by Bryan Chick
“Good,” Evie said. “Now, who wants to go first?”
The scouts looked at one another, silent.
“No one?” Evie said. “Okay, then how about you all go at the same time?” She jingled the flat metal slider on the zipper of her left pocket. “Pinch and pull. The chameleons will do the rest. Again—they’re trained for this. You’re mostly along for the ride.”
The scouts traded uneasy glances, then Noah asked his friends, “On three?”
Ella and Megan nodded. Richie did, too, at least a little.
Noah grabbed the slider and counted, “One . . . two . . . THREE!”
As Noah’s zipper opened, he felt the patter of little feet up his leg and he looked down to see a line of chameleons streaming out from the velvet confines of his pocket. The chameleons’ colors began to swirl and blur and change, and Noah began to disappear—parts of his arms, his legs, his torso. He was being blended into the world around him.
Richie whimpered, and Noah turned to see parts of his friends disappearing: Ella’s legs, Megan’s arms, Richie’s running shoes. They looked like colorful drawings being erased from a page.
Noah watched the last of himself disappear as two chameleons circled his ankles. He felt perfectly fine—and perfectly invisible.
“I can’t see my hands!” Richie squealed. “Or my arms . . . or my anything!”
“Too wicked!” Ella said.
Noah turned again to his friends and saw only trees and paths and butterflies.
“Ow!” Richie said. Noah looked toward the sound of his voice and saw a shimmer of movement as Richie’s chameleons adjusted to new spots. “Who just punched me?”
Ella’s sinister laugh served as an answer.
“Seriously—what’s wrong with you?”
Ella laughed again. “I could really get used to this.”
“Can you feel the chameleons?” Evie asked.
Noah realized he could. On his shoulders, his back, his legs, he felt the prick and push of little feet.
“There’s one on my butt!” Richie squealed. When his friends started to laugh, he added, “I’m serious!”
“I don’t . . . I don’t understand this,” Megan said. “The chameleons—how are they doing this?”
Evie said, “Chameleons have special cells with pigment that allows them to create color. Our magic modifies this pigment to create colors and tones in a big-time way. Then, as the chameleons blend into their surroundings, so do the things beneath them—at least if the chameleons want them to, because they control everything with their thoughts.”
This idea, to Noah, seemed perfectly normal and totally absurd, just like everything about the Secret Zoo.
“Okay,” Evie said. “Left pocket calls the chameleons; right pocket sends them back. If you want a bunch of chameleons, just keep your left pocket open—they’ll come and come, more than you can imagine.” Evie tucked her bangs behind her ear and said, “Try moving around. Get the feel for it.”
Noah took a few steps, looked around, and nearly lost his balance. Without sight of his body—his arms, his shoulders, the bridge of his nose—he felt a bit uncoordinated. And he felt a bit . . . unreal. It was as if he were drifting through space like a ghost—like a specter.
“Wave your arms,” Evie said, and even demonstrated, her arms turning slow circles in front of her.
“They feel funny,” Megan said.
“That’s because you can’t see them and your brain’s freaking out. It’s sending signals to every part of your body trying to figure out what’s going on.”
Evie had them walk forward, backward, sideways. She had them shuffle and jump and crouch. She made them kick their legs and punch the air. The scouts kept discussing how weird it was not to see parts of themselves. Noah wondered if being a Specter had less to do with the way you looked and more to do with the way you felt.
Evie said, “When a zipper’s open, anything can portal through the pocket—sounds, smells.”
“Hear that Richie?” Ella said. “No farts.”
All the Specters smiled. Sara even laughed a bit.
After about fifteen minutes, Evie had them remove their camouflage. For this, the scouts simply unzipped their right pockets and allowed the chameleons to retreat. The four friends slowly appeared.
“Too wild,” Richie said as he patted his pockets to ensure the chameleons weren’t in them. Noah saw his friend for the first time in a while: his hat pulled down low on his forehead, his pants pulled up over his narrow waist and knobby ankles.
“Okay,” Evie said, “camouflage yourselves again and come with me.”
“Where are we going?” Noah asked.
She pointed to an outside wall of Butterfly Nets. “That way.”
“We just came in from that way,” Ella remarked.
“You’re going out into the Clarksville Zoo, fully ghosted.”
“Whoa!” Richie said. “Don’t you think we need more time to—”
“Kid—there is no time. We only got a couple days to get this right.”
The scouts traded glances. Evie was right. If they were going to rescue Tank and the other Descenders, they had to act fast and be bold.
CHAPTER 9
PERIL AT PENGUIN PALACE
“We’re headed to Penguin Palace,” Evie told the scouts as she ghosted herself. “I want to see if you guys can make it all the way around the exhibit without getting spotted.”
Penguin Palace was home to a huge four-sided aquarium, glass walls reaching from the floor to the ceiling. In the aquarium was a mass of land topped with ice. A narrow channel of water surrounded the island, providing a place for penguins to swim.
“Shouldn’t be too tough,” Megan said. “Not if we stay to the back of the building.”
Evie said, “The only ones at the back are going to be us—the Specters. The four of you are going to get as close as you can to the visitors. I’m talking inches. It’ll be a great test to see how well you can stay ghosted.”
“But—”
“No buts, kid,” Evie said. “Now . . . ghost up and follow me.”
“How?” Megan asked. “We can’t even see you!”
“Follow my voice. If I’m not able to talk, I’ll mark myself from time to time.”
“Huh?” Richie said. “What do you mean, ‘mark yourself’?”
“That’s how we show our positions. We use our surroundings, mostly. Like this.” A bright blue butterfly came away from a nearby bush with its wings open. It rose several feet and stayed there, unmoving. Then it flew off, a fluttery streak of color across a green backdrop. It had been perched on Evie’s hand.
“Sometimes we’ll force a chameleon to move over a few inches.” Evie demonstrated, and Noah saw a ghostly swirl of movement somewhere along the place he guessed her shoulder to be. “Pay attention . . . you’ll see me.”
Noah nodded and then realized no one could see the gesture.
“Let’s go,” Evie said.
When she fell silent, Noah glanced around to figure out which direction she’d gone.
“Over here,” said Evie. About ten feet to Noah’s left, a leaf broke away from a branch, twirled in the air, then coasted to the ground. “Eyes and ears—totally alert at all times. A Specter is always focused.”
As Noah headed up the path, he sensed the group around him: small swirls of air, body heat, and near-soundless scratches against the concrete. And he could make out their aromas: soaps, deodorants, skin.
“I smell armpit,” Ella said. “’Fess up—who stinks?”
A few of the Specters chuckled.
“Richie?” Ella asked.
Richie said, “You know . . . it’s nice not to look at her, but can’t we do something about her voice?”
As they reached the end of the path, the exit door opened a crack and Noah guessed that Evie was peering out to ensure the coast was clear. Seconds later, it swung outward a few feet and stayed open as the line of Specters made their way through. Then Noah and
the scouts followed. The air was cold, and a flurry of snowflakes dotted the cloudy sky. Noah reached up and pulled down the earflaps on his cap, causing a chameleon to move to a new place.
“Stay behind me,” Evie said, and Noah saw the small puff of her breath a few feet away. “When we get close to someone, keep quiet and try not to breathe. Ready?”
“Hold up,” Richie said. “What if . . . what if I got to pee?”
After a few seconds, Evie’s voice rose into the silence: “Are you serious?”
“I’m just saying—I spent some time at the drinking fountain today.”
“Stay out of the bathroom—too risky. Find a bush.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Well . . . the chameleons . . . they crawl around, you know . . . and if I have to pull down my pants—” A smack sounded, and Richie finished his sentence with “Oww!”
“Seriously?!” Ella said. “With all that’s at stake, you’re worried about that?”
“I’m not worried!” Richie shot back. “I’m just . . . concerned! They have claws, you know. The last thing I need is—”
“Follow me and stay close,” Evie interrupted. “With this snow, it’ll be easy to mark me.”
Noah quickly found out what she was referring to. Falling snowflakes traced the invisible curves of her body. Same with the other Specters and scouts. The effect in the snowfall was so subtle that Noah wouldn’t have noticed had he not been looking for it. Evie turned down a path, avoided the snowy parts on a lawn, and pushed through the doors of Penguin Palace to step onto a wide mat in a narrow hallway.
“Wipe your feet,” Evie whispered in the lowest voice imaginable. “Quietly.”
As Noah softly dried the soles of his shoes, Evie continued, “Penguin Palace is a popular place—there’s going to be visitors on every side. Get as close as you can to them and try to hold your position for a full minute. Then move on to the next room. You’ll have to sense where you stand in relation to one another. Reach out with your fingers if you need to. Don’t talk—unless you’re in a corner away from people.”
When Noah sensed that everyone was on the move, he walked out into a long room along the first side of the aquarium. A family of five stood against the glass wall, their gazes fixed on penguins swimming through the channel of water.
Someone brushed against his shoulder and he realized the Specters were moving to the back of the exhibit. He inched forward, feeling around him to ensure the other scouts were doing the same. As he stopped directly behind the family, someone gently bumped each of his sides and he realized his friends were near.
In front of him, a young boy with big dimples reached up and clapped his palm against the glass as a penguin swam by. Noah waited and counted the seconds. He realized he was holding his breath. He was so perfectly still that he became conscious of his own body—the weight of his head, the pull of his arms, the dangle of his fingers. As he silently counted “thirty-two,” a noise came from the back of the room.
Clink!
It had been one of the Specters, no doubt—and no doubt making the noise on purpose.
The mother looked around. Her gaze landed right on Noah, who felt his muscles tense. He didn’t move. Or breathe. Could the woman see him? Could she somehow make out his ghostly shape?
Worry erupted in Noah as he felt a chameleon move to a new spot on his shoulder. Had it marked him? The mother’s eyes seemed to burrow into him. Pressure built in Noah’s chest, and his heart began to tap against his sternum like something wanting out.
The woman frowned, puzzled, and then turned to watch her son smile at the sight of a new penguin. One of the scouts tugged Noah’s sleeve and pulled him away from the aquarium and toward the end of the room.
In a corner, Richie whispered, “I practically pooped in there.”
“That?” Evie whispered. “That was nothing.”
“It sure felt like something to me,” Ella said.
Evie dropped the topic by saying, “Everyone here?”
Each of the scouts whispered yes.
“Good,” Evie said. “Let’s go again.”
Noah felt Evie brush past him, and he turned to follow the group. Along the second side of the aquarium, an elderly couple stood about ten feet away from the glass, and Noah walked toward them. He stopped no more than three feet away and stared at their profiles. The woman had wispy gray hair and the man had a bald head speckled with age spots. Both wore thick glasses and jackets two months ahead of the season. After a few seconds, the man raised an almost-steady finger at a penguin speeding past, and the woman giggled and clapped her hands twice without making any sound. He turned to his wife and leaned in for a quick kiss on her cheek.
Noah suddenly realized how weird it felt to be watching them. He was seeing the couple as they saw each other, without the world around. He had invaded a private moment. Being a Specter was more than being a ghost—it was being a spy.
With a rush of shame, Noah looked away. It wasn’t right to be watching people, not without their awareness. He focused on an overweight penguin as it waddled to the end of the channel, splashed into the water, and torpedoed away, its flat flippers stroking at its sides.
After a few seconds, one of the scouts tapped his shoulder and Noah walked off.
In another private corner, Evie whispered, “Nice. Two more left. Go.”
In the third room, a family of six stood near the aquarium, their attention on the underwater parade of penguins. The four children were about two years apart, the youngest a toddler with a blue pacifier between his lips. He was sitting up in a stroller, grunting his excitement.
Cabinets with items and information about penguins were on display throughout this room. Noah weaved between them. Once he was several feet past the last cabinet, a low ripping sound came from behind him, and his muscles clenched. The noise had been unmistakable. A zipper.
When he glanced back, the corner of a display cabinet glinted, and when Noah focused there, he saw a zipper—the rectangular pull tab and a few inches of metal teeth and surrounding cloth. One of the scouts must have snagged a portal pocket on the cabinet.
He saw that the entire family was looking that way. Even the toddler was leaning to one side of the stroller. The woman suddenly pressed her fingers to her cheeks and screamed.
Noah looked back again to see dozens of chameleons climbing over the display cabinet, ghosting it. Dozens more were pouring out of nowhere down toward the floor. He realized the portal pocket was open. The chameleons would keep coming and coming until it was closed.
Behind Noah, someone else shrieked. It sounded like the young girl, but given what was happening, it could very well have been the father.
The scout, whoever it was, managed to pull away from the cabinet but then tripped—Noah could tell by how the chameleons fell. The pull tab of the zipper was now hanging by itself from the cabinet, which meant it had broken, leaving the portal wide open.
Two more screams came from the family as hundreds of chameleons were flooding the room. They began to crawl up the other display cabinets and along ridges in the wall of the building. As they climbed along the edges of the aquarium, part of the foggy glass seemed to disappear. Penguins stood by with their beady black eyes fixed on all the strange spectacles.
Noah turned to the family again. The older three children looked ready to faint. The toddler merely looked around, uninterested.
Someone hollered, “What are you doing?” to the scout on the floor, and Noah realized it had been Evie, still standing invisible at the back of the room. “Your pocket—close it!”
“I can’t! It’s broken!” came a voice from the ground—Richie’s.
“Just hold it shut then!”
The chameleons stopped coming, and Noah realized Richie had managed to seal the portal.
But how badly had they compromised the Secret Zoo?
The mother gasped, “That . . . was . . . hilario
us!”
Noah pulled down his eyebrows and stood very still.
“Hilarious?” one of the Specters said. “Try pathetic.”
Noah was so confused that he became suddenly sure that he’d gone crazy—that the madness of the moment had melted his brain. The parents and the three older children started laughing. Only the toddler still seemed unamused.
“That was freaking awesome!” one of the older children said. “Did you see the looks on the penguins!”
“Yeah . . .” one of the Specters groaned. “Awesome, all right.” After a brief pause, she added, “Girls, let’s clean this mess up.”
From the back of the room came the sound of zippers opening, one after another. Evie made a clicking sound with her tongue, and then the walls and floor blurred with movement as chameleons hurried for the open portals. As the chameleons on the scouts climbed down, the four friends became visible again. Richie was stretched out on his back. He was so perfectly still that he looked like someone who had died while making a snow angel. Noah realized that he’d crammed his hat into the top of his portal pocket to close it.
“Richie!” Ella said. “You okay?”
Richie continued to lie there, chameleons charging across his body.
The oldest kid in the family, a boy with a dimpled chin and a bad crew cut, brushed past Noah and maneuvered up to Richie, careful to step in the open spots between the chameleons. He leaned over and broke out laughing.
Ella pointed her thumb toward the boy and said to the Specters, “I’m guessing this corn dog and the rest of his”—she made quotation marks with her fingers—“family aren’t from our neighborhood.”
Out of their camouflage, the Specters walked toward the scouts, chameleons still clambering up their legs and squirming into their pockets. “Secret Cityzens,” Evie said. “All the people are. A guard closed Penguin Palace as soon as we stepped in. We played it safe—and I’m glad we did.”
The boy with the crew cut was still laughing.
“Why don’t you make like a tree,” Ella said to him.
The boy looked over to Ella, and through his laughter, said, “And leave?”
