by Bryan Chick
DEDICATION
FOR THE STUDENTS AND TEACHERS
AT NORTH SASHABAW ELEMENTARY.
YOU GUYS ROCK!
Contents
Dedication
Prelude: The Captives
Chapter 1: In the News Again
Chapter 2: The Cold Closet
Chapter 3: Chickadee Lane and the Kiddie Train
Chapter 4: The Message
Chapter 5: The Room of Reflections
Chapter 6: The Scouts Step Up
Chapter 7: Noah’s Noisy Closet
Chapter 8: Going Ghost
Chapter 9: Peril at Penguin Palace
Chapter 10: Spiders, Man
Chapter 11: The Streets of Transparency
Chapter 12: Snickers Snatchers
Chapter 13: The Feather, The Quill, The Hair from a Mane
Chapter 14: Talks on the Tarsier Terrace
Chapter 15: The Opening
Chapter 16: The Attack
Chapter 17: A Neighborly Visit
Chapter 18: All Tidied Up
Chapter 19: Leaving Home
Chapter 20: The Way to Waterford
Chapter 21: Final Prep
Chapter 22: Solana’s Shock
Chapter 23: The Path to the Creepy Core
Chapter 24: Into the Waterford Zoo
Chapter 25: Legless Lane
Chapter 26: Horns Aplenty
Chapter 27: The Zoo Hospital
Chapter 28: The Ghost
Chapter 29: The Croc Crater
Chapter 30: DeGraff’s Orders
Chapter 31: Richie Rises to the Occasion
Chapter 32: The Biz with Bliz
Chapter 33: The Monitors, The Mirage
Chapter 34: The Trap in Jelly Alley
Chapter 35: Richie and the Rhinos
Chapter 36: Megan Soothes the Savage Beast
Chapter 37: The Jam with the Jellies
Chapter 38: Escape from Waterford Zoo
Chapter 39: The Crabaquarium
Chapter 40: The Shadows
Chapter 41: Ella Takes a Swing
Chapter 42: Ella Versus DeGraff
Chapter 43: The Secret Chamber of Lights
Chapter 44: The Corridor of Portals
Chapter 45: Back at Pockets of Portals
Chapter 46: The Mirage
Chapter 47: Good-Bye, for Now
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
PRELUDE
THE CAPTIVES
DeGraff, the Shadowist, backed away from the portal to the City of Species, something of a smile on what remained of his face. He turned and moved deeper into the Creepy Critters sector of the Secret Zoo, the thing-that-had-once-been-a-bear walking beside him. Seconds ago, the animal had delivered a note to Mr. Darby—a note with a very simple message: I’m back, old friend.
As DeGraff moved through the long corridor, he gazed at aquariums set in the walls. Most were cracked and chipped and covered in mold and moss, their once-captive inhabitants free to roam the building. Cocoons and stringy moss dangled from a high ceiling.
Bugs and lizards covered the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Plump-bodied spiders crawled along the aquariums, millipedes squirmed through gaping cracks in the glass, and scorpions scurried about. Snails dragged themselves along, trails of slime marking their paths. Winged bugs flew in circles, bouncing off one another. As DeGraff walked, he stepped though cobwebs and his boots crunched down on the hard shells of beetles and other unnameable things.
Thinking of the traps set throughout the halls, the corners of his mouth curled with another attempt at a smile. He was ready for them to come. He’d had a year to prepare.
At the entrance of a branching corridor, a door stood coated in bugs. In the outside world, a similar corridor in Creepy Critters was called Bugs-A-Bunch, but DeGraff rarely thought of it by name here. He gripped the handle and a few slow-to-move slugs burst beneath his fingers. Flinging the door open, he stepped inside, the mangy thing-that-had-once-been-a-bear following.
In this corridor, the dirt walls between the aquariums resembled those of a cave. A few flickering torches provided the only light. Hordes of snakelike insects squirmed along the hard floor, occasionally dropping down into the dirty fur of the bear—or the thing which had once been one.
As DeGraff passed a torch, his shadow was cast onto the wall. The dark spot lost its form and took a shape independent of his own. It skimmed the walls, churning the loose dirt and knocking down insects like the slow sweep of a broom.
When DeGraff reached the end of an aisle lined with fish-filled aquariums, he stepped into the Creepy Core, a large, circular room capped with a high, concrete dome. The air stank of mildew, mold, and decay. In the middle of the room stood a man. His hair and eyebrows were bright red, and his face was splotchy with freckles: Charlie Red, once a security guard from the Clarksville Zoo.
In the ground behind Charlie was a deep pit closed off with glass. Four people were far below, Tank and three teenage Descenders, Secret Cityzens who had just been captured by the Shadowist. They were still unconscious, lying on the dirt floor with their arms and legs stretched out. Hannah’s long, red-dyed bangs covered her face like a mask, and a few bugs were crawling over her bare feet. The fair skin of Sam’s cheeks was bloodied, and Tameron’s and Tank’s dark skin was streaked with mud.
At Charlie’s feet lay a bundle of clothes and equipment—jackets, boots, a hat, a backpack. It was the gear that gave the Descenders their magical strength.
“We got ’em,” Charlie said.
DeGraff kept quiet. A small swarm of mosquitoes landed on his face, fed on the poison of his blood, and dropped lifelessly to the ground. He scanned the captives in the pit, then kicked softly through their belongings at Charlie’s feet. The thing-that-had-once-been-a-bear sniffed the canvas backpack.
“Not all of them,” he answered at last. His rumbly, wet-sounding voice seemed to come from a part of his body that was barely working. “Are the portals closed?”
Charlie nodded. “All but the main entrance into the City of Species.”
“Excellent.” DeGraff smiled his vile smile. “Darby and his minions—they’ll be coming soon. The message has been delivered.” The Shadowist wrung his hands together, spreading sticky snail guts across his leather gloves. “Keep watch on the prisoners, Mr. Red. I’ll check on our team.”
“Yes, sir,” Charlie said.
The Shadowist turned and touched the mangy, broad head of the thing-that-had-once-been-a-bear. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go find your friends.”
CHAPTER 1
IN THE NEWS AGAIN
“You kids ready to go?” Mrs. Nowicki called from the upstairs bathroom in Noah’s house. “I don’t want to be late for school again today.”
“Just about!” Noah said. Then he waved his sister, Megan, and their friends Ella and Richie into the dining room, where the family laptop was sitting on the table. He pulled up a chair and opened an internet browser as his friends leaned in around him. Then he clicked on a link to a national news site hosting the story of the two escaped zoo animals that had destroyed parts of Clarksville Elementary.
“Turn it up,” Megan said as the video began to play.
Noah did, but just loud enough so that the four friends had to lean toward the speakers to hear. A news reporter began to describe “another bizarre event in the quiet community of Clarksville, the same city where, a year ago, a young girl named Megan Nowicki spent three weeks trapped in the cellar of a museum.” News footage showed scenes of Clarksville: the historic clock tower, the neighborhood streets, the zoo. As the video switched to the damaged grounds of Clarksville Elementary, the reporter’s tone became
very serious as he described what had happened three days ago, on Halloween night.
“As Clarksville children were trick-or-treating, two animals—a polar bear and a rhinoceros—somehow managed to escape the city zoo and wander onto the grounds of the nearby school. There they destroyed several pieces of playground equipment before ultimately smashing their way inside, where they caused thousands of dollars in damage to school property before finally being contained by police and Animal Control officers.”
The video footage switched to a large crowd of protestors outside a building in downtown Clarksville. People were pacing and waving picket signs.
The reporter’s story continued: “When news spread that the two beloved zoo animals were scheduled for euthanization, there was an immediate outcry. Crowds of protesters gathered at the Animal Control office. Most called for the animals to be returned to the wild. But officials saw a problem with this.”
The video footage switched to a bald man with a bushy mustache. He stated that animals raised in controlled environments rarely adapt well to their natural habitats.
The video then switched back to the crowd of protestors, and the reporter said, “Several animal rights groups converged on the city of Clarksville, demanding the animals’ release.”
The camera switched to a bearded man with a jagged scar on his cheek. He was waving a sign and passing out flyers with the heading, “Free them or we will!” Every time a reporter asked his name, the man shook his head and bumped the reporter’s microphone away.
The reporter went on. “Just yesterday, a decision was made to transfer the two animals to the Waterford Zoo, just west of Clarksville. This neighboring zoo contains more traditional exhibits—caged enclosures which make escape virtually impossible. The animals are scheduled for transfer soon.”
As the video ended, Noah said, “What do you think?”
Ella shrugged. “It’s nothing we don’t already know. I mean—it’s not like that story hasn’t been on the news something like twenty-three hours a day.”
“You didn’t notice him?”
“Notice who?”
Noah stared over the top of the computer monitor to make sure his mom was still upstairs. Then he rewound to a previous scene showing the bearded man with the scar standing among a crowd of protestors. He hoisted a sign in the air that read, “Free them or we will!”
Noah glanced at his friends, his eyes wide.
“Yeah . . .” Ella said. “Goofy-looking dude with a big sign—so what?”
“He doesn’t look familiar?”
The scouts stared harder.
“The Secret Zoo,” Noah said. “He’s a Crosser—one of the Constructors that helped repair the aquariums in Creepy Critters on the night the sasquatches tried to escape.”
Ella’s and Megan’s expressions changed.
“You’re right!” Megan said.
“Sooo . . . he’s also an animal activist?” Ella asked.
Noah shook his head. “He’s just pretending to be.”
“Why?”
Noah clicked a mouse button to close out the video. “Because Blizzard and Little Bighorn are going home.” He smiled at his friends and added, “The Secret Society . . . they’re going to break them out.”
At school recess a few hours later, the scouts rushed out onto the playground, much of which was still roped off for repairs from damage the world believed had been done by an escaped polar bear and rhinoceros, but which the scouts knew had been committed by monstrous creatures known as sasquatches. The first days of November had brought unseasonably cold weather and a dusting of snow. Now, a few snowflakes fell from a gray sky to rest in wood chips and stick to steel bars. The scouts wore their usual headgear: Richie, the cotton cap with the large pom-pom; Ella, her fluffy pink earmuffs; Megan, her sporty fleece headband; and Noah, the red hunting cap he’d discovered in the Secret Zoo.
They huddled close to discuss the video and take guesses at what Mr. Darby and the Secret Council were planning. Minutes into their conversation, a blue spot streaked through the air and touched down on Noah’s shoulder: Marlo, a malachite kingfisher barely bigger than Noah’s thumb. In his bill was a neatly folded slip of paper. An Instant Marlo.
“Hey, buddy,” Noah said.
Marlo chirped a hello as Noah opened the message and quietly read it.
My Dear Scouts,
I regret it has taken so long to deliver a message. Things have been busy. I would like to invite the four of you to an emergency session of Council. Can you meet me at Chickadee Lane tomorrow after school? Please send your reply with Marlo, and plan on being away no more than two hours.
Best wishes,
Mr. Darby
“Guys—what do you think?” Noah asked. “We clear for tomorrow?”
Everyone nodded. Richie plucked a pen from his shirt pocket and handed it to Noah, who scribbled down a response, folded the note, and handed it back to Marlo. The kingfisher jumped off his shoulder and flew out of sight.
CHAPTER 2
THE COLD CLOSET
Noah spent the better part of the evening in his bedroom trying to finish an English paper. Instead of working, he mostly sat back in his chair, tapping his pencil in his lap and staring off into space. He kept seeing DeGraff, three days ago, in the old dirt cellar beneath his school, the way he’d taken down the Descenders and dragged them off, their bodies passing in and out of the shadows. Where were the captives now? Were they injured? Alive? Every time Noah imagined the lifeless bodies of his friends, he tried to push his thoughts aside.
Around eight o’clock, someone rang the porch bell. From outside came a familiar, hoarse voice—Mr. Connolly, their neighbor from across the street. Mr. Connolly was not coping well with his recent divorce. He stopped by every few days, and Noah’s parents always invited him in for a snack. Tonight proved to be no exception, and before long Noah heard his mother say, “Come in, Peter, please” and then the rattle of silverware.
“How are you?” Mrs. Nowicki asked.
“Oh . . . good, good.” It was a lie, of course. If Mr. Connolly were good, he wouldn’t be standing in Noah’s living room again.
“Cookie?”
“I shouldn’t—”
“Butter pecan.”
“Well . . . maybe, sure.”
A kitchen chair rumbled as it pulled across the floor, and that meant there would be two fewer cookies for Megan and Noah this week. Noah would have resented this if the person downstairs were anyone but Mr. Connolly, a kind old man who didn’t deserve to be alone.
At ten o’clock, Noah’s parents walked Mr. Connolly out and then headed up to Noah’s room to wish him good night. Once they’d gone, Noah opened his second-story window, stuck his head out into the cold, and stared at Fort Scout, his old tree house. Inside it, Noah knew, a Descender and at least one zoo animal were posted, keeping a watchful eye over the east wall of the Clarksville Zoo.
Noah ducked back inside and slid the window closed. Time to get ready for bed.
His closet was a small walk-in, perhaps six feet deep and across. He gently tugged a chain to turn on the overhead light and scanned the messy stack of clothes for something to sleep in. Standing there, he suddenly realized how chilly the closet was. His carpeted floor felt more like cold concrete.
He squatted in front of the heat vent and felt warm air blowing out. The furnace was working fine.
“Weird . . .” he muttered.
He snatched a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt off the shelf and headed out of the closet, tugging the chain on his way. In bed, he tucked the covers up to his chin and quickly warmed up.
CHAPTER 3
CHICKADEE LANE AND THE KIDDIE TRAIN
When their class was dismissed on Wednesday afternoon, the scouts snatched their jackets from their lockers and headed outdoors. They hurried across the school grounds, crossed Jenkins Street, then ran through the west gates of the Clarksville Zoo. Within minutes, they reached Chickadee Lane.
Two small buil
dings were joined by a winding breezeway with open walls. Chickadees flew freely in and out, pecking at feeders and raining seeds down their white-feathered breasts.
“There he is,” Richie said. He pointed to where Mr. Darby stood, feeding a chickadee that had perched in his open palm. His long gray hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his bushy beard lay across his chest.
The scouts followed a pathway of colorful brick pavers that wound through a crowded garden. Feeders and nesting boxes dangled from the limbs of bushes and the eaves of a gabled rooftop.
Mr. Darby turned to the scouts and smiled. Even on the gray, overcast day, he wore his sunglasses. But he’d traded his customary velvet jacket for a simpler jacket. He looked oddly ordinary this way, like someone’s grandfather rather than the leader of a secret kingdom filled with animals and magic.
“Probably not a good idea for me to get caught with a chickadee in my hand,” the old man said. He lightly tossed the bird into the air, where it darted out of sight. “But one can hardly resist the temptation.”
“To hold the animals?” Megan asked.
“No,” he answered. “To be so loved.”
The scouts stayed quiet until Ella broke the silence. “Okay . . . what’s the status, Mr. D?”
Mr. Darby peered in all directions to make certain no one was around. Then he leaned toward the scouts and in a hushed voice said, “We’re doing what we promised ourselves we’d never do—jeopardize the secrecy of the Secret Zoo to rescue some of our own.” He paused and adjusted his sunglasses. “Blizzard and Little Bighorn—we’re going after them.”
“We know,” Noah said.
Mr. Darby pulled back his shoulders and stood very straight. “You know?”
Ella said, “We happened to watch an animal activist in town for a visit. He looked a lot like a Secret Cityzen we once met.”
Mr. Darby considered this. “I sometimes forget how curious and perceptive the four of you are.” A chickadee jumped out of the bushes and landed on the old man’s shoulder. Mr. Darby politely brushed it off, then turned and headed down the breezeway, saying, “Let’s find a spot protected from curious eyes, yes?”
