by Peter Nelson
Nessie agreed.
Jordan watched the sub descend into the water as it followed Nessie down the river. He threw on his backpack and turned toward the jungle. After just a few steps, he noticed something among the wood scraps and rubble of what once was the floating village of Palafito. It was a small wooden crate, marked MADE IN BRAZIL. Jordan recognized it as one of the boxes that didn’t get loaded onto Gusto’s Heli-Jet. He pried open the box. Staring up at him was a single, football-sized eye.
26
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMBLE!
The tremors on Mount Breakenridge had grown stronger and more frequent all morning. Doris, Ranger Master MacInerney, and one half of the rangers stayed down by the toe boulders keeping a lookout for Gusto. Meanwhile, Syd and Abbie led the rest of the Badger Rangers up the mountain trail.
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMMBLE!
Abbie gave Syd a concerned glance. “Okay. How bad is this?”
“Hard to be sure, but it’s been almost three full days now since I walked the fault line. Last megathrust earthquake, the rumblings got more frequent and intense, just like they are now. Great Cascadian quake of 1700. Wasn’t as fun as it sounds.”
Abbie looked up at Syd. “Dude, how old are you?”
Once they reached the plateau, Syd led them over to one of the many spots Abbie recognized from their outing a few days ago.
Abbie cleared the rangers back. Syd breathed in deeply, then squatted even deeper, centering himself over his tiny little feet. He closed his eyes, took one more deep breath, then leaped six feet straight up in the air. His little sneaker-clad feet came stomping back down on the rock, hitting with a pathetic slap! Syd fell back on his bottom, rolling on the ground and holding his heels in pain. “Ow,” he said. “Okay, that really hurt.”
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMMBLE!
This tremor was the worst one yet, knocking all the Badger Rangers off their feet. Trees shook, and a large branch of a giant sequoia cracked from above. Syd looked up, and dived to grab a handful of rangers just as the branch hit the ground with a CRASH!
“The pressure’s really building up,” Syd said. “We need to do something.”
“Syd,” Abbie said. “You can’t crack these small rock beds. What if you have to pull the emergency ripcord? What if . . . we have to crack open Roxanne?”
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMMBLE!
Another major tumbler shook across Mount Breakenridge. This one uprooted a tree, which fell with a thundering THUD nearby.
“Okay, we need a backup plan,” Abbie said, turning to the Badger Rangers. “You little dorks are supposed to be resourceful. We need to crack these rock beds open to let out some of the pressure below. Let’s see what you got.”
The young rangers quickly fell in before her and puffed out their chests to show her. Abbie worked her way down the line, inspecting their Badger Badges. Unlike Jordan, whose sash was filled with the little patches of achievement, these young clan cadets had only one or two badges each. But they were proud of whatever skill they’d mastered, and were eager to offer their services for the cause.
“Woodworking!” said the first Badger Ranger.
“Llama Shaving!” yelled the next. Abbie continued down the line.
“Puppetry!” said another.
“Modern Sculpture!”
“Financial Planning and Portfolio Management!”
“Uh, like . . . Public Speaking?” the next kid mumbled, staring at his feet.
“Medieval Traps and Ballistics!” said another Badger Ranger.
She continued working her way down, hearing dozens more varying, unique, and totally unhelpful skills, until she finally reached the end of the line.
“Trumpet,” the small Badger Ranger sighed, sadly lifting his instrument to his lips. He tooted out a deflated phhrrrrrrrrt . . .
Abbie looked back at the clan. There was an awkward silence. “Really? No ‘seismic pressure–relieving rock cracking’ badges?” More silence. “Okay, well, why don’t you all just grab up some wood and rocks and stuff and . . . do whatever, I guess. . . .”
The Badger Rangers saluted in unison, then quickly scrambled to gather sticks, stones, and logs. They went to work utilizing different leveraging techniques, wedge theories, and finally, sheer brute Badger force, attempting to reopen the tiny crack in the rock. Nothing worked.
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMMBLE!
“This isn’t safe,” Syd said. “We can’t even risk hiking back down to the others. Everyone, follow me! We’ve got to get to the tree house!”
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMMBLE!
Abbie led the clan of Badger Rangers across the plateau toward Syd’s tree house. The tremors were coming fast and furious now, shaking the ground so violently that Syd had to scoop up stumbling rangers as they ran.
They reached Syd’s tree house and looked up. The ladder was still hanging down, but was swaying from the tremors. The massive grove of trees holding up Syd’s home was creaking and trembling. No one wanted to go first.
“You want us to climb all the way up there?” Badger Ranger Tommy said.
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMMBLE!
The grove of trees shook and shuddered. CRACK! A split formed at the base of a mighty sequoia at the far end of the grove, shooting a jagged line up its trunk.
RRRRRUUUMMMMMMMMMBLE!
CRACK! The split grew wider. The sequoia buckled. There was an awful creaking noise from high above. Syd looked up.
“Watch out!” he yelled. He gathered up a few Badger Rangers standing near the grove and shoved others out of the way. Abbie quickly herded them away from the grove, where they dived to safety just as the split sequoia completely gave out.
CRRRRREEEEAAAAACK!
Syd’s tree house came crashing down hundreds of feet, blasting through the lower branches of the other support trees, splintering and busting apart as it fell to the earth. It hit the ground with an earsplitting BOOM!
Syd stood up and looked at the wreckage as Abbie checked on the Badger Rangers. She stood and joined Syd. The two of them stared at the awful sight. Missing from the pile of debris was Syd’s deck. Abbie assumed it was somehow spared, but it was surreal and sad to see Syd’s cozy, hidden house in the sky smashed, shattered, and grounded.
27
Jordan hiked through the jungle with Eldon’s compass, and a good sense of which direction they’d come from before. What he didn’t have was a lot of confidence that he’d find Izzy in the last place he saw him—or that the Mapinguari would be very happy to be found.
But it was the only direction he knew to go for now, and he’d made a promise to Eldon. He had to find Izzy, and he had to find a way to win back his trust. He only wished that he understood Arawakan. As the hours wore on, he finally reached the ravine where he and Eldon had tumbled. It looked a lot smaller in the daytime, but he could see the broken branches where they’d fallen on the far side, and the path they carved when they climbed out.
The sun was high in the sky and beating down on the jungle canopy. Standing at the edge of the open ravine, Jordan could look up at a large patch of open sky, unblocked by massive treetops. He stared up at the blue space for a moment, resting before he continued on. As he was about to turn away, something caught his eye.
It was another streak of fire, just like the meteorite he saw over Harrison Lake. This one was much closer, however, streaking down across the blue sky, landing in the jungle not too far from where he was.
Jordan headed straight for where he guessed the comet might have landed. As he got closer, he could smell something burning. Then he saw the smoke.
The smoldering streak ran like a scar about a hundred feet across the jungle floor. It was singed black, burning clean through a few trees and bushes, stopping at a still-smoking patch at the end.
There was nothing in the smoldering patch, just a charred circle of fire where whatever landed had come to rest. There was no rock or meteorite there. Whatever it was, it had disintegrated, been taken away, or got up and left on its own.
A noise caught Jordan’s ear. It sou
nded like Izzy, and it sounded close.
Jordan spotted Izzy in a small clearing and began to move closer. His stomach suddenly dropped at the sight of the hooded stranger Jordan had seen at El Encantado.
The figure’s face was hidden deep within his dark hood. He was talking low and close to Izzy. Jordan felt a chill run down his spine. He circled the clearing, staying hidden in the brush but getting as close as he could so he could hear what the figure was saying.
“You did very well, chasing off those two Creature Keepers,” it said. “It’s all right to admit. Chasing them—hunting them—felt good. That’s because it’s in your nature. It’s the way the world should be. . . .”
The hooded figure inched closer to the Mapinguari. He stood taller than Izzy and possessed a familiar presence that gave Jordan another chill. But Jordan couldn’t place it. “Give in to your natural, savage instincts. Hunting and fighting humans will soon feel like the most normal thing in the world—because it is.”
Izzy shook his great, shaggy head back and forth, like he didn’t want to hear this.
“You must decide,” the stranger continued. “There are hunters coming for you. They were sent by the Creature Keepers you scared off. You’ll get no help or protection from them now. You’re all alone. You need my protection.”
Izzy growled. He looked like he wanted to run away, but couldn’t stop listening.
“But this is the day the hunted becomes the hunter! The humans will soon arrive with equipment to find you. Weapons to hurt you. Devices to capture you. And worst of all, the cameras—to show the entire human world just how easy it was to hunt and kill you. I told you this day would come. I whispered in your ear how the Creature Keepers were lying to you. And I was right. Now it’s time to trust me again. It’s time for creatures like you to stop running, stop hiding, and take your proper place over all humans! Join me!”
Izzy shook his head wildly and growled something in Arawakan. Jordan stepped out into the clearing. “I don’t speak Arawakan,” Jordan said. “But I can translate body language.” The figure spun around as Jordan stepped closer. “Pretty sure he’s saying, ‘Get away from me, you creepy weirdo.’”
Izzy growled at the sight of Jordan.
“Hmm,” the figure purred. “Our mutual friend seems upset to see you here.”
“I’m just here as a friend, Izzy,” Jordan said. “It’s okay.”
“You’re here as a Creature Keeper. And a human!”
Jordan peered at the hooded stranger. “You’re right about that. Because unlike you, I’m not hiding who I am. Why are you?”
“I HIDE FROM NO ONE—ESPECIALLY HUMANS!”
“Huh,” Jordan said calmly. “Well, this is the second time this human has seen you, and both times you’ve had on that goofy, hooded robe. In a tropical jungle. In the summertime. Just sayin’.”
“We’ve met more than twice,” the stranger said. “Shall I remind you?”
The familiar chill ran through Jordan’s body again, but he shook it off. He couldn’t show fear. He glanced past him, at Izzy. He had to try and reach the Mapinguari. “Izzy,” Jordan said. “Whoever or whatever this thing claims to be, remember what Eldon told you. It’s lying. Lurking in the shadows, it won’t even show its face. All it wants is for you to hate humans. Well, Eldon’s a human, and he came to see that you were okay. I’m human, and I came back not to hunt you, but to help you. This thing has only made you scare away the one who you cared about the most. The one who cared about you. Your Creature Keeper. And she was human, too.”
Izzy whined softly. His great eye blinked. Jordan felt a connection.
“ENOUGH!”
The hooded stranger suddenly leaped at Jordan, tackling him to the ground. It was a violent reflex that Jordan had experienced before. The chill returned, and this time Jordan couldn’t shake it. This time, he recognized it.
“You talk too much, Grimsley!” the figure shrieked as he pinned Jordan down.
Jordan writhed beneath the stranger and managed to get an arm free. He reached up. “You know my face—time to see yours!” He grabbed its hood and yanked it back—but Jordan already knew what he would find underneath.
Staring down at him with its horrible red glowing eyes, doglike snout, and snapping jaws was the face of Chupacabra.
28
Chupacabra was unique, even among cryptids. He was the very first creature Jordan’s grandfather had encountered, and was the reason George Grimsley decided to seek out others and create a secret society to protect them. The irony was that of all the cryptids he discovered, Chupacabra was the one who wanted nothing from Jordan’s grandfather—except revenge.
Jordan had learned how his Grampa Grimsley had photographed Chupacabra while traveling as a young man, and sold the pictures for money. This exposure caused the cryptid to be hunted down like a dog. Jordan’s grandfather regretted what he had done, and wanted to make it right. He formed the Creature Keepers, then sought to find Chupacabra again so he could offer him protection and a safe haven. That was the first time the angry cryptid tried to kill him. But it wouldn’t be the last.
Like Gusto, Chupacabra was under the impression that Jordan was his grandfather. He knew about the Fountain of Youth elixir the Creature Keepers had used to stay young. He was convinced George Grimsley had taken it, too, and was now passing himself off as Jordan. And so, along with inheriting the legacy of the Creature Keepers from his grandfather, Jordan had also inherited a very dangerous enemy.
“Surprised, Grimsley?” The doglike creature’s hot breath blasted Jordan in the face, its glowing eyes boring into his.
“Only that you can speak.” Jordan struggled beneath him. “I see Gusto, your human master, taught his old dog a new trick!”
Chupacabra’s eyes glowed brighter as he trembled with rage. “Gusto is not my master! I am his!” He tossed Jordan across the clearing. Jordan glanced up at Izzy, who was watching, looking frightened and unsure what to do.
“You see?” Jordan shouted to Izzy. “This traitor worked with Gusto, to kidnap Nessie and steal her coat! He’s a fraud! He’s been filling you with lies to confuse you! You’ve got to believe me, before he—oof!” Jordan was suddenly lifted into the air by Chupacabra again. The beast held him up and looked at him closely.
“You should know about being a traitor, George! You lied to these poor cryptids, made them think their Keepers were young, when actually you were giving them some magical potion to trick them all! And now your secret’s exposed! But you selfishly kept enough elixir for yourself to stay a boy, didn’t you?”
“You stupid mongrel, how many times have I told you—I’M NOT GEORGE GRIMSLEY! GEORGE GRIMSLEY IS MY GRANDFATHER, AND HE’S DEAD!”
Chupacabra tossed Jordan to the ground again and pulled out a familiar book from his robe. “If you’re not George Grimsley then why did you have his journal?”
“Give that back! It belongs to me!”
“Exactly,” Chupacabra snarled. “Finally, you admit it.” He tossed the journal aside, and looked over at Jordan’s backpack lying on the ground. “Now let’s see what other keepsakes you have in here, Georgie boy. This should prove to Izzy once and for all what liars you and all your followers are. . . .”
Weary and in pain, Jordan pulled himself up and stumbled to his feet. He couldn’t give up. Not after his promise to Eldon.
“HAHAHAHAHA!” Chupacabra’s horrible laugh echoed through the jungle. Jordan looked over to see him pull out Syd’s Teddy Squatch. Jordan was confused, until he realized Abbie must’ve slipped it into his backpack. For good luck. So much for that, he thought.
“A stuffed toy, in honor of one of your most beloved cryptids, for when you’re far away from him,” Chupacabra snarled. “How touching. And typical, George.”
He stepped closer to Izzy and showed him Teddy Squatch. “You see? It has a leash around its neck. Man’s pet. This is what they want to do to you. But you’re not a pet. You are special. Superior. And it’s time we creatures come
out from the shadows and stand up to humans everywhere!”
Izzy backed away a bit, looking frightened and confused as Chupacabra held up the stuffed Sasquatch. “This is the clown cryptid the humans call Bigfoot, the one they put on T-shirts and coffee mugs and watch on their televisions. He deserves the same fate as his beloved human fans. And that’s what he’ll get!”
In one quick snap of his powerful jaws, Chupacabra bit the doll’s head off, swallowing it whole, and then tossed the rest of it to the ground.
“You nasty old goat!” Jordan charged, slamming into Chupacabra’s midsection. The two of them rolled and scuffled on the jungle floor as Izzy watched from the rock.
Chupacabra quickly got the better of Jordan, rolling on top of him, pinning him to the ground again. “So, we are back where we started, Georgie,” he sneered. “This time I won’t fail. You were the reason I became hated and feared and hunted throughout the world. And now I finally have the chance to thank you properly. Good-bye, George Grimsley. I hope this hurts.”
He raised his sharp claws—
WUMP! A log bashed Chupacabra in the side of the head, sending him flying across the jungle floor. Jordan looked up, stunned to see Izzy standing over him, holding a good chunk of tree. In his other hand, he held the journal.
The Mapinguari pointed to Grampa Grimsley’s initials on the cover of the journal, then to Jordan. He opened his belly-mouth and uttered the same three English words he’d uttered before—perhaps the only ones he knew.
“Is . . . it . . . true?”
Jordan stood up and looked Izzy in the eye. “No,” he said. “I’m not George Grimsley. I know he was probably the first human you trusted, and I know I could lie to you to make you trust me, too. But I wouldn’t do that. George Grimsley was my grandfather, and I am not him. But I am a friend. And I’m very grateful to you for saving my life.”
The Mapinguari tossed the hunk of tree and handed Jordan the journal. It immediately blew open in Jordan’s hands as a strong gust of wind began whipping around them.
