Creature Keepers and the Hijacked Hydro-Hide

by Peter Nelson

  “She can be a handful. Not to mention risking the wrath of Alistair . . .”

  “Right! Meanwhile, all Harvey needs to do is jiggle some car keys and Peggy goes into screensaver sleep mode. Load her onto a U-Haul, and you’re open for business the next day. I’m telling you, something here still doesn’t add up.”

  “Nessie’s more famous,” Eldon said. “She’d bring in bigger crowds.”

  “My dad has tossed us in that ugly car for a family road-trip vacation every year I’ve been alive. Believe me, anyone willing to pay good money to see a giant, captive water lizard will pay just as much to see a giant, captive jackalope. Nessie may have the name recognition. But after driving hundreds of miles with a carful of bored and whining kids, parents will pay whatever you ask, to see whatever you stick in front of them.”

  “You’re right,” Eldon said. “It doesn’t make sense, unless—”

  “Unless this Gusto person has another reason for wanting Nessie.”

  Eldon and Jordan looked down at the calm, blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico, rippling gently beneath them—the complete opposite of the violent, surging black waters of Loch Ness.

  “Maybe it’ll be all right,” Jordan said. “According to Alistair, Nessie’s too smart and too strong to let herself be caged up in some swamp zoo by an old fart and a crooked Keeper kid.”

  “Still,” Eldon said, staring at the water below. “We have to find her before anyone else does.”

  22

  “Abbie! Come in for dinner!” Mrs. Grimsley shouted down the sloping front yard, from the re-bricked front steps of the house. She turned and went back inside to set the table, shutting the freshly painted front door behind her. On the edge of the newly sodded lawn, Abbie sat with Mrs. Fritzler, watching the other residents finish their stickball game as the sun began to set over Waning Acres.

  “That eyesore of a house is looking less like a lump of crud every day,” Mrs. Fritzler said through a wrinkled frown. “I would’ve just bulldozed the dump, but if your fool parents wanna throw away good money, whatever toots in their boots, I suppose.”

  Abbie smiled. “Mrs. Fritzler, I wanna be just like you when I get old and ugly.”

  She smiled back. “I’ll be dead and gone by then, so knock yourself out, kid. Tell ya what, I’ll leave you the house your grandpa gave me. That should get you started. You can have my slippers and my dryer-lint collection, too. You’ll be on your way to Fritzville.”

  “What house? My grampa gave you a house?”

  Mrs. Fritzler stood and cracked her back. “Sure. He gave us all houses. Least he could do, disappearing on us like he did.” She began shuffling off.

  “What? When was this?”

  She stopped and turned. “Open your ears. I just told you. Soon after he disappeared from the old folks’ home, there.”

  Abbie looked up at her grandfather’s house. “That was an old folks’ home?”

  “Sure. That dump was the original Waning Acres.” She pointed from the old house to the newer neighborhood with its manicured lawns and smoothly paved road. “Long before any of this. He had all this built, just for us. Like I said, least he could do.”

  “So you, all of you, lived there together?”

  “Most miserable I’ve ever been. And for me, that’s sayin’ something. Your grandpa was fruitier than a jelly donut, always gabbin’ about weird creatures. But he did one good thing—left us this land and plans for this community. So I guess his life wasn’t a total waste.” She mumbled to herself as she started shuffling away again. “Although what kind of fool wanders into a swamp in his pajamas to get eaten by an alligator, I’ll never understand. . . .”

  “Wait, how’d you get the houses after he disappeared and died?”

  Mrs. Fritzler stopped once again. This was getting irritating. “You writing a book or something? I don’t remember, some lawyer. Needlepine, Nosenpooper . . . Noodlepen . . . C. E. Noodlepen. Sent us the letters, deeds, and keys, easy as you please. Well, not all of us, mind you. Just the lucky ones, I guess. Although standing here getting harassed by you, I’m starting to wish I lived somewhere far away.”

  She glared at Abbie, who was suddenly lost in thought. Mrs. Fritzler shrugged and turned away again. “I see you’re working on a new life plan. Well, it was flattering while it lasted. See ya tomorrow, kid. Unless I don’t.”

  Abbie stood staring at the neat row of identical houses lining Waning Acres.

  The sun began to set behind the bunny-shaped balloon, casting a golden glow on Florida’s western coast. Eldon adjusted the flame in the center of the basket, causing the air inside the balloon to cool slightly. They began to descend, drifting low to the water toward the green tangle of the Everglades in the distance.

  Gliding silently along the shoreline, Eldon gazed through the binoculars, identifying all the coves and bays as they made their way south. The farther down they traveled, the more unwelcoming the names sounded. Up near the accessible and populated Everglades Airport, the inlets were called Oyster Bay, Sweetwater, and Duck Rock Cove. Farther south into no-man’s-land, it was Dismal Bay and Alligator Cove—if they had names at all.

  “There!” Eldon pointed toward the coastline and handed Jordan the binoculars. “Just off the deepwater side of Lost Man’s Cove.”

  Jordan took the binoculars and scanned the gnarled tree line for anything man-made. Something gleamed off the end of one edge of a large inlet, catching his eye. On the outer shore of the inlet stood a large, circular structure that looked to be constructed from thick eucalyptus trunks. What was strange was the enormous bubble dome perched on top of it. Jordan lowered the binoculars.

  “That’s it?” he said. “That overgrown jungle hut is the crypto-zoo?”

  “It has to be, although there’s no way a structure like that could hold Nessie. Let’s sail in for a closer look.”

  Except for the bubble dome, the building blended in perfectly with the surrounding swamp. Its tree trunk–camouflaged circular walls rose two stories high and were cut off at the top to form a narrow ledge that ran around the perimeter of the dome roof. The dome itself was opaque. It revealed nothing inside, while reflecting the overhanging trees and dusk-streaked sky above.

  But the most suspicious and disturbing thing was how it sat on the far edge of Lost Man’s Cove, just north of the Okeeyuckachokee Swamp. The next major inlet down was Ponce de Leon Bay. It was only a few short miles from there to the great lemon tree—and the Creature Keepers’ secret swamp lair hidden beneath it.

  “I don’t like this,” Eldon said. “We should go back to base and regroup.”

  But Jordan was already fanning the flame in the center of the basket, turning up the heat and making their airship rise. “What do you think you’re doing?” Eldon said.

  “We’re going in.” Jordan looked down at the tree line below. “Well, first we’re going over. Then we’re going on top. Then we’re going in.”

  As night fell across the swamp, the bunny-shaped hot-air balloon descended along with it, slowly drifting down from above the surrounding trees. It gently touched down on top of the glass dome, and Eldon turned off the flame in the burner. As the air cooled, the big bunny drooped over its basket drowsily.

  Slipping out of the basket, Jordan was surprised how warm the dome’s surface felt, even through his sneakers. He leaned down and touched the glass. It felt like a toasty mug of Bernard’s hot cocoa. He lay down on his stomach and cupped his hands around his eyes, trying to peer into the gray glass. It was dimly lit below, and he could barely make out large, dark shapes inside. The glass wasn’t tinted after all—it was an actual fog, filling the dome. It reminded Jordan of something, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

  “Excuse me, Jordan? I could use some assistance, here!”

  Eldon had tiptoed too close to the slope of the dome, and was now on his butt, trying not to slide over the side. Jordan scurried over on his stomach, reached out, and grasped the back of Eldon’s Badger Ranger bol
o kerchief. He pulled with all his might, but the two of them continued to slide down the increasingly steep slope together. They picked up speed and went over the edge of the dome.

  They landed not on the swampy ground, but rather on the ledge of the tree-stump wall supporting the perimeter of the dome. Eldon hit first, then had the pleasure of breaking Jordan’s fall. “Would you kindly get off me so I can check if I’ve broken anything and am in need of first aid? Thank you.”

  Jordan rolled off Eldon and found himself facing a small, covered vent in the floor of the ledge. “Hey, give me your Badger Ranger buck knife,” he said. He unfolded its small screwdriver, then removed the vent cover. A blast of humid air hit his face as he peered in. “Okay,” he said excitedly. “You ready?”

  “Entering like this could be dangerous. At the very least, it’s trespassing on private property. I’d like to suggest a new plan. I say we balloon back to the lair, get reinforcements, and return during their regular business hours.”

  “What? Nessie could be in there. What if she’s their business?”

  “I told you, this place could never hold her. But it might yield more clues, or maybe the proprietors know something. We’ll come back tomorrow. I’ll bring a box of Badger Ranger Butterscotch Brownies. Technically, we’re neighbors.”

  “Well, I say we pop in now and meet the neighbors.” Jordan moved toward the vent, but Eldon blocked it.

  “I can’t condone breaking and entering. It’s very poor citizenship. My Badger Ranger buck knife, if you please.”

  Jordan couldn’t believe this. He sat back, gently closed the knife, then tossed it to Eldon—just a little out of his reach. As Eldon moved to catch it, Jordan scrambled through the vent, faster than a desert jackalope burrowing under a rock, disappearing into the crypto-zoo.

  23

  It was a long drop to the floor, but the landing was surprisingly soft and smushy, just like the mossy ground of the swamp outside. Feeling the warm, moist cushion beneath him, Jordan realized that it didn’t just feel mossy—it was mossy. Real moss, growing indoors. Jordan breathed in the soupy, humid air and started to stand up. WUMP! Eldon fell on top of him, flattening his face in the moss.

  “Ow!”

  “Good. You deserved that.” Eldon rolled off him and stood up. “I can’t believe you disobeyed my authority.”

  “I can’t believe you wanted to wait until tomorrow. Besides, I don’t think you technically have any authority over me.” Jordan stood up. “I’m not a Badger Ranger or a Creature Keeper.”

  “With that attitude, you never will be.” He peered through the foggy air. “What is this place? It’s like a sweat lodge in here!”

  Something wet hit the top of Jordan’s head. The glass-domed ceiling was dripping with condensation. This reminded him even more of whatever it was that he couldn’t quite remember.

  “There’s no way this place was designed for Nessie,” Eldon said. “Some other creature, maybe, but not her. Not only could this bubble never hold her, it’s providing the exact opposite of the environment that she needs. The humidity in here could kill her, never mind make her very cranky.”

  Humidity, Jordan thought.

  Suddenly, a slow, slinking, slithering sound from just off to their right sent a chill up their sweaty backs. Worse, it was followed by a horrible squealing sound that echoed throughout the foggy dome.

  Squeeeeeeee!

  “What was that?” Eldon whispered.

  “Remember what Alistair said? That Gusto guy who came to Nessie’s cave had a vicious creature in a box! Maybe this is where Gusto keeps his monsters!”

  They moved quickly away from the noise, feeling their way for an exit through the misty fog, along the rock formations jutting out of the floor.

  Squeeeeeeee!

  The creature’s unnatural high-pitched cry bounced off the glass above them, muffling at the moss beneath their feet. Jordan inched closer to Eldon.

  Squeeeeeeee!

  WUMP. Eldon stopped short, causing Jordan to bump into him. “What is it?”

  “It sounds like it’s in pain,” Eldon said.

  “It’s probably hungry. Keep moving!”

  Squeeeeeeee!

  “No,” Eldon said. “We have to go back. We should try to help it.”

  “You didn’t even want to come down here!”

  “That was before I knew there was an animal in distress down here.”

  “It’s not a kitty cat stuck in a tree, Eldon! We don’t know what that thing is! I’m not gonna go rooting around in the darkness looking for it!”

  A spotlight suddenly cut through the steamy fog, blinding them.

  “Don’t mind him,” a raspy, high-pitched voice called out from behind the light. A blurry figure moved toward them, growing sharper as it approached. “He’s just being a good little Creature Keeper. Isn’t that right, Eldon?”

  Out of the fog stepped a wrinkled little old man. His skin was as white as the fog swirling around him. His pale scalp had a few scraggly hairs on it, and he was hunched over. He wore a shiny white jumpsuit, made of silky fur. They both recognized him from Alistair’s fireside ghost story. But this was no ghost.

  “So glad you came. You’re also just the fella I wanted to see, hee-hee . . .”

  Eldon studied him. “I don’t think we’ve met. Señor Gusto, I presume?”

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” The old man burst into a high-pitched, cackling fit of laughter. “Of course! You think I’m Gusto! Of course, of course! Yes! Perfect!” He reached into a sack hanging around his neck and pulled out something shiny and squirming, then flung it past them, into the fog.

  Squeeeeeeeee!

  Flopping and thumping noises were followed by the horrible sounds of the mashing and smashing of flesh and bone. It smelled very fishy.

  “I suppose, since you’re our first visitors, I should officially welcome you to Quisling’s Zoopendous Crypto-Zoo!”

  “So if you’re not Gusto, then who are you? And where is Harvey Quisling? I would very much like to have a word with him.”

  “Yes, I bet you would, hee-hee. Who knows who is who is who is who?”

  Jordan was preoccupied with the dark area where the munching sounds were coming from. “Hey, could we maybe, uh, take the crazy talk somewhere else?”

  The old man looked at him. “You I do not know. Who are you, m’boy?”

  “Grimsley,” Jordan said. “Jordan Grimsley.”

  The old man’s eyes widened slightly. He grinned at Eldon and then moved closer to Jordan, studying his face in the spotlight. “Yes, of course you are! Hee-hee! Come, into my office. It’s hotter than a desert hole-in-the-ground, isn’t it, hee-hee.”

  The old man led them toward a double-sealed pair of glass doors, which slid open. Jordan followed him through both, into a small office with a desk and a sewing machine in the corner, much like the one he’d seen in Peggy’s burrow. Suddenly, the old man spun around and hit a button on a console on his desk. The inner sealed door closed, followed by the outer one, trapping Eldon between the two.

  “Hey!” Jordan rushed toward the old man.

  “Stop where you are,” the old man said, standing over the console. “Or I’ll gas him!”

  Jordan froze. He looked back at Eldon, trapped in the small space between the two doors.

  “Aw, heck. Let’s gas him anyway.” The old man hit the button. The chamber where Eldon was trapped suddenly filled with a thick, brown smoke.

  “No!” Jordan rushed the glass door and tried to pry it open. He couldn’t see Eldon, the smoke was so thick. He turned back to face the old man with fear and anger in his eyes. “If you harm him in any way, I swear I’ll—”

  “Harm who?” He hit a button. WHOOSH—the door swept open. Jordan spun back around. The gas was gone. And so was Eldon.

  24

  “What have you done, you crazy old troll?” The old man had moved behind a small desk and stood before a panel filled with buttons. “What was that stuff?” Jordan demande
d. “Where did he go? WHERE’S ELDON?”

  “Relax,” the old man said. “He’s below. My new crypto-zoo has a surprisingly roomy basement. As for the gas, it’s a natural extract from a swamp flower. A simple sleeping gas, perfectly harmless. He’ll have a headache when he comes to in a day or so, but he’ll be fine. Unless, of course, you’re not cooperative.”

  “You get him back up here, NOW!” Jordan lurched toward him, fists clenched.

  “Uh-uh.” The old man laid a bony, white finger on a big, red button. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This is a newly installed control system, and I’m still not sure which buttons do what. I’d hate for our old friend to get hurt down there.”

  “What do you want?” Jordan seethed.

  “Ah! I thought you’d never ask, hee-hee!” The old man grinned at him. He squinted his beady little eyes. “Let’s see. I want, I want, I want . . . the Puddle of Ripeness.”

  “What is that? What are you talking about?”

  The old man’s grin faded. “I thought you were a Grimsley.”

  “Yes. But I don’t know about any ripening pool—”

  “The Puddle of Ripeness! I know you’ve heard of it!” He slammed his wrinkled fist down on the console of buttons.

  “Okay!” Jordan tried to think fast. He didn’t want this nut to do anything reckless. “Puddle of Ripeness. Got it. I’ll get it for you, I promise. Just let Eldon go and tell me where it is.”

  “I don’t know where it is! That’s why I need you to get it for me!” He eyed Jordan carefully. “Hmm . . . Not much like your grandfather, I can see that . . .”

  Jordan quietly slipped his grandfather’s ring off his finger and tucked it in his pocket. “You never knew my grandfather. He’d never befriend someone like you.”