The Secret Zoo (5 page)

“What? How do you know my name? How do—”

“Check your mailbox.”

“My mailbox? Tomorrow?”

“No. Tonight. At midnight. Exactly midnight. Not a second later.”

“Wha—?”

“No more questions,” Tank said. “Let's just say I suddenly had an idea.”

“Wait!” Noah said.

“Gotta go. Remember, beware of the shadows. They listen and they see. And keep this quiet. I promise it will make sense soon. Come back when…well…” Tank smiled and winked. “Come back when you can stay awhile.”

“Tank! Hold on!” Noah called out. “I don't understand!”

But Tank slammed the gate shut and bolted it. The scouts watched in silence as he ran back into the zoo. In a matter of seconds, he disappeared deep into its mystery and magic.

N
oah sat on the edge of his bed in his dark room and stared at the clock: 11:53. On their walk home from the incident at Creepy Critters earlier that day, the scouts had decided that Noah should check his mailbox as instructed and then report to Ella and Richie first thing in the morning. Now Noah's parents were asleep, and he was ready to move.

11:54. Noah expected to find something in the mailbox, but he didn't know what. Though he hadn't figured out much, he was certain about one thing: anything was possible.

11:55. It was time. He sneaked downstairs, put on a jacket, and slipped out into the cold, dark night. The sky was starless. As he headed for the mailbox, he threw his hood up and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“It's c-c-cold,” he mumbled. His breath rose like steam in front of him.

As he walked down the driveway, he checked his watch. It was 11:56. He opened the mailbox but saw nothing inside except a dry leaf.

“Maybe I'm early.”

He glanced at his watch just as 11:57 turned to 11:58.

He rocked back and forth to stay warm. The neighborhood was so quiet that he could hear the wind rustling the few dry leaves that still hung on the trees.

11:58. Noah waited…and waited. 11:58 morphed into 11:59. Then 12:00—midnight! Nothing happened. The time on his watch changed to 12:01…12:02…12:03.

“Maybe my watch is fast,” he mumbled. “Maybe—”

He heard a low sound and peered down the street. He could see nothing but darkness.

“I'm hearing things,” he told himself. “I'm just—”

He heard the sound again and fell silent. This time, he was certain that it was something, but what, he didn't know. It was soft, like feet tapping the pavement in the distance.

“Hello?” he said.

A form began to take shape in the distance. Something was running toward him. Noah took a step back and bumped into the mailbox. The clank of the metal box made him yelp.

“Don't panic,” he told himself. “You were expecting something like this.”

But he wasn't sure what he'd expected. He had no idea what was out there. Tank had seemed to be on his side when he spoke to the scouts outside the zoo gates, but how did he know Tank wouldn't double-cross him? Maybe Tank was Charlie Red's best friend. Maybe the two zoo workers wanted to get rid of Noah and keep the Megan Situation a secret.

The tapping grew louder, and Noah started to make out the form down the road. Whatever the creature was, it was running on four legs. Noah didn't know what to do. He'd never been so confused in his life.

“It must be a dog,” he said hopefully.

But he knew better. The thing running toward him was no dog. It was something that had escaped from the zoo. It was something that was following Tank's orders to meet Noah at this hour, at this specific spot. It was something that could be friend or enemy—just like Tank.

Noah's stomach leaped up to his chest. Maybe this was how they'd kidnapped his sister. Maybe they'd tricked her.

“Run, Noah!” he told himself. “Run back to the house
now
.”

But he couldn't run, and he wouldn't hide—not with so many unanswered questions. Not with Megan still missing! He felt sick. He felt betrayed.

At that moment, in the cold and darkness, he closed his eyes and allowed the unknown animal to bear down on him.

E
lla lay in bed, unable to sleep. She was thinking about Blizzard, Tank, Charlie Red, the Chamber of Lights, and the rest of the craziness. She had no idea what Noah would find in his mailbox tonight.

She rolled out of bed, put on her slippers, and walked downstairs. She poured a glass of water and flopped onto the couch. Something was bothering her, but she didn't know what. She grabbed the TV remote and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Her slippers were pink and furry, and they looked like two pink Chihuahuas begging for a snack. She surfed the channels.

Ella tried to pinpoint what was bugging her. The clock above the television said it was midnight. Right now, Noah would be checking his mailbox.

A man on the TV was sitting in a diner, puffing a cigarette. Across from him was another man. The man with the cigarette passed a wad of cash across the table, and in an instant, a team of police officers burst into the room and handcuffed him. What had happened was obvious: the man smoking the cigarette had been framed.

The remote slipped from Ella's fingers and crashed to the floor. She suddenly knew what was bothering her.

“Noah…” she muttered. “He's being set up.”

She sprang from the sofa and stood in the middle of the living room, not sure what to do.

“Now wait a minute,” she whispered. “That guy—Tank—he's on our team.”

Was that true? How could she know? She couldn't. That was the problem. Ella ran for the door, grabbed her jacket and earmuffs, and bolted outside, not bothering to change out of her slippers. She raced across her lawn and headed for Noah's house.

N
oah stood beside his mailbox and watched the animal close in on him, a silhouette against the deeper black of night. It wore the darkness like a cloak. Noah could make out the way it resembled a dog, only taller and leaner. Its legs were blurs along its sides. The thing rounded a turn in the street, its paws drumming the pavement, and streaked through a spray of porch light. For a second Noah saw the primary markings on its fur.

Spots.

It ran past the Mathurases' house, trotted past the Smiths' bungalow, and within seconds was less than five
houses away. The night seemed to melt off its body as it slowly became visible. Noah saw its pointed ears, its white chin, its short snout, its coal-black nose. Then he saw the details in the animal's markings: black lines and black dots and an overall color that appeared to be orange. The animal abruptly came to a near stop less than ten feet away from Noah. As it prowled the remaining distance, Noah swung around his mailbox for protection. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. A cheetah! As crazy as it seemed, a wildcat from the zoo was loose in Noah's neighborhood.

Noah was so nervous that he made a joke. “You're late, you know.”

The cheetah advanced carefully and deliberately, stopped in front of Noah, and rolled its head from side to side. Noah saw its coarse white whiskers and marks that fell like tears from the corners of its eyes. In its mouth was a small woven pouch.

“What's that?”

The animal dropped the pouch and stared at Noah. It tipped its head to one side, growled softly, and nudged the pouch forward with the tip of its nose.

“What's inside?” Noah asked.

The cheetah gave Noah a final look. It whisked around in a flash and raced back down the street, swinging its long tail. In a matter of seconds, it had disappeared into the night.

Noah looked down at the pouch. He didn't want to open it.

“Oh boy,” he muttered. “This is crazy. I've got to tell Mom and Dad or somebody.”

But then he remembered Tank's warning: “Tell nobody…. The more people that know about this, the more dangerous it could get.”

Then again, was Tank really on his side? Noah snagged the pouch off the lawn and opened it. Something fell out and clinked on the pavement. A gold key!

“What—?”

Inside was a note. Noah pulled it out and squinted at the page. He couldn't see the words. He charged up his driveway and opened his mother's car door, activating the dome light. Noah fell into the passenger seat and read the note.

Noah looked across his backyard toward what was now the cold and ominous wall of the zoo.

“Tank,” he muttered, “whose side are you on?”

Noah wondered again if he was being led into a trap. Tank had told them that the fate of the world rested on keeping the zoo's secrets safe. How far would Tank go to ensure this? There was only one way to find out.

“I can't wait for morning. I can't wait for Ella and Richie. This needs to be done now.”

Noah dropped the key in his pocket, darted into the garage, and dragged out his dirt bike. Halfway down the driveway, he hopped on the seat and sped off. He raced into the wind, the cold air stinging his skin.

“I'm on my way, Megan,” he said. “Hold tight.”

As he drove along the road, he noticed something in the Parkers' yard. Beside a big pine tree, someone or something was moving. Noah looked closer until he realized whatever had been there was gone. Nothing remained but the shadows.

E
lla cut through her neighbors' yards on her way to Noah's house. She hurdled the hedges in Mrs. Ryan's yard and dodged the lawn ornaments at Mrs. Pierre's. She jumped fences and ducked tree limbs. Once a branch snagged her earmuffs, and she had to turn around to snatch them back. As she neared Noah's house, she saw someone in the driveway. It was Noah. He was climbing onto his bike.

“Noah!” she called out. “Noah, wait!”

But Noah sped out of sight before she could get his attention.

Ella ran into Noah's yard and happened to kick something on the lawn beside the mailbox. She picked it up. A pouch. She poked her fingers inside and found it empty.

“Something was in here,” she said. “Something important.”

She spun around and took off to find Richie, who lived on her street. She went back home the same way she'd come, but this time, when she cut across Mrs. Pierre's lawn, she crashed into a pink flamingo and flattened it to the ground.

At Richie's house, she found a spot beneath his second-story bedroom window and pulled a small clump of dirt from a flower bed. She pitched it at the glass. She waited a few seconds and then hurled another handful of dirt at the window.

“C'mon, Richie!” she whispered frantically. “Wake up!”

Suddenly she gasped. From the corner of her eye, she'd caught sight of someone standing in the next yard. A man. Tall and lean, he wore a hat with a wide, circular brim. He had broad shoulders and a long dark trench coat. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he was watching Ella, watching her from the shadows. So deep and dark were the shadows that they hid his face, his eyes, and his intentions.

Then he vanished. But not in the all-at-once way that
an imaginary thing disappears. Rather, he dissolved. It was as if he'd melted into the shadows.

Ella felt goose bumps crawl over her skin. She tried to tell herself that the man hadn't been there at all and that her overworked mind was playing tricks on her. But what had Tank said? Beware of the man who “lives in the shadows…he
is
the shadows.”

A fresh round of goose bumps dotted her arms, and she tried to rub them away. She glanced up at Richie's window. It was finally sliding open.

R
ichie sat up in bed and listened. Seconds later, he heard it again—a soft
thump
! against his window. He jumped out of bed, flicked on the lights, and opened the window. Someone was standing in his yard.

“Richie!”

“Who's out there?”

“Richie, it's me!”

“Ella?”

“We've got a big problem! It's Noah! I think he's going in!”

“Into the zoo?”

“No, the
bathroom
.” She tossed up one more clump of earth. It missed Richie but sailed through the window and landed in the middle of his pillow. “Of course, the zoo!”

“When?”

“Right now!”

Richie thought about this for a moment. Then he said, “What are we gonna do?”

“The only thing we can do,” Ella said. “Go in after him.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead serious!” Ella slid backward, saying, “Meet me in my front yard! Give me two minutes so I can get dressed!”

Richie didn't move. He stood in silence, stunned.

“Richie?”

He took a breath. “Two minutes,” he said at last. “Gotchya.”

Ella took off across the lawns. Her open jacket trailed behind her like a short cape. Richie remained still for another moment.

“I can't believe this is happening,” he muttered.

He started to close the window and stopped. Something was moving on the lawn next door. Richie peered into the darkness, but he saw nothing.

“Hello?” he called out of the window.

The wind murmured, but that was it.

“Who's there?”

No answer.

He was certain that he'd seen something. A man. A man with a strange hat.

“Forget it,” he said at last.

He closed the window, jumped into his clothes, and prepared for the next event—whatever that might turn out to be.