The Secret Zoo (11 page)

W
hen the scouts had their first clear view of the new birds, Ella asked, “What are they? They look weird.”

“Impossible!” Richie answered. “Those are dodo birds.”

“
What
birds?” said Ella.

“Dodos.”

Ella added her usual two-second sarcasm. “Dodo as in Richie?”

Noah said, “Dodo as in
extinct
. Right, Richie?”

“Yep,” Richie said. “The dodo's been extinct for hundreds of years.”

“With a name like dodo, I'm not surprised,” Ella said.

“Dodos weren't stupid; they were just really nice,” Richie explained. “A long time ago, sailors discovered them on an island. The sailors hunted the dodos, and they brought animals—rats, pigs, and dogs—that fed on their eggs. On top of this, the sailors wiped out the dodos' habitat to build homes. The birds' innocence made them easy victims, and they were killed in such numbers that it took less than a hundred years for the too-good-for-its-own-good dodo species to be wiped out.”

“That's about the most disturbing thing I've ever heard,” Ella said.

“I know,” Richie said. “Poor birds.”

“I'm not talking about the dodos, you dodo. I'm talking about the fact that you know that kind of stuff.”

“Wait a minute,” Noah cut in. “You guys are missing the most important part. The dodo is extinct.”

“Yep,” Richie said. He snatched his backpack from Blizzard's jaws and strapped it across his back.

“If they're extinct, how can we be watching a whole flock of them fly right up to us?”

“Good question,” Richie said, “because not only is the dodo extinct, but it can't fly.”

“Wait,” Ella said. “This doesn't make any sense.”

“The dodo is…well…truly a dodo about flying.” Richie poked his thumb in Podgy's direction and added, “Like the penguin, it's a flightless bird.”

“That solves it, then,” Ella said. “Those things aren't dodos. You're wrong.”

“Nunh-unh—I'm positive about this.”

“Well, Mr. Britannica, do you mind telling me how an extinct bird that can't fly is flying around being…not extinct?”

Richie shrugged his shoulders.

The giant flock of dodos rose in front of them. They dipped and circled.

“They're definitely dodos!” Richie called out over the noise of their flapping wings.

Noah thought the birds resembled oversized seagulls. Their feathers were different shades of gray, and they had strange hooked beaks. Their unique feature was their ridiculously small wingspan.

A team of six dodos was carrying a velvet curtain like those the scouts had seen hanging at the entrances to the sectors. They draped it near Blizzard, across the branch. The bear looked at them as if to say, “Yeah? So what?”

“Step on the curtain, Blizzard,” Noah said. “I think I know what they're doing.”

Blizzard growled in protest. Then, realizing the dodos' intention, he complied. The big birds buried their claws in the cloth and, flapping their puny wings as fast as possible, hoisted the big bear in the air and descended slowly into the foggy depths of the birdhouse. Blizzard poked
his head out of the velvet pouch and peered at the birds. He bared his teeth and growled again, as if to say, “Drop me and become my snack!”

“Holy smokes!” Richie called out. “Look at that! I don't—
eeeyaaahhh
!” Dodos seized him by the shoulders of his jacket and the cuffs of his jeans. They swept him up and lowered him into the abyss, belly first.

“Well,” Noah said as he glanced at Ella, “who wants to go
neeexxxttt
?” He'd been snagged. “
Whoooaaa!
” he said as the dodos carried him down into the Forest of Flight.

Two more teams moved in for Ella and Podgy at the same time.

Noah felt as if he were skydiving. Though the height terrified him, he couldn't help noticing how spectacular the Forest of Flight was. A hundred shades of green, the forest was dotted with peculiar and variegated flowers. Thousands of birds coasted through the air, punching openings in leafy treetops and sailing beside waterfalls. Vines and ivy clung to everything, from the steel framework of the building to the trees and foliage.

“This is awesome!” Richie exclaimed, as if reading Noah's mind.

“
Waaa-hooo!
” cheered Ella.

Noah looked at them and smiled.

Like skydivers, the scouts extended their arms out to their sides. Even Podgy spread his flippers; he looked like
an odd penguin superhero. Blizzard's black nose twitched as he sniffed the fresh air, and his dark eyes shone with excitement.

The earflaps of Noah's new cap snapped against his head. Adrenaline coursed through him from head to toe. This was a truly magical moment—one that he never could have imagined, not even in a dream. “We're coming, Megan!” he shouted. Each word was as sharp and distinct as a cracking whip.

Together the three children started to cheer. The dreamlike building came alive with a symphony of birds as chirps, squawks, and caws echoed in the vast space of the Forest of Flight. The noises drowned out every other sound. Birds sailed from branches and beams. They dived through the air, their swift movements a choreography danced to the music of their strange and wondrous voices.

T
he mist moistened Noah's cheeks as the dodos carried him down. The fog was so thick that he had to raise his hand to eye level just to glimpse his fingertips.

When the fog began to break apart, the crests of the trees and the walls of the birdhouse became visible again. Finally the ground of the Forest of Flight came into view. It was grassy and covered with rocks and streams and idle birds. The air was heavy with the smell of rich, pure dirt, so fertile that even an accidental seed could take root.

The dodos set the Action Scouts on the ground. They
unwrapped the velvet curtain they'd used to carry Blizzard, and all the birds flew into the trees except one, which stood on his pencil-thin legs and glanced about as if he expected something. With his large hooked bill and minuscule wings, he looked every bit the dodo that he was regrettably named.

“What do you suppose he wants?” Ella asked.

“I don't know. Maybe he's sticking around to help us,” Noah said.

“To help us?”

“Maybe to show us around. This
is
his house, you know.” Noah stepped up to the dodo. “Do you have a name?”

Ella paused before she said, “I hope you're not actually waiting for an answer.”

“I wonder if he even has a name—something better than dodo,” Noah said.

Without warning, they heard a rough, gravelly voice behind them. “You brats don't need to worry about names.”

It was Charlie Red, surrounded by a new squad of police-monkeys. He snarled. Noah watched his lips peel off his teeth, half expecting to see fangs.

“Charlie! How did you—?” Noah's eyes darted toward the bamboo ramp, but all he could see was fog. “How did you get down here?”

Charlie Red and his monkey clan slid closer. He leaned forward and, as he spoke, dotted Noah's cheeks with spit.

“Let's just say I know the shortcuts.”

To everyone's surprise, another voice erupted from behind Charlie. “You're not the only one who knows the shortcuts around here.”

The voice came from a man with a head as big and round and hairless as a pumpkin and biceps the size of softballs.

“Tank!” Noah yelled.

Tank smiled and winked at Noah. “I see you checked your mailbox. And judging by those duds you're sportin', Podgy found you something to wear.”

Furrowing his freckled brow, Charlie Red said, “Tank! What…? What are you doing? I thought—”

“That was your first mistake,” Tank said. He crossed his meaty arms over his chest. “Don't waste your time thinkin', bub.”

“But…I thought…you—”

“It's over, Red,” Tank said. “It's all over. They're Inside now. They know.”

Suddenly a third voice rumbled behind Tank. “Indeed, it's all over!”

An old man stepped forward. He had thick gray hair tied in a ponytail and a bushy broom of a beard. Beaded sunglasses covered his eyes. A purple velvet trench coat
draped his shoulders like a cloak. He turned to Charlie Red and said, “Charles, if you and your assistants will excuse us, I have much to speak about with our visitors.”

Charlie, looking intimidated, nervous, and angry all at the same time, could only give in, saying, “Yes, Mr. Darby.” Then, with a broad sweep of his arms, he led his flustered police-monkeys into the forest and out of sight.

The old man—Mr. Darby, as Charlie had called him—stood comfortably with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Ah yes,” he said. “Blizzard and Podgy! I might have guessed the two of you would be in on this.”

Mr. Darby's voice was warm and reassuring. He reached out and scratched Blizzard's cheek, just as one would scratch a kitten's chin. Blizzard closed his eyes halfway and droned a gentle growl. As a soft breeze wafted from the treetops, Marlo swept down and perched on Noah's shoulder.

“Well! Good day, Marlo,” Mr. Darby said. The old man motioned to the dodo beside Noah. “Of course, Dodie is here, ready for whatever adventure may come his way.”

“Dodie?” Ella asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Darby said. “Dodie is this bird's name.”

“Do all the animals have names?” Richie asked.

“Why, certainly! How else would we identify them?” He glanced at the massive branches that had fallen to
the forest floor; they were completely entrenched in the earth. “You've certainly done your best to announce your arrival.”

“Sorry about that,” Noah said.

“The tree goons were chasing us,” Ella piped up.

“Tree goons?” said Mr. Darby.

“Charlie Red's police-monkeys,” Noah explained.

“Ah yes,” Mr. Darby said. “Well, to Charles's credit, he and his band of monkeys work security, as does our friend Mr. Pangbourne, whom you know as Tank.”

Tank shot the Action Scouts a wink and a smile.

“Well,” Mr. Darby said as he stroked his messy gray beard, “allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Mr. Darby, and I am…well…let's say I'm the man who answers questions around here. I imagine the three of you must have some questions just about now.”

“I can probably think of one or two,” Ella said.

“Yeah—one or two
hundred
!” Richie corrected her.

Mr. Darby laughed. “I hardly think we have time for two hundred questions.” He put one arm around Noah's shoulders and the other around Ella's and led the scouts along a path through the enormous trees. “But if all of you will join me, I think I'll be able to answer many of them.”

Noah realized that he hadn't introduced himself. “Mr. Darby, I'm Noah. These are my friends—”

“Ella and Richie.” Mr. Darby finished his sentence.

“Yes,” Noah said. “How does everyone here know us?”

“Oh, the Action Scouts have been a topic of conversation around here for quite some time. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Pangbourne?”

Tank smiled. His teeth looked like white jewels against his dark skin. “You ain't kiddin'.”

“Mr. Darby,” Ella said, “we don't even know where
here
is.”

“Why, children,” Mr. Darby replied, “you're in the Secret Zoo!”

A
s Mr. Darby led the Action Scouts through the forest, he made no mention of the extraordinary building they were in. He said nothing about the birds circling overhead or about the police-monkeys and the impossibly tall trees. He casually led them along a winding path, whistling a tune that was quite merry.

The path stopped at a glass building that stood fifty feet high, a tiny edifice inside the Forest of Flight. Points of light reflected on the glass like stars. Mr. Darby opened a door and invited the scouts and their animal friends inside.

Like the Forest of Flight, the building was lush with
greenery—plants and trees that were shiny with dew. Little waterfalls splashed down rocky walls and spilled into narrow streams. Hummingbirds crowded the air. They darted back and forth and hovered in their magical flight. Occasionally they paused to drink honeysuckle nectar through their needle-fine beaks. Their wings thrummed over the flowers.

Mr. Darby swept his arm in a circle and said, “Welcome to Hummingbird Hideout!”

Marlo hopped off Noah's shoulder, soared into the trees, and darted back and forth. Watching him frolic with the hummingbirds, Noah wondered if he was excited to be the biggest bird in the sky for a change.

The scouts followed the old man and Tank along a flagstone path to a clearing, where pillowed chairs were arranged beside a marble fountain. In the center of the fountain was the statue of a hummingbird, so richly painted that the sprinkling water made it look soaked with blues and yellows and reds.

A dozen people dressed in green lab coats stood in a cluster. They were studying hummingbirds, poking flowers with thin steel probes, and scribbling busily on green notepads.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Darby said to them. “I have business that requires a private meeting place. Might I use this area?”

One by one, the people in lab coats noticed the scouts, and their faces lit up. They agreed to Mr. Darby's request and hurried out of sight, whispering in one another's ears and casting curious glances back at Noah, Ella, and Richie.

“Please,” Mr. Darby said as he motioned toward the chairs. “Take a seat.”

Noah dropped onto the lush cushions, and they swallowed his rear end.

“How come it's like…like everyone here knows us?” he asked.

“A fair question,” Mr. Darby said. He took a seat between Ella and Richie, who had sunk into their own fluffy chairs. “But it might be better to start by defining where
here
is, exactly.”

“That will work for me,” Ella said hastily.

Mr. Darby laughed, and his dark sunglasses slipped down his face. Before his eyes were revealed, he pushed them up again.

“You know, dear Ella, they've been saying you have a certain impatience about you.”

“More like an appetite for new things,” Ella said.

Mr. Darby laughed again. “I thought Richie was the one with the flashy vocabulary!”

“The flashy vocabulary
and
the flashy shoes,” Ella quipped.

Richie corrected her. “Not anymore.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot.” Ella looked back at their host. “Richie was mugged by an ape. I guess the streets aren't safe even around here, Mr. Darby.”

“Nothing has more potential for danger than the curiosity of an animal,” Mr. Darby replied.

“Except maybe the curiosity of my sister,” Noah cut in. “Do you know who she is, sir?”

Mr. Darby's face turned grave, and his features became sunken. “Megan,” he said flatly.

The scouts bolted upright.

“You've seen her, then?” Noah asked.

“Not exactly.”

“But she's okay, right?” Richie asked.

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean?” Noah's voice trembled and his throat became dry.

Mr. Darby folded his hands in his lap. Hummingbirds buzzed around him. Three landed on his shoulders and softly pecked at his coat.

“There's so much to tell,” he said. “Where shall I start?”

“How about the beginning?” Richie asked.

“Certainly,” Mr. Darby said. He leaned forward, and a shadow fell across his face, making it so dark that he looked frightening. The hummingbirds whirled around him, their wings a fluttery blur. “But I must warn you.
The story is filled with such magic and sadness that few believe it.”

Noah swept his hand around Hummingbird Hideout and said, “Sitting in this crazy place, I don't think you'll have a problem convincing us.”

“Good,” Mr. Darby said. He stroked his beard. “Then let's begin. Our story starts with a child, as so many stories do. The child's name was…”