Traps and Specters

by Bryan Chick

  Down the street he went, searching all around. As he neared the end of Timber Trail, he touched the transmit button on his earpiece and said, “Guys—can you hear me?”

  When all the scouts answered yes, Noah then asked if anyone had seen anything. “No” was their response.

  CHAPTER 29

  THE FALSE ALARM

  Megan headed down Zinnia Street, which branched from Jenkins to join several other side roads. She scanned the foggy landscape for DeGraff, her plastic sword swinging with her stride.

  This is hopeless, she thought.

  She saw something then, a dark figure standing between two houses. She halted and peered at it. A man. A man masked in fog and shadow.

  “I see something,” she whispered, the vibrations in her skull transmitting her voice into the ears of the scouts.

  A new voice suddenly came through her speaker: “What do you got?” It was Tameron, which meant the Descenders had crossed to the Outside and joined their radio channel.

  “Someone …” Megan said. “I don’t know … he looks suspicious.”

  “Roger that,” Tameron said. “Sam, you getting this?” Apparently the two were separated. The Descenders had likely divided up, like the scouts.

  “Roger,” Sam said. “Megan, tell us what you see.”

  But before Megan could say more, two trick-or-treaters rushed up to the man and led him across a yard. Megan’s shoulders slumped with disappointment … and a bit of relief. “False alarm. It was just a parent.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “Stay up.”

  Just then, someone grunted so loudly into the airwaves that Megan flinched. The sudden sound was followed by a soft moan that soon shaped into words—words that raised a complaint about an injured “butt.”

  “Who was that?” Sam asked, his tone crisp and quick with concern.

  It was Ella who provided the answer. “I’ll give you a hint. He tells bad jokes and knows more about atomic matter than your average scientist.”

  Sam didn’t need another clue. “Richie, you okay?”

  CHAPTER 30

  THE MAN ON OLD COVE

  Richie lay in a ditch, his glasses askew and his bag of candy spilled out beside him. He realized the sky was barely visible through the fog.

  Sam’s voice rose in his ear again: “Richie? You all right, man?”

  “I … I fell.” It was all Richie could think to say.

  “How?”

  Richie glanced toward the street, where a once-parked Radio Flyer wagon was now tipped on its side. “I tripped. On a wagon.”

  “Get up,” Ella said curtly. “You didn’t break anything.”

  “And how could you possibly know that?”

  “Because I’ve seen you not break something a million times.”

  As Richie sat up, miniature candy bars and pixie sticks spilled down his chest. He stood and steadied himself. Then he freed his underwear from his rear end and continued down the street, his bag of candy now almost empty.

  “Okay,” Richie said. He straightened his glasses and adjusted his checkered nerd pants, pulling them high above his skinny stomach. “I’m on the move again.”

  “Roger,” said Sam. “How does your street look?”

  He scanned the houses. He couldn’t see too far in the fog. “Everything looks good, I guess.”

  The airwaves fell silent. For the next fifteen minutes, the fog continued to thicken. It seemed to be slowly devouring the neighborhood, consuming houses and kids and cars. Porch lights struggled just to reach the street, and parents had begun to keep their children close. An intersection rose out of the fog and a street sign took shape. Richie had looped back around to Jenkins. He announced his position into his headset and headed down the road.

  More time passed. Richie saw fewer kids trick-or-treating and porch lights were beginning to blink out. The other Crossers occasionally announced their positions—“This is Noah. I’m headed onto Williams Road” … “Ella here. I just cut over to Phlox Drive”—but mostly the airwaves stayed quiet.

  As Richie paced down Jenkins Street, his eyes kept gravitating toward the Clarksville Zoo wall, which he could faintly see through the spaces between the houses. It looked eerie in the fog. Long and gray and winding, it had occasional cavities where large pieces of weathered concrete had crumbled away. Ivy clung to segments. Branches crept over its top like the hooked legs of giant spiders.

  Realizing the streets were almost empty, Richie whispered, “Anyone know what time it is?”

  “It’s almost nine,” someone said. Richie thought it had been Megan.

  Solana spoke up. “Halloween’s about over, then. At least by Clarksville’s clock.”

  Richie veered onto another side street that continued straight for at least a hundred feet before curving back toward the Clarksville Zoo. As he came around the bend, he stopped so suddenly that his glasses jumped an inch down his nose. About thirty feet ahead of him, a man was headed in the same direction as Richie. He wore a hat with a wide, circular brim. And a trench coat—a long, flowing trench coat that stopped at his ankles.

  Richie forced down a deep breath and said, “Guys … I have something here … a man … and he’s dressed like DeGraff.”

  The airwaves stayed silent for a few seconds, then Noah’s voice filled Richie’s head. “Where are you?”

  It took a moment for Richie to realize someone had spoken to him. He reached into his memory, discovered the question, and tried to remember where he was. Jenkins Street? No. Walkers Boulevard? Not there, either.

  “Richie!”

  “A side street. Ummm …” He turned his head and peered at a street sign until the words came into focus. “Old Cove—I’m on Old Cove.”

  “The man …” Sam said, “what exactly is he wearing?”

  The man was beginning to sink into the fog, so Richie hurried forward a few steps. “A fedora hat. And a trench coat. I’m behind him—I can’t see much.”

  “How tall?” someone said.

  Richie couldn’t think enough to answer.

  “Richie—how tall!”

  He concentrated. “Tall. More than six feet.”

  Silence claimed the airwaves. Finally, Sam said, “All right, everyone give me your positions.”

  One by one, the Crossers announced the streets they were on. Ella and Noah were just a few blocks over from Richie; Sam told them to get over to Old Cove.

  “Richie,” Sam said, “get closer to that guy, but don’t let him spot you. Get a better look and let us know what you see—you got it?”

  “Yeah,” Richie said. “Get close.”

  Richie picked up his pace, the moist air curling around him as he moved in on the shadowy man.

  CHAPTER 31

  ELLA RUNS FOR RICHIE

  As Ella cut through the backyard of a white-bricked ranch, she trampled the remains of a vegetable garden and then hurdled the bottom half of a play structure slide. She cut between two houses, charged across their front lawns, and emerged on a new street, trying to build a mental image of her position in the neighborhood.

  “Richie!” she said into her bone mic.

  Richie’s voice filled her head. “Yeah?”

  “Where are you on Old Cove?”

  “Huh?”

  “The houses—what houses are you near?”

  After a pause, Richie said, “Close to the Parkhills. And the house with the big boulder, the one painted blue.”

  She knew exactly where that was, about ten houses down, to her left.

  “I’m coming,” she said. Then she turned and took off running, her Wonder Woman cape waving behind her, her Lasso of Truth bouncing on her hip.

  CHAPTER 32

  TANK AND THE TUNNEL

  Tank swung his flashlight from spot to spot, revealing parts of the cave: the hard walls, the dirt floor, the passage leading to the Secret Zoo. As the fog headed for the outside air, it moved across his body like a living thing. It smelled of wet earth, and its weight filled his lungs.
He occasionally waved his hands in front of him in a feeble attempt to sweep it away.

  In his headset, he could hear the conversation between the scouts and Descenders. Tank thought to announce his position, then decided against it. Maybe it was safer to keep quiet for now.

  The big man took a few more steps and then swept the beam of his flashlight up one wall, revealing an opening the size of a door. Tank had never seen it before. The passage was covered with a velvet curtain, moist air swirling and curling along its edges. Without a doubt, the fog was coming from here.

  As he reached out and touched the gateway, magic surged up his arm. He eased the curtain to one side and peered around it. It was pitch-black. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, the velvet sliding across his shoulders and down his back, its magic delivering him into the Secret Zoo.

  In his ear, the voices of the other Crossers immediately fell silent—radio waves couldn’t span the magical divide between the two zoos. He raised the flashlight and lit the foggy air. He could faintly see that he’d stepped into another narrow cave, one that sloped down at a steep angle.

  He took a step. Then another. He had to negotiate his movements with the slippery slope, his weight balanced back on his heels. The beam of his flashlight sliced through the fog, revealing very little. He noticed something about the walls. They were covered with narrow trenches that ran in all directions. He slid a finger through one trench; it was more than two inches across and easily as deep. He realized the tunnel had been dug out by hand—powerful hands with clawed fingertips.

  “Sasquatches,” he muttered.

  He noticed something moving a few feet ahead and yanked his light in that direction. Something was crawling on the wall. A giant centipede. Easily the length of Tank’s forearm, it had a dark body, yellow legs, and two pincerlike appendages curling out past its head. Its hard, segmented body curved like a snake, its dozens of legs pricking the moist dirt.

  Tank turned to watch the centipede move past. He backed into a new spot and felt something soft and threadlike close on the skin of his bald head. He ducked low and aimed the light high. Cobwebs covered the ceiling, countless spiders scurrying across the silvery strands, their thin legs carrying plump bodies.

  He swept his flashlight up and down the walls and noticed other insects: large ants and shiny beetles. They were undoubtedly coming from somewhere below—somewhere inside the Secret Zoo.

  The big man took a nervous step and felt something crunch and pop beneath him. He swung his flashlight down at his boot and saw six spindly legs twitching in the gooey guts of an insect beneath it.

  Realizing he should radio for backup, he decided to head back to the Clarksville Zoo. But with his first step, his feet slipped out from under him and he dropped to his back in the wet dirt. On the steep slope, he began to slide. Then, with a scream, he plummeted into the dark, foggy reaches of the hollow earth.

  CHAPTER 33

  ON TO OLD COVE

  Ella peered through the fog as she ran up the street. Bright auras surrounded all points of light: flickering candlewicks, green glow sticks, the beams of flashlights. Porch bulbs looked like starbursts. She saw a few trick-or-treaters racing across lawns, their overstuffed bags swinging at their knees. Several houses down, she spotted the roof of the Parkhills’ house.

  Richie’s voice suddenly rose in her head. “Guys, I’m close.” Though he was surely whispering, his bone mic transmitted his voice loud and clear.

  “How close?” Sam asked.

  “Twenty feet, maybe.”

  “Can he see you?”

  “No.”

  Ella cut into the yard next to the Parkhills’ property. She ran as fast as she could. “Is he wearing boots, Richie? Black boots?”

  Silence hit the airwaves, then: “Yeah.”

  Sam said, “Richie, don’t get too close. This could be him.”

  “Wait a minute,” Richie said. “He just stopped.”

  “Richie—does he see you?”

  “He sees … something.”

  Silence followed. Ella reached the Parkhills’ backyard and tore across it. Her heart was slamming in her chest, not from fatigue, but fear.

  Richie said, “He just … he just turned around. Oh my … he’s looking right at me!”

  “Run!” Sam instructed. “Go! Get out of there!”

  Richie screamed, and it was a barbaric sound, something produced from raw fear. His panic-filled voice filled the airwaves: “Something’s happening! My … my arms!”

  “Richie!” Ella called out.

  A loud thump! erupted in Ella’s earpiece, and she winced in pain. It was followed by silence.

  “Richie!” Sam said, and Ella had never heard such urgency in his voice. “Richie, come in!”

  Nothing. Richie was quiet.

  “He dropped the bone mic!” a new voice said. Tameron. “His headpiece—it fell out!”

  Ella ran alongside the Parkhills’ house and charged into their front yard. As she did, Old Cove, the road Richie was on, began to rise out of the fog. She saw little else than occasional spots of light. But as she continued, a figure began to appear in the street. Then another. It was Richie, and a man whom Ella immediately identified as DeGraff. The Shadowist was off to one side of her friend, staggering about, his limbs flailing as he seemed to be struggling against something that Ella couldn’t see. Richie was backpedaling away from DeGraff, screaming.

  Ella gasped as she realized what was wrong with her friend. Parts of him … parts of him were missing.

  CHAPTER 34

  THE MISSING PIECES

  Terrified, Richie had no clue what was happening. The man in the trench coat, DeGraff, had turned around—his face concealed between his collar and his hat brim—and spotted him. Then he’d charged, his gloved hands reaching out. But as he closed in on Richie, DeGraff’s body was jolted to one side, and Richie simultaneously felt something strike his arms and chest. He looked down to see pieces of himself gone.

  Now, Richie glanced over at his left arm. Though there was no blood or pain, he could see clear through to the ground. Gone were parts of his elbow, forearm, and all of his wrist. Had DeGraff spilled his wicked magic onto Richie’s body?

  His gaze jumped up to DeGraff. The man was off to one side of the road, staggering about and throwing wild punches into the air. But nothing was near him.

  Richie groped at the missing piece of his wrist and touched something that wasn’t part of his body—something that began to squirm. As he jerked his hand away, a visible piece of his forearm disappeared. It was as if some poisonous thing was moving along his arm, devouring his flesh. He grabbed the squirming thing, and it almost immediately appeared in his hand. A chameleon. Its buggy eyes were locked on Richie, and colors were swirling along its body as it tried to adjust to the new hues in Richie’s palm. Within seconds, Richie’s hand vanished in its perfect camouflage.

  Richie suddenly realized what was happening. A Specter had attacked the Shadowist, and chameleons had fallen off her and landed on Richie.

  As the chameleon climbed from his palm to his arm, Richie looked up at DeGraff, who was still struggling with the Specter, his long trench coat flapping against his boots.

  “It’s him!” Richie said into his bone mic. When no one responded, he realized his earpiece had fallen out. He spotted it on the ground, scooped it up, and plugged it back into its proper place. “Can you guys hear me?”

  “Richie?” someone said. It had sounded like Noah.

  “Guys, I—”

  Before Richie could say more, someone ran up from out of the fog. Wonder Woman—Ella!

  “Your arm!” Ella said.

  “Chameleons!” Richie explained. “From a Specter!”

  Just then, one of DeGraff’s punches connected with the Specter, knocking a few chameleons into the air and revealing part of the girl: blond hair spiked in a Mohawk; bright blue eyes buried in dark makeup; smooth, pale skin. Sara.

  The blow knocked Sara to the street. Th
e chameleons that had fallen from her body scurried back onto her. DeGraff turned and ran.

  “He’s getting away!” Ella reported into her microphone. “Down Old Cove, toward Jenkins Street!”

  “Roger,” Sam said. “Everyone hear that? Converge on Jenkins Street and head him off before he can reach the zoo! Let’s use this fog to our advantage!”

  Ella turned to Richie. “You okay?”

  Richie nodded.

  “Sara?” Ella said, swinging her gaze around.

  “Right here,” Sara said, her voice rising directly from Richie’s left. “I’m good.”

  “C’mon!” Ella said. “Let’s go!”

  Ella took off running. Richie followed, and as he brushed past Sara, the few chameleons on his body jumped back onto her.

  Ella cast a glance over her shoulder. “Hurry, Richie! We can’t lose him!”

  Richie nodded and picked up speed. He’d never agreed with something more in his life.

  CHAPTER 35

  TANK’S DISCOVERY

  Tank slid down the steep cavern floor, his fingers slicing through the mud as he tried to grab onto something. Mud streamed up his pant legs, and his flashlight bounced around, streaking light across the walls.

  When he came to a stop, a giant centipede crawled onto his neck, its body rubbing against his skin. He jumped to his feet and tossed the disgusting thing aside. Then he scanned his new position. The cave had leveled out. Less than five feet in front of him, it opened to a new area where nothing but fog and darkness waited.

  He inched forward, the mud sloshing around his feet. He reached the mouth of the cave and stepped out. Then he swung the beam of his light along the wall near him and couldn’t believe what he saw.

  CHAPTER 36

  DEGRAFF PULLS AWAY

  Ella and Richie raced up Old Cove toward Jenkins Street. Ahead of them, DeGraff’s black boots stomped the pavement and his trench coat waved like a cape. A woman pushing a toddler in a stroller suddenly appeared from the fog. She was dressed as a cat, her child a mouse. Startled by DeGraff, she yanked her stroller to the side of the road and yelled, “Slow Down!” without much kindness.