Ghost Leopard (A Zoe & Zak Adventure #1)

by Lars Guignard

  “That’s Tendua Tibba. I recognize it from the map.”

  “They all had freakin’ tails. And claws. And don’t forget the river of monkeys. Look,” Zak said, pointing at the rocks where two reddish-brown heads bobbed. “There’s a couple of them right now.”

  I picked up a stick and stepped over to the sandy river bank. I looked up at the mountains above and began to draw the map from memory. “The trail led up the valley and over the ridge to Tendua Tibba’s peak. I can see the route from here. It’s a straight shot.”

  “Zoe, listen. I want to keep going as much as you do. But think about it. I got shot with an arrow. We were almost cooked in a river of boiling monkeys. Going up that mountain is not safe.”

  Whoa. Was this the same Zak I had come to know? The semi-crazy kid who would do practically anything for a laugh? “We promised her we’d protect the Leopard,” I said.

  “Promised who?”

  “Amala.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Zak said.

  “Get what?”

  “Did you notice anything strange about Amala?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Back in the rickshaw in the city. Did Amala hand you the key to the hotel?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Think back.”

  I cast my mind back. Mostly I remembered how wet I had been. And all those butterflies. “No, no, I think the rickshaw wala gave it to me.”

  “And when you were getting firewood. Did she help?”

  “We were talking.”

  “But did she actually carry the firewood?”

  I didn’t have to think about it, because I remembered she hadn’t. “No,” I said. “No, she didn’t.”

  “And when she was swimming. Did you see her legs?”

  “It was watery.” Zak waited for my answer. “No, I didn’t see her legs, OK?”

  “What does that tell you?”

  “That you spent way too much time looking at her and not enough helping me with the firewood?”

  “Amala’s not like us, Zoe.”

  I thought I knew what he was going to say, but I didn’t want to hear it. Zak said it anyway.

  “She’s a ghost, Zoe. Amala’s a ghost. She’s not real.”

  “You can’t prove it.”

  “Think about it. Did she eat when we offered her cookies? No. Did she drink water from our canteen? No. Did she drown wearing that sari swimming? No.”

  I thought about her wearing that sari in the cave pool, but Zak wasn’t done.

  “The mummies, those were her past lives. Who she was before. Did you notice how she appeared out of nowhere? Did you see how his tail cut right through her?”

  I thought about the tail. When she was hanging there by the bhagwan's tail, his tail definitely did go through her throat. It was almost as if she was playing along, guiding him away from us.

  “What’s your point, Zak?”

  “Nothing really, except you made a promise to a ghost, a phantom, a dead person.”

  “So?”

  “So does a promise like that even count?”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t believe Zak. “So that’s it. That’s where you’re going with all this. You want to just give up? Pretend like none of this ever happened?”

  “Look, I brought us on a little vacation. If things got crazy weird in these mountains, don’t blame me.”

  “I’m not blaming you for things getting weird, Zak.”

  “So? What are you blaming me for then? I’m the guy who got shot with an arrow.”

  “I'm blaming you for running away.”

  I stepped away from the river. There, I had said it. I knew it might sound hypocritical. I knew that up until a little while ago, running away from the whole situation had seemed like a good idea to me too, but something inside of me had switched over. I couldn’t run away from what was happening. Not anymore. I had to see it through. And that’s what was bothering me the most. Not the magic monkeys, not their fangs, not even the talking statue. What bothered me the most was that Zak had witnessed all of these impossible things, just like me, but instead of feeling what I had, instead of feeling like something inside of him had switched over too, he was going to run away from his responsibility to protect the Leopard.

  “I don't know about this yogi thing,” I said. “I don’t know about Amala. I don't even know for sure if this Ghost Leopard is real. All I know is that I made a promise. I’m going up there. With or without you.”

  “It’s not worth it,” Zak said. “Not if it means meeting the bhagwan.”

  I stepped onto the trail and started hiking.

  “Go ahead, kill yourself,” Zak called out. “I’m not climbing Monkey Mountain.”

  I didn’t break my stride. I didn’t try to think of a clever reply. I just kept right on hiking. Zak would either follow me or he wouldn’t, but there was no way in a million years I was going to give him the satisfaction of looking back.

  I was cold and wet and mad. Zak hadn’t followed me, but I didn’t care anymore. What mattered was that I protect the Ghost Leopard. I walked for a very long way up a rough trail. It must have been afternoon by the time I came upon some huts on the trail. It wasn’t as big as a village, more a collection of little mud shacks and one bigger hut that was more like a store. I realized that I hadn’t had a real meal in I didn’t know how long. I hadn’t slept either, but right now I just needed to eat. I knew I wasn’t actually starving, but I sure felt like it. Thankfully, one of the men who was cooking must have guessed how hungry I was because he offered me lunch with his family.

  I think I thanked him about a million times, and that was before I even ate any of the food. Basically, lunch was rice and green lentils and bread. The lentils were called dal and you poured them on the rice like it was a sauce. The bread was this round thing called a chapati that they cooked on the open fire. The chapatis got bigger and bigger, just like balloons as they cooked, and then they popped and went flat again. The cool thing was you got to eat everything with your fingers. After I was done slurping down the rice and dal, I tore the chapatis up and used them to mop up my plate just like the others did. All in all, I was so hungry that it was probably the tastiest thing that I’d ever eaten. After lunch, I thanked them all again and traded the last of my soggy Indian money for some supplies.

  I bought a simple bamboo backpack which I filled with rice and cookies, a few eggs, a frying pan, and two big blankets. I got a flashlight too. I then handed over the last of my rupees for a pair of sheepskin boots and matching coat. I didn’t know how high up the mountain I would have to go, but I did know that there would be snow there. Luckily, both the coat and boots more or less fit. I said goodbye to my new friends and headed up the trail.

  Of course, it wasn’t long before the trail more or less ended and I found myself basically clawing my way up the steep, muddy mountainside. It was still very green and warm at this altitude and I found myself holding on to the wild grasses and tree trunks for support. I tried to ignore the monkeys screeching in the tree tops above. I could only hope that they weren’t somehow sending messages to the bhagwan. When I paused to catch my breath on the slope, I lost my footing and found myself sliding back down the steep muddy bank. By the time I slowed to a stop, I had slid down half the distance I had just climbed. It didn’t matter, I told myself. I would just have to work harder. Digging my toes and knees into the mud, I started up the slope again, more determined than ever.

  It went on like that for what seemed like forever. Climbing up and sliding back down the muddy slope. I thought a lot about Zak and how mad I was at him. I thought about how much easier it would have been just to turn around and go back. I tried to remember if I’d taken the orange out of my locker on the day I had left school. But one thing stayed the same: I kept climbing up. After some time, I came upon a small temple to Ganesha built into the side of the muddy mountain. There was barely room to stand in front of the little shrine. The elephant-
headed statue had a flower garland around its neck and incense burning at its feet. I had no idea who would have been up here to light the incense, but then, given my previous experience with Ganesha, he had probably blown fire out of his trunk and lit it himself.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked.

  The statue grinned back at me. But it didn’t answer me. It didn’t move. It didn’t even cry. Not one tear turned to diamond.

  “Now you don’t talk?” I said.

  The statue stayed absolutely still. I don’t know why, but just looking at it, staring at me like that, filled me with doubt. I picked up half a coconut from a pile of brown husks in front of the shrine. I felt like throwing it at somebody, anybody. I wanted the statue’s face to turn blue so it could tell me why I was still climbing. But the statue didn’t need to speak. It didn’t have to because a blood-curdling screech echoed through the hills. It sounded like a monkey. I could tell right then and there that something horrible was happening to it. The bhagwan was probably drinking its blood. I knew that if the bhagwan and his crew were coming, they couldn’t be far behind. I dropped the coconut husk at my feet and hurried on.

  The horrible screech had given me new strength. I trudged on as snow fell lightly from the gray sky. I was above the tree line now and there wasn’t much snow on the ground yet, but it was still cold as I hiked along the narrow shale trail. I had to say I was happy to at least have the screeching monkeys gone. What was strange was just how fast the temperature was falling. I kept walking and within fifteen minutes the ground was already covered in light drifts of snow. Fifteen minutes after that, it was dark and absolutely freezing. Night had fallen, but the moon reflected off the snow drifts. I wheezed. The higher I got up into the mountains, the harder it was to breathe. It was the thinner air at higher altitudes. The higher you go up, the less oxygen there is. We had learned about it in science, but I had never really given it much thought until now. Every step I took felt heavier and heavier, but I knew I had to go on.

  The path narrowed and steepened. I reached what looked like the end of it. A rock landslide had come down from the cliff above. I carefully crossed the landslide, slipping on the flat, loose rocks. Then I reached another gap in the trail. There was nothing below but a giant rock crevice. I could barely see, but that was probably a good thing given my vertigo. I took a running leap across. I felt my toes hit solid ground, but nothing below my heels at all as I scampered up the slope. Luckily, I just made it, shale and stone falling into the crevice behind me. Maybe the old elephant god was looking out for me after all.

  That was a close one, I thought. I hiked on, my mind randomly wandering. I thought about my mother. I thought about my friends and my school back home. I wondered if my mom would ever find me if I went missing in these mountains. After all, Zak had a lousy sense of direction. I doubted he’d even be able to tell them which way I went. I wondered about other stuff too. Would I get a picture of the Ghost Leopard? Would I be able to protect it? Was Amala really a ghost? I wondered about all these things until I found myself on a snowy ridge. The wind whipped down from the surrounding peaks, moonlight reflecting off the crystals in the snow. In the distance, I saw a low-lying shale hut.

  By the time I reached the hut, I was unsure if I could go on. The lack of sleep had finally caught up with me. I would see if anybody was there. Maybe they would let me rest, if only for just a little while. I poked my head into the low doorway of the hut. It was more of a shelter really. There was no door, just a hole in the stones. There was enough moonlight to see that there was some straw on the floor, but not much else. I put a hand on the rocks to maintain my balance. I felt dizzy in the thin air. I heard a noise, or at least I thought I did. Maybe it was only the howling wind. I knew I needed to rest to get used to the altitude. There just wasn’t enough oxygen up here. Despite my best intentions I felt my thoughts slipping back to what seemed like a lifetime ago.

  I imagined I was back in the sunny flooded street talking to Zak. “This Indian Ghost Leopard is a myth. It's make believe,” I said.

  “It’s never had its picture taken,” Zak replied.

  The flooded street in my head transformed into the misty ledge below the waterfall. I watched in horror as Amala was strangled by the bhagwan's tail.

  “Promise me. Promise me you’ll protect the Leopard,” Amala said.

  “I promise.”

  I shook myself awake and shone my newly acquired flashlight into the hut. The hut was empty except for some straw. Whoever had lived here had probably gone farther down the mountain because of the cold weather. I knew one thing. If I didn’t rest, I wouldn’t make it. I removed my backpack and bent low to enter the shelter. At least I was out of the wind. I lay down in the straw and wrapped myself in my new woolen blankets. I would rest for a few hours, I told myself. Then I would hike on.

  21

  A RUDE AWAKENING

  I dreamt that the Ghost Leopard padded around the hut that night. It was huge and its coat was white and thick, but it had no spots, which was unusual for a leopard I guess. I wasn’t able to see all of it. I could see it through the cracks in the hut, but only a small bit of it at a time. But even though it was large and powerful, the Leopard didn’t scare me. Instead, it made me feel safe. I felt like the Leopard was there to protect me and, for that reason, I lay back down and closed my eyes, sleeping soundly. The dream went on like that, the Leopard standing guard while I slept in the straw. It was such a pleasant, comforting dream, that I almost didn’t wake up.

  It was the man’s voice that finally woke me. “Search the hut,” the deep voice said.

  I cracked an eyelid, daylight sneaking in through the cracks between the stone. Heavy footsteps crunched on the snow. I shook my head in case I was dreaming, but no such luck. Somebody was coming. I searched frantically for an escape, my eyes darting around the tiny hut. There was only one way in and one way out and the footsteps were getting closer. Unable to escape, I figured the next best thing was to hide. I clawed at the straw, covering myself and my backpack up. I reached for the frying pan strapped to the back of my pack. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was all I had. I peered through the musty straw, hidden, but ready to run if I had to. The footsteps were right outside now. A shadow was cast across the doorway.

  It was worse than I thought. The shadow was huge. A dark, hooded man hunched through the opening. I didn’t know what to do, but I was pretty sure that if I was going to have any chance, I'd need to surprise him. I had already seen the way Rhino Butt fought on the roof of the bus. I wasn’t going to get out of this one by playing fair.

  “Who’s there?” the deep voice said.

  I didn’t know if I had been seen or not, but I leapt forward anyway, swinging the frying pan at him. I was aiming for his head, but he turned and I got his shoulder instead.

  “Ow!!!”

  I pushed my way through the low opening into the sunlight. I lifted the frying pan again, debating whether to run or to strike. It would be freezing cold without my things.

  “Zoe!”

  I hated that this freak knew my name. It was enough that he was trying to kill me. Did he have to talk to me like he knew me?

  “I knew you were mad, but I didn’t think you were crazy.”

  I thought I recognized the voice. I carefully peered back into the hut as the guy removed his scarf. Crud. It was Zak.

  “I hike all night and that’s my greeting?”

  Grasping his sore shoulder, Zak crawled out of the hut.

  “Luckily you got the side the arrow didn’t,” Zak said.

  For the first time, I relaxed enough to take in my surroundings. The ground was covered in fresh snow, the crooked spire of Tendua Tibba reaching high above the other mountains.

  “Why were you talking like that?” I asked.

  “Like what?”

  “With your voice all deep like you swallowed a rock.”

  “I don’t know. I was playing around. I was bored. You know how long I’ve be
en hiking?”

  Of course I knew how long he’d been hiking. I’d just done it myself. “What happened to coming up here being too dangerous?” I said.

  “It’s still too dangerous.”

  “So what are you doing here then?”

  “Well, I thought about it. I might hate boiling monkeys, but there’s no way I was going to let you do something this scary all by yourself.”

  I couldn’t believe it. For a moment there, I almost felt like Zak cared. He had actually turned around and come up the mountain after me. Zak looked away from me. I didn’t know what he was looking at, but his voice was softer now. It was like he was feeling shy or embarrassed. I had never seen him like that before, so I couldn’t be sure, but I think that was it. I guess climbing up the mountain had given him time to think.

  “You know, Zoe,” Zak said. “Sometimes I act all tough and stuff, but I’m pretty scared too.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Really?” he said. “How can you tell?”

  “Your lip,” I said. “You bite the bottom of it when you start to get freaked out.”

  “I do not.”

  “You do. The bottom of your lip is all red. I can tell you were doing it just now.”

  Zak felt the bottom of his lip. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “I didn’t know I did that.” He fidgeted uncomfortably. “I know it’s my fault you’re here, Zoe. We would never have gotten stuck in that trunk if I hadn’t made such a big deal about going to Rhino Butt’s hotel room in the first place. Then, once we got off the plane, I thought, we were there anyhow, so why not explore? I didn’t mean for everything to turn out like this.”

  “Don't sweat it,” I said. “I didn’t want to show it, but I was kind of into getting a picture of the Leopard just like you were.”

  “You know the only guaranteed thing we're going to find up that mountain is a really mean guy with a bow and arrow,” Zak said.

  “Don’t forget the hairy back,” I said.