by Bryan Chick
“How many?” he asked.
Podgy began to rock back and forth. Marlo paced along Megan’s shoulder, his tiny talons pricking her jacket. Megan studied Sam and tried to read the emotions on his face.
“Roger,” he said. “Out.”
“What is it?” Megan asked.
Sam dropped his fingers from his earpiece and faced her. Marlo jumped back to the windowsill, where he hopped around, chirping wildly. Podgy rushed to the open door and stared out at the zoo.
“Sam, what’s wrong?”
“Sasquatches,” he managed to say. “Charlie spotted them. They’re roaming inside Creepy Critters. And at least one is out—loose in the zoo.”
Megan gasped and stared out at the Clarksville Zoo. She spotted the distant dark rooftop of Creepy Critters. Somewhere inside it, sasquatches were tramping down the halls.
The binoculars slipped from Sam’s grasp and clunked on the wood planks. The Descender shook the confusion from his head and jumped into action.
“Marlo,” he said. “Get Ella, then Richie. Make sure they know it’s an emergency.”
The kingfisher sprang off the windowsill into the night sky.
“Megan, I need you to get inside and wake up your brother. Make sure—”
But before Sam could finish, Podgy had leaped to the frame of the open window and hurled himself into the air. Stroking his flippers, he sank like a rock. Then, just when he seemed certain to slam down, he flew in a straight line, inches off the ground. Across the yard he went, his round belly swirling the powdery snow. He reached the house and swept up along the wall to Noah’s second-story room, landing in a wide flower box on the window ledge.
“Forget that,” Sam told Megan. “Podgy’s already on it.” He shot her a glance and seemed to detect her apprehension. “Megan, I need you to be sharp. Are you sharp?”
“I . . . I think so,” said Megan.
“Don’t think,” Sam shouted. “Know! We need you right now—we need all the scouts!”
“But what about the Descenders guarding the gateways?” Megan asked. “Can we—”
“They got their hands full. The sasquatches . . . right now they’re hitting the City of Species.”
Megan’s head spun. High in a tree fort filled with unimaginable guests, she suddenly felt certain she was witnessing the beginning of the end.
Chapter 24
The Plummet with Podgy
Noah heard tapping on his window and sat up with a jerk. He threw his legs over the bed and glanced at the clock: 1:16 A.M.
The tapping came again.
“Marlo?” said Noah, thinking that the messenger bird was responsible for the noise. He dashed across the room and threw open the drapes, expecting to find the blue bird. But what he instead discovered shocked him into taking two steps back. Filling most of the window was a penguin—an enormous emperor penguin, its flippers pressed against its sides, its bill tipped upward, its webbed feet flattening the limp remains of Noah’s mother’s summer flowers. Podgy.
Noah threw open the window, allowing the cold night air to invade the room.
“What’s wrong?”
Podgy spun around in the flower box, his flat feet slinging snowy dirt across the floor of the room, and presented his back to Noah. He wanted Noah to climb on.
Noah gasped. “Podgy, there’s no way! My parents—”
The penguin jumped and brought his feet down hard, shaking the box and rattling the shutters. His point was obvious. Noah was needed, and there was no time to waste.
Noah had a vision of his mother walking into his room several hours from now to find his bed empty and his window open. This would surely force him to tell his parents about the Secret Zoo. What would that mean to the Secret Society? To the safety of the world?
Podgy jumped once more, shaking the box and rattling the siding.
“This is crazy!” Noah went to his bedroom door and softly closed it. He stripped off his pajamas, then grabbed yesterday’s wad of clothes off the floor and climbed into them. “Man, I hope you know what you’re doing.” He put on a jacket, shoes, and his red hunting cap. Fully dressed, he walked back to the window and considered how to climb onto Podgy. There was no way the flower box would hold his weight and Podgy’s at the same time.
“How about I meet you at the front door?”
Podgy began to rock in place, his webbed feet crushing flower stems and leaving penguin tracks in the dirt. After a few seconds of this, he wagged his flippers up and down.
Noah had spent enough time with Podgy to know what he wanted, which was for Noah to jump onto his back, hurling them both out of the flower box and into the air.
“You got to be kidding me,” Noah muttered as he backed all the way to the far wall. He stared at Podgy and the open window across the room and became certain that this wasn’t a good idea.
“Here goes,” Noah said.
Without another thought, he took off running. He jumped out the window, wrapping his arms around Podgy and knocking the two of them forward. Flowerbed dirt spilled everywhere as they dropped toward the ground, Podgy wagging his flippers. A second before they crashed, Podgy flew out of the fall and swept across the yard, his stomach again brushing the snowy grass. Noah lay stretched across his back, his legs dangling behind the penguin, his feet skipping over the ground.
With a swift upward turn, Podgy rose three feet, five feet, eight feet, more. As he soared near Fort Scout, two figures came into view: Megan and Sam. They leaned out the window, marveling at the sight of Noah and Podgy. Noah wondered what his sister was doing in Fort Scout, then dismissed his concern. Surely Megan had the greater question: Why was Noah flying across their yard on a penguin in the middle of the night?
Podgy looped around the big oak, swerving over and under the longer branches. As he returned to the front, Noah again spotted his sister leaning out the window, her jaw hanging open, her pigtails sticking out. Points of moonlight shone in the otherwise dark lenses of her glasses. Podgy veered away from the tree and cut across the yard, heading for the concrete wall.
Noah had once believed this wall merely divided his neighborhood from an ordinary zoo. Now he understood much more. The wall divided two worlds, Noah’s and another, a place where animals walked beside humans in a city built upon the trees. Filled with majesty, promise, and peril, this other world was known as the Secret Zoo.
As Podgy soared over the wall, Noah braced himself for anything.
Chapter 25
Ella Wakes Up
When Ella heard the tapping on her window, she threw off the covers and sat up at the edge of her bed. The clock on her nightstand read 1:17. Something was wrong. She rushed to the window and peered through a slit in the blinds. Standing on the outside sill was Marlo. Their eyes met, and the bird opened and closed his beak with a chirp that was muted by the glass.
Ella threw open the blinds and then the window, prompting Marlo to flap his wings in a fuss. Something wasn’t just wrong—something was terribly wrong.
“What is it?” Ella asked.
The kingfisher dove into the air, flew in a tight circle, then landed back on the sill. He repeated this pattern again and again.
“The zoo? Do you need us?”
Marlo jumped up a few inches and landed with a chirp.
Ella’s eyes widened. She gazed toward the zoo, but could see nothing other than her neighborhood houses, their windows dark, their occupants fast asleep. She looked toward the trees and the tarsiers in them. Nothing.
She turned back to Marlo. “Okay. Go wake Richie. Tell him I’m on my way.”
Marlo chirped twice, sprang into the air, and dissolved into the night.
She closed her window, dressed, then tiptoed from her bedroom. In the hallway, she heard her mom snoring. If she were to wake and find her missing, Ella would be dead. At the door to the garage, she donned her jacket and earmuffs. As she slipped out, she reached for the button to open the door and stopped herself. Too loud. She opted for the small do
or to the backyard and grabbed her bicycle on the way.
Outside, she climbed on the bike and pedaled across the snowy lawn. Once on the street, she raced to Richie’s house, wondering what could be wrong at the zoo. But didn’t she already know? Yes, she was certain she did. She’d only seen Marlo so crazed once before—the day he’d spotted sasquatches charging from the caves of the Dark Lands. Now, they were escaping from the Grottoes.
Certain that her world was under attack, Ella stood on her pedals and pumped her legs with all her might.
Chapter 26
Richie Rides Again
Tap . . . tap . . . tap.
Richie bolted upright, making his bedsprings groan.
“Wha— Who’s there?”
Tap . . . tap.
He swept his fingers along his nightstand until they bumped into his glasses. When he threw them on, the blurry view of the glowing clock digits came into focus: 1:17. He glanced at the window bug-eyed and confused.
Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap! Tap!
He erupted from the bed and rushed over to the window, where he pulled open the blinds. Perched on the outside sill was Marlo. He stared up at Richie, his head cocked to one side. Then he leaned forward and pinged his beak against the glass again.
Richie flinched, then slid open the window. Marlo danced around, chirping wildly.
“What’s— What are you—”
Richie saw something moving up the snow-dusted street. Someone was racing toward his house on a bicycle. As he peered out, Marlo turned with a jump toward the shadowy figure. Richie realized it was Ella.
“What in the world?”
Ella veered off the street at a dangerous speed and bounced across Richie’s yard, nearly crashing into a bare bush surrounded by the litter of its own leaves. She bumped her way to the house and skidded to a stop, her rear tire sliding on the snowy grass.
Staring up at Richie, Ella boomed, “It’s the sasquatches!”
Totally confused, Richie stayed silent.
“They’re getting out—I’m sure of it!”
“How do—”
Ella waved Richie down. “Come on! We got to go!”
“What? My parents—what if—”
“I think they’d rather find you out of bed than find a sasquatch lounging in their porch swing!”
On the windowsill, Marlo chirped once, siding with Ella.
Richie gave in. “Okay. I’m coming.”
He closed the window, dressed quickly, then stepped gingerly past his parents’ bedroom. At the front door, he slipped into his running shoes, jacket, and hat, then went out onto the front porch. From around the corner of the house, Ella pedaled up to him.
“You got your bike?” she asked.
“Nuh-uh. It’s downstairs for the winter.”
“Then get on,” she instructed.
Richie looked her bike over. “On where? Your head?”
“The handlebars.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Richie! If there was ever a time to be brave, this is it. Now get on!”
Ella was right. If the sasquatches were storming out of the Grottoes, there was no other choice. He piled onto the bike, his skinny rear end dangling over the handlebars. Marlo swooped down and landed on his cap beside the pom-pom, which was twice as big as he was.
“Oww!” Richie shifted on the handlebars. “Something’s poking my butt.”
“Quit squirming!” Ella said. “And hold on. I’m going to make this trip in record time.”
As she forced her weight onto the pedals, the bike slowly began to move. The handlebars jerked from side to side, the bike veering in all directions.
“Stay still!” Ella said.
“But my butt . . .” Richie protested.
“No buts! I don’t want to hear about either one of them!”
As the bike gained speed, it became easier for Ella to control the handlebars and manage Richie’s weight. She crossed the yard and turned onto the street, pedaling faster and faster.
“Be careful!” Richie commanded.
Ella’s lack of response made him nervous.
As Ella, Richie, and Marlo raced toward the zoo, Richie became more and more afraid about what they might find there.
Chapter 27
The Wings of the Descender
Seeing Podgy fly into the zoo, Sam brushed past Megan and out the door of the fort.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Megan dropped her thoughts and chased the Descender onto one of the rope bridges. Sam crossed the shaky planks and stepped onto a lookout platform on a distant tree. He stopped and turned to Megan, who halted so suddenly that the bridge swayed beneath her feet.
Megan stood in the sag of the rope bridge, a few feet lower than Sam. With his back to the moon, his face was masked in shadow. For a moment, Sam did nothing but stare down on her. Then he raised his arms over his head and brought them back down, striking the zippers on his wrists against the buckles on his hips. He swept up his arms, ripping open rows of metal teeth that crisscrossed his jacket. Silver feathers, freed from their leathery confines, fell from his arms and sprouted from his sides. Thin rods telescoped out from the ends of his sleeves, dropping feathers neatly into place across a wide wingspan.
The Descender stood on the platform, his arms raised, his feathers swaying in the wind, moonlight outlining his body. Each wing stretched at least five feet past his usual reach. As he swung one arm toward Megan, the group of feathers waved like a freakish flag. He curled his fingers toward himself, a gesture for her to approach.
Megan instinctively took a step back. The bridge rocked.
“Megan, we need to.”
The sound of her name carried by Sam’s voice helped to humanize him again. She took a step forward, but then stopped.
“C’mon—we don’t have time for this!” He waved her forward with his entire arm, his feathers fluttering and snapping.
She forced herself to cross the bridge. On the lookout platform, Sam towered above her like a thing from a daydream. He turned away, sweeping his arm over Megan, brushing his feathers along her body. With his back to her, he fell to one knee and leaned forward, dropping his wings.
“Get on.”
Megan hesitated. “But I don’t think—”
“Don’t think. Just do.”
She considered this and then leaned against Sam, wrapping her arms over his shoulders.
“Just don’t fall off, and I’ll do the rest.”
He squatted on the platform, gathering strength in his legs. Then he sprang up and away from the tree. His massive wings shot out and began to row through the air. He swerved toward the zoo, Megan’s body rolling and bucking as she lay across his silver feathers.
Megan peered over Sam’s shoulder and watched the concrete wall pass beneath them. Then she looked out across the neighborhood. In nearly all the houses, the lights were out. She could only hope that some sleepless mother wouldn’t glance out a window and spot her and Sam flying through the sky. Would the darkness and distance disguise them as a huge bird? Would the mother think her weary eyes were playing tricks on her? Megan could only hope for the best.
As they soared over the exhibits, animals stared up at them. Megan saw the stunned gazes of bears and wolverines. Even in the magical realm that the animals knew, Megan and Sam were a sight to behold.
Coasting now on his wide wingspan, Sam carried Megan deep into the zoo. Though they hadn’t discussed their purpose, it was obvious to Megan. They were hunting for the sasquatch that had escaped Creepy Critters. Megan’s intention was to capture, but she knew Sam’s was different.
Sam’s intention was to kill.
Chapter 28
A Path to Avoid
Racing through a stop sign on Phlox Drive, Ella hung a sharp right onto Zinnia Street, but with Richie mounted to the handlebars, she couldn’t turn soon enough, and the bike careened into the Hugheses’ yard. She tore through a lifeless garden of flowers, exploding wilted petals into the air. Ric
hie thrashed about, his skinny rear end bouncing off the steel bar, the gearshift, and the pointy knobs of Ella’s knees.
“Owww!” he squealed. “My butt! My butt! My butt!”
Marlo, still perched on Richie’s hat, took issue with the shaky pom-pom beside him. It kept crashing into him, prompting the kingfisher to peck angrily at the offending ball of yarn.
Ella realized she could save time if she continued straight, cutting across the Hugheses’ backyard and then through the Wilhelms’ property, where she could rejoin the street. To gain speed, she raised herself up from the seat and bounced her weight on the pedals.
“Hold on, Richie!”
But Richie had only a single concern: “My buuttt!”
She sped around the side of the house and bounced onto a backyard patio. Glancing at the windows, she saw the lights were out. She wondered what Mrs. Hughes would think if she were to look out and find Ella tearing across her snowy patio on a bicycle with Richie sprawled across the handlebars, yelling about his rear end while a bird pecked angrily at his hat. Certainly she wouldn’t be able to categorize it as an everyday sight.
Ella steered around a shed in the back reaches of the yard, then sped across the Wilhelms’ lawn, crashing through several bushes and clipping a ceramic garden gnome, which lost its cone-shaped hat and the better part of its big nose. She bounced back onto the road, narrowly avoiding a rusted-out pickup truck. She leaned forward and pedaled with all her might. Marlo continued his assault on Richie’s pom-pom, and Richie continued his daffy proclamations about his bottom.
Ella sped down the sidewalk on Walkers Boulevard and turned into the zoo parking lot. Except for a few cars, it was empty. She quickly neared the front gates, where a guard, recognizing Ella and Richie, leaped from his booth and kicked open a squealing gate. The guard waved them through with exaggerated sweeps of his arm. Ella zoomed past him, bawling out her thanks.
She turned onto the main path. In no time, the three of them passed Flamingo Fountain and rolled deeper into the zoo. As they sped by the exhibits, Ella didn’t see anything out of the ordinary—certainly nothing that would have caused the panic she’d seen in Marlo. But minutes later, as they neared Creepy Critters, a sasquatch lunged out of the shadows and onto the path directly in front of them.