Creature Keepers and the Perilous Pyro-Paws

by Peter Nelson

  “Where are you going?” Jordan said.

  “To see if there’s another way off this thing,” Abbie said. “One that doesn’t get us wet, never mind drowned. I’ll holler if I find anything.”

  She turned the corner, leaving Jordan and Eldon staring up at the eerie collection of ramshackle buildings that populated the center of the old platform. Overhead loomed the drill tower that housed the machine that at one time lowered the abandoned drill bit to the sea floor.

  “I don’t care what Sam says,” Jordan said. “This place looks haunted as heck.”

  “But it isn’t,” Eldon reassured him. “If anything, it’s just cursed, remember?”

  “Right. By the devil’s fleas.”

  A sudden creaking from behind made the two boys spin around. Something caught Jordan’s eye—something pink. He looked down just in time to catch a shadowy figure. It slid along a rope and disappeared beneath the platform. A chill shot through Jordan’s bones. He looked at Eldon. This time he was sure.

  “Quisling,” he said. “Don’t think I’m crazy, but I just saw him again.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy. I think I saw him, too! What do we do?”

  “Find a way to get down there so we can follow him,” Jordan whispered. “I’ll go and get Abbie!”

  Eldon ran off between two of the old nearby shacks. Jordan followed the fence line in the direction Abbie had gone. He turned the corner and made his way through the cluster of old wooden buildings. It was like a tiny town. In the center, connected to the drill housing, was a cottage-sized shack. There were sheets covering the windows, but a light within flickered against the fabric. He found the door opened a crack. He slowly pushed it and entered the little house.

  His eyes adjusted to what little light there was, but it was his ears that immediately trained on what was going on inside. Odd grunts and growls, low but steady, came from nearby. He walked through the next door and saw Abbie sneaking toward a wide entryway into the central room, where a large pink swath of material hung like a curtain separating them. Jordan noticed letters stitched across it like a banner:

  The growling got louder as Jordan approached Abbie. He reached out and quietly tapped her on the shoulder. She spun around, terrified.

  “Aaah!”

  Abbie locked eyes with Jordan and immediately clasped her hand over her mouth. It was too late. The beastly sound coming from the other side of the curtain fell terrifyingly silent. A scuffling and scraping against the grainy wooden floor approached the other side of the pink tapestry. Jordan and Abbie, wide-eyed, slowly backed away, readying for their escape. The light in the second room backlit the creature, casting its shadow against the tarp. Its silhouetted outline resembled the children’s drawing and the parade float they’d seen in the warehouse—from its dragonlike head to its great wings that spread as it approached. It’s the Alebrijes! thought Jordan. Before they could turn to run, a pair of menacing crablike claws raised and snapped violently. Thick, black, spindly tree arms drew back—and sliced the tarp in half, revealing the creature.

  Jordan and Abbie fell backward onto the floor. They grabbed each other, shut their eyes, and screamed.

  15

  After a second or two of realizing they weren’t being mauled, clawed, crushed, maimed, or eaten, Jordan and Abbie peeked out.

  The group of cryptids huddling together looked just as confused and frightened as Abbie and Jordan did. They also looked, clustered as they were, capable of casting a silhouette of one very big, very menacing Alebrijes when properly backlit.

  But these were not one great creature. They were cryptids of varying colors, coats, shapes, and sizes.

  “Way to go, Francine,” a guttural voice called out from behind their feet, flippers, claws, and hooves. “You just had to go and destroy our banner!”

  Abbie and Jordan looked down.

  A Day-Glo yellow glob of goo came sliding to the front of the group. Its dozen or so purple eyes scanned the sliced pink material on the ground. “That was our official flag, with our cool name on it and everything! You’re such an oaf!”

  “Oh, shut up, Hogie, you puddle of snot,” the moss-covered, stick-armed creature said, reaching down and gathering the sliced tarp. This creature Jordan had seen before. She was known as an Australian Bunyip and could have easily been mistaken for an old Okeeyuckachokee Swamp tree come to life. Jordan had last seen her when she and three others handed their collars to Eldon and declared themselves free from the Creature Keepers.

  “I don’t believe it,” Jordan said. “It’s . . . you guys.”

  The other three rogue cryptids were there, too, standing right in the front of the bunch. Paul the Dingonek resembled a sort of jungle walrus, with large tusks and the head of a dragon. Donald was the red-mohawked, orangutanlike Ban Manush of Bangladesh. And leading the pack was Sandy, the stoic Sumatran Golden Liger, still the most stunning and magnificent creature Abbie and Jordan had ever seen.

  Jordan stood up. “Sandy? What are you doing here? And why are the kidnapped cryptids here with you?”

  “They have not been kidnapped,” Sandy said calmly. “They have been freed. And they have joined us by their own free will.”

  The others all nodded in unison.

  “Joined you in what?” Abbie’s fear and confusion had given way to anger. She stepped up to Sandy. “They disappeared without any warning! We’ve been worried sick about them, and so have their Keepers!” Some of the cryptids looked down at the floor. “Do you guys even know what’s going on out there? There’s a new evil force, possibly a fourth special creature, and it’s got everybody freaking out!”

  Jordan spotted something and tried to subtly interrupt her. “Uh, Abbie . . .”

  She ignored him. “You all could be in danger! It’s something worse than Chupacabra! We think it may have created a horrible army—”

  “They’re Face Chompers,” Jordan whispered.

  “That’s right!” she continued. “Did you hear him? They call themselves the—”

  Jordan tugged her sleeve. She stopped. Francine the Bunyip was holding the pink flag she’d shredded with her sharp, pointy-stick hands. The letters now faced Abbie and Jordan, spelling out clearly the name of their group: F A C E C H O M P E R S.

  “Oh,” Abbie said.

  Sandy furrowed her great, golden brow and stepped closer to them. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  A large feathered cryptid stepped behind the great cat. He had an owl-like head and huge talons for hands. His wings were massive, even when tucked behind his back. “She’s quite right,” he said in a British accent. “You’ll spoil our plans.”

  As the others began to gather, Jordan and Abbie backed away. Jordan felt around for the doorknob, ready to make a quick escape. “Okay, our mistake,” Jordan said. “We’ll just see ourselves out, then—”

  “Not so fast!” A high-pitched cackling startled them from behind, followed by the slamming of the door. Two flabby old arms grabbed them both. Jordan turned to look but didn’t have to. He knew that cackle. So did Abbie. Harvey Quisling had dropped his bundle of pink silk material and had them both in a bear hug. “What should I do with them, Master?”

  “Let them go.” Yet another new voice called out from behind the cryptids. It was a voice that made Jordan and Abbie freeze. It was a voice they knew better than Harvey’s. But it couldn’t be.

  “Bernard?” Jordan said.

  The crowd parted as a black-furred creature with a white stripe running down his large forehead stepped forward. The Florida Skunk Ape smiled.

  “Jordan. Abbie. I knew I could count on you to find us.” He looked at Quisling. “Let them go, Harvey. They’re not trespassing. They’re our guests. I invited them.”

  Quisling released them. “Yes, Master.” He took the torn banner from Francine, joined the others, and began to repair it with his sewing kit.

  “And Harvey,” Bernard added. “I’ve asked you to please not call me that.”

 
“Sorry, Master,” Harvey said, working his needle and thread. “Old habit.”

  Abbie looked from Quisling to Bernard. “‘Master’? Is he serious?”

  Jordan stepped forward. “Bernard, what is all this? What’s going on? Please tell us you’re here to rescue these poor creatures.”

  “In a way, Jordan, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m rescuing all of them. From the invisible shackles of the Creature Keepers.”

  Jordan and Abbie were aghast. This couldn’t be happening. Jordan struggled to understand. He felt like he was in a nightmare. “But aren’t you afraid? You all could be in danger from the—the Face Chompers. . . .”

  Bernard gently took the half-sewn flag from Harvey. He held it up so Jordan and Abbie could see the words F A C E C H O M P E R S again. He smiled at them both. “Why would we fear ourselves?”

  Jordan could feel his heart pounding. “You’re the Face Chompers?”

  “It’s okay, I know this is a shock,” Bernard said, moving closer. “But I summoned you both here secretly because I need your help.”

  “With what?” Abbie said.

  “Not what—whom,” Bernard said. “With Eldon. He made you leaders of the Creature Keepers. He trusts you. And now I need you to take care of him for me. . . .”

  Jordan and Abbie shared a confused and terrified glance. Bernard and the rest of the Face Chompers were beginning to gather closer to them. Behind his back, Jordan felt around for the doorknob again. This time he found it, and gripped it tightly.

  “Sure, Bernard,” Jordan said nervously. “We’ll take care of Eldon for you, no problem. You won’t have to worry about him ever again. Just leave it to us, okay?”

  Jordan flung open the door. He and Abbie spun around to run for it but had to stop short. Standing there in the doorway, blocking their escape, was Eldon Pecone.

  The expression on Eldon’s face was a horrible mixture of anger, confusion, and heartache. Tears streamed down his face as he looked into Jordan’s eyes. He looked to Abbie, too. Then he looked past them both, at Bernard.

  The Skunk Ape was wide-eyed, shocked to see his Keeper standing there.

  “Eldon,” Bernard sputtered. “What are you doing here?”

  Eldon held back his tears the best he could. “Making the greatest discovery of my lifetime—the awful truth.” He glanced back at Jordan and Abbie. “About all of you.”

  Eldon bolted off, into the night.

  Without hesitating or thinking twice, Jordan ran after his friend.

  16

  The moon sat low in the sky, leaving the old, rickety platform a dark maze of run-down structures. The creaking, distant sound of footsteps was all Jordan had to find his way to Eldon. Through the shadows, he spotted his friend ducking into a narrow alleyway between two supply sheds. Jordan raced after him.

  He came out of the shadows and stopped short at the only source of light besides the moon: the main pier, just across the water. Streetlights lit up the festive scene that had now made it nearly all the way to the docked cruise ships. The crowd of people and constructed Alebrijes paraded past. And standing atop an old crate at the edge of the platform, staring across at civilization, was Eldon Pecone.

  “Eldon,” Jordan said. “Listen to me! I’m just as freaked out as you are, about all of this! You have to believe me!”

  Eldon turned and looked at Jordan. “No I don’t,” he said. “I don’t have to believe in anyone anymore.” He pulled off his Badger Ranger bolo tie. “Or anything.”

  “Eldon!”

  Jordan ran to the edge as Eldon leaped. He saw his friend sliding away, using his bolo to zip-line across the water on one of the footbridge cables. Jordan watched helplessly as Eldon bumped clumsily into the side of the pier, scrambled onto it, and finally slipped into the crowd.

  Jordan looked down. A frayed, weather-beaten rope ran a few feet below the cable Eldon had used, running parallel to it across the span of darkness. Jordan took a deep breath and lunged, baby-stepping tightrope-style across the lower line, half pulling himself along with the upper one.

  He was nearly across when—snap!—the rope beneath his feet fell away. Jordan dangled from the upper cable for a terrifying moment, then shimmied hand over hand until he reached the pier.

  The crowd was happy and noisy, bouncing and laughing, dancing conga lines and swirling about. Jordan made his way through the smiling faces, every so often bumping into a large papier-mâché Alebrijes dancing among them. He had no idea where Eldon was. All he could do was frantically search the crowd of revelers.

  “Jordan!” His mother’s voice cut through all the shouting and singing. “Over here!” She grinned as she clung to Mr. Grimsley’s arm. Jordan noticed his dad had a strange expression on his face, like he was trying to remember something.

  “Can’t talk, you guys,” Jordan said. “I’m looking for someone!”

  “Well, if it’s that strange Eldon boy, we just saw him,” she said.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, we . . .” Mr. Grimsley said strangely, trailing off. “We did.”

  “Eldon bumped into us and introduced himself rather awkwardly,” Mrs. Grimsley said. “Funny, we had no idea who he was, but Eldon recognized us.”

  “He looked so familiar, though,” Mr. Grimsley said, staring off. “I just can’t place the face.”

  “Quick, you guys. Which way did he go?”

  Mr. Grimsley pointed across the pier, still looking puzzled as Jordan ran off.

  He pushed his way through the crowd and came out on the opposite side of el Terminal Remota pier. He looked down the long dock toward the twinkling lights of Progreso. Then he looked in the other direction, toward the nearby Mayan Princess. Eldon was nowhere to be seen.

  Something caught Jordan’s eye. Eldon’s Badger Ranger Badger Badge sash was lying on the edge of the dock. He picked it up and peered out over the dark water below. Suddenly, a deep, loud revving sounded somewhere beneath him. There was a speedboat pulling away from a lower mooring. Standing all alone at its controls was Eldon.

  Jordan frantically looked for a way to climb down and get to his friend. Before he could do anything, the engine revved even louder, and the powerboat lurched away from the pier. Eldon disappeared into the darkness, the sound of the powerboat’s engines fading into the night air.

  Jordan stood there staring at the water for a moment. As helpless as he felt, he was pretty sure Eldon Pecone had never taken anything that didn’t belong to him ever in his life. And he’d just witnessed his rule-following friend steal a boat. Jordan looked down at the sash in his hands. He felt a presence directly behind him. A large presence. He turned.

  “Ahh!”

  He nearly fell backward into the water. Towering directly over him was the handmade Alebrijes. Its glass-yellow dragon eyes stared down at him, and its feet, arms, and tail were being carried along by the builders they’d met. Sam and Julia stood beside the homemade creature, chuckling.

  “It worked again!” Sam said.

  “You looked like you could use a laugh,” Julia added.

  “Yeah,” Jordan said. “That was hilarious, thanks.”

  “What’s wrong?” Sam asked. “You look like you’ve seen a real monster!”

  A horrible thought suddenly struck Jordan. He’d left Abbie alone with Quisling—and the Face Chompers! He bolted past Sam, Julia, and the colorful Alebrijes, back through the parading crowd, toward the other side of the pier.

  The tail end of the parade had made its way past the old wooden oil rig, and the party had gathered at the end of the pier beneath the Mayan Princess. Jordan leaped off the edge of the pier, grabbing another rope. It snapped as he clutched it, and he swung across the expanse, arcing lower than the platform. He had no choice but to let go or else risk slamming into the wooden scaffolding beneath the old structure.

  Rather than plunging into the cold water below, Jordan found himself suddenly bouncing in some sort of strange webbing. A hammock of sorts had been knit together out
of a clear silk material, like a spider’s web. Looking back toward the pier, he saw a barely visible, thin footbridge knit from the same sturdy, see-through material running across the water, connecting the underbelly of the platform to the underbelly of el Terminal Remota. “Quisling,” Jordan muttered. He climbed out of the net and pulled himself through a trap door, then bolted for the cluster of houses in the center of the old wooden rig.

  As he approached the old cabin, Jordan heard mumblings and then strange and sinister laughter. He thought he heard Abbie’s voice but wasn’t sure. Fearing the worst, he burst inside and ran into the central, lantern-lit room.

  The rogue cryptids were gathered around in a tight circle, with their backs to Jordan. Harvey Quisling’s voice cackled from the center. “Now, my dear, if you don’t want to be stabbed, you’d better hold perfectly still!”

  “Get away from my sister!” Jordan lunged, grabbing the first cryptid he could—a monkeylike creature with long, tangled hair and the lower body and tail of a mermaid. He shoved the beast aside, wading deeper into the circle. “Hold on, Abbie, I’m coming! I won’t let them chomp your face!”

  “Ew. What a disgusting thing to say.” The Owl Man didn’t put up a fight, instead politely stepping out of the way. Jordan found that many of the other creatures did the same. Sandy the Golden Liger growled a bit as Jordan stepped on her huge golden paw, but within a few moments, the entire group parted without much fuss. Jordan stopped short at what he saw.

  Abbie stood before Harvey Quisling. The little man was holding a pincushion and had placed pins in an oversized pink silk nightie Abbie seemed to be modeling. It was pulled over her black shirt, and Jordan could clearly read its stitched letters: F A C E C H O M P E R S.

  Abbie chuckled. “Relax, Jordan. These Face Chompers are cool.”

  Jordan’s eyes went wide. “Oh, no. Snap out of it, Abbie! Don’t you see, they’ve brainwashed you!” He spun around to face the creatures all standing in stunned silence. “That’s it, isn’t it? The fourth special cryptid’s power! Hypnotizing its victims to make them think it’s cool for all of you to chomp her face!”