Zoobreak

by Gordon Korman

Savannah pressed her lips together in an expression of hopeful determination. “When are we doing it, Griffin? All Aboard Animals moves on at the end of this week.”

  Griffin held his arms wide, drawing them into his confidence. “Wednesday, after midnight,” he announced in a low voice. “Everything will be ready by then.”

  Wednesday.

  Two days away.

  When Melissa opened the door of the Dukakis house, Griffin and Ben both checked the number on the door to make sure they’d come to the right address. Her curtain of hair was neatly parted and pinned back, revealing a face that was not all that familiar because it appeared so seldom.

  “I made guacamole,” she greeted, showing them inside.

  “Oh, great,” said Griffin, a little perplexed. “Uh — why?”

  The question seemed to stump her, so she wheeled out a serving cart with the dip and a basket of chips the size of an eagle’s nest.

  “You might be hungry?” she suggested finally.

  They stood in the front hall, snacking awkwardly.

  “This is good,” Ben offered lamely. “Spicy.”

  “I don’t have a lot of people over,” Melissa admitted. “None, actually. I mean, you guys are the first.”

  Griffin dusted the crumbs from his fingers. “Now let’s check out the webcams.”

  They trooped up to her small room, which was so cluttered with computers, printers, scanners, and modems that there was barely room for her bed. Four monitors displayed the live feed from the wireless webcams she had planted around the floating zoo.

  From watching these, Melissa had been able to put together an All Aboard Animals timeline:

  6:00 p.m. — closing time

  6:10 p.m. — visitors gone, entrance shut

  7:30 p.m. — Mr. Nasty leaves for hotel

  9:00 p.m. — gangway raised for the night

  11:00 p.m. — lights out in Klaus’s cabin

  “It’s perfect,” Griffin decided. “We’ll meet tomorrow at midnight, and by the time we sail to Rutherford Point, Mr. Nasty will be gone and Klaus will be asleep.”

  “We hope,” added Ben.

  “We know,” Griffin amended. “A good plan leaves nothing to chance. If it happens at All Aboard Animals, we see it on these screens.”

  The words had barely passed his lips when a menacing shape appeared before the interior-view webcam. It grew larger and larger until it completely filled the monitor. For an instant, there was wild, frenzied action, and sharp claws slashed at the camera. Then the screen went dark.

  Ben was wide-eyed. “What was that?”

  Melissa was at the keyboard, typing at light speed. “The video feed has stopped. The camera is offline.”

  “What do you mean, offline?” Griffin asked.

  “Either the camera failed or the transmitter did,” she explained. “Maybe the battery died early.”

  “Or,” Ben added uneasily, “our webcam just got eaten by that — that thing!”

  “There’s no thing,” Griffin said, a little less certain than he would have liked.

  “So what was it, then?”

  “How about this: Klaus finds the mini-camera. He doesn’t know what it is, but it’s stuck in a wad of gum, so he chucks it in the trash.”

  Ben was not convinced. “That didn’t look human to me.”

  Melissa had a theory. “It might have been a ghost image generated by the webcam as it lost power.”

  “See?” Griffin was triumphant. “Mystery solved.”

  “I said it might have been,” she amended. “We can’t be sure.”

  “Well, we definitely have to find out before we get on the boat with it —” Ben regarded his friend with alarm. “Don’t we?”

  “Zero hour is already set,” Griffin argued. “There’s no way we can put it off. It’s supposed to rain on Thursday, and who knows if Darren can sail in bad weather? And Friday, All Aboard Animals moves on. It’s now or never.”

  “So much for ‘a good plan leaves nothing to chance,’ ” Ben complained. “I’d say an unidentified webcam-eating monster counts as leaving something to chance.”

  Griffin couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by his friend’s jitters.

  The countdown was on.

  13

  Dressed in a black sweater and his darkest jeans, Griffin sat in his bedroom window, glaring at the tiny square of light coming from the garage door below. What a time for Dad to pull one of his late-night marathons on the Rollo-Bushel! Forty-five minutes to Operation Zoobreak, and he was still in his workshop, tinkering.

  Right now, Griffin knew, Ben was tiptoeing out the sliding door at the back of the Slovak home. If he reached the rendezvous spot and Griffin was a no-show, he’d have a heart attack. Loyaltywise, the kid was rock solid, but he had a very low freak-out threshold.

  What was that? Griffin heard footsteps on the stairs and peered out the window again. The garage light was off! He heard his father in the bathroom for a few minutes, water splashing in the sink, and the small motor of an electric toothbrush. Then more footsteps and the whump of his parents’ bedroom door closing.

  The hardest part was waiting to make sure Dad was asleep. Minutes passed like weeks. School today had been even worse. Who could concentrate on English or math on the day of an operation? Between periods, he’d rushed to the library to check the online boating forecast. It was always the same: SE winds 10–15 knots, seas 1–2 ft, light swells. Griffin didn’t even know what a knot was, but he assumed Darren would.

  At last, the coast was clear. He threw his backpack over his shoulder and tiptoed down the stairs, wincing at the clinking sound made by the three flashlights and heavy-duty wire cutters inside. As silently as he could, he slipped out the back door, got on his bike, and rode to the small park where he was meeting Ben.

  As he approached the rendezvous point, a blinding beam assaulted his eyes.

  “What kept you?” Ben demanded, his face white behind his flashlight.

  “I’ll explain on the way!” Griffin promised.

  Eleven jet-propelled minutes later, they pedaled up to the Cedarville Marina at the north end of town. There they found Savannah, Melissa, Logan, and Pitch, waiting not very patiently on the narrow, rocky beach.

  “You’re late!” Savannah seethed.

  “Trouble sneaking out,” Griffin explained briskly, taking stock of their faces. “Where’s Darren?”

  “He’s not here yet,” Pitch said. She surveyed the line of bobbing watercraft in the nearby slips. “I wonder which boat is the Vaders’.”

  “Look for the S.S. Bigmouth,” Ben suggested.

  “Don’t knock Darren,” Savannah said sharply. “Without him, we’d have no way to get to Rutherford Point. If he takes us to Cleo, he can be Sir Bigmouth of the Round Table.”

  “Okay,” said Griffin. “Equipment check.”

  They ran through the list of gear, piling it up on the sand between them. Everything was ready.

  Melissa consulted the clock on her BlackBerry, which was monitoring the three surviving webcams. “It’s twelve-twenty-five,” she ventured timidly.

  “Isn’t that just like Darren,” Pitch spat. “He helps us, but first he has to make us sweat.”

  Logan spoke up. “I know some good breathing exercises for stage fright.”

  Savannah was too wired to be patient. “Let’s not and say we did.”

  Griffin had the last word on the subject. “Calm down, you guys. All we can do is wait.”

  The zoobreak team paced nervously, the task ahead weighing heavily on their young shoulders. A chill wind came off the water, making them glad they were all in warm sweaters and fleeces. Time ticked away. No Darren.

  The BlackBerry told the tale. “One a.m.,” Melissa reported blandly.

  They all knew, but it took Pitch’s plain talk to put it into words: “That backstabbing rat-creep! He stood us up!”

  Savannah was devastated. “But what about Cleo?”

  “He stood her up, too,”
Griffin said grimly. “Especially her.”

  “You mean that’s it?” she persisted. “We just go home?”

  Griffin tried to make her understand. “Every good plan has built-in options for what you can do when something goes wrong. But there’s always a spot where there’s no plan B — where it has to happen exactly right or not at all. Getting to Rutherford Point is the linchpin of everything. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Shy Melissa spoke up. “There’s one thing we can do.” Everyone stared at her. “We can wait longer. Darren probably isn’t coming, but maybe he is. It’s better than giving up.”

  The team digested this. There was a strange simplicity to Melissa’s thinking that had the ring of the wisdom of the ages.

  “You’re dreaming,” said Pitch. “He’s a no-show.”

  “We’ll take a vote,” The Man With The Plan decided. “All in favor of going home …” Pitch, Logan, and Griffin. “And of staying …” Savannah and Melissa. “Home wins, three to two.” He froze. “Wait a minute — where’s Ben?”

  They looked around. Ben was nowhere to be seen.

  Out came their flashlights, and they searched the marina. No Ben.

  And then Griffin heard a telltale snort — one he had heard many times before. Snoring!

  He followed the sound along the beach until his flashlight illuminated Ben, fast asleep, curled up on a pile of fishing nets in an ancient wooden rowboat.

  “Ben!” he hissed.

  “I’m awake!” the smaller boy exclaimed, scrambling to attention. He took in his surroundings in drowsy embarrassment. “Oh, man, I crashed! Is Darren here yet?”

  Griffin didn’t answer. His gleaming eyes were focused on two wooden oars lying inside the old dory.

  Transportation.

  14

  Ben dragged the heavy oar through the water, his eyes focused on Griffin, who stood in the dory’s bow like Washington crossing the Delaware.

  “The preserve was a long ride by bus because we had to drive down one neck and up another,” Griffin explained, his flashlight trained on the map in his hands. “By water we can just cut straight across. It can’t be more than a mile or two.”

  “Two miles is pretty far by rowing!” Ben panted. “Especially if the boat sinks halfway there.”

  Pitch examined the wooden deck. “I think she’s seaworthy. The floor’s totally dry.”

  “Only because I haven’t thrown up yet,” wheezed Logan, who was prone to seasickness. “No actor should have to work in these conditions.”

  “The acting part’s over,” Griffin told him. “It’s all search and rescue from here on in.”

  Savannah took the oar from Ben’s hands. “Here, I’ll row for a while. Maybe somebody should give Melissa a break, too.”

  “That’s okay.” Even from behind the curtain of hair, Melissa’s eyes glowed like a pair of hovering fireflies. “This is really cool.”

  The eeriest part was when they got far enough from shore that the Cedarville Marina faded into an endless dark coastline. They couldn’t see their destination, but home had disappeared, too. It was like being lost at sea.

  The journey progressed with agonizing slowness. After one of their flashlights died, Griffin declared a new rule: No more than three lights on at a time to conserve battery power.

  “Are we there yet?” groaned Pitch, staring up at the starry sky.

  “I think I’m going to start barfing now,” Logan gurgled.

  “Go ahead,” said Savannah. “It’s a normal function for all living creatures.”

  “Just lean over the side,” Griffin added. “Remember, this is a round-trip cruise.”

  Two a.m. found them still in open water. By this time, the simple act of rowing had become backbreakingly painful. The team members took their turns on the oars. Even Melissa grew exhausted and agreed to rest.

  She passed her oar off to a none-too-steady Logan and retreated behind her hair. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright, waving her BlackBerry urgently at the others.

  “Look!”

  Ben squinted at the small screen. It was the portside webcam view. It showed the darkened paddleboat and — far offshore in the distance — three tiny bobbing lights.

  “It’s us!” Ben exclaimed. “Our flashlights!”

  Tired celebration broke out on the dory as the BlackBerry was passed around the team. They had found Rutherford Point.

  Savannah began to row with renewed vigor. “Hang in there, Cleo,” she murmured determinedly. “I’m coming to get you.”

  The rowers picked up their pace. Soon, they could identify the lights of the preserve and at last, the gray silhouette of All Aboard Animals growing larger and larger off their bow.

  “Oars up!” commanded Griffin in a low voice.

  The dory skimmed along the black water until it bumped softly against the heavy steel hull.

  Ben gazed at the paddleboat’s rail several feet above their heads. “The rope ladder!” he rasped. “Darren was bringing it! Now what are we supposed to do?”

  Pitch was already knotting fishing nets together. “Relax.” She leaped up and clamped sure hands onto the gunwale of the larger craft. Then she swung her body over the rail onto the deck. A mountaineering knot affixed one end of the nets to an iron cleat. The other she tossed down to Griffin, who secured it to the bow of the dory.

  One by one, the team headed up the ratline formed by the nets and stepped onto the deck. Griffin brought up the rear. From his backpack he produced six pairs of soft cotton surgical booties and passed them around.

  “To muffle our footsteps,” he explained in a whisper. “We’re now in silent mode. Remember — Klaus is on this boat, and we’ve heard from Logan he’s a very light sleeper. You all know the plan: Ben goes in first, and when he opens the front door, we want to be in and out with the monkey ASAP. The longer it takes, the greater the chance that someone’s going to make noise. And we all know what that means.”

  Pitch swallowed hard. “Let’s do it.”

  Griffin and Ben crept aft toward the vent opening. The lifeboat suitcase was just where they’d left it, and it was easy for Griffin to boost Ben up to the horn-shaped opening.

  In his heart of hearts, Ben was half hoping that the four screws holding the vent grating would be too rusted to turn. But the grill came off easily, and the way in yawned wide.

  He peered down at his best friend, who was perched on the lifeboat suitcase. “What if I fall asleep in there?”

  “You won’t,” Griffin said. “You already napped back at the marina.”

  Ben wriggled into the dusty duct, fighting a burning desire to sneeze. He felt like Santa Claus, squeezing through a chimney. Come to think of it, Santa had it easy. He was always welcome. No wonder the old guy was so jolly. He wasn’t trying to commit Grand Theft Monkey.

  The passage was tight but smooth, so progress was steady. There it was, dead ahead in his flashlight beam — the vent! A mea sure of relief washed over him. He was actually going to make it. Operation Zoobreak was just beginning, but at least this part — the part he’d been dreading the most — was almost done.

  He slithered forward and trained his flashlight straight down into the compartment below. The sight he saw there would give him nightmares for the rest of his life.

  Instead of the room with the monkey cage, the beam shone directly into the sleeping face of Klaus Anthony. Even more horrific, the security guard’s eyes popped open and stared straight up into the light.

  15

  Wild with terror, Ben tried to scramble away but only succeeded in whacking his head on the roof of the duct. Dazed, he toppled forward onto the grating. It gave way, and the grill, the flashlight, and Ben dropped right onto Klaus. The cry of shock from the security guard vibrated throughout the entire ship.

  Ben took off like Superman, clawing at air and bulkhead — anything to get him up, up, and away. Klaus rose, too, reaching groggily for the intruder. Ben’s bootie-clad sneaker came down on the security guard’s blond h
ead. It was the boost Ben needed. He was back in the duct, wiggling like a terrified snake in a desperate bid for escape.

  With a howl of rage, Klaus hoisted himself to the vent and crawled inside after the runaway. His anger blotted out every ounce of reason, and he blasted forward, his broad shoulders pressing the passage to its limit. By the time he came to his senses, he was hopelessly jammed into the ventilation system — unable to go forward, unable to retreat, his bare feet dangling from the ceiling above his bunk.

  With his flashlight lost and the wedged Klaus blocking the way out, Ben was trapped in the narrow duct in utter darkness. The very air reverberated with Klaus’s shouting. Of all the worst-case scenarios Ben had imagined, this topped everything — pure, unadulterated horror.

  He felt like a blind mouse trapped in a pipe, squirming frantically toward … what? It was so dark that he couldn’t even see the walls of the duct inches from his face. How was he going to find his way out of here?

  He was never going to forgive Griffin for this! Boarding school in New Jersey was a picnic compared to the spot he was in right now.

  Klaus was still shouting threats, his booming voice echoing in the metal enclosure. But wait! A powerful smell reached him. The zoo! He surged forward until his probing hands rattled the grill of another vent opening.

  He pounded on the grating until it came loose and clattered to the deck. In his enthusiasm to be free from the ductwork, he very nearly followed it in a swan dive. But he managed to maneuver his legs through the opening so he could drop to the cabin below.

  He landed hard and rolled, panting and choking on dust. A familiar animal chattering met his ears.

  The dim glow of moonlight through the porthole illuminated the compartment. Ben looked around breathlessly. In the cage bolted to the wall, Cleopatra darted and chirped, unnerved by the chaos. Somehow, he had managed to blunder into exactly the cabin he’d been trying to reach in the first place!

  Heart pounding, he barreled through the heart of the zoo, navigating the maze of excited animals awakened by Klaus’s bellowing. He threw open the main hatch and burst onto the deck, where he collided with Griffin, nearly bowling him over.