The Mysterious Abductions (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

THE FINAL PERIOD

“M
on dieu,
how time flies! Here we are, ladies and gentlemen—the final period has arrived! And here comes the fox who has set this cave on fire tonight! Not literally, of course!” Bismark blew Dawn a kiss as the players emerged from their huddles and fell into position. The floor had been refreshed by lomandra brooms during the intermission.

The jerboa fans were still riled up from Tobin's surprise goal in the second period. Before the bats even
whistled to resume play, the crowd was already roaring in anticipation. Boris, too, was stomping his feet and howling like a joyous lunatic.

“
La pièce de la résistance
!” Bismark hollered above the noise. “Game on!”

As the bats dropped the spider, time seemed to slow down. Dawn gripped her kiwi. Tobin bit his tongue. Bismark cleared his throat.

Dawn won the face-off and swept the tarantula over to Cora. Thwack, thwack, thwack! They passed Harry in a triangle, advancing slowly but surely. But Miss was running out of patience. She checked Ajax with her shoulder and stole the spider. The rough play sent a gasp through the crowd. By the time the coyote staggered to his feet, the Crocs were already attacking the goal.

“Oh goodness!” said Tobin. Miss was bearing down on him, her kiwi raised. At the edge of his vision he saw Cora. The wombat tapped her nose. Tobin shut his eyes, and took a deep smell. In the darkness, he could sense a presence. It smelled like kiwi beak and spider, and it was coming his way, curving slightly to the right. He held out his paw.

THOCK!

The crowd went wild, pounding their chests,
ripping hair out of their ears. The sheer excitement made the air ripple. Tobin opened his eyes and looked down. He was holding Harry.

“Oof! Not so tight, pangolin!” shouted the tarantula.

“I'm very sorry,” said Tobin, and carefully slid the spider over to Dawn.

Thwack, thwack, thwack! Dawn passed to Cora, who tapped it back to Julian. Julian advanced up the floor, dodging a lunging tackle from Orr.

Thwack, thwack, thwack! Julian flicked a pass up in the air, which soared over Vee's head and landed right at the feet of Ciro.

Thwack, thwack thwack! Ciro tucked the spider between his legs, but he was checked against the side of the rink by Miss. Thwack, thwack, thwack!

“
Mon dieu
!
Mon dieu
! We have reached the final minute of play!” Bismark shouted. He looked down at his friends. They were still down by one point, and the Crocs controlled the spider. Was it really going to end this way?

The Crocs took a long shot at goal, which Tobin recovered expertly. He passed the tarantula forward to Dawn. The fox looked left, then right. Her teammates were covered by defenders. A pass would be risky.

“Thirty seconds! The time ticks away!” called Bismark.

The bats noted the time and raised their fingers to their mouths, ready to blow the final whistle.

Bismark sat up from his seat. His heart was pounding. “Twenty!
Veinte
!
Vingt
!”

Dawn glided down the floor, controlling Harry with gentle touches of her kiwi. Two crocodiles peeled away from their marks to defend the charging fox. Just before they converged on her for a crushing tackle, Dawn crouched. The Crocs collided with each other, crumpling to the floor.

“Fifteen seconds! Ladies and gentlemen, do not blink, do not breathe, do not move a muscle! You don't want to miss this!”

Thwack, thwack, thwack! Dawn made a quick pass to Cora, who was wide open. The wombat took it down the marble, where she was met with stiff resistance from Bee. Cora whipped the spider over to Julian, who flicked it back to Ajax. Thwack, thwack, thwack! Ajax passed to Ciro, who passed to Dawn.

Ten seconds. Thwack, thwack, thwack.

The bats inhaled deeply, preparing to whistle for the end of the game.

Thwack, thwack, thwack. Eight seconds.

The challengers raced along the marble floor, frantically trying to outmaneuver their defenders and get open for the pass.

Thwack, thwack, thwack. Seven seconds.

The crowd was quiet. Their fate seemed to be decided.

Thwack, thwack, thwack. Six seconds.

“
Una tragedia
! The end is upon us! And what on earth are those two doing?” Bismark wailed.

Down at the opposite end of the floor, Tobin and Cora stood hand in hand. Then they started to spin, gripping each other's paws, until they were a hypnotic blur of fur and scales. The crowd gasped. Round and round, the spiraling twosome shot down the rink, picking up speed.

Before anyone could react, the spinning sensation of pangolin and wombat whirled in front of Boris's goal. Dawn, who still had control of Harry, had a choice to make.

“Three seconds! Two! One!” shouted Bismark.

Dawn drew her kiwi back, held her breath, and let it rip.

Thwack! Harry careened through the air and bounced off the whirling dervish—whether it was off Tobin or Cora, it was impossible to say—and hit the
top-right corner of the goalpost. Tink! The spider landed just outside the goal-line. No goal. Boris gaped at the motionless spider at his feet. Then, before he could blink, there was Dawn who had hustled forward after the pass. Thwick. With a tap of Dawn's kiwi, Harry slid into the net.

The bats were too shocked to whistle. Even if they had, the clamor of the audience would have drowned them out. The shot was good. The game was tied.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

THE SHOOT-OUT

“O
h goodness, now what happens?” asked Tobin. He was still a bit woozy from all the spinning around.

“What a thrilling turn of events!” said Boris. “My heart can't handle it! My cold blood is boiling! A tiebreaker! A shoot-out!”

The Crocs looked at their leader in dismay. Any shred of composure he had at the beginning of the match was long since cast off. He was openly giddy.

“How does this shoot-out work?” asked Dawn.

The bats stepped forward and cleared their throats. Shouting over the crowd had fried their vocal cords.

“Each team will select three players to take a shot on goal.”

“If at the end of the shoot-out, a tie still remains, both teams will shoot again.”

“Sudden death this time. First goal wins.”

“
Svor
.”

A concerned expression registered on Dawn's face. She glanced up at Boris, who could barely contain his excitement.

“Boris,” she said, “if we win this shootout, we win the game. Correct?”

“Yes, yes, if you win, good for you!” said the ecstatic crocodile.

“Then you will let us all go free?”

Boris turned away from the fox. He swallowed hard and scratched his neck with his kiwi's beak. “Right, right. Everyone, to your positions! Our shooters will be Miss, Vee, and Orr. The Nocs shoot first!”

Dawn did not like the way Boris answered her question, but had no time to argue. The Nocs huddled and quickly selected three canines to be their shooters:
Julian, Ajax, and then Dawn.

The crowd was tense as Julian glided to the center line. He had a nervous habit of spinning his kiwi.

“Oh, Julian, stop, stop I tell you. I'm going to be sick!” the bird begged, her bristly feathers fanning out with each rotation.

“Sorry. I'm just a little nervous.”

The coyote squatted down low. The blue light of the cave started to swim and dance before his eyes. A white haze crept in at the edges of his vision.

“WZZZZ!” the bats whistled.

Harry dropped to the marble floor, and Julian tapped the spider forward, picking up speed.

Boris danced side to side, knees up, knees down, moving his body to protect different parts of the net.

Halfway to the goal, Julian flipped Harry straight up into the air. The crowd went silent as they watched the tarantula rise and fall. In one fluid motion, the coyote swung his kiwi like a hammer, connecting with Harry in midair. The spider whizzed toward Boris and bounced off the tip of his outstretched claw. The shot was good.

“WZZZZ!” all four bats blew in unison.

“Goal for the Nocs!” shouted Bismark. “They pull into an early lead. And the pressure,
mes amis,
is
most definitely on the Crocs now!”

The crowd howled as Miss slid to the center of the floor. The Croc hunched over her kiwi, shutting out the jeers and boos. When the whistle blew, she cradled Harry with her kiwi and methodically moved down the floor. She switched the tarantula over to her left side. With a slap, the crocodile belted the spider at the corner of the net.

Tobin dove to the left, his stumpy arms fully extended. But as he jumped, his tail caught under his foot.

“Oof!” His legs shot out behind him, sending him into a high-speed front flip. As he came down with a heavy thud on the stone, he felt a hard tap on the side of his rear foot. Blotches and spots danced across his vision. And then everything went black.

“Tobin!” Cora cried.

The Nocs all gathered around their pangolin friend lying unconscious in the goal. Even Bismark glided down from his announcer's perch.

“
Mon ami! Mi hermano
!” He flung his arms around his friend. “Oh, Fate, how cruel you are! You bring this wonderful pangolin into my life, only to snatch him away so soon? Yes, he made terrible smells from time to time, but—”

“Bismark,” said Dawn, “he's waking up.”

“Oh goodness,” Tobin moaned, his beady eyes blinking.

“How are you feeling?” Dawn asked. Bending down, she inspected the pangolin's eyes for signs of trauma.

“Oh goodness,” Tobin muttered. The swarm of faces around him was shifting into focus. He remembered where he was.

“Move aside, players!” called a bat, swooping in.

“Give him some space,” said another, clearing a path through the huddled players.

The pangolin started to stand.

“No need to worry, everybody. I'll be just—ow!” He clutched his right foot. It was swelling to the size of a big, ripe tomato.

“Looks like a sprain,” said Dawn. “Do you need to sit this one out?”

Tobin bent his head low, unable to speak aloud the words that they all knew to be true.

“It's all right,” whispered Dawn. “You were great, and the game's almost done.” The fox cleared her throat and turned to the bats. “I will serve as replacement goalie.”

“WZZZZZZ!” the bats whistled. “Then it's
settled! Back to your sidelines, we're on to the next shooter!”

Ciro and Ajax reached toward the pangolin to help him move off the floor.

“Wait!” said Tobin. “Did I miss the block? Did they score?”

Dawn placed a paw on the pangolin's shoulder. Her amber eyes glowed with pride.

“No, Tobin.” The fox smiled. “You stopped it. We are winning by one.”

Chapter Thirty

THE FINAL SHOT

A
jax and Vee both made their shots, bringing the score to two-one. The Nocs still held the lead. Only one shooter from each team remained.

The bleachers were boiling with anticipation and excitement. The jerboas had screamed themselves hoarse, but they were still going at it. Boris and the rest of the Crocs were bunched together on their end of the floor, trying their best to strategize over the crowd noise.

Over on the Nocs' side of the floor, Dawn
stretched her legs in preparation for her shot. She licked the kiwi's feathers, slicking them down for maximum wind efficiency. She was ready.

On the sidelines, Ciro, Julian, Ajax, Tobin and Cora watched as the fox took center floor. If she made this shot, they would win. They would have their victory and freedom.

Bismark waved his hands, calling for calm. “Ladies and gentlemen!
Silencio, por favor
! The fox is about to work her magic and win this game. Of course, she has already won my heart.”

The whistles sounded, and the bats dropped Harry to the marble.

Thwack, thwack. Dawn scooped the spider and thundered down the floor. Thwack, thwack. Boris spread his limbs to cover all four corners of the goal. His tail curled between his legs, protecting against the dummy shot. Thwack, thwack. Dawn was closing in on the goal. She raised the kiwi high above her shoulder, squeezing it a bit tighter than usual.

“Eek!” The bird opened her eyes, spotted Harry, and flinched.

Dawn still managed to connect with the spider, but she shanked the shot wide. Harry banked to the left, arced over Boris, and hit the wall.

“No goal!” said the bats. The crowd became quiet. Whispers filled the room.

“
Mon dieu
! Ladies and gentleman, my fellow nocturnals, what a twist! A malfunction of the equipment at a crucial time! Hearts are breaking here in the cave tonight—but don't lose hope yet, folks. Our Nocs are still one point ahead.” Bismark swirled his cape to add drama. The crowd was eating it up. “And it all rides on this last shot!”

Boris's teeth were chattering with nervous excitement. The other Crocs chewed their sharp talons down to dull, stubby points. The reptiles were still in contention.

“Your final shooter!” called the bats.

Orr glided to the center line. If he missed the goal, the Nocs won. If he made it, there would be sudden death.

Standing in the goal, Dawn clenched her jaw. She had to stop this shot, but she knew she lacked the reflexes of a natural goalkeeper. The fox glanced at the sidelines. For some of her teammates, “sudden death” would mean sudden death.

“Oh goodness,” Tobin said. He saw Dawn drop her head. She looked like she bore the weight of the world on her shoulders.

The bats flapped their wings and flew above center line, ready to blow their whistles.

“Wait!” Tobin shouted out from the sideline. Everyone gasped as the injured pangolin limped out on the floor with his kiwi.

“What are you doing?” asked Dawn. “You've got a sprained foot!”

Tobin looked at the fox. He thought of her strength and her leadership. How she never let anyone down, and was too proud to ask for help. “I can do this,” he said. “Let me take care of this one.”

Dawn locked eyes with the determined pangolin.

“I know you can,” said the fox. She patted Tobin on the scales, and then made her way toward the sideline. “Tobin,” she called over her shoulder.

The pangolin met his friend's gaze.

Dawn's whiskers curled up as she smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Boris mounted a stone near his bench.

“Enough, already!” he screamed. “On with the game!”

Dawn hurried to the sidelines as Tobin took his position on the goal line.

“WZZZZ!” the bats whistled, and dropped the spider. With gentle flicks of his wrist, Orr controlled the
spider by barely touching it with the tip of the kiwi's beak.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Orr moved slowly toward the Noc's goal, letting the pressure build on Tobin.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Seconds felt like hours. Orr seemed to be taunting the pangolin with his slow approach.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

The pangolin trembled. “Oh goodness, oh g-goodness,” he stammered over and over again. With bad vision and a bad foot, Tobin started to panic.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tobin glanced at the sideline. He looked at Ciro, Dawn, the coyotes. Their eyes gleamed with hope. Then, he saw Cora. The wombat smiled and touched her nose.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Suddenly, Tobin's foot didn't hurt. The pangolin tightened his grip on his kiwi. “The nose knows. The nose knows.” Tobin repeated and braced himself for the shot. “The nose knows!” He closed his eyes.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

He was in the dark world again. The crowd felt louder, closer. Tobin took a deep breath. Aromas filtered into his nose, adding color to the darkness. The glowing pools smelled like grass. The jerboas smelled like sweat. And Orr smelled like salt. He could sense the Croc rushing toward him, but he was not scared anymore.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Orr raised his kiwi. The crowd froze in suspense.

THWACK!

Harry rocketed through the air, a line drive to the top-right corner of the net. All eyes were glued on the spider. All eyes except for the goalie's.

With his eyes still pressed shut, Tobin waited. He could smell a small object approaching. Sniff, sniff.

There was an odd vinegar smell to spiders. He used to find it quite unpleasant, but somehow he had gained a new appreciation. Sniff, sniff.

Strangely, the tarantula seemed to smell slightly sweeter when it was spinning to the left, rather than to the right. Tobin had no idea why this might be. But he could detect a hint of that sweetness now. Sniff, sniff.

He extended his left paw.

THOCK!

Orr stood motionless. The challengers held their breath. And the jerboas went wild.

“WZZZZZZZ!” four whistles blasted, marking the end of the game.

“No goal!” said the bats. “No goal!”

Deafening cheers filled the room and echoed down the stone halls. The Sea Sparkle shone extra bright. The cave lit up with joy.

All of the Nocs swarmed the floor and hoisted Tobin on their shoulders.

“We did it!” they shouted. “We won!”

The jerboas and the other kidnapped animals rushed to congratulate the winning team. Joe ran up to his sister and gave her a long, tearful hug. Audrey nuzzled Ajax with her nose. The mink, possum, raccoon, and honey badger thanked their saviors.

Only the Crocs team remained off to the side, sulking and furious. Except for Boris, of course. Long after the rest of the animals calmed down, he was still clapping and shouting. Dawn approached the jubilant crocodile with her tail held high.

“Good game,” she said with a smile. Then she turned to the rest of the Crocs. “Well done.” The fox bowed as a sign of respect.

Boris grinned.

“And thank you,” continued the fox.

“For what?” Boris asked.

“For agreeing to the terms of the game. For granting us freedom to leave.”

The crocodile's snout twitched, and his eyes flickered. “What?” he roared. “You're not going anywhere! I need you!”

“Of course we're going,” said Dawn. “That was our deal.”

“Never trust a crocodile,” said Boris. He flipped the strange red tube up in the air.

For once, Dawn found herself speechless. Boris was breaking his word. Her mouth hung ajar.

“I must meet the coachers!” Boris shouted. “The coachers! Don't you understand? Finally, I am a coacher with a great team!”

The fox's eyes were wide with confusion. “Yes…” she began. “You're a coach, but….”

“No!” screamed the Croc. “A coacher! A coacher!” Boris wrung his claws in the air. “Enough of this! Miss, Bee, Hay, Vee, Orr! Seize them all! Block the exits! They're not going anywhere.”