by Bryan Chick
“The Knickknack and Snack Shack,” Megan whispered.
“Up there,” Tank mouthed.
Noah had totally forgotten where they really were. Right above them was the Clarksville City Zoo, bustling with activity.
With a sideways nod of his head, Tank gestured for the scouts to continue up the steps. At the top of the staircase was a long hatch door. Tank and the scouts crawled up and hunkered in beneath it. In the shadowy recess, it was almost too dark to see. Tank’s big eyes seemed to hover in space like the eyes of a comic strip character startled by the dark. The Crossers were huddled so close that Noah could hear his friends breathing.
“Ugh,” Ella softly groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Tank whispered.
“I smell someone’s breath. Or armpit. Either way, I think I’m going to barf.”
“Sorry,” Richie whispered. “I had onion rings for lunch. Anyone got a mint?”
“One mint?” Ella said. “You’d have more luck putting out a forest fire with a wet wipe.”
As their eyes began to adjust, Noah saw Tank’s arm reach out and pluck Richie’s penlight from his shirt pocket. He turned it on and shined it along the far end of the hatch.
“See that?” Tank whispered.
Several strong hinges were fastened to the edge of the hatch. Along one was a tuft of mangy hair.
“Sasquatch left that,” Tank whispered. “Got its fur pinched in it.”
The scouts stared at the tuft of hair, silent.
Above them the cash register dinged again. Then footsteps moved across the hatch.
“Just past this door you can see the east side of the perimeter wall. Fort Scout is clear as day.”
Noah thought about this. Then he said, “You think the sasquatches will try to escape here?”
Tank shrugged. “Maybe. Makes sense, don’t you think? It’s the least-guarded spot in the whole Clarksville Zoo.”
In a whisper, Megan said, “But maybe this sasquatch just wandered off. Got lost in the Grottoes before eventually making its way back.”
“Could be,” Tank said. “But we’ve seen the sasquatches are smarter than that, haven’t we?”
Noah thought of the Dark Lands—how the sasquatches had kept Megan prisoner for weeks knowing the Secret Society would eventually come after her, presenting them a way to escape. Tank was right. The sasquatches might be as smart as humans.
Maybe even smarter.
“C’mon,” Tank said as he squeezed by the scouts on his way down the steps. “I got a few more things to show you before we’re done for the day.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Tank escorted the scouts through the Grottoes, explaining them as they went. By the gateway to the Secret Rhinorama, they heard the muffled sound of a stampede beating through the walls. At the portal to the Secret Penguin Palace, they stroked their hands along a sheet of ice that had formed over the bricks. By an entrance to the Secret Butterfly Nets, they walked through a cloud of butterflies. Near the portal to the Secret Forest of Flight, they kicked though a kaleidoscopic spill of feathers.
Finally, Tank led them to a velvet curtain marked “Zoo Security.” To get through, they had to cram themselves into a small room. There was enough light to see that in front of them was a pair of folding doors that opened outward. Noah realized they were in a closet.
Ella said, “You sure we’re not about to step into Narnia.”
Tank chuckled. “Narnia’s make-believe, girl.” Then he pushed through.
They walked into a place that Noah immediately realized was the small security building at the front of the Clarksville Zoo. The building had a wall with long tinted windows that looked out at the main gates. Another wall had dozens of black-and-white security monitors mounted to it. At a desk in front of this wall sat a man with fire-bright red hair. With his back to Tank and the scouts, he was thumbing through a magazine and bobbing his head as an iPod poured music into his ears. When Tank tapped him on the shoulder, he spun around, revealing a frightened, freckled face. Charlie Red, one of the scouts’ biggest enemies.
Charlie jumped from his chair. “Tank—you want to give me a heart attack!”
Tank bellowed laughter and clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “Sorry, man,” he said. “Just thought we’d drop by.”
“Next time, call first,” Charlie said. His gaze wandered off to the scouts, and he said, “Oh, you brought company.”
“Yes, indeed,” Tank said. “Just showing our little friends the ropes.”
Charlie considered this. Without taking his eyes off the scouts, he said, “And you think that’s a good idea?”
“Mr. D does,” Tank said. “And that’s pretty much all that matters.” He turned to the scouts and said, “C’mon, gang. Time to go home.” Then he headed for the nearby exit.
Charlie leaned toward the scouts, stuck his chest out, and scowled at them as they passed. Richie cowered to one side. But Ella crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, and shoved her face right back at him.
Outside, Tank said, “We’ll send a message with Marlo to set up the next crosstraining. We’ll spend some more time in the Grottoes.”
Noah thought of all they had seen today. “What more is there?” he asked.
Tank winked and said, “Oh . . . there’s so much more. Why don’t we keep it a surprise.”
With that, the big man turned and walked back into the security building. The scouts looked at one another and realized the place for words was gone. They turned, headed through the main gates, and made their way home.
Chapter 9
Questions in Fort Scout
Noah fitfully tossed on his bed. He couldn’t sleep. His excited mind kept replaying scenes from the scouts’ excursion through the Grottoes earlier that day. It kept astounding him to think that the web of tunnels extended into his neighborhood. Did they run through his own yard? If so, were prairie dogs in them this very moment?
Noah unknotted himself from the sheets and jumped out of bed. The clock on his nightstand read 1:36. He went to the window, peered out into the distant trees, and tried to pull the image of a tarsier from the shadowy shapes. Nothing. As usual, there was no sign of the peculiar, bug-eyed things.
His thoughts drifted to Fort Scout. He could hardly believe that his tree fort was being used by citizens of another world to guard the border of his local zoo from an ancient evil. He wondered who was out there. Which Descender? And which animal?
“At what point did my life go so incredibly insane?” he asked himself.
Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to sleep any time soon, he snuck out of his bedroom and tiptoed down the hall. He crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. He stared out the window at Fort Scout but could see little more than its basic shape. An idea struck him. It wouldn’t hurt to go out and check on everything. Maybe it would help put his mind at ease, and Mr. Darby had said it was okay.
“I’ll just peek in,” he told himself.
At the back door, he slipped on his jacket and his red hunting cap. He eased himself outside and bolted across the yard, the big earflaps on his cap bouncing. He climbed the ladder and entered the fort. Sitting by a window was Sam, the Descender who used the magic of his jacket to grow wings and fly. Around him were close to a dozen prairie dogs. Sam stared at Noah with a stunned look on his face.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Noah explained.
“Are you—” Sam glanced toward the house and checked the windows. All the lights were off. “It would be just great if your mom woke up right now and found your bed empty.”
“She won’t.”
“And how do you know that?”
“She’s a heavy sleeper. Both my parents are.” Noah paused. “Listen, I’m not going to stay long. I just want to see what you’re doing. Besides . . . it is my tree fort, you know.”
Sam shook his head in irritation, then fixed his eyes on Noah. “You’re killing me with this.”
Noah kept silent as he waited for a response.
Noah nodded. He walked across the fort and took a seat beside Sam at the window. As he did, a particularly portly prairie dog yipped twice, bounded across the wooden floor, and launched into Noah’s lap. P-Dog.
Noah petted his animal friend and asked, “How’d they get up here?”
Sam pointed to where a spiral staircase met a hole in the floor. The steps wound around the tree trunk. “And they used the same tunnels the tarsiers use. There’s an opening under your shed.”
“How long has it been there?”
“Probably longer than you’ve been alive.”
Noah glanced at his shed and considered this. Then he scanned the tree fort. The prairie dogs were everywhere, getting into everything, their jittery movements making them seem frenzied. A small one stared into the eyepiece of Noah’s binoculars and jumped back when the magnified images filled his vision. Another one had tunneled into a few Star Wars blankets that the scouts kept in the fort and was now lost in their folds, yipping in frustration. Another was probing through a pile of Richie’s nerd-gear: shiny pens, tiny tools, and little electrical gadgets that blinked and bleeped and probably stored more data than all the computers at Clarksville Elementary.
“Seen anything weird?” Noah asked.
“You mean other than a kid running around his yard at night in his pajamas?”
Noah was about to ask who he’d seen, then became thankful that he’d figured it out before the question had left his lips. He nodded.
“Nope.” Sam pointed out the window to the three rope bridges that connected the fort to lookout platforms on distant trees. “Are we certain the bridges can’t be seen from the houses?” Sam asked.
Noah nodded. “Way too dark. Plus the trees and everything.”
“Good. I’m going to post some of the prairie dogs on them. It can’t hurt to put them to work. You cool with that?”
Noah nodded.
Sam said, “P-Dog . . .”
The prairie dog turned to Sam, who motioned to the bridges. P-Dog jumped off Noah’s lap and, yipping softly, swept twice around the fort and then led six of his companions through the open doorway.
Noah watched in awe. “It still amazes me. The animals—the way they understand.”
“Yeah, well, the communication only goes one way, let me assure you. To me, a growl is a growl, a grunt is a grunt, and a bark is as meaningless as a burp. They’re sounds—nothing more.”
“Can anyone understand them?”
“Some of the old-timers, yeah. Mr. Darby, a little. But with him just about anything’s possible.”
Noah nodded. A part of him already knew this.
Noah turned and stared silently into the night. For a bit, he watched the silhouettes of the prairie dogs move up and down the bridges.
“Who is he?” Noah’s question came out of the blue.
“Who is who?”
“Mr. Darby.”
Sam smiled. “He’s the man. Numero uno.”
“Did he know Mr. Jackson, the guy who created the Secret Zoo?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t talk about it, and nobody asks. Some say . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Some say what?”
“Never mind.”
Noah thought to press the issue and decided against it.
After a few minutes, P-Dog scurried back to Fort Scout, his small silhouette just visible against the lighter shadows. He stopped at the window beside Noah, where he stood on his haunches and yipped once. Realizing that he wanted to be placed on the window frame, Noah scooped up his limp, trusting body and set him there.
For the next few minutes, Sam and Noah didn’t speak. On the bridges, the prairie dogs continued to scamper back and forth, staring out at the yard. A few of them seemed to have given up and were now lying down, curled into the warmth and comfort of their own bodies, perfectly still and probably asleep.
Noah grabbed the scouts’ binoculars and surveyed the zoo landscape. When he spotted the Knickknack and Snack Shack, his concern peaked.
“Do you think the sasquatches will try to escape?” he asked.
Sam nodded. “They’re trying to get to DeGraff.”
Noah felt his heart drop. “How do they even know who he is?”
For what seemed a long time, Sam said nothing. On the ground, the wind swirled the dusting of snow and rustled the dead, dry leaves. On the window frame, P-Dog sat on his haunches, his front legs dangling down over his belly.
Finally, Sam fixed his stare on Noah. “Why do you want to know this stuff, kid? It’s only going to get you more involved. You still have a chance to stay out. The burden we’re asked to carry . . . it’s heavy. Too heavy.”
Noah said, “Then share the weight.”
Sam considered this. P-Dog stood at full height on the window frame, his dark eyes fixed on the Descender.
“You need to understand something right away,” Sam said. “There’s a connection between DeGraff and the sasquatches.”
Noah’s stomach dropped. Up to this point, the scouts hadn’t considered the possibility of a relationship between the Shadowist and the sasquatches.
Sam brushed his sloppy bangs out of his eyes. Then he began to talk.
Chapter 10
The Secrets of the Shadowist
“I’m guessing you’ve heard the story of how the Secret Zoo was built,” Sam said.
Noah nodded. “Most of it, I think.”
“Let me see if I can fill in any blanks.” Sam settled into a more comfortable spot on the floor. “The story of the Secret Zoo . . . I guess it starts about a hundred years ago with Mr. Jackson, a rich guy from Clarksville. His wife died young, leaving him to care for their only child, Frederick. When Frederick was about twelve, Mr. Jackson adopted a monkey as a gift for him. Since they couldn’t keep it indoors, they built a cage for it outside.
“In Clarksville, the monkey became a kind of celebrity. People were always gathered outside the Jackson mansion to see it. A rumor began that Mr. Jackson was adopting animals— exotic animals that owners realized they couldn’t care for. The rumor jumped towns, cities, then states. More people started showing up. They brought a peacock, a crocodile, a bear, all kinds of weird things. They wanted Mr. Jackson to take their animals. And he did—he did because of how happy they made Frederick. For each new animal, the old man built a cage in his yard.”
Noah said, “Then Frederick ended up dying, right? Unexpectedly, in his sleep. He died, and it was too much for Mr. Jackson to take, after losing his wife already. Mr. Jackson went crazy.”
Sam nodded. He turned back to the window, hoisted the binoculars, and focused on something in the distance as he continued. “After Frederick died, Mr. Jackson couldn’t stand seeing the animals in cages—not with the way they reminded him of his son. And the animals were too domesticated to return to the wild—doing that would have killed them.
“Out of nowhere, DeGraff showed up at Mr. Jackson’s door, rambling about some guy from India, a person who could use magic to help Mr. Jackson build a massive underground zoo, a secret zoo, a place where Mr. Jackson could release the animals. Bhanu. Mr. Jackson found Bhanu and asked him to come to America to build this place. Bhanu accepted, but on one condition. Bhanu was one of us, a member of the Secret Society, and what he wanted in return for helping Mr. Jackson was to use this world as a shelter, a safe haven for all the groups of the Secret Society, which were scattered across the world to protect different animals. Mr. Jackson accepted the terms, and the Secret Zoo was created.
“Around ten years later, the dwindling number of sasquatches in the Outside became a big concern for the Secret Society, and they launched an expedition to find as many as possible. By this time, Mr. Jackson was a full member of the Secret Society, and he spent a ton of money to send people all over the earth. They found about thirty sasquatches and moved them to the safety of the Secret Zoo. But once inside the City of Species, the sasquatches went wi
ld and escaped into different sectors, where they went into hiding.”
Noah nodded quickly, making the earflaps on his cap jump. The movement attracted P-Dog, who leaned over from the window ledge to give them a curious sniff.
Sam continued. “During this time, DeGraff somehow found his way into the Secret Zoo. We now know that he was the fourth brother. And being so close to Bhanu, Kavi, and Vishal, he came alive with magic—a magic he used to draw darkness into himself. Then he disappeared inside our borders for six months.
“With DeGraff so close, Bhanu and his brothers became more powerful. The Secret Arctic Town—you’ve been there, right?”
Noah nodded.
“Bhanu and his brothers created that entire sector in a single day. And the Forest of Flight—you’ve seen that?”
Again, Noah nodded.
“Two days. The whole thing. The Secret Society was in awe.”
Sam lifted his binoculars and scanned the landscape again. Noah sat in silence and tried to connect the pieces of the story. After a minute or so, the Descender lowered the binoculars and picked up where he’d left off.
“The brothers’ moods changed while DeGraff was inside the Secret Zoo. They started getting sick a lot. Headaches, fevers, nausea. No one understood what was going on.
“Their condition began to influence their creations. Especially in one sector, the Secret Creepy Critters. That place . . . it’s dangerous. Some say it’s filled with dark magic—DeGraff’s magic. The animals inside . . . they’re totally unpredictable. Some think the magic has changed them. They feed off each other, like in the Outside, and some kill for pleasure. These days we basically keep the sector off-limits to people—one of the Forbidden Five. Its gateway into the City of Species is constantly guarded, and we only allow animals that live inside the sector to pass back and forth.”
“Why let the animals into the city at all?” asked Noah. “Why not just block off the entire sector, like the Dark Lands?”
“Too many people hope to rehabilitate the animals that live there. Some believe the goodness and light from the City of Species will burn away the darkness in their hearts.”