by Peter Nelson
“SILENCE, QUISLING!” Jordan jolted at Chupacabra’s hot anger. “The only thing you should fear is your personal extinction. Because that will be my sole focus on this earth if I fail to reach that fourth elemental power.”
“I will not let you down, Chupacabra, sir.”
“I hope not, Quisling. It would be tiresome to have to kill you twice. Now go!”
Jordan dived back behind the brush to hide again just before Quisling returned around the wall to the backstage area. It was all Jordan could do to contain his rage at hearing how his tracking devices—the very pieces of technology he’d created to protect the creatures—were being used to lure them to danger.
Harvey looked even paler, his bald head beaded with sweat. He buttoned up the jacket of the life-sized Gusto puppet and attached it to some wires that were hanging down from the rafters. He smacked the puppet in the face. “I hope you were listening,” he snarled at the doll as he hobbled off. “Do not blow this for us.” Quisling then exited along the back wall, disappearing around the far corner.
Jordan’s mind was racing as he tried to think of what to do next. He needed to get the collars off all the cryptids and wake them up. He also needed to find Abbie and see that she and Morris were all right. Finally, Eldon needed to know all that he’d just overheard. Chupacabra didn’t have the power of the Perfect Storm, and the last mystery special cryptid wasn’t among the ones gathered in Medog. Still, Chupacabra was more dangerous than ever. “First, I’d better find that Yeti before he kills himself,” he mumbled aloud.
He turned to run and slammed into a white, furry wall. Wilford was standing directly behind him. “Seek and ye shall find,” the Yeti said as he helped Jordan up off the ground. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to see a thief about my Blizzard-Bristles.”
“Wilford, you can’t,” Jordan said. “Not now. Chupacabra has too much power. He won’t think twice about hurting you.”
“My own personal safety is not my concern.”
“Okay, then let me show you something else.” Jordan pulled the Yeti by his paw, out past the Gusto puppet and up to the wall. He peered around it as before, showing Wilford what was on the other side. Wilford’s expression changed as he stared out at the dazed cryptids in the audience.
“What about them?” Jordan whispered. “Are you concerned about them? Listen, I know you want to take on this fight all by yourself, to make things right without anyone else’s help. I used to think that way, too. But I learned how to be part of something bigger than myself. I learned it’s the best way. And trust me—against Chupacabra, I’ve learned it’s the only way.” He nodded toward the cryptids. “Look at them. A long time ago you chose to protect them, and you trusted a Grimsley to help you do it. I’m just asking you to trust a Grimsley again.”
Wilford looked down at Jordan. A smile crept over his bare lip.
Jordan smiled back. “Okay,” he said. “Now tell me, what do you know about hoaxing?”
27
The audience of dazed cryptids reminded Abbie of the reaction she got when she read her ten-page gothic poem, Scaly and Cold: An Ode to Chunk, to her class.
She moved quickly around, behind, and beneath them, keeping her head low as she searched for Morris. There were reptilian cryptids, creatures that resembled giant bugs, ones that were little more than massive gobs of goo, and more than a few hairy, apelike animals. But none were her turtle friend.
“Morris!” she whispered. “Morris, where are you?” She stepped over a large, creepy-crawly Vietnamese cryptid who happened to be named Conrad. He sported hundreds of tiny, millipede-like legs, and under normal circumstances was very curious by nature. But he barely registered her as he continued to stare straight ahead.
A strange growl from across the field caught her attention. Eldon was forcing a physical examination on an irritated-looking dragon-like creature with scaly skin and a saber-toothed tiger’s head. She ran to him, keeping her head down.
“Seriously, Paul?” Eldon said. “You’re going to growl at me now? Remember when I gave you that emergency root canal a few years back? You barely made a peep. Now open up and let me look at your tongue or I’m going to lose my temper!”
“Eldon!” Abbie said. “Are you insane? What are you doing?”
“Hello, Abbie. I’m just trying to figure out what’s gotten into these creatures. They’re perfectly lucid, they just seem to be focused on something they can’t see. And if Paul here would simply cooperate, I could check his tongue for any toxins. But instead, he’s being a big baby! AREN’T YOU, PAUL?”
“You picked him to start with? That thing could rip you in half!”
“Paul is an African Dingonek. Jungle Walrus. And frankly, I’d like to see him try. He’ll find out in a jiffy just how fast I can report his scaly butt to his Keeper, who I’m sure is already displeased that he’s gone missing.” Eldon pushed the tongue depressor toward the cryptid’s mouth and tried to cram it in. The beast kept its huge jowls sealed.
“Okay, mister!” Eldon said, pointing his tongue depressor menacingly at the beast. “You are on notice! I am very disappointed in you!” Abbie dragged Eldon away from the Dingonek.
“Eldon, you’ve got to help me. I can’t find Morris anywhere. He’s not in the crowd. I’m starting to fear the worst. The water in his bowl must have melted by now. If he spills and turns to stone just one more time, we can’t change him back!”
“I wasn’t sure I should tell you this,” Eldon said. “But the first quarter moon rises again tonight, at midnight. Once it does, Morris’s cycle resets. We just have to keep his head from spilling until then. Don’t worry. We’ll find him.”
Jordan came running up to them, excited and out of breath. “I know what’s happened to the cryptids! It’s the GCPS bracelets! Chupacabra attached some sort of homing device to Syd’s nasty old tracker! He’s essentially hacked our tracking system, and is sending an impulse that’s led them all here. That old collar has been regurgitated, pooped out, and dragged underground on the tail of a Mongolian Death Worm—and now it’s here somewhere, luring those cryptids to it! We’ve got to get the bracelets off these creatures!”
“Where’s Wilford?” Eldon said.
“Wilford’s here?” Abbie said.
“He’s backstage,” said Jordan.
“There’s a backstage?” Eldon said.
“Jordan, please tell me you saw Morris back there.”
“No, I didn’t. But Abbie, there’s something you should know. Morris isn’t the special cryptid. I mean, he’s special. He just doesn’t have the fourth elemental power. I overheard Chupacabra. Whatever this mystery cryptid is, both it and its special gift are thousands of miles from here.”
“I guess you were right,” she said to Eldon. “Turning to stone isn’t a special power. Just a curse.”
“Don’t say that,” Eldon said. “We still have to find him. And we will.”
“No,” she said. “I will. It was my job to keep Morris safe. And that’s what I’m going to do, especially now. If Chupacabra has no need for him, he’s in more danger than we thought.” She turned toward the stage and made off through the crowd of cryptids.
“So, what’s Chupacabra up to?” Eldon asked. “Why are all these cryptids gathered here if he isn’t looking for the fourth special creature?”
“He’s wants to form an army,” Jordan said. “He’s gonna try to get them to join him.”
“And how in the world does he think he can do that?”
“He’s planning a hoax.”
“A hoax? So what’s our plan?”
“We’re Creature Keepers. We’ll out-hoax him. But first we need to get those tracker devices off these cryptids. We need them thinking straight.”
“Okay,” Eldon said. “Just don’t start with Paul. He’s in a mood.”
They turned to the nearest cryptids and located their tracking devices. But getting them off wasn’t as easy as they hoped it would be, especially when the creatures refused to
cooperate. Before they could remove a single collar, in fact, the entire gathering of cryptids had begun shuffling toward the stage, packing in tightly, like it was feeding time at the crypto-zoo. Caught up in the moving cluster of scales, fur, spikes, and leathery hides, Jordan and Eldon had to dance to avoid being trampled. When they found themselves near the back of the crowd, they stood up and faced the stage to see what all the commotion was about.
Chupacabra stepped out of the wings of the amphitheater and stood at the center of the stone stage. He peered out at the unblinking stares of his fellow cryptids. His giant club foot of a Soil-Sole was still melded to his left leg, and his skin was still a suit of shimmery scales, thanks to the hijacked Hydro-Hide. And around his neck was Syd’s old GCPS tracker collar, complete with the Cryptovian Homing Utility Persuading Apparatus attached to it.
“Greetings, and welcome, my brothers and sisters!” Chupacabra bellowed to the rapt audience. Every cryptid eye was glued to the collar around his neck. “Welcome to your first day of freedom! Freedom from hiding! Freedom from fear! Freedom from man! And especially, freedom from . . . THE CREATURE KEEPERS!”
The cryptids continued to silently stare at Chupacabra. “My, what an attentive crowd you are. Oh! Of course. You’re still shackled with the leashes of your human overlords. As am I—behold!” Chupacabra pulled Syd’s collar off his neck and held it high. All the heads in the audience followed it like a pack of golden retrievers staring at a tennis ball.
Chupacabra dropped the CHUPA-enhanced collar on the stage. All eyes followed as he lifted his great Soil-Sole over the device.
“My friends, welcome to the next stage in your crypto-evolution. And the first stage in your crypto-revolution.”
CRUNCH!
With one step of his Soil-Sole, Chupacabra crushed Syd’s tracking bracelet.
28
Abbie snuck her way along the crumbling, mazelike stone walls that made up the backstage of the ancient amphitheater. As she searched for Morris, she could hear a commotion coming from the stage. She hoped no one was in danger. But her sole focus was to locate Morris and get him to safety.
She turned a corner and stopped short at an odd sight. A hunched, bald little old man stood atop a large stone. He seemed to be preparing some sort of soup inside a much larger crate. “Time to make the medicine, hee-hee,” he said to himself. He held his nose as he poured a large amount of green powder from a sack into the top of the crate. Abbie couldn’t see clearly what it was, but she could smell it. The odor of stinky feet—valerian-root powder.
She crept closer as the little old man tossed the empty sack aside and began stirring whatever it was he was making with a mixing stick. He stopped and turned, listening intently. Abbie froze in her tracks. Chupacabra’s voice echoed from out on the stage. The little old man quickly finished stirring, and Abbie ducked behind the wall. He then hopped off the stone and ran past her, mumbling to himself. “Must be ready with the puppet! Almost showtime, hee-hee!”
Abbie watched the strange old man run to a rope ladder hanging from the tree-branch rafters running out over the main stage. As he climbed, and once the coast was clear, she approached the noxious stew he’d been preparing. As she came around the side of the large crate, her heart suddenly sank. It was a cage. The front of it was barred, and through those bars, with just enough room to stand captive, was Morris.
The turtle cryptid’s eyelids were drooping, but he was alive. “Thank goodness! Can you hear me, Morris?” She stepped onto the large stone and looked at the top of the crate-cage. There was a hole cut in it, the same diameter as Morris’s sara. A chill came over her as she looked down through it. She was relieved to see that Morris’s sara was filled, but alarmed at the color. The water inside was a vile green color. She looked to the floor. The empty sack was still lying beside the cage.
“Oh, no,” she said through tears. “What have they done to you?”
The sound of her voice seemed to pull the creature out of his daze. His eyes focused slightly on her face, and he mustered a small smile. “Hello, master . . .”
Abbie was relieved to hear his voice, as weak and raspy as it was. “Morris, listen to me carefully. You’ve got something bad in your sara, and it’s seeping into your head, making you sleepy. I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s important that you stay awake, do you hear me?”
“As you wish . . . master. . . .” His voice trailed off as his eyes glazed over again.
“Morris, no! Wake up!” Abbie shook the cage, jarring her friend and sloshing the green water around in his deep head bowl. Abbie stopped immediately as she realized the impossibility of her situation. She had to get that poison out of his sara before it knocked him out, but she couldn’t empty it or he’d turn to stone permanently. She unlatched the cage, and the door swung open. As she carefully led him out, his head drooped drowsily.
“Morris! Wake up!” She held his head steady so as not to spill. “MORRIS!”
The cryptid shuddered and woke again, his eyes slightly more focused as he saw her. He smiled a little. “Master . . . it is so good to see you. . . .”
“You too. Now we’re going for a walk together, you and I. We’re going to find some clean water, and replace the bad water in your head, do you understand?”
“As you wish, master.”
She put her arm around his shell and led him slowly behind the wall. “We’re gonna be okay, Morris,” she said. “I’m just glad you’re alive. Now let’s stay quiet. And awake.”
29
As the cryptids came out of their collective trance, they looked around the amphitheater field where they were gathered. Many seemed nervous. Others looked suddenly quite uncomfortable. Every one of them was, at the least, rightly confused.
“Yes, yes, take it all in!” Chupacabra grinned as he stared out at them. “Even your fear! Look around you. There are no Creature Keepers here! But do not distress. Freedom can be frightening at first!”
Anxious squeals and grunts rose from speaking and nonspeaking cryptids alike. One who did have the power of speech, the elf-like Indonesian Ebu Gogo known as Eddie, shouted up toward the stage.
“Where are they?” Eddie asked. “Where are our Keepers?”
“They are in the past, where you left them—in the dark caves and dank burrows where they hid you from the world! But today begins your future. You are all completely on your own! You are free cryptids!”
A cacophony of growls and squeals and howls and hisses rose up from the crowd. Some of the creatures shuffled and backed away from the stage, while others looked around and soaked in this new experience.
Barry, a bloated salamander-type cryptid known as a Himalayan Buru, reared up on his two hind legs. “We know we’re cryptids. But what the heck are you?” Barry wasn’t one to beat around the bush.
Chupacabra spoke loudly, so that the very last creature in the very back of the outdoor amphitheater could hear him. “You all know me! You’ve heard the myths and you’ve been fed the lies for years! I’m the cryptid your creature captors couldn’t keep. The one they feared, then taught you to fear. But you must forget their lies. I am not your enemy, nor your captor! I am just like you—a cryptid in its natural state, free to roam the world, under no one’s control but its own! Any of you may leave right now if you like. But before you do, consider this—I am the one who freed you. I am the one who safely brought you together! And I am the one who now calls on you to join forces with me—Chupacabra!”
Francine, a swamp cryptid who resembled a mossy tree come to life, piped up. “I heard you were flushed down into the fiery depths of the earth!”
“I heard you were blasted to the freezing top of the world!” The bellow came from Donald, an orange-furred, orangutan-like Bangladeshian Ban Manush.
A weaker voice, from the back of the crowd, awkwardly shouted, “No! I heard Chupacabra became the personal pet and crypto-servant to Señor Areck Gusto!”
A gasp burst from the creatures at the sound of this name.
Some turned around to see who said it. Chupacabra peered over the heads of fur, scales, and feathers. He sniffed the air and scanned his audience.
In the back of the crowd, Eldon stared, horrified, at Jordan, who had his hands cupped over his mouth. They were both crouched down low. Then Jordan yelled out again. “It’s true! Chupacabra became Gusto’s lapdog! I even heard he fetched his slippers!”
As the shocked gasps turned silent, Jordan smiled at Eldon. “Hoax time,” he whispered. “C’mon!” He led Eldon through the limbs and legs of the creatures, staying low as they made their way toward the stage.
Chupacabra stared out over the stunned, silent cryptids. “So . . . I see you’ve all heard of Señor Areck Gusto! The powerful, terrifying human who tormented you all!” He stepped toward a box on the stage, allowing his skin of scales to sparkle in the sunlight. “Gusto! The horrible human who kidnapped the water cryptid and hijacked her Hydro-Hide!” Chupacabra lifted his club foot into the air. “The one who snatched a powerful Soil-Sole right off the earth cryptid’s big foot!” Chupacabra reached into the box and lifted something out of it. He held it high above his head, like a professional wrestler holding up a championship belt.
It was Wilford’s massive mustache.
“Gusto! Who recently swiped the great Yeti’s abominable Blizzard-Bristles!” The crowd gasped again. Chupacabra held it high for all to see, then lowered it beneath his snout. An icy crackling was heard as the frosty inner hairs of the mustache attached themselves to Chupacabra’s upper lip. He pulled his claws away and struck a pose, showing off his newest ill-gotten trophy.
“How did you get those?” a cryptid called out.
“By doing what your Creature Keepers could not do. I found Gusto and snatched back what he should never have been allowed to take. I did what we cryptids were born to do—hunt down any human who dares to take from us. You see, you do not need humans to protect you from me. You need me to protect you from humans. I know this because unlike all of you, I have survived in the world of humans, without the protection of the Creature Keepers. Only I understand the true threats that face us. And I say that the world will be dangerous for our kind only so long as it contains the human race!”