clutched his chest, gasping for breath.

  “Well,” Mr. Darby said as he brushed chewed-up peanuts off his velvet jacket with an obvious air of disgust. “That was certainly . . . most unusual.”

  “You mean for Richie?” Ella asked. “Naw . . . he always acts that way.”

  “I’m speaking of the tarsier.”

  “Apparently not a big fan of pom-poms,” Ella said.

  “He must have thought it was an insect,” Mr. Darby said. “Insects . . . that’s what they eat.”

  P-Dog stood on his haunches beside Richie’s chair and yipped up at his friend. Richie squinted down and chided him, saying, “Nice work, P. Glad you had my back on that one.” Looking offended, P-Dog yipped a second time and then hastened off.

  Noah, a smile still on his face, turned back to the trees. He scanned the branches and searched for the tarsiers again. Their faint brown color blended their bodies into their surroundings. But Noah could see their eyes—hundreds of them staring out.

  “What do they do here?” Noah asked. “At Tarsier Terrace, I mean.”

  “Would you like to see?” said Mr. Darby. The old man pushed away from the table and walked to the stone rail along the edge of the terrace. The entire group followed, even the animals. Through a large opening in the trees, they stared down on the busy city streets.

  “What are we looking for?” Megan asked.

  “We are not looking for anything. It’s the tarsiers that are looking for something. They’re training—that’s what they do here.”

  Noah looked around and realized the tarsiers had their bulbous eyes turned away from the scouts and toward the streets below.

  A few minutes passed. Then a few more. Nothing happened.

  Ella said, “What in the world are—”

  “Patience, dear Ella,” Mr. Darby said.

  The scouts’ animal friends began to get bored. The prairie dogs started chasing a dry leaf around. Little Bighorn wandered across the terrace, his down-turned snout curiously sweeping over the stone floor. Blizzard lowered himself to his stomach, rested his chin on his paws, and half closed his eyes.

  Sometime afterward, a batch of leaves off to their left began to violently shake. A tarsier was rocking a thin limb, heaving his weight up and down, all four of his feet curled around the bark. His bulging eyes were fixed on something on the distant street.

  “What’s he doing?” Megan asked.

  A tiny owl swooped down from the heights and landed beside the tarsier. The big-eyed arboreal animal stopped shaking the branch, and the owl flew off.

  “Very nice,” Mr. Darby said to Tank. “Very speedy execution.”

  “Execution?” Richie said. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “The tarsier,” Mr. Darby said. “It sighted the target and alerted the second layer of surveillance—namely, the owls.”

  The scouts stared down on the busy city streets, where no fewer than a hundred people and animals were roaming about.

  “What target?” Richie said.

  “A fedora hat,” Tank said. “Like the one DeGraff has been reported to wear. Anyone see it?”

  The scouts continued to look down. The city street was a swirl of color and activity, feathers and fur.

  “We’re supposed to find a hat in all that?” Richie asked.

  Ella said, “Talk about ‘Where’s Waldo?’ ”

  “There!” Megan said, her arm stretched out. “On that giraffe!”

  The scouts leaned over the rail. The hat was somehow attached to the animal’s long tail.

  Ella pulled her head back on her shoulders and scrunched up her face. “Why in the world is it taped to a giraffe’s butt?”

  Mr. Darby said, “We train the tarsiers to spot the known details of DeGraff. His hat, his boots, his jacket.”

  Noah became interested in the owl that had vanished into the trees. “So if this were a real sighting of DeGraff, that owl would alert the Descender at the nearest post, then lead him and a few security guards here.”

  “Precisely,” Mr. Darby said. “Simple, yes?”

  Noah nodded. It was.

  “Excellent,” Mr. Darby said. “On that note, I believe it’s time for the four of you to find your way home. Tameron, I trust you can show our young Crossers the door.”

  Tameron fed his arms into the straps of his backpack and said, “C’mon, kids. Let’s go.”

  The scouts said quick good-byes to their animal friends—the stroke of a back, the tap of a head, the scratch of a chin—and followed Tameron across the terrace. At the door to the building, Noah swung back and said, “When will you start? Posting a Descender in our fort, I mean.”

  “This very night,” Mr. Darby said.

  Noah felt something rise in his chest. Fear? Concern? Were the scouts making the right call in allowing the members of a secret world to hide in Noah’s yard at night?

  Noah didn’t know what to say, so he simply turned and walked off, leaving Tank and Mr. Darby on the strange terrace.

  Chapter 5

  The Lookout from Fort Scout

  “Anyone see anything?” Ella whispered.

  The scouts stood in their pajamas at the window in the Nowicki kitchen, staring out at Fort Scout. It was almost midnight, and Noah’s parents had been asleep for at least two hours. The backyard was so dark that Noah could only faintly see Fort Scout, a dim rectangle caught in the limbs of the distant oak tree.

  “Nuh-uh,” said Noah.

  After giving permission earlier that day for the Secret Society to post a Descender in their tree fort, the scouts had decided on a sleepover at Noah and Megan’s house. They all wanted to be near the incredible event taking place in Fort Scout—an animal and a teenager from another world keeping watch over the east wall of the zoo.

  “Me neither,” said Richie. He wore footed pajamas, and even indoors he had on his winter hat with the bushy pom-pom. Simulating a yawn, he stretched his arms above his head and added, “It sure is getting late. Well, better hit the sack, I guess!”

  Ignoring Richie, Ella asked the other two, “You think they’re ev
en out there?”

  Megan and Noah shrugged.

  Ella hoisted her rear end onto the counter and peered out the window, cupping her hands around her eyes to reduce the glare of the kitchen lights.

  “Anything?” Noah asked.

  “No way. Too dark.”

  They continued to stare out. After a few minutes, Megan had the courage to say what Noah was thinking. “Let’s go out there.”

  They shared a glance, silently wondering if this was possible.

  Richie waved his hands at them, saying, “I’m thinking that’s not such a good idea. I’m sure Mrs. Nowicki would just love to wake up and find us running around the yard in our pj’s.”

  “She won’t,” said Noah. “Besides, if she does, we’ll just tell her that Megan lost her glasses in Fort Scout again.”

  The three scouts stared at Richie, whose eyes darted nervously among them. “I think I see what’s going on here. All the stress . . . it has Play-Doh’ed your brains!”

  The others said nothing.

  “Okay,” said Richie, “let’s disregard our emotions.” His posture stiffened as he began to intellectualize. “Let’s regard this from a logical standpoint. Let’s assume—”

  But the three scouts were already at the back door, slipping on their hats and jackets and stepping into their shoes. Within seconds, they were fully dressed, and Megan eased open the back door, trying to quiet the squeal of the hinges.

  Richie whispered angrily, “Guys—don’t be stupid!”

  Ignoring him, the other scouts exited. They were halfway to the tree fort when Richie finally gave up and rushed after them, calling in a hoarse whisper for his friends to wait up.

  Outside, it was winter cold. The wind ushered clouds across the sky. Thick and billowy, they seemed strong enough to catch falling stars. A bit of snow colored the grass.

  The four friends raced up the ladder to Fort Scout, and Noah pushed open the door, revealing not two but three figures huddled near the window: Podgy, Marlo, and Hannah. Hannah was one of the four Descenders assigned to perimeter patrol. She had wild blond hair with red bangs and was endlessly chewing gum. She wore magical platform boots that allowed her to jump like a puma—her Descender power. Podgy and Hannah were on the floor, and Marlo was perched on the window frame.

  The scouts rushed inside and gathered around the Secret Cityzens, taking seats on the cold wooden planks. Marlo dove through the air and found his usual perch on Noah’s shoulder.

  Hannah’s jaw dropped open. “What are you doing out here?”

  “We just wanted to see how things are going,” Megan explained.

  “And get us spotted?”

  Noah reassured her. “My parents are asleep. And we could barely see Fort Scout from the window anyway.”

  Megan said, “We’ll only stay for a little bit. We promise!”

  “If Sam knew you guys were already—” Hannah cut herself short, her stare fixed on Richie’s feet. “Are those footsie pajamas?”

  Richie smiled. “Yeppers.”

  Hannah shook her head. “Great. The fate of the world rests on a kid who dresses like an infant.” Frowning, she gazed around at the scouts. “You can stay a half hour—not a second more.”

  “Awesome!” said Ella.

  Looking at Podgy, Megan asked, “How did he get in here?”

  Hannah said, “His wings work now, remember?” She gestured out the tree fort. “And the zoo’s right there. All he had to do was get over the wall. The stairs to the fort made the rest easy.”

  Noah peered out. From twenty-five feet high, he could see easily over the concrete wall, which skirted his property line and ran along his neighbors’ yards to finally disappear behind the trees. The otherworldly zoo landscape, dimly lit by scattered lamps, was especially wondrous at night. Silhouettes of concrete mountainsides rose against a starry backdrop, and great dome roofs loomed. Naked tree branches reached skyward, as if trying to cover themselves with the falling moonlight.

  Peering out the window next to Noah, Megan said, “With the leaves off the trees, you can see so many exhibits.”

  She was right. Noah quickly counted thirty. Not far from them was the sprawl of multipurpose igloos in Arctic Town. In the distance rose the Forest of Flight, Penguin Palace, and Metr-APE-olis. In Rhinorama, Little Bighorn, draped in darkness, ambled along the exhibit’s grassy perimeter.

  Everyone became quiet. Time passed. The view—tranquil and familiar—softened Noah’s mood. He glanced at the others: Richie with his footed pajamas, Ella with her fluffy pink earmuffs, Megan with her drooping pigtails. Being with them in the tree fort, he suddenly felt a welcome distance from the rest of the world. He was with his best friends, the family beyond his own.

  Richie yanked him out of his feelings, saying, “Guys—did you see—”

  “I saw it!” said Ella. “Something’s out there!”

  “Just police-monkeys,” Hannah calmly said. “On patrol.”

  Noah snatched up a pair of binoculars. Two houses down, the limbs of a tree shifted, then a small branch broke off and dropped to the ground. Two monkeys became visible. They leaped and swung through the branches, making their way to the house. They dropped down on the roof, where they scurried to a gabled peak and ducked into the shadows of a chimney.

  Megan looked at Noah. “See,” she said. “Told you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Monkeys on the rooftops,” Megan said. “When all this started, I told you, and you didn’t believe me.”

  “Oh,” Noah said. “Yeah—sorry about that.”

  The scouts fell silent and watched the rooftop. The monkeys sat facing the zoo, their backs against the chimney. Behind them, a plume of colorless smoke spilled skyward. Every so often, a monkey swung its head to scan the surroundings.

  “Look at them,” said Ella. “It’s just crazy.”

  Seconds later, the monkeys sprang to their feet and ran in the opposite direction of the scouts. They jumped off the roof, sailed through the air, then touched down on the next house, where they ran to its gabled peak and once again tucked themselves into the cover of a chimney. There they scanned the landscape for a few minutes before standing, running to the edge of the house, and pitching themselves into the air once more. They landed on the next rooftop and headed across it, their figures dissolving into the darkness.

  The scouts turned to Hannah with blank expressions. She brushed back her wild red bangs and said, “No biggie. They’re just doing what they’re supposed to.”

  The four friends shared a bewildered look and then returned their attention to the zoo. For the next fifteen minutes, nothing unusual happened. Occasional guards strolled the grounds, and animals paced their yards, making Noah remember something Tameron had said during their first crosstraining: “The Secret Zoo has two lines of defense, one of humans and one of animals.” Certainly those two lines were what the scouts were seeing now.

  Just as Noah was about to ask his friends if they wanted to go back into the house, a bat darted past, its wings slicing through the darkness.

  “You guys see that?” Richie asked. “The bat—it was patrolling.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t just an ordinary bat?” Ella asked.

  “Ordinary bats hibernate this time of year,” Richie answered. “Again I present the rewards of staying awake in class.”

  Ella twisted her face and stared hard at her friend. “Keep it up, and I’ll present my fist.”

  A second bat appeared. Then another, and another, each spaced perhaps thirty feet behind the previous one. Unlike the smooth, graceful sweeps with which most birds flew, the bats jerked across the sky, zigzagging from one point to the next. They seemed to be on parade, the moon and stars their only known audience.

  The scouts watched, their faces turned upward. Marlo sidestepped back and forth across Noah’s shoulder, his beady eyes fixed on the bats. Podgy watched, too. As many as twenty bats darted past before the sky settled and the only movement again became the steady,
wind-driven passage of the clouds.

  The scouts turned back at the zoo. A few minutes went by. Noah remembered the tarsiers and peered into the neighborhood trees.

  “I don’t see any tarsiers,” he said.

  “That’s why this whole thing works,” Hannah answered.

  Her weighty tone suggested she was tiring of the scouts’ questions and remarks. Sensing this, Noah told his friends they should probably go. As he turned to Podgy, Marlo jumped from his shoulder and landed on the window.

  “See you later, Podge,” said Noah.

  In acknowledgment, Podgy flapped his flippers once.

  Noah turned to Hannah, who was crouched beside the window. She had faint streaks of moonlight in her wild hair.

  “See you,” he said.

  Hannah nodded. “Don’t wake up your mom.”

  The scouts rode the slide to the ground. They quickly crossed the backyard and slipped into the house, where Noah’s parents slept, oblivious to the threats around them. In the living room, the scouts squirmed into their sleeping bags. They closed their eyes, and no one spoke. They all knew they needed their sleep if they were going to protect their neighborhood from the mounting dangers of the Secret Zoo.

  Chapter 6

  An Instant Marlo

  After dinner on Sunday, the scouts lounged in their tree fort. On the floor, Megan and Ella were stretched out on their backs, their heads resting in their hands. Richie was at the table, probing at the electrical remains of a long-dead gadget, his hopes set on resurrecting it. Noah was staring out the window toward the zoo. As evening began to dim the day, a tiny blue bird streaked through the window and touched down on Noah’s shoulder.

  “Marlo!” Richie called out.

  The scouts jumped to attention. Noah took a seat on the floor, and his friends huddled near him. In Marlo’s beak was a folded slip of paper, a message from someone in the Secret Society, likely Mr. Darby. The scouts called these messages IMs—Instant Marlos. Noah plucked the note from Marlo’s beak, opened it, then read it out loud.