Ghost Leopard (A Zoe & Zak Adventure #1)

by Lars Guignard

  I didn’t speak.

  “OK. I admit Rhino Butt and his meat cleaver were a little unexpected.”

  I turned away from him. I saw Zak reach for his running shoe out of the corner of my eye.

  “Look. I know I shouldn’t have kept the map.”

  “Or the money,” I said.

  “Or the money.”

  Zak removed the folded map from his shoe. I didn’t know he had put it in there. It was a little wet, but otherwise fine.

  “If you want, we can give the map back. You know, if we see him again.”

  “What I want is to see what he’s so excited about.”

  Zak unfolded the map. The weathered parchment was stained brown from the water and mud in Zak's shoe, but that wasn’t the only way it looked different from the way it had looked back at the hotel pool. Parts of the map were glowing. And not just a little either. Among all the X’s on the map, one of them glowed a hot yellow. A fiery golden path led through the mountains toward it.

  “This is totally hot,” Zak said. “Like it feels hot.”

  “Maybe it was the water that did it, like invisible ink.”

  “Maybe it’s Mukta showing us the way.”

  “Come on, do you really believe him?”

  “You saw the same thing I did back at the hut. Mukta said the Ghost Leopard would climb Tendua Tibba under the light of the full moon.”

  “Mukta was a crazy man,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Zak said. “But what if he’s right?” Zak pointed out Tendua Tibba on the map. “If he is, the Leopard will be there.”

  I shrugged. I had to admit, seeing the map glow had undone all of that deep breathing I’d just done to calm myself. Sure, this Rhino Butt guy was a problem, but even though I was loathe to admit it, I was really starting to think that there might actually be a Ghost Leopard out there. I wasn’t ready to talk about it though. Not yet. Zak handed me a samosa.

  “Look, Zoe, I’m sorry for everything. If you want to go straight back right now, I totally get it.”

  I took a couple of steps beyond the road to the two giant stones standing on either side of the path like a gate. Actually, I was pretty sure Zak didn’t get it. This wasn’t about being chased by Rhino Butt. It wasn’t about almost dying in a bus crash. It was about what was possible. I stepped forward so that I stood between the towering stones. They rose on either side of me, my body casting a somber shadow across the path. Walking beyond them would be committing. I would not only be committing to help Zak find the Ghost Leopard, but I would also be committing, to the idea at least, that maybe some of the things I had seen in Mukta's hut last night, some of the things that looked almost magical, might be real. It was a big thing and I took my commitments seriously. I wasn’t going to continue on unless I thought there was chance, however small, that we might actually find this Ghost Leopard. And even though everything I had learned in school told my there probably wasn’t a chance, everything I had seen so far on my trip to India told my that there was. Besides, I didn’t have to listen to everything Mukta said. If we found this Ghost Leopard I might be able to get a really cool picture. Or not. Everything about this trip was a risk.

  I couldn’t decide what to do. Not rationally. Not with my brain anyway. So I closed my eyes and listened to my heart. When I did, I could see nothing, but I felt my feet move of their own accord. They took me one, then two steps forward, beyond the towering rocks. When I opened my eyes again, I was in a different world. Almost like magic, the clouds parted in the sky above. Rays of sunlight shot down revealing the green terraced rice fields in the valley far below, the giant Himalayan mountains shooting above. Zak walked through the stone gates behind me, dragging the donkeys. I looked him in the eye.

  “I want you to promise me that you’re going to try to stop doing crazy stuff that will get us killed.”

  “I promise,” Zak said.

  “Really?”

  “I promise to at least try,” he said.

  “Then let’s get a picture of this thing.”

  I hopped up onto my donkey, reached behind me, and pulled on its tail. That was all it took. The next thing I knew I was galloping down the path to who knew where.

  12

  THE YOGI WAY

  After a while my donkey calmed down and I was able to snap a few pictures as we rode. The sun shone and the birds chirped and my heart finally began to a beat at a more normal pace. Even though we had only just escaped Rhino Butt that morning, we were off the road in a place his Jeep couldn’t get to us. That felt good. And the landscape was beautiful. Speckled sunlight shone through the pine trees as we headed along the narrow ridge, a river running through the valley below. I did get the feeling that we might be being followed, but not by land, by air. Like the same magic carpet was keeping tabs on us or something. A couple of times I pointed my camera at the sky behind me and clicked the shutter, but I only ever got a blur. The sun got into the shot somehow. I tried to let go of the feeling we were being shadowed. I was probably just being paranoid after our crazy morning.

  A woman with a giant bundle of twigs on her back approached and I snapped her picture. It looked like she was collecting firewood.

  “Do you ever wonder why your dad brought you along on this trip?” I asked Zak.

  “I don’t know. He asked if I wanted to come.”

  “I know. But your dad and my mom have been going on these trips for ages. I’ve gone, I think, twice total. How about you?”

  “Once before. I went to New York with my dad.”

  “So why are they letting us come with them now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Zak said. “I think my dad is worried about me since he and my mom split.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said.

  “I didn’t know your mom split with your dad.”

  “She didn’t,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t know my dad. What I was trying to say is, I think my mom is worried about me too.”

  The donkeys plodded along. The path was wider here and we could walk side by side. The trail was busier than I would have expected. What looked like a giant, shiny black lump was coming down the trail. It wasn’t until it was right beside us that I figured out what the huge shiny thing was. It was a piano, a baby grand by the looks of it. The piano had worn ebony and ivory keys and the man who carried it was bent nearly all the way over, holding the piano steady with a thick canvas strap around his sweating forehead. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think it was even possible for one person to carry a piano.

  “Heavy,” Zak said, staring at the piano. “Why is your mom worried?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer. I eased my donkey to the side of the path, letting the piano man past.

  “Namaste,” I said, bowing my head and putting my hands together in the traditional greeting I had now seen many times.

  The man with the piano on his back smiled back at me, beads of sweat running down his cheeks. He was called a coolie. His job was to carry things and for a long moment, I felt very guilty that I had a donkey to ride and this poor guy had to carry somebody’s piano. It didn’t seem fair. I would have given him my donkey, but I don’t think the donkey could have carried it. One thing I vowed to do was think about the poor guy every time I practiced the piano after school. It wouldn’t make carrying the piano any easier for him, but at least it would make practice seem not so hard. The piano man bowed his head as he passed.

  “Why’s your mom worried?” Zak asked again.

  It was me who had stupidly brought the topic up, so I knew I was going to have to answer. I gently pulled the tail on my donkey to get him walking again.

  “A couple of weeks ago I found out some stuff about being adopted,” I said.

  “Whoa,” Zak said. “Like you didn’t know before?”

  “No, I knew I was adopted, but a couple of weeks ago, I actually found the paperwork and some pictures and stuff. I was looking for something in my mom’s office, going through her stuff, and there it was, the date my mom
got me and everything. But there was no mention of my birth parents. It just said unknown.”

  “What did your mom say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “What do you mean nothing?”

  “She didn’t say anything. We didn’t actually talk about it.”

  “Well, if you’re worried about it, shouldn’t you ask her?”

  “I don’t know. I left her office in a hurry when I heard her car pull in. I left the papers out, so I’m pretty sure she knows I was looking around.”

  “And she didn’t say anything?”

  “Not yet. That’s what I’m worried about. I think that’s why she brought me on this trip. So we could have some quality time together. So maybe she could tell me about my birth parents.”

  “That is going to be mega awkward.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  “Did you find out anything else? Like where you were adopted from?”

  “St. James hospital in Virginia. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

  “And I thought my little chat about behaving myself around my dad’s new girlfriend was going to be a pain.”

  “He has a new girlfriend?” I asked.

  “Not yet, but in case he gets one.”

  We came to a creek cutting across the path. A stream of diverted water ran over a banana leaf and through the legs of the stone sculpture of a five-headed god. The god looked a lot like Hanuman, the monkey god, but all the gods had so many arms it was really hard to be sure. The donkeys started to drink so Zak and I got off. Zak bent down and opened up his mouth, taking a drink from the water running off the banana leaf.

  “I told you, you shouldn't drink the water,” I said. “You can get sick around here.”

  “I guarantee we’ll get sicker if we don’t drink anything at all.”

  “Well, when you put it like that…”

  I knew Zak was right so I knelt down and drank. The bubbly water was fresh and cold. It probably came straight from some mountain glacier, so I wasn’t too worried about getting sick. Plus, I didn’t realize how thirsty I was. I thought I might open a pack of cookies too. But as I wiped my mouth dry I had that funny feeling again. The feeling that we were being watched.

  “What do you think about this Ghost Leopard?” Zak said. “They say it’s a ghost wandering around all the time and it only becomes real, like with a body and everything, once every hundred years. That’s crazy.”

  “Shh…”

  “Imagine only getting your body back once every hundred years. You’ve only got that one night to enjoy yourself and poof, when the sun comes out you’re a ghost again.”

  “I said be quiet.”

  “If I knew I was going to get my body back for only that one night, I’d enjoy every moment of it. I’m talking a good time. I’d probably eat lots of pizza. And ice cream. Chocolate ice cream. Do you think a ghost feels full when it eats?”

  “How would I know?” I said. I was getting really annoyed. “Just be quiet.”

  “Why?”

  “I heard humming or an engine.”

  We both listened. This time I couldn’t hear anything but the wind in the trees.

  “It’s impossible that you heard an engine,” Zak said, measuring the width of the trail. “Piano, yes. Jeep, no. There’s no way he could get his car down here.”

  “Listen.”

  I thought I heard the humming again. It seemed to be coming from the slope directly above the stream. I needed to warn Zak.

  “We’re being watched,” I said quietly. “Look behind us. But make it casual. We don't want them to know we’re on to them.”

  “I told you it’s impossible,” Zak said. “This trail is too narrow for a Jeep.”

  Then we both heard a loud cough. It didn’t come from Zak. And it didn’t come from me. There was no denying it this time. Somebody was watching us. Both of us froze. But neither of us were sure what to do about it so we continued to stare at each other. Then, like clockwork, we both whipped our heads around. I almost expected to see a fire-eating dragon. Or Rhino Butt’s Jeep turned into a flying tank. But no big deal, it was only Mukta. He sat on his carpet on the slope above us, floating above the rocks. Wait a minute, did I say no big deal? I meant very big deal. Mukta was floating, literally floating, above the rocks. Whatever he was sitting on was clearly some kind of magic carpet. The thing hovered in the air.

  “Did I freak you, Mud Devils?” Mukta asked.

  “Yeah. You freaked us, Mukta. What are you doing here?”

  Mukta took a drink from a bottle and began to gargle.

  “Gargling,” Mukta said. “Betel juice: Good for the stamina.”

  “Mukta?”

  “Yes, Mud Devil?” Mukta said, while still gargling.

  “I mean what are you doing here? Why did you follow us?”

  Mukta spit out his mouthful of betel juice.

  “I am checking on your progress.”

  I shaded my eyes against the sunlight and stared at Mukta. His carpet was at least three feet off the ground, but he sat on it as though he was on a park bench. Had he been following us the whole time on that thing?

  “Does your carpet fly?” I asked matter-of-factly.

  “Now it hovers. But yes, on a good day my carpet will fly.”

  “Cool,” Zak said.

  I raised my camera to my eye and snapped Mukta's picture, hovering carpet and all. But a weird thing happened. The same weird thing that I’m pretty sure was happening before when I tried to take a picture of whatever was following us in the sky from the top of the bus. When I looked at the camera’s screen, I saw only a shadow where Mukta should have been hovering. I snapped his picture again and the same thing happened. No Mukta, just a shadow.

  “I see you have your camera, Mud Devil. I truly hope you are not planning to capture a photo of the Leopard.”

  “No way,” Zak said. “We know the Ghost Leopard can’t have its picture taken.”

  “Good,” Mukta said. “One cannot capture the moment, Mud Devil. The answers you seek cannot be found with one finger on the shutter.”

  Mukta's carpet lowered and he stepped off of it and down the slope. He sat on the trail, crossing his legs.

  “There is little time. We must sit.”

  “Mukta, thanks for checking in on us, but I think we’re OK,” I said.

  “Long journeys begin with the lizard's tiny step. I sense the yogi within you, Zoe Guire. Now sit. Both of you cross your legs.”

  I shared a look with Zak and we both sat and crossed our legs. At least it felt natural to me. I was happy for all those yoga classes I'd done with my mom. Even though they were boring at the time, I had a funny feeling that they were about to become very useful.

  “If you are to follow the Yogi Way,” Mukta said, “you must learn to believe. Close your eyes.”

  Zak closed his eyes first, just like that, no fuss, no muss. He was always so eager. Though I was willing to listen, I was way more skeptical. I thought it was strange that this old man was following us around on a flying carpet, and even stranger that he wanted us to sit down in the middle of the trail and cross our legs. But if I had learned anything on this trip so far, it was that things were strange in these mountains.

  “You must unloose your energies,” Mukta said. “Rocks, trees, the very world we live in, these things are in the mind. Living, dying, these things too.”

  I could feel a New Age lecture coming on, like when my mom’s yoga instructor told her to say “om” while she sat in the lotus position. But I didn’t want to come across as a know-it-all, so I half-closed my eyes and listened.

  “The Yogi Way, it must permeate your being. You must know this if you are to understand that this…” Mukta waved his arms through the air, “…is not this.”

  I didn’t get it. I didn’t get how he expected us to see his arms waving around if our eyes were supposed to be closed and I didn’t get what he was talking about either. “What’s not what?” I said.

  �
��This,” Mukta exhaled, gesturing at the world around him, “is not this. Your mind is matter. Matter is mind.”

  “What’s the matter?” Zak said, his eyes still closed.

  “Matter,” I said. “Matter is another name for material. I think he’s saying your brain is made out of material.”

  “Material like you’d sew a shirt out of?”

  “No. Like material, like everything is made out of some kind of material. He’s saying your brain imagines the world and that’s why we have a world.” I was guessing, but I thought that was where Mukta was going.

  “That is wicked deep,” Zak said. “You should totally write that down, Zo.”

  Zak had dropped the “e” in my name. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. Generally only my mom and friends did that. Was Zak becoming my friend? I snuck a peek at him. He sat there, his legs crossed and eyes closed, a big smile on his face. Once again I was amazed at how fully Zak threw himself into everything he did. I guess part of me wished I could be more like that.

  Mukta inhaled. “Being is all,” he said.

  “Being is all,” Zak repeated. “Like human being?” he asked me quietly.

  “I don’t know. I guess. Why are you asking me?” I said.

  “Because you’re the deep one,” Zak said.

  Mukta interrupted us both. “Once you know these things, you can do as you will,” Mukta said.

  I let my half-closed eyes fall shut. But I just wasn’t as trusting as Zak. He could keep his eyes closed if he wanted. But I didn’t want to. So I opened up. Zak's eyes were still closed so he didn’t see me. Neither did Mukta. But then a funny thing began to happen. Mukta began to float. But he wasn’t sitting on his carpet. He wasn’t sitting on anything at all. He was levitating, rising higher and higher above the path, the spotted birthmark on his hand glowing faintly.

  When Mukta reached about three feet up, floating there in midair, he stopped moving upwards. It didn’t look like a trick, but really, I didn’t know what to think. Last night’s show-and-tell with the little gods in the bowl had been freaky enough, but at least that had seemed explainable in some way. There could have been a TV or projector in the pot or something. The snake whip and carpet were less explainable, but the carpet was pretty far away. It could have been a trick. Mukta floating in the middle of the trail, however, was right in front of me. I didn’t speak. I was too interested in what might happen next. Because there was no logical explanation for what I was seeing. A stalk of green bamboo rustled in the breeze. Then the wind picked up and I watched as the bamboo actually passed through Mukta's forehead like he wasn’t there.