by Barrie Summy
“Be careful, Sherry,” she says, rubbing my shoulder.
Josh returns. “That’s a great lookout position up there.”
“How will you let us know if you see something?” Junie asks.
“I do a pretty good owl hoot,” Josh says.
Wow. There’s no end to this guy’s talents.
We take off to our various hiding places. I flatten myself against the side of the concrete feeder. Staring into the darkness, I can make out the outline of Junie’s shoulder and the top of Josh’s absolutely adorable head. They seem so far off in the distance. I shiver and rub my arms.
“Mom,” I whisper-call. “Grandpa.”
No answer. No coffee smell. No flapping wings.
A few white goats skitter on the knoll behind Junie. They look like ghosts out on a nighttime frolic. Somewhere above me, a bird lets out a creepy call. The whole scene is überspooky.
“Hoot.”
“Hoot”? I smile. Cute voice, but a really poor owl imitation.
“Hoot.”
Okay, Josh, I got it. That’s you being an owl.
“Hoot. Hoot. Hoot.”
Oh. Oh. Oh. He sees something. He’s warning me. I go nervous-twitchy all over. I look around.
“Hoot. Hoot. Hoot.”
I squint. I see the fronds of a tall palm pointing like giant fingers toward the black sky. Way far off, I make out a zebra’s silhouette. But nothing else.
My cell rings—more like screams—in the quiet night.
Panicked, I fumble in my pocket. I slap it off.
Footsteps.
My pulse is pounding like crazy. I drop to the ground and listen.
There’s a loud click.
Ouch!
The world goes black.
All groggy and woozy, I slowly blink open my eyes. It’s like there’s a fog machine in my head, clouding everything up.
Where am I?
A skinny stream of moonlight filters through a small, dirty window. I can make out a table with several bottles of Sassy Girl shampoo. The air stinks of old food and animals.
I’m in the rhino-keeper’s hut.
Through my head fog, I remember hiding by the cone-shaped feeder, Josh’s pitiful hooting, my phone ringing, footsteps, a noisy click and a jab to my leg. But then what happened?
My thigh aches. I go to rub it.
Ack. I can’t move my arms. I can’t move my feet. I’m duct taped to a chair with my hands behind my back.
My mouth dries up like I hiked the Sonoran Desert, at noon, in the summer, without any water.
I pull against the tape. It’s so tight, it squeezes me like a way-too-small Halloween mummy costume. The more I struggle, the more the tape stretches my skin and yanks on my arm hairs. And my mini-backpack is digging into my shoulder blades. My pulse speeds up. Sweat dots my forehead. Which I can’t wipe off.
A major lump plugs up my throat. I swallow hard.
Peering around the hut, I see it’s still a disaster area. A disaster area that’s a stockpile of bad-guy supplies. There’s gotta be enough duct tape to restrain Saguaro Middle School’s entire student body.
I keep looking. No one except me. Are Josh and Junie out on the savanna, plotting my rescue? Through my thick head haze, I think two clear little yays.
The door squeaks open. Dressed all in black, a guy enters. Moonlight flows on and around him, lighting him up like he’s a rock star on stage. But instead of a microphone, he’s carrying a rifle.
Help. I’m going to die a lonely, smelly Wild Animal Park death. Josh and Junie, make the scene. Now. Pleeease.
Possumlike, I close my eyes. Surely he won’t shoot me if I’m still unconscious.
In his hugely gross, creepy accent, Gary says, “Sherry, I know you’re awake.”
I open my eyes.
He sets the rifle on the table. “I only put a light dose of tranquilizer on the dart.”
“You shot me with a dart gun?”
“Yeah.” He inclines his ugly head toward the gun. “And you weren’t at all difficult to track.” He smirks. “You need to utilize the vibrate function on your cell phone. Or be more discerning when giving out your number.”
My jaw drops. “You’re the one who phoned me on the savanna?”
He nods.
Those double-crossing old people. They gave Gary my cell number.
“I knew you were out there somewhere,” Gary says, “and that seemed the quickest way to pinpoint your location.”
He knew I was out there? Those double-crossing blabber-mouthy old people. They told him the plans.
“Where are your mother and grandfather hiding?”
I don’t answer.
“Fine. Don’t talk.” He shrugs. “I’ll find them.”
Ha. Good luck.
Gary drags a sports bag from the corner. Then he’s on his haunches, shoving stuff around in the bag.
I sit perfectly still, thinking. My head’s less hazy now. Whatever he shot me with is wearing off. I realize that once he starts hunting for my mom and grandpa, he’ll stumble across Josh and Junie. I have to buy time for them, my two aces out on the savanna, who are waiting for the perfect moment to bust in and save me. Hopefully in time to save the rhinos too. And my mom’s afterlife.
I’ve always been a gifted talker. I’ll stall him with questions. Plus, I want the answers. “How’d you hook up with everybody?”
Gary digs some more in the bag. He hauls out some weird goggle things, which he slips around his neck. “I’ve done work for Dr. Kim before. The arthritics contacted him about concocting a Chinese remedy for their arthritis. A bogus remedy, I’m sure.”
He zips the bag, stands and tosses it back in the corner.
Ack. Speed it up, Josh and Junie. I quickly fire out another question. “What about the chef?”
At the table, he slides a red dart from the case, then dips the pointy end of it in a small cup of liquid next to the shampoo bottles. “He knows someone in the online arthritic group. They were having trouble coming up with the horn money, so—” Gary stops talking to concentrate on slotting the dart into the back of the gun.
Ack. He’s getting ready to go people hunting. “About the chef?” I ask.
He lays the gun down again, then pulls the goggles over his face.
Very Star Wars. Very night vision. Very scary.
“The chef offered to pay half if he could have the meat,” Gary says.
“Why’d you leave bananas out for the rhinos?”
“To get them in the habit of checking that area. It’s a good place to make the kill.” He walks to the door.
I fill completely with panic. Completely. Like I’m a can of soda all shook up. “Are those night-vision goggles? I think I saw them on CSI.” My voice shakes.
“Shut up, Sherry.” He exits.
I breathe in little shallow gasps like a stupid fish who jumped out of the water and is flopping around, dying on land. By now Josh and Junie must’ve dialed nine-one-one. Right? They must’ve. Which means help’ll be here any minute. Help, like the whole San Diego PD. Right?
A noise outside! Yay. It’s Josh, my wonderful, gorgeous knight in shining armor. Or Junie, my wonderful, full-of-great-ideas best friend. Or a bunch of cops. I’m not picky.
The door opens. Gary enters, hauling Junie over his shoulder.
It feels as though a twenty-pound block of ice is sitting on my heart, crushing it. Josh, please come through for us, and soon.
Without a word, Gary dumps Junie next to me. Her glasses bounce off. He returns to the table and dips another dart. After reloading the gun, he takes off again, leaving the door open.
Oh no. At the top of my lungs, I scream over and over, “Watch out, Josh! He’s coming, Josh!”
Junie’s chest rises and falls. She lies there, eyes shut. She’s so out of it even my yelling doesn’t wake her up.
Gary backs in, dragging Josh by the feet. Josh’s head bumps along the uneven floor, his gorgeous hair swishing in the dirt. He moa
ns.
Make that a fifty-pound block of ice. My heart is now flattened.
Gary yanks off his goggles and tosses them on the table. He unzips Junie’s purse and pulls out her cell. Staring at the screen, he punches buttons, then drops the phone on the floor. He pats Josh’s pockets till he finds the phone, and goes through the same routine. From the small smile on Gary’s face, I can tell Josh and Junie didn’t get a chance to dial nine-one-one.
It’s over. Really over. Really and truly over.
Gary binds Josh’s and Junie’s feet and wrists. He works quickly and quietly. Turning to me, he says, “You brought these two instead of your mother and grandfather?”
My chin on my chest, I don’t even bother to answer.
When he’s done, he grabs the sports bag and moves to the table, shaking his head and muttering, “This should’ve been a relatively simple job. But dealing with those arthritics and that chef. And now these kids . . .”
His movements all jerky and angry, he unzips the bag and pulls out the Ziploc bag of Keflit. Even in the dim light, it sparkles and shimmers, beautiful and deadly at the same time.
“What’s going to happen to us?” I ask, my voice thin and reedy.
“It’s out of my hands.”
“What does that mean?” My pitch hits girlie-girl notes. As in way high. As in way scared.
He throws me a look like I’m an annoying mosquito buzzing around his royal head. “I don’t deal with complications like you guys. I’m a professional. I do my job. I get paid. I leave.” From a little sink on the far wall, Gary adds water to the Keflit and squishes the mixture all around in the bag. “The guy who picks up the product is the problem solver.”
“What do you mean? What’s a problem solver?” I’m hysterical now.
Gary slides on disposable gloves and chooses a peeled banana. “Sherry, you’ve seen me. You know who I am. You’ve obviously confided in your friends. You do the math.” He dips the end of the banana in the mixture, making sure it’s coated in shimmery, glittery, turquoise + sea-green Keflit. Then, carrying a bunch of bananas, including the two-step death weapon, he exits.
I slump. Totally and completely frozen. We’re doomed. The rhinos are doomed. My mother is doomed.
Right from the start, I knew I couldn’t do this. I knew I was in miles over my head.
Look at me. I’m tied to a chair in a nasty old hut with a taped-up new boyfriend and a taped-up best friend. I sob big, hot, salty tears. Then my nose starts running, and I can’t even lift a hand to wipe it.
I sit there, not that I can move, anyway, my eyes squeezed shut and my head hanging. This is the biggest failure of my entire life.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Oh great. Now I’m getting a noisy headache from the solution El Creepo Gary dipped the darts in. I open my eyes and lift my head. It’s still dark. Yellow moonlight sneaks in through the cracked door. I guess I only zoned out for a few minutes.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My poor pounding head.
Next to me, Josh and Junie lie unconscious on the ground. Josh moans low and cute. Junie moans nasally and nerdy. If only I hadn’t dragged them into the mystery.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It sounds like tapping on glass. What kind of headache sounds like that? What kind of weirdness did Gary dart me with? Wait a sec. This is not happening inside my head. I look up. A big-bellied wren is pecking at the window.
Grandpa! He’s here. He’s healthy. He’s my hero. I’d jump up and down with joy if I could.
“Grandpa, where’s Mom?”
He stops pecking, then raises his head and stares at me. His little yellow beak opens and closes, opens and closes. He’s saying . . . something.
I don’t have a clue what, because I can’t hear through the glass. And then there’s my on-again-off-again prob with his bird talk.
“Grandpa, I can’t hear you. Fly through the door. And speak slooowly.”
He’s back to the tap-tap-tapping thing. He stops. He raises his head. He stares. He yaks. Then he goes back to tapping again.
I sniff. I shriek, “Mom! Mom! Mom!” I sniff again. Nothing.
I turn my eyes back to Grandpa, his tiny head bobbing back and forth, his beak stabbing at the window, then opening and closing to squawk out something.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I so don’t want to die now.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Junie and me have totally patched up our friendship.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
And then there’s sweet, adorable, gorgeous Josh. We haven’t even hugged yet. Or kissed.
Suddenly a coffee smell floods the hut. And a humongous feeling of relief floods me.
“Mom?” Her name catches in my throat.
“Sherry!” Her voice comes from the other side of the threshold. “I’m here, pumpkin, I’m here.”
“Mom, you gotta do something!”
“Sherry, I can’t get in the hut,” she says, all fake calm. “You have to get yourself free.”
“I’ve tried everything!” I cry, all freaked-out. “I’m totally taped up.”
“Have you tried twisting and turning your wrist?” Still fake calm.
“I’ve tried everything.” Still freaked-out.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Can you reach your ankles?” Less fake calm.
“I’ve tried everything.” More freaked-out.
Grandpa taps faster.
“Grandpa!” I yell. “Cut it out.”
“Wilhelm, we can’t think straight with all your racket,” Mom says.
He taps louder.
“That does it.” She blows out an exasperated breath. “Let me talk to him.”
Within seconds, she’s back at the doorway. “He says to take out the crystal from Grandma. Then use the sharp point to stab the tape. Stab in time with his tapping.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Oh,” Mom says.
“Good idea,” we say.
Behind my back, I walk my fingers along the zipper of my mini-backpack’s outside pocket. I slowly slide it open. I poke my fingers in, feel for the crystal and begin gently sliding it through the opening.
The whole time, I’m talking under my breath. “Don’t drop it, Sherry. Don’t drop it. You can do it. You can do it.”
And the crystal’s out. I position it so that the rounded end rests in my palm and the sharp end points at the tape around my left wrist. Then, using the crystal like an ice pick, I jab the tape. Over and over.
In time with Grandpa’s tapping.
I hear Josh and Junie stir, but I’m so concentrated on the crystal that I just keep stabbing.
Then I add a twist. Stab and twist. Stab and twist. Stab and twist. At this rate, I’m going to end up with a major injury.
I feel the fibers tear.
I return the crystal to my backpack and yank with my fingertips.
Yankity yank yank yank.
I can’t believe it!
It ripped in half. The tape totally ripped in half. My hands are free. I did it. I can’t believe it. I so did it.
“Way to go, Sherry,” Josh says.
He’s awake. He’s okay. He’s kissable.
I say to Josh, “Let me get my ankles, then I’ll untape you.”
Once I’m free, I pry the tape off Josh’s hands, and he gets to work on his legs.
Junie’s eyes are open. “Sherry?”
I snatch her glasses up off the dirt floor and glide them over her ears.
“Thanks.” She smiles, then grimaces.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, except for the fuzziness in my head.” She stares at me. “You’re incredible.”
I give a little swagger. “Thanks.”
While Josh and Junie’re untaping, I poke my head out the door and whisper, “Mom, Gary took the poisoned bananas. We gotta do something fast.”
“I’ve got an idea.” And she tells me.
“I like it.” I zip around the side of the building to Grandp
a. “Go get Gary.”
And he’s off, flapping his stubby little wings at hummingbird speed, his beak pointing straight out like a needle.
I race to the front door.
Like good-luck charms, the moon and dozens of stars shine high in the sky. The scent of coffee lingers. Mom must’ve gone to help Grandpa. A light wind lifts the leaves of nearby trees. A small animal rustles in the ground cover. Then all is still.
Until, from off in the distance, Gary yells, “Get lost, bird!”
Thumbs up for Grandpa. He found his target.
Gary yells again. He’s closer. “Ow!”
I tear back into the hut.
Josh and Junie are free. They snap up their cells.
Then Josh says, “Let’s get this guy.”
“Ow! Ow! Ow!”
He’s headed back this way. I tell them the plan.
Josh opens the door wide. Junie grabs a roll of duct tape and crouches on one side of the door opening. I pull on the end of the tape, stretching and twisting it as I step backward. Then I crouch on the opposite side of the door opening. Junie and I hold the tape-rope supertight, about a foot off the ground.
Josh snatches the frying pan from the backpack and waits by me, ready to spring into action.
Gary shouts, “Get away, you stupid bird!”
We hear pounding footsteps.
Swatting at his neck, where Grandpa darts and pokes, Gary charges into the hut. He trips over the tape-rope and falls hard. His head hits the corner of the table. And he’s down.
“I guess I don’t need this.” Josh drops the frying pan on the floor. “Let me do the honors.” He waves another roll of tape.
“Junie, grab a bottle of shampoo,” I say, unscrewing the cap off one as I sprint through the door.
Outside, a crash of five rhinos meanders toward a pile of bananas, including a sparkly turquoise + sea-green one.
I hurtle over to the crash, holding out the open bottle of shampoo.
The rhinos don’t stop.
I pour shampoo into the palm of my hand, rub my palms together, then spread the shampoo up my arms.
The scent of Sassy Girl melon fills the night air.
The rhinos don’t stop.
“I’m on it,” Mom says. “I’m in their thoughts.”