Lion Down

by Stuart Gibbs

  “I’m not doing anything about this right now,” J.J. remarked, glancing nervously at his executive washroom again. “I have a lot of other things to handle.” He looked back to Summer and me. “I really appreciate all the hard work you kids did on this. The party’s already underway. Why don’t you head down there to enjoy it and I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can. . . .”

  The door to his washroom flew open and Jerry the hunter walked out. The toilet was still finishing a flush behind him.

  Jerry looked momentarily startled to see me there, but then broke into a big smile as he recognized me. “Hey, Teddy! Done any more swimming lately?”

  Summer gaped, recognizing him, then wheeled on her father. “What is he doing here?”

  Normally, J.J. was blessed with the gift of gab, so smooth he could sell sand to Bedouins. But now he found himself tongue-tied in front of his daughter. “Er. Well. You see . . .”

  “He’s here as a carnivore relocation specialist,” Pete said, going into full public-relations mode.

  “He’s a hunter!” Summer cried. “And a trespasser! He was shooting at Rocket inside FunJungle the other night! Hoenekker arrested him for it! And now he’s here?”

  “Maybe I ought to step outside,” Jerry said awkwardly, not nearly as cheerful anymore. “Feels like I’m interrupting something here.” He started for the door.

  “Stay,” J.J. commanded him, and Jerry froze in his tracks.

  Summer looked from her father to Jerry, putting things together. Tears welled in her eyes. “Daddy, tell me he’s not working for you.”

  J.J. held his breath for a moment, as though he was considering lying to his daughter, but then said, “Not in the way that you think.”

  “You hired a hunter?!” Summer exploded.

  “A gunman!” J.J. said quickly.

  “What’s the difference?” Summer asked.

  “I didn’t hire Jerry here to kill Rocket,” J.J. explained. “I hired him to chase her away.”

  “We saw him shooting at her,” Summer said accusingly.

  “But not with real bullets,” Jerry said. “I used rubber ones.”

  Since this was one of the scenarios I had discussed with Xavier, I felt a slight surge of pride for guessing J.J.’s intentions correctly—and a huge rush of relief that he wasn’t actively trying to kill Rocket.

  Summer remained annoyed, however. “Rubber bullets would still hurt Rocket if they hit her.”

  “Well, yes, but that’s kind of the point,” J.J. said. “We’re not trying to make her feel comfy here.”

  “We need to get her out of the park,” Pete said. “And fast.”

  Something about this phrase struck me as odd, like there was a piece of information I was missing. “Out of the park?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

  Pete winced, like he had revealed something he hadn’t meant to. He looked to J.J., who didn’t seem pleased about this either.

  “What’s going on here, Daddy?” Summer asked.

  J.J. sighed and gave in. “I know you’ve heard that Fish and Wildlife issued the permit to kill Rocket. Well, given that she has a radio collar, they’re using it to track her. And it turns out she’s somewhere in the park right now.”

  “Like in the construction area?” I asked.

  “No,” J.J. said. “In the park itself.”

  Summer and I both gasped in surprise. Summer asked, “You mean, she’s in with the tourists?”

  “She’s somewhere close to them,” J.J. said. “Fish and Wildlife hasn’t let me know the exact location. I’m not sure if their tech isn’t good enough or what, but they know she’s inside the park boundaries. Most likely, she’s holed up in a back area or a drainage culvert or something, quiet and away from the crowds. . . .”

  “We hope she’s away from the crowds,” Pete put in. “Can you imagine what would happen if a mountain lion got loose during the party?”

  I didn’t have to. I had seen a tiger crash a party at FunJungle once before. And this party was significantly bigger. “Shouldn’t you cancel the celebration?” I asked.

  Pete stared at me like I was insane. “Cancel FunJungle’s anniversary party right before it happens? Because there’s a carnivore loose in the park? I have news crews from around the world here! I have celebrity guests! It would be a disaster!”

  “How can Rocket even be here?” Summer wanted to know. “With all these people around? How could no one have seen her?”

  “Cats are amazing that way,” I told her. “You’d think they’d be obvious, but I’ve been within a few feet of a leopard and had no idea it was even there. If a cat doesn’t want to be seen, you won’t see it.”

  Lynda appeared at the door, holding a sheaf of papers. “I’m sorry to interrupt, J.J., but—”

  “I know, I know,” J.J. said. “I have six million calls to return and I’m supposed to be at the main stage in half an hour.”

  “Main stage in twenty minutes,” Lynda corrected.

  J.J. checked his watch. “Crap on a cracker! Is that the time?” He hurried to where a garment bag hung on a coat hook. “Lynda, I’m not getting to any of those calls today. The rest of you, I apologize, but I have to change while we talk.” He looked to Summer. “Your mother talked me into wearing black tie for the festivities tonight.” He unzipped the bag, revealing a tuxedo, then stepped behind a potted plant for some privacy and started to change clothes, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants.

  Jerry averted his eyes uncomfortably. “J.J., if you’ll just give me my marching orders, I’ll be happy to get out of your hair.”

  “Fish and Wildlife is sending a team here to deal with the lion,” J.J. told him. “I can’t stop them, but I’d prefer to have you find her first. I don’t want them killing an animal on my property. If Rocket’s close to the tourists, sedate her. If she’s somewhere you can run her off, then do that instead. But for God’s sake, use the silencer. I don’t want any guests hearing the gun.”

  “Then we’ll really have a PR disaster,” Pete agreed.

  I asked Jerry, “If you could silence your gun, why didn’t you do that Sunday night?”

  “The sound scares the cat too,” Jerry explained, heading for the door. “Maybe even more than getting hit by a rubber bullet does.”

  “Wait,” Summer said, so forcefully that Jerry stopped in his tracks and J.J. froze with his pants around his ankles. “You’re going to chase Rocket off the property?”

  “That’s right.” J.J. returned to taking his pants off. He was wearing FunJungle boxer shorts, with little Henry Hippos on them. “That’s been Jerry’s job here all along. Rocket started prowling around here about two weeks ago. According to Fish and Wildlife, she’d come sniffing around before on rare occasions, but once we filled that fake lake with water for the rapids, she started to act like this was her territory. So I hired Jerry to scare her off.”

  “But you can’t chase her off the property now!” Summer argued. “The woods are full of hunters who’ll kill her! Or Fish and Wildlife will take her out!”

  “Well, I can’t let her stay inside FunJungle!” J.J. said, struggling to pull his tuxedo pants on over his cowboy boots. “This is a theme park!”

  “Can you imagine how awful the headlines would be if she ate a tourist?” Pete asked, paling as he said this. “Or a celebrity?”

  “The lion won’t eat anyone,” I told him.

  “Chasing Rocket out to the wild is condemning her to death!” Summer told her father.

  “Well, letting her stay here is condemning my other animals to death,” J.J. shot back. “That mountain lion’s not a vegetarian! She’s got to eat. And if she’s lurking around on my property, sooner or later she’s gonna kill one of our animals. An endangered one, maybe.”

  Pete blanched. “What if she eats something endangered and cute? Like a panda?” He seemed even more horrified about this than he did about the lion eating a human.

  “Mountain lions don’t eat pandas,” I said. It prob
ably wasn’t true, but I was trying to be reassuring.

  “Why not?” Pete asked.

  “They don’t like Chinese food,” I said.

  Summer asked her father, “Isn’t there any way you can protect Rocket until Teddy and I can prove she was framed for eating King?”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” J.J. was growing exasperated now. He yanked off his shirt so quickly that a button flew across the room and ricocheted off Pete’s forehead. “I’ve got ten thousand animals here and you want me to harbor an apex predator? What am I supposed to do, get the cat to sign a treaty? Have it promise to only eat broccoli until this King thing blows over?”

  Summer frowned at him. “There must be something we can do.”

  J.J. slipped into his tuxedo shirt. He looked as uncomfortable in the fancy clothing as Xavier had in his polo shirt. “Summer, I care about that lion. I do. But I also have a business to run here, and that’s hard enough to do on a regular day, let alone today. The last thing I need right now is some invasive species getting onto my property.” He grabbed his tuxedo jacket and his bow tie and headed out of his office.

  The rest of us followed him. Summer stayed right on his heels. “Invasive species?” she repeated angrily. “Daddy, do you have any idea what an invasive species even is?”

  “Of course I do.” J.J. tried to button his cuffs as he walked. “It’s like that deadly nightshade you’ve got in your hand right now.”

  Summer looked down, seeming to realize that she was still clutching the nightshade. In all the excitement, she hadn’t even bothered to put it down.

  “Or like this lion,” J.J. went on. “It’s any plant or animal that moves into an area it’s not supposed to be in.”

  “You’re right about the nightshade,” Summer said. “But you’re dead wrong about the lion. This is her territory, not ours. If anything, we’re the invasive species here. Humans are the worst invasive species there’s ever been! We’ve spread all over the world, destroying every place we go, killing all the species that were there first. We’ve built theme parks and houses and golf courses in the middle of Rocket’s territory, and now we’re upset when she tries to survive here?”

  “Now you’re upset I built this theme park?” J.J. asked. “Because I seem to recall you being very excited about it for the entire rest of your life up till now.”

  “I’m saying that we contributed to Rocket’s problem,” Summer replied. “So maybe we ought to contribute to a solution.”

  J.J. reached the elevator, still only partly dressed. His tuxedo shirt was still unbuttoned and his tie dangled undone around his collar. He rubbed his temples with his fingers, like he was fending off a headache. “Summer, it is the biggest night in this park’s history. Now is not the time to badger me about this.”

  “Should I come back tomorrow when Rocket’s dead?” Summer snapped. “Would that be more convenient for you?”

  “You know I care about Rocket,” J.J. said.

  “You say that,” Summer chided, “but you’re acting just like everyone else.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” J.J. asked.

  The elevator pinged open and all of us crowded into it.

  “Poaching isn’t the biggest threat to animals,” Summer said. “Habitat loss is. Animals are getting crowded out of their own territory all over the planet. And we keep expecting them to survive with less and less—and then getting upset with them when they can’t do it. Americans get upset when mountain lions get too close to houses they built in the lions’ territory. Africans get upset when elephants eat the crops they planted where elephants live. In India, people are illegally building entire villages inside wildlife sanctuaries! When does it stop?”

  Everyone stared at Summer, startled by her outburst. J.J. no longer seemed aggravated with her, though. He seemed impressed. “Where’d you learn all that?” he asked.

  “All sorts of places,” Summer replied. “I’ve been doing research on human-wildlife conflict.”

  “For school?” Pete asked.

  “No,” Summer said. “Just to know more about it.”

  The elevator reached the ground floor and we all funneled into the lobby. A young man in a dark suit was waiting for J.J. “Mr. McCracken,” he said nervously. “I’m here to take you and Mr. Thwacker to the festivities.”

  J.J. looked to Summer and me. “C’mon. We’ll give you guys a ride.” Then he looked to Jerry. “There’s a cart for you to drive yourself parked by the loading dock. That way you can keep the gun stowed and the guests won’t see it.”

  “Gotcha,” Jerry said. “I’ll find it.”

  “Great.” J.J. left Jerry behind and led the rest of us through the lobby of the administration building.

  Summer was still upset. “So you’re just going to run Rocket off, then?” she asked. “Let her fend for herself against all those hunters?”

  “I don’t have any other options,” J.J. said.

  We exited the front doors. A golf cart was waiting for us at the front steps—although, because it was for J.J., it was a fancier golf cart than most. It had three rows of seats, and it was designed to look more like a car, with a black paint job and fake fenders.

  “You know who really doesn’t have any other options?” Summer asked. “Rocket. She’s going to die out there if we don’t protect her. Whenever humans and animals end up in conflict, the animals always lose. We’re wiping out all our rhinos and bears and hyenas and wolves and pretty soon the only place we’re ever going to be able to see any of those animals is in a zoo.”

  The aide climbed into the driver’s seat of the golf cart. J.J. and Pete got into the seat behind him.

  Summer and I didn’t get in, though. Summer was too angry at her father; she was making a point of not riding with him.

  I didn’t get in for a whole different reason: I was struck by something Summer had said. I felt like an idiot for not having thought of it before, but now that I had, things began falling into place.

  J.J. checked his watch. He still hadn’t tied his bow tie. “I’ve got to move. Are you two coming with me or not?”

  “Not,” Summer said pointedly.

  “Yes we are,” I said.

  Summer looked at me like I’d betrayed her.

  “We need to get out to the party,” I said. “And fast.”

  “Why?” Summer asked me.

  “Because I think I know who killed King,” I said.

  20

  THE PARTY

  Summer got into the cart with me. The aide drove as quickly as he could through the employee area. Given that we were in a golf cart, that wasn’t very fast. But it was still faster than walking.

  Pete was going over J.J.’s speech for the party, which he had written out for J.J. on note cards. J.J. was still trying to tie his bow tie. He kept knotting it wrong, then untying it in frustration.

  Summer wanted to know what I was thinking, but I had to make a phone call first. I found the number for the local Department of Animal Control and dialed it.

  The employee areas were less crowded than usual. Almost everyone who worked for FunJungle was now out in the park. Many were on duty, but those who didn’t have to work that night were enjoying the party.

  A woman answered the phone.

  “Hi,” I said. “Can you tell me if anyone has filed a complaint against a dog in my neighborhood for attacking people?”

  “Yes,” the woman answered. “If anyone has complained to us, we keep it on file. Can you give me the name of the dog and the address of the owner?”

  “The dog’s name is King,” I said. “It’s a bichon frise.” Then I gave her the address of Lincoln Stone’s house.

  I had to wait a bit while she checked the files. We passed through the employee gate into the park. The crowds were enormous. Adventure Road was jammed with people. Even though it was getting late and it was a school night, there were plenty of children; most of them were probably going to stay home from school the next day. Extra food carts
had been set up to sell hot dogs and tacos. Mascots, now with their heads on, took pictures with tourists. Bands played music ranging from country to soft rock to zydeco. A large crowd clustered around a keeper holding a twenty-foot-long Burmese python.

  The aide driving our golf cart honked the horn. When the tourists saw that J.J. and Summer McCracken were in the cart, they reverently stepped out of the way for us. Many people seemed more excited to see the McCrackens than they were to see the animals. Hundreds of tourists snapped pictures of them, yelling for their attention.

  J.J. waved gamely to all of them. “How y’all doing?” he asked. “Everyone having a good time tonight?”

  Summer also waved, a fake smile pasted on her face. “How’d you think to check with Animal Control?” she asked me through clenched teeth. “I thought everyone said King was a nice dog.”

  “Not everyone,” I corrected her. “Putterman said King was a pain in the rear. He also called King a ‘lousy mutt.’ ”

  The Animal Control woman came back on the line. “It appears there were three separate complaints filed against that dog,” she reported.

  “Three?” I asked. “Can you tell me who filed them?”

  “I’m afraid that’s classified,” the woman said.

  “Can you tell me what the complaints say the dog did?” I asked.

  “Yes,” the woman replied. And then she told me. Which was all the information I needed.

  “Thanks very much,” I told her, and then hung up.

  “Well?” Summer asked eagerly.

  “I think I’m right,” I said.

  We arrived at the great lawn by Carnivore Canyon. It was a sea of people. The biggest crowd was clustered in front of the raised stage that had been erected the day before. Cindy Salerno was on the stage with a few other penguin keepers and several penguins. Meanwhile, in the middle of the crowd, fifty feet away, Sanjay Budhiraja stood in the bed of his flatbed truck with his fish cannon, launching herring over the guests’ heads to the hungry penguins. Given the whoops and cheers, it seemed that everyone was enjoying the show.